Title: Demon
Author: Tiffany Adams
Summary: Willy goes on a road trip with Lucas MacArthur.
Rating: R
Pairings: Willy/Lucas
Spoilers: season 2 of the web series
Disclaimer: The characters of Willy, Bucky, Deadeye, Jenny, Bruiser,
and Blinky belong to Neal Adams and co. The characters of Lucas
Macarthur, Fritz Warner, and Kadaf Warner belong to DJ Clawson. Just
try to sue me. I have no $$. The lawyer fee will be more than the
settlement. 

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
This story has a heavy "R" rated for themes of homosexuality,
bisexuality, statutory rape, and child abuse. If you think you are not
capable of handling a serious story about any of those themes, please
skip this fanfic.

This is the third story in a four-story series about Willy and his
on-and-off relationship with Scott Osbourne. The first two stories
have not been written down, but this story has very little to do with
the others. The gist of the first two plot lines was Scott cheated on
Willy with his old girlfriend and they broke up, and Willy was
"outed." This story takes place about a month afterward, but really
has very little to do with the series otherwise. 

It should probably be noted that Willy is 17 in this story.

If you don't believe Willy is gay, you should probably just skip this
fanfic, too.
_____________________________________________________

	Willy DuWitt cursed to himself as another spark flew off the
wiring, landing on his exposed hand. Both his hands were already
covered in soars and minor burns. With his upper half deep inside the
bowels of the Righteous Indignation, Willy was immersed in a
barely-lit world of wires veins and aniversian microchip processors,
all of which gave off different strains of fluorescent light that,
while being very beautiful in their own right, were not enough light
to work with. His penlight lodged in his mouth provided the only
necessary illumination for the careful and tedious work of rerouting
the ship's sensors. 

	Despite the inherent creepiness of the highly enclosed space,
obviously not meant for a living, breathing mammal to explore, Willy
preferred this space to most. It was quiet and peaceful. It was a
piece of the Righteous that was hidden to the other members of the
crew, yet exposed only to and understood by him and Blinky. He idly
wondered if Blinky had an appreciation of it that he carried. Blinky
had feelings, but they were often very basic and survival-based; he
had no real appreciation of art or beauty, at least as Willy
understood it. 

	Willy normally liked spending time there. The work was difficult
but challenging, distracting him from all other concerns. And in the
last month, he had been taking any distraction he could get from
interaction with other mammals, particularly humans. Still stung by
Scott's betrayal, he had retreated quietly into his work, redoubling
his efforts to improve the Righteous. It usually brought him results,
but today everything seemed to be exploding on him - or, to be
specific, his hands.

	"Having trouble?"

	Someone must have heard his grunts with pain. It suddenly occurred
to him that the voice was fairly unfamiliar - he couldn't place it,
though he knew he should be able to recognize it. Mentally kicking
himself, he pushed out of the panel, propelling himself on the board
he was lying on out into engineering bay of the Righteous. The first
thing that hit him was the incredible light, and he had to shield his
eyes before they could focus on the large figure standing over him.

	It was Lucas MacArthur, wearing his usual black monk habit. He
hadn't changed much since Willy had last seen him, which was during a
routine refueling on Noctur Two, where Lucas lived with the raccoons,
and they had run into each other in a market. Lucas had been his usual
snide self, basically insulting each individual member of the crew
except for Willy and nearly causing Bucky to lose his cool to the
point of threatening to pound the human priest's face in.

	It seemed strange to Willy that he hadn't recognized the voice,
but then he realized it was because it was without its trademark
arrogance and wit. Lucas seemed different somehow - quiet, withdrawn.
His long white hair was a mess, and he was not taking care of his
beard, which was growing out again.

	Unsure whether this was a front, Willy said cautiously, "What do
you want?"

	"I need a favor."

	If Lucas had said it in any other voice, Willy would have been
urged to deck him. After all, this was the same terrorist who had
drugged his superior officers and threatened to blow his brains out on
Warren. But Lucas acting like an entirely different person now, meek
and defeated. It probably *was* a front, Willy guessed, but how could
he really know? "What kind of favor?"

	"A big favor." Lucas was clearly struggling over what he was going
to say. "I need to go to Tennessee."

	Willy sat up on the roller, putting down his tools. "So what? Do
you need American money? A door to the aniverse?"

	"I need to go to Tennessee." Lucas stated, again, more
desperately. "I can't do it alone."

	Willy was not in the mood for this; Lucas was not his enemy,
though he had given him ample reason in the past to treat him that
way, but something in Willy had always prevented him from despising
the only other human in the aniverse. Maybe it was a species thing.
"Lucas, the entire time we've known each other, all you've done is
openly insult me and my friends and threatened our safety. Give me one
good reason why I should drop everything and pay for us to go on a
road trip to Tennessee."

	"You don't have to pay. I have money."

	"I'm betting you don't have American money."

	"I have Aniversian money. I could get it changed into gold in the
aniverse, and we can pawn it." Lucas had a point, but he wasn't
getting to what Willy really wanted to know.

	"But why do you want to do this, and I why do I want to come?"

Lucas looked pained, even more so than before. "I have family in
Tennessee. I have to face them."

	"Why now?"

	The priest seems to shrink away. "I want the dreams to stop."

	<Okay, that was *way* too much information>, Willy sighed. "And
you want me to come?"

	"Yes," Lucas appeared to be in physical pain. "I'm afraid. You're
the only one who can help me."

	"Because I'm human, or because I'm a nice guy?" Willy was growing
irritated - irritated at Lucas, for acting so strangely, and irritated
at himself for not being able to tell this guy off and get back to his
work. 

	"Both."

	Willy bit his lip. He didn't want to help this guy. <Damn
morals...> "What kinda trip are we talking about? How long?"

	Lucas looked overly relieved. "A weekend. Get up there Friday,
maybe Saturday morning. Stay Saturday night, leave Sunday. We can fly
into Memphis and drive to Littleville. If goes longer, you can leave
either way on Sunday. Promise."

	<I don't want to get sucked into this> "Remind me why I'm doing
this?"

	"Because you're a nice guy?" it was the only hint of Lucas's
regular usual personality since the start of the conversation, with
the slight mocking tone, but it remained muted. 

	The engineer sighed heavily, lowering his eyes to avoid Lucas's
rather intense gaze. "Okay. But don't make me regret this. And we're
laying down some ground rules."

	"Of course," Lucas answered quickly, overly-gratefully.

	"Rule one - no insulting my friends or crewmates or just anyone I
know." Willy tried to be as serious and demanding as possible, and the
priest didn't put up a fight. "Rule two - no discussion of my personal
life."

	Lucas gave him an odd look, as if he wasn't expecting the
question, but didn't look especially resistant. "Okay. Did you break
up with Scott or something?"

	"And the rules are effective as of *now,*" Willy explained,
putting emphasis on it.

	"Ouch. Okay," Lucas seemed to get it, and retreated. "I can handle
that."

	"Good," Willy said, crossing his arms firmly. <This is not going
to be fun ...>

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

	"I'll give you four hundred dollars," the bearded pawn shop owners
said, giving Lucas a semi-suspicious look. Willy was not
overly-surprised - it wasn't ever day that two guys came in, one of
them some kind of white-haired monk in his twenties, with a bar of
solid gold with strange, alien markings carved into it. But then
again, this was a very sketchy pawn shop, and they didn't come here to
be asked questions -- they came to pawn gold. 

	Willy paced the store, looking over the various barely-legal items
on the dust-covered shelves as Lucas stood at the counter with the
owner behind it. "C'mon, that's solid gold. You can weigh it."

	"Four hundred dollars," the man said, putting it back down on the
counter between them. "Four twenty-five, tops."

	"Four fifty."

	Willy sighed; Lucas didn't have to be this irritating. Four
hundred dollars and Willy's frequent flyer miles were enough to get
them to Memphis and back. But the priest insisted.

	"Four twenty-five," the bearded owner held steady, a slightly
impatient tone in his voice.

	"Four hundred and throw this in," Willy said suddenly, picking a
mechanical tool obviously used for picking locks of some sort off the
shelf and putting it on the counter. Lucas looked at him. "What? I
want it."

	"I didn't know you had a night job, Willy." Lucas said, slightly
mocking.

	"Haha. It's for breaking out of toad cells. You never know when
you'll be in that sort of situation." Willy ignored the very strange
look the owner was giving them as he rang up their bill. 


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

	After telling his parents he was going on a road trip with a
friend (which was very far from the truth), and telling the Righteous
crew he had family responsibilities (another lie, but how could he
tell them he was spending a weekend with a terrorist out of the
kindness of his heart?), Willy packed his bags and they boarded a
plane to Memphis, Tennessee. Lucas had little luggage, only a small
bag over one shoulder, and his blood-red prayer beads, which he seemed
to clutch for dear life. It seemed every mile of American soil they
flew over in the direction of the priest's hometown, his unnerving
silence seemed to deepen. The plane flight was uneventful, for which
Willy was grateful. Lucas was seen downing some white pills before
they boarded, and by the time they were in their seats he seemed
almost drugged. Willy guessed they were sedatives; Lucas didn't offer
the information and Willy didn't take it. The priest spent the
five-hour ride staring out the window blankly, and Willy put on his
headphones and tried to pretend he wasn't taking this trip.

	Upon arriving, they boarded a bus to Littleville that would get
them in before 10 PM. Lucas went immediately to the back of the bus
and sat next to the window, seeming to recover his senses with growing
agitation. Willy sat down next to him. The silence between them was
deafening, and the batteries to his walkman were dry. 

	It took Willy four miles of considering it before finally asking,
"So why are we going to Littleville? Is it your hometown?" He vaguely
remembered his first encounter with the priest, where he learned that
he had fallen off his bike at the age of ten and begun to receive
visions, for which he was ostracized by his peers until he was picked
up by a regen at 16 and brought to the aniverse.

	"Yes." Lucas seemed more willing to talk. "My family should still
be there. It's not the type of town you move out of. You know, those
little farm towns where everybody's been there for generations? Where
there's one church and one preacher and everybody goes every single
week, or risk being called the devil himself?" Lucas was obviously
drawing on his own experiences, no matter how unintentionally.

	"I take it you didn't like church."

	"I didn't like church once I was awakened as a vilthuril. I
started seeing visions of Jesus on the cross with Satan's horns. Once
I had a vision of my dad up there, on the pulpit, screaming about
Jesus, except instead of words coming out of his mouth, there was
blood. After that I just started ditching church. Of course, everyone
in the county noticed." Lucas glanced idly around, and seeing the bus
mainly empty, continued. "I tried to explain it to Dad."

	"Didn't work?"

	Lucas looked away, almost laughing. "Dad was not lucky enough to
be Catholic; then he could have done an exorcism. It would have been
easier." 

	"Easier than what?" Willy had to ask.

	The priest gave sort of a half-grin and looked away. He didn't
seem interested in talking any more. 

	"I'm sorry." Willy said, feeling exceptionally bad. 

	"I guess it's one of those 'facing my demons' things," Lucas
explained. "You'll do it do, one day."

	"What are you talking about?"

	Lucas's cockeyed grin increased, and the old Lucas Willy knew so
well - the snide, arrogant man - began to shine through, "You think
the U.A.C. Security Council hires just anybody for this fleet? You
think just because you're from another dimension, they don't do
background checks? They don't know the DuWitts are just your foster
parents?" 

	As it dawned on Willy, his eyes widened with rage, "Is that what
this is about? This is some kind of excuse to play this really sick
joke?! You are one sick fuck!" His voice growing in volume, he rose
from his seat, towering over the priest. "I can't believe I actually
believed you were so desperate as to ask someone who fucking hates
your guts! And I was starting to actually feel for you!" 

	Alarmed at Willy's growing rage and the volume of his voice, Lucas
gestured for him to calm himself. "Chill, man. I didn't mean it like
that."

But Willy continued ranting, oblivious to the attention he was
attracting from the few other passengers and the driver. "I can't
believe this! Why didn't I listen to myself? Why did I put myself
through this, just to be part of your fucking game?! I could kill
you!"

	"Willy, please - "

	But before the priest could duck, Willy grabbed him by the collar
of his robe and hurled him forward, into the small aisle of the bus.
The bus driver shouted and almost immediately brought it to a halt,
pulling it onto a shoulder of the highway as the other passengers
attempted to stop Willy from strangling him. 

	Next thing they both knew, they were sitting in the dust, on the
side of the road, the bus taking off into the horizon without them.
Willy was sitting in a meditative stance, trying to control his
breathing and ignoring all probes from the anxious and worried Lucas,
who was kicking up dirt and cursing both himself and the bus.

	"Look, Willy - I'm sorry." Lucas knelt down in front of Willy,
trying to catch his gaze, which was unfocused in front of him. "Okay,
I said it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm really,
really sorry."

	Willy took a deep meditative breath, turning his eyes to the
desperate priest. They still had a glint of hatred in them, but it was
calmer now, more controlled. "Why am I here? And no shit now."

	Lucas stood, digging his sandals into the dirt nervously. "Because
... damnit, Willy. You're a nice guy and you're the only human I know.
Besides, I thought you would understand."

	"About what?" Willy said firmly. "Use specifics."

	"About ...," for once, the priest was lost for words. "You know.
Having a shithead for a father. Having to face him, to feel better
about myself. I want to make peace with my father, with everyone in
that Frithdamn pissant town."

	Willy was silent for a while before speaking again, trying to
steady himself. "How much do you know?"

	"It's pretty secure stuff. The Chairman of the Security Council
keeps files on everybody working for the U.A.C. - I mean, they know
more about you and everyone else than you guys probably know about
yourself. But you have to have like, level eight-billion security
clearance to get into it."

	"Unless you can hack," Willy said, rather maliciously. 

	"Unless you can hack," he corrected. "And my terrorist days put me
in touch with a few hackers. There's some really fascinating stuff in
there."

	"Did you do this for fun, or profit?" He made no attempt to mask
the contempt in his voice.

	"I have lot of visions. I like to understand at least some of
them, especially when they're about people I know."

	"Visions of things that have happened or visions of things that
are *going* to happen?"

	Lucas looked at the landscape - cornfields. "I don't really know."

	There was another long silence between them, as Willy gathered
himself and Lucas paced nervously. Eager for Willy to come out of his
stupor, he offered some new information. "They know where your sister
is."

	Willy looked up again. "I don't care where my sister is."

	"I'm just saying - "

	"I don't care!" Willy raised his voice again, shouting into the
nothingness of the open road. "I don't care where my sister is! I
don't care if she's alive or dead, okay? And I didn't come to
Tennessee to change any of that. I didn't come here for my benefit at
all! I came here for *your* benefit, and you're not showing an ounce
of gratitude!"

	Lucas retreated several steps from where the younger boy was still
sitting. "I'm sorry. I said that. I want to make it right."

	"Everyone wants to make *it* right! It's impossible! You can never
make it right. It's happened and it's done and it's over with and I
want to go on with my life and never think about it again!"

	After his catharsis, Willy collapsed, lying down on the dirt with
his eyes on the stars, which were just beginning to come out as night
fell. Lucas cautiously approached him and knelt beside him.

	"I'm sorry."

	After what seemed like forever, Willy spoke, his voice tired. "I
know you are. Everyone is. But it doesn't make it any better."

	"I know." 

	Willy looked up beyond Lucas, up at the stars. "Forget why am I
here - what are *you* here?"

	"I've got this crazy idea that this trip will put me at peace with
my childhood," Lucas said bluntly. 

	"Well, I'm all for being at peace with your childhood," Willy
said, in his analysis tone. "Let's do this, and get the fuck out of
this Goddamn state, okay?"

	"Okay." Lucas smiled, and offered his hand. Willy took it and used
his weight to pull himself out of the dirt, brushing it off his jeans.
He looked to his right, and then to his left. The road stretched in
both directions into the horizon.

	"Any idea which way town is?"


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

	It was a good hour before the lights of a town became visible in
the distance. The trip was spent mostly in silence, each left to their
own thoughts, with one brief stop so Lucas could say evening prayers
as the sun set. As they got closer to the town, his steps became more
uneven, more nervous. He practically had to be dragged into town and
into the first motel they came upon. The motel manager gave Willy a
suspicious look as he signed the register, but he was too tired to pay
any attention. 

	When he came outside with the key, Lucas was sitting on the end of
the porch, looking down on the cement driveway. "Look, Lucas - "

	"You don't have to say anything. I know, I'm sorry. I'll never
bring it up again."

	"Well, you just did," Willy frowned. "But never mind that. Look, I
wanted to apologize. For blowing up like that."

	Lucas looked up, genuinely surprised. "It's okay."

	"No, I want to say this." Willy took in a deep breath. "I want you
to know that I thought about it, and I admire you for facing your
demons and all that shit."

	"Well, I haven't faced them yet," he pointed out.

	Willy sighed and sat down next to him. "You know what I mean. You
want to put the past behind you, not just ... you know, repress
things. It's good. It's healthy. It's something I wish I had the
strength to do."

	"I didn't bring you here to make you feel bad about yourself,
Willy," Lucas said softly.

	"I know you didn't. But I'll stay and see this through. Just, you
know - when I say I don't want to talk about something, I mean it."

	"Fair enough." Lucas stood up, straightening his robes. "You want
to go out tonight?"

	"Go out?" Willy looked at him as if he didn't understand the
question.

	"Out. To a bar. To drink. I'm legal, you know." Lucas's
personality seemed to be doing one of its weird shifts again. "C'mon,
we've had a tough day, and tomorrow's gonna be worse, at least for me.
Let's go out and get smashed."

	Willy blinked. "You are the weirdest priest I've ever known."


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

	"This is probably a stupid question, but are you supposed to drink
alcohol? You know, with all of your medication?"

	Lucas answered by knocking back another beer, finishing off his
third. He was barely holding onto his balance on the bar stool he was
sitting on at some random rustic/sports bar they had found near the
motel. The bar was not crowded, but it had it's crowd of locals,
mostly pudgy men who looked like blue-collar workers. They had been
giving Willy and Lucas weird looks since they entered, but Lucas had
ignored it and made straight for the bar and begun ordering alcohol
without producing an idea - despite his young face, his snow-white
beard made him look years older to the casual observer. Willy had sat
next to him and ordered a coke, watching the prophet consume a volume
of alcohol in the first ten minutes. 

	"The answer is no," Lucas answered, his speech slightly slurred.
"But this'll just be between you and me and the guys in this bar,
'kay? No tellin' Dr. Lurie."

	"Speaking of the guys in this bar ... " Willy lowered his voice,
glancing warily at the crowd of onlookers. "How long do we have to
stay here?"

	"What? They botherin' you?" Lucas looked around, then put down his
latest beer and demanded to the bartender, "Isn't there somewhere in
this country where a gay engineer and a bi priest can enjoy a beer,
maybe get some tail?" He blinked. "Did I say tail? Damnit, I gotta get
outta the aniverse."

	If there was anything Lucas could have said to upset Willy more,
it would have been quite a feet; the engineer looked visibly disturbed
and suddenly very afraid for his life, cowering nearly under the bar. 
Lucas watched him quiver.

	"What? I thought you were out of the closet."

	"Uh, yeah," Willy said from beneath the bar. "In 'Frisco, not
Tennessee. God, do you want to get us killed?"

	"We're not havin' a freakin' pride parade, Willy," Lucas stumbled
over his words. 

	"Yeah, but either way, I think we'd better go. The natives are
looking restless." Willy looked around, and noticed some of the
tougher-looking guys were visibly considering approaching them. 

	"Okay, okay," Lucas finally conceded, finishing off his beer and
ordering a final one. He paid the bill and they managed to escape the
bar unharmed, but just barely.

	"I didn't know you were bi," Willy observed, as they walked slowly
back to the motel - or, more accurately, Willy walked and Lucas
staggered, walking off the alcohol he had consumed.

	"Hey, I'll take what I can get." Lucas was in one of those moods
where it was nearly impossible to tell if he was serious or just being
a jackass. Either way, he took another slug, finishing off his last
beer and tossing it away, barely getting it in the trash can on the
sidewalk. They were walking in the middle of the street, which was
abandoned, probably because of the late hour. "Minus animals. Frith, I
could never fuck an animal. That's just awful, but it rules out just
about anyone in the aniverse."

	"I thought priests were supposed to be celibate."

	Lucas snorted, semi-angrily. "I'm not a Catholic priest, I'm a
Lopinenean priest. Different rules."

	Willy smirked, watching the swaggering man. "Does your religion
*have* rules?"

	"I'm insulted, Willy. Very insulted," Lucas answered, with a
mocking tone in his voice. "Of course I have rules. I follow most of
them, most of the time." He gestured wildly, a sign of his
intoxication. "I look at this way. There are many, many seconds in the
day - "

	"86,400 seconds - " Willy offered.

	" - Whatever. Anyway, I'm probably actively sinning only like
twenty seconds a day. Like, if I shoot someone, that's what, one
second? And if I steal something, that's like another second if you
only count the second where I'm actually taking the thing. So, like,
*most* of the day - "

	"99.9% at least - "

	Lucas have him a bewildered look, "My *point* is I'm not sinning
the majority of the time. So I'm not a bad person."

	Willy stopped in his tracks and looked at him. "That is the
dumbest thing I've ever heard."

	The priest looked temporarily hurt, but then broke out into
drunken laughter, slapping Willy across the shoulder and taking hold
of him. Willy had a feeling he was having trouble standing up straight
of his own strength.

	Lucas looked up at the sky with bleary brown eyes, "I haven't see
these stars in so Frithdamn long - Christ." He looked like he was
going to cry, having another radical mood shift.

	Willy sighed and helped him stay standing. Dealing with an
intoxicated Lucas was one thing, dealing with an angsty Lucas was
another. "C'mon, we'll go back to the motel and get some sleep. You
have a long day tomorrow."

	The priest seemed to focus, swallowing deeply, as if something
heavy was on his mind. Then, without warning, he kissed Willy on the
lips. It was weird; his breath smelled of the eight Corona lights he'd
had and the complimentary peanuts from the plane. It lasted about two
seconds before Willy's mind could process what was going on, and he
pulled away, leaving Lucas helpless. The intoxicated priest fell to
his knees out of sheer lack of balance and despair.

	"Okay - rule three - no fucking with my head!" Willy said flatly,
trying to keep his cool. "I did not come all the way to Tennessee to
lose my virginity to a drunken monk."

	Lucas made a strange sound, somewhere between laughing and crying.
"I'm not a monk; I'm a priest."

	"You know what I mean," Willy retorted furiously, keeping his
distance. 

	"Okay, okay," he seemed to be recovering himself. "C'mon, it's not
a crime."

	"It *is* a crime, Lucas!" Willy would have shouted, but they
*were* in the middle of a town, no matter how currently sleepy. "Have
you ever heard of pedophilia? Statutory rape?"

Lucas was serious. "You're like, almost legal. You're what, a year
away?"

	"You are a truly sick individual."

	The priest laughed, sitting down further on the ground. "Willy,
you're the chaperone for a terrorist who'd be serving a life sentence
if Fritz hadn't pardoned him. You think I'm honestly concerned about
human law enforcement?"

	Willy made a grunt and turned away from him, walking away. All he
wanted to do was get out of this situation - really, *really* fast. 

	"Willy - wait -!" Lucas stood up, with great effort, and ran up to
his side, but the younger human refused to look at him. "I didn't mean
it like that. Look, before you start thinking I'm some kind of pervert
- "

	"Too late," Willy answered bluntly.

	" - let me explain. We're not talking about a little kid here.
You're sixteen years old and I'm twenty-seven. We're only 11 years
apart. That's like - the difference between Jenny and Bucky, and like
a 1/3 the difference between Fritz and Mimi."

	The engineer stopped in his tracks. "Fritz and Mimi?"

	"Chairman Warner and Captain LaFleur."

	His eyes widened. "They're going out? She's young enough to be,
like, his daughter. God, I don't think I wanted to know that - How did
*you* know about that?"

	"You know, prophet?" Lucas tapped on his head. "Visions and all
that crap? I've got dirt on everyone. You want to know who - "

	"*No*. Damnit, I'd like to maintain some air of innocence or
whatever." He began walking again. "Look, I don't want to know
anyone's secrets, okay? I don't want to know anything!"

	Lucas stopped, looking dazed as Willy kept walking away from him.
"Damnit, I am so in love with you."

	If anything could have stopped Willy from escaping, that was it.
Without making a sound, he spun around, nearly leapt the ten paces
back to where Lucas was standing, and punched his square in the jaw,
knocking the priest into the dirt beside the road. With Lucas
momentarily disabled, Willy began to shout, not bothering to lower his
voice for any nearby listeners.

	"Jesus *Christ!* Is there *anything* else you want to drop on me
today?! Honestly, because of you and your mouth, I have had the
absolutely shittiest day in my life since I moved out of my dad's
house! Your behavior just baffles me! One minute you're acting like a
drunken freak, the next you're insulting me, the next you're hitting
on me like a man who's about to be castrated! God *damnit*, I did not
ask for this! I take back anything and everything I ever, in a moment
of complete stupidity, might have said that was nice about you! Now
take your psychotic personalities and your prayer beads and get the
FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE!"

	Willy proceeded to kick Lucas in the side, causing the priest to
cower and curl into a little ball while the younger human wailed on
him. Lucas didn't fight back, waiting for Willy to tire out and
collapse on the ground next to him. They were silent for a long time,
Willy catching his breath, and Lucas looking up at the stars.

	"Feeling better?" Lucas asked meekly.

	There was another silence, and then Willy answered him, "If you
have anything else to dump on me, feel free to do it now. Because I
don't think there's any way I could possibly be any angrier at you."

	"No, I think I'm clean," the priest said in an honest, reflective
voice.

	"Good." 

	In the background, the sounds of crickets chirping were the only
things filling the air for what seemed like forever before Willy spoke
again. "Did you really mean the thing you said?"

	"I always mean what I say. Except when I'm joking."

	"Were you joking?"

	"About what?"

	Another pause, and then, "The love thing."

	Lucas felt no inhibitions, and made it clear when he spoke. "Hell
no."

	Willy looked away from the stars for the first time, turning over
on the ground so he was facing the priest. "When did this happen?"

	"It was pretty immediate, actually."

	Willy looked back up at the stars. "That's some pretty fucked up
shit right there."

	"Yeah, well, you're one to talk. You were dating a werewolf."

Willy did not respond, and it made Lucas look up a bit, "Hey, you're
supposed to jump in now and defend yourself. Or at least Scott. It's
the noble thing to do?"

	The engineer smirked. "He cheated on me. Hence I have no desire to
defend him on any counts."

	"Harsh."

	He grunted in response, readjusting his head so he could better
see the stars. "You know what's creepy?"

	"What's creepy?"

	"He cheated on me with his ex, who was also named Will, and was
also a witch who was into computers. Basically the female me. Makes
you think."

	"Think what?"

	"That he was just replacing her with me in the first place. She
shows up in 'Frisco looking for him and I'm out on the curb." It was
startling admission for Willy, but considering the prophet had clearly
bared his soul, it seemed only fair. 

	"You know, I would never replace you."

	Willy gave him an odd look, and said. "Of course not. I'm the only
other human in the aniverse. It's me or the high road."

	"You know what I - "

	He put up his palm between him and Lucas, interrupting, "No, okay?
It's not going to work. I'm *not* sleeping with you. And I don't care
if you got me all the way out here to fuck me, it's *not* going to
happen."

	Lucas sat up, throwing his hands up in the air. "Damnit Willy.
Stop being so damn noble for once. Did I ever tell you you're cute
when you're noble?"

	"Nobility sucks." Willy mused out loud, "All it does in my favor
is makes certain people feel worse about dumping me, and attracts
psychos. I *need* to stop attracting psychos!" 
	
	He sat up, waiting for Lucas's jarring retort, but the priest was
shrunken back where he was standing, looking at the ground, or any
direction away from Willy. Not giving him a chance to speak, Willy
softened his tone. "I'm sorry, but you know what I mean."

	"Yeah, I do," Lucas's voice was laced with pain. "I know, okay? I
know I have something wrong with me and it won't go away. It's been
there since I was ten and it never stops. No one's ever understood,
except maybe Fritz."

	"What is it with you and Fritz? Why did he pardon you?" Willy sat
at closer attention, wishing to get the subject away from what was
obviously bothering Lucas so greatly.

	"I reminded him of Kadaf."

	Lucas seemed to think this was enough, but Willy straightened his
glasses and said, "I don't follow."

	"Kadaf doesn't have control of his emotions." For once, he didn't
seem eager to explain anything further.

	"He's a prophet?"
	
	"No, but he has type I bipolar disorder. It ... limits his mental
capacity, his emotional range. But you see how people treat him - he's
a jerk, he smokes too much, he's rude - they don't give him the time
of day because he's just Fritz's mean lackey. But he's sick; he's
really sick. And Fritz is taking care of him; that's why he always
keeps him at his side." Lucas walked around, kicking up the dirt that
had been overturned by their earlier movement. "I guess Fritz saw
something of that in me."

	There was another long break in their conversation, each seeking
shelter in their own thoughts. Willy looked up at Lucas, who paced
nervously, his prayer beads hanging from his wrist.

	Maybe he had misjudged him. Lucas had done a lot of seemingly
cruel things, said a lot of words that had hurt Willy to the core,
made him remember things he was so apt at repressing. But he wasn't
looking at Lucas in the context of his life. The priest had said
almost nothing of his early life, before he hit his head and started
to "have visions" - whether they were schizophrenic episodes or not
was debatable. He became a social outcast, a victim of serious abuse
from what Willy could tell from their earlier conversation. His
salvation had been the aniverse, but he had almost immediately been
enslaved by the toads and spent years in a slave labor camp. Willy
knew very well what it was like to be without his own kind, but never
for more than a few days. And the terrorism that followed his escape
from the labor camp was arguably all just himself showing loyalty to
the raccoons who had taken him in when no one had by helping them win
their planet back. 

	Willy looked away, probing the dirt in front of him with a stick.
There were many sides to Lucas, maybe multiple personalities that
would either eventually merge or separate entirely. There was the
harsh, snide exterior, when his walls were up, but Lucas hadn't come
to him the day before with any walls between them. There was -- Willy
decided at that moment, nearly alone in the ditch beside the one road
in a small Tennessee town -- a very beautiful side to Lucas, not
easily noticeable, but very there. He had qualities rare in a human
being - direction, tremendous drive, a sense of purpose, and a desire
to speak his mind. It all seemed appropriate, considering he was
supposively a prophet. 
	 
	He'd bore his soul to Willy, since he showed up the day before on
the Righteous. Not that he didn't regular offer too much information
to only minor acquaintances, even people who despised him, but there
were things that no one every spoke of, especially about themselves --
and all of these things Lucas had given away to Willy as if they were
pieces of idle gossip. It was obvious that he had done so in the hopes
that Willy, with his own abusive past as David Polansky, would
possibly at least begin to understand. Maybe Lucas had occasionally
come off as inconsiderate, or too desperate, or just plain weird, but
it certainly wasn't intentional. He had come to Willy for help, and
had been only reluctantly met with consideration. Maybe it was time to
give the priest another chance, a fresh start between them ...

	"Lucas ..."  

	Lucas looked at Willy for the first time since he had been called
a "psycho." He seemed surprised at the softness of Willy's voice when
he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry."

	"You don't have to apologize - "

	"We've already done this scene, Lucas," Willy said firmly, getting
up to face the priest. "We don't need to do this again. I misjudged
you -- again -- and I was wrong. I'm sorry. I know I said that before,
but I mean it now." He played with the dirt at his feet, looking away
nervously. "Your honesty, you know - it's really hard to take
sometimes."

	"I know," Lucas still sounded removed.

	"But - But, what I mean is, it's really -," Willy bit his lip.
"I'm looking for the word here."

	"Inappropriate?"

	"  - beautiful." 

	It seemed to snap Lucas out of his stupor; he snapped as if having
been hit, as if he hadn't understood what had been said - "What?"

	"Someone once told me honesty was one of the best qualities a man
could have. I thought she was talking about, like, not cheating on
tests honesty. But you've this truth to whatever you say - it's like
you don't care about what anyone else thinks of you, and you're not
afraid of anything, not even letting complete strangers know what you
think deep inside. And I just don't think many people do that anymore.
And I think it's beautiful."

	Lucas smiled slowly, looking a bit like a shy teenager, "I'm
touched." He seemed genuine.

	"And I want to go with you tomorrow - to Littleville, or wherever
you want to go. I want to see you make peace with your family. I want
you to go back to the aniverse happier than you were when you left
it." In a surprising gesture, Willy took the priest's hand in his own
and find it shaky but welcoming. 

	Before Lucas could respond, they both had to shield their eyes
from the blinding lights of car headlights as a police car pulled up
beside them, though without its sirens. Two police officers got out,
one staying back by the car and the other particularly hicky-looking
sheriff with a wide-brimmed hat approaching them, holding his
nightstick. 

	"You boys need some help?"

	Lucas and Willy glanced at each other, and Willy answered the cop.
"We could use a lift back to the motel."

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

One suspicious cop ride later, they were back at the motel, and it was
a unanimous decision that they would not venture out of their motel
room until they were ready to leave town. 

The motel room was rather sketchy - they were given a double bed, not
two twin-sized beds. There was an immediate fight over which side of
the bed would be taken by whom, which they both conceded to be rather
pointless, and just collapsed next to each other. 

"I am *so* tired," Willy rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "What
time is it?"

"Almost midnight," Lucas said, glancing over at the clock on the bed
stand beside him. 

"The hotel manager said we need to be out by ten AM. We've gotta get a
bus to Littleville and they run every hour on the our, so we should
really leave here at like 9:45 -- What are you doing?" He looked down
to discover Lucas was turned on his stomach, and was casually rubbing
Willy's stomach under the shirt, as if this was completely normal. 

"Feels good," was Lucas's only answer. "You have soft skin."

"Okay, you're sort of creeping me out now. Could you possibly -," he
was cut off as Lucas leaned in and kissed him. This time, he was more
reluctant to break it off, but when he did, he felt it wasn't even
worth it to request an explanation. Lucas seemed to pick up on it for
him.

"I figured I'd go the more conventional route," Lucas smiled, and
kissed him again. This rapidly dissolved into more kissing, and then a
somewhat exploratory official make-out session. The whole thing was
making Willy's head spin. There was a part of him, still burned from
Scott, that didn't want any part of this, and there was another part
of him telling him that this guy was too old and too eager for him,
that he was being heavily influenced by an older man to do something
he didn't want to do. But there was a third part of him that enjoyed
being touched, reminding him of how much he missed that feeling of
human contact, which he basically hadn't had any of in a month. After
Scott's betrayal he had consciously seperated himself from the dating
scene, and, by association, physical human contact of any kind. It was
a barrier he had erected to shield himself from people that would do
him harm, which in the wake of stinging betrayal was just about
everyone. And now there was Lucas -- a strange, slightly unpredictable
but fiercely loyal madman who was probably the last person in the
collective galaxies who would ever cheat on him, simply due to lack of
options. 

"Wait, stop." He forcibly pulled away. "I need to think."

Lucas, who was obviously in a very playful mood, tickled Willy's open
palm. "You think too much."

"Stop it," Willy said, only half-joking. Lucas's constant touching was
making him tingle all over, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Look,
I've never gone this far, okay? This is freaking me out."

"Really?" Lucas seemed surprised. "And you were with Scott for *how*
long?"

"It's called 'taking it slow,' Lucas. And that's obviously not a term
you're familiar with." 

The priest rolled on his back, facing Willy with his head arched as
far as it could go, so he was technically looking at him upside-down,
"Willy, you could go to work on Monday and die in a battle with the
toads. The Air Marshal could blow your brains out. You're in a fucking
*war.* And you're taking it slow?"

Willy blinked. "I never looked at it like that."

"Maybe you should," Lucas offered, turning over on his side again, and
Willy ran his hands through the priest's white hair. He seemed to be
growing impatient. "Are you going to think all night?" 

"I'm trying to be logical, Lucas -,"

"You're beautiful when you're logical."

He frowned. "Lucas, that makes absolutely no -," he was abruptly cut
off by another kiss from the overeager priest, this one longer and
deeper than the ones before. When it was broken off, he said " -
sense" more out of habit than anything else. In fact, he couldn't
think of why he bothered to finish his sentence - he couldn't think of
anything at all, except of how nimble hands Lucas seemed to have, how
good they felt against his skin - 

<- Oh, Christ.>

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

	When Lucas awoke again, it was to the sounds of Willy murmuring
something. Not bothering to turn the light on, he reached over across
the bed and found Willy's form, which was shivering under the covers.

	"Willy?" Lucas gently nudged him awake; in his current position,
Willy's face was mostly being obscured by the pillow. "Willy, wake
up."

	It took a good moment for Willy to come around. There was no light
in the room, aside from that of the moon and the street lamps coming
in the window, and all Lucas could make out was the outline of the
body next to him. Willy's voice was removed and scared. "I'm awake."

	"You're shaking." The priest ran his hand down Willy's bare back.
"I've never seen you shake."

	There was no answer for a long time, and Lucas sat up, growing
more concerned. "Are you okay?"

	"I-I'm okay," Willy stuttered. "I'm just - I don't know. This
hasn't happened in a long time." 

	"What hasn't happened in a long time?" Lucas was now genuinely
confused, and tried to move closer to Willy, who rolled away, keeping
a distance between them. There was another silence, except for Willy's
breathing, which was jagged and uneven. 

	"Panic attack," the engineer finally answered. "I had them for a
year or so, from right before I was taken away from my father to a
little while after. But -- I outgrew them. This shouldn't be happening
- t-this isn't logical -,"

	"Not everything is logical," Lucas gently reminded him. 
"Did me bringing up your father earlier bring this on?"

	"I think so," he said distantly, his voice growing more
frightened. 

	Lucas kept his distance - Willy was turned away from him, at the
opposite edge of the bed - but he did begin to gently caress Willy's
back muscles from a distance. "How much do you weigh?"

	The boy sounded confused. "155. Why do you ask?"

	"I weigh about 140 because I'm so skinny," Lucas explained. "You'd
probably be fine if I gave you one of my sedatives." 

	Willy turned over, unable to see anything without his glasses, but
faced Lucas. "I-I don't know if I should."

	"It's a very mild sedative, primary used for stuff like this. Dr.
Lurie tailored it for humans. I can recommend it, but you have to
decide whether you have this thing under control enough to do without
a little medicinal help."

	 Willy didn't answer for a while again; he seemed to be having
trouble processing the information. "Give me some time." He climbed
out of bed and threw on some clothes, and from what Lucas could tell
from the dim light, he sat cross-legged on the motel room floor,
attempting to meditate his way out of a full-fledged panic attack. The
priest waited patiently, listening to Willy force his breathing down
to a more normal rate, and then down to a very slow rate. It took him
many false starts, but after about ten minutes he stood up and climbed
back into the motel bed. Lucas immediately took him by the rest and
checked him for shaking, which was considerably less evident.

	"Your pulse is still fast," Lucas added.

	"I know. But I feel better." Willy was obviously still quite shook
up, but he seemed to have himself under control. "This Aldeberan
meditation stuff really helps."

	"I guess they're good for something," Lucas chuckled, with his
notorious hatred of Aldeberan religion and society. It eased the
atmosphere, and Willy was more willing to be touched again. In fact,
now that he had his senses about him, body contact seemed to relax him
further. He curled up against Lucas's bare chest, his cheek resting
against the priest's stomach. 

	"Wow. That was really cool," the priest said, stroking Willy's
back. 

	"What was?"

	"You just fought off a panic attack all by yourself," he answered,
and he noticed Willy was still quivering against him, though it was
greatly muted. "I could never do that."

	"I bet you could do it if you really worked at it," Willy said
with confidence. "It's pretty tough, actually, but Jenny's been
teaching me meditation for like three years now, and before that, I
learned some from my parents, so - " He trailed off, taking a moment
to center himself again, before continuing. "And by parents I mean - "

	"The DuWitts." Lucas easily finished the sentence. "How are they?
Are they cool?"

	"Yeah." The distraction seemed to be doing Willy good. "They're a
little spacey sometimes, and we're not always on the same wavelength,
but they really care about me. And they've always been very accepting
of ... alternative lifestyles. They're just unbelievably cool about
that sort of thing."

	"They seem like they make really good parents. Have they ever had
kids of their own?"

	Willy repositioned himself to be more comfortable, but did so
without separating from Lucas. "I think it was like a social
conscience thing. They decided that there were so many kids in the
world who had no parents, or had bad parents, and needed a better
home, that they would just be a haven for those kids instead of
bringing their own into the world."

	"That's really sweet. Did they tell you that?"

	"Yeah, I asked about it a few years ago," Willy continued. "We're
pretty attached. When I turn 18 next year I'll lose all my legal
connections to them, but they said their house would also be my home.
And I call them mom and dad and everything." He added, "You know, I've
been Willy DuWitt for more years than I've been David Polansky."

	"Did the court change you name, or did you?" Lucas continued to
run his fingers across Willy's back, checking for shaking.

	"The court. I think it was partially so my dad wouldn't be able to
get in touch with me from prison, and it would be harder for him to
find me if he ever gets out on parole."

	"Partially? What was the other reason?"

	"I think the court-appointed psychiatrist wanted me to get a fresh
start, to put my old life behind me for good. I didn't really have any
relatives I was close to, and my sister ran off, so there was no
reason to remain a Polansky."

	Lucas knew he was wandering into dangerous currents, but he asked
anyway, "Do you ever think about your sister?"

	The question seemed to be upset Willy, who squirmed, and Lucas
retracted it. "You don't have to answer that."

	"No, I want to," Willy said firmly. "When Dad was arrested, she
was sixteen and I was seven. She was the only one in the entire
universe that I completely loved and trusted, especially during those
first few months, when the courts were bouncing me around foster
homes, waiting for the trial to take place. It was a very
destabilizing time for me and I was scared as shit. When she bolted,
it just made it worse. I guess I'm still sort of mad at her for that.
I mean, yeah, Dad hurt her as badly as he hurt me, maybe worse because
she was the only one of us who understood that what dad was doing was
wrong and evil, but she *did* abandon me when I needed her most."
Mentally exhausted, he fell silent, concentrating on his breathing
again. He seemed upset, though it was hard to tell in the dark if he
was actually crying, so Lucas took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

	"You are so brave, Willy," Lucas didn't mask the admiration in his
voice. "You have to be the bravest person I know."

	"You're brave," Willy retorted. "You speak your mind; you do
dangerous things."

	"Yeah, but that can also be called 'egotistical' and 'reckless.'
You have this quiet, noble bravery that's just so damn adorable." This
comment caused them both to chuckle. "I just love you so much. You
know I'm always here for you, right?"

	"Ditto," Willy answered. "Just us against the universe."

	"And the aniverse," Lucas added.

	"We can do it," the engineer said with much confidence. 

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

	The first thing Willy thought of when the piercing rays of the sun
hit his barely-open eyes was that Lucas worshipped the sun, and the
second thing on his mind was why in the hell he did that. Rubbing his
eyes, he reached out blindly for his glasses, which were quickly
knocked between the bed stand and the bed by his hand. Cursing, he put
his feet over the edge and reached down on the ground, searching the
cheap carpet for the familiar wire frames. By the time he got them on
his face, his eyes were adjusted to the harsh morning sun that was
coming in through the blinds. 

	Putting on a fresh shirt, he glanced around, finding the room
empty. He checked the bathroom, which was also barren. It was odd, but
he felt strangely alone. Opening the door to his room, he walked out
onto the pavement. The motel was mainly deserted, the parking lot
containing only the owner's car.

	Lucas was beyond the pavement, standing on the grass beside the
road, facing the morning sun and praying his heart out, clutching his
prayer beards. He sounded like a howling, desperate man when he prayed
in Lopine, a language not available through Willy's translator. The
sound was eerily soothing, filled with obvious passion and wild
abandon. Every now and then, the priest would kowtow to the ground,
which must have been a strange sight to the cars that occasionally
passed by. But Lucas was in another world, and Willy was quite
convinced that the world could end right then and the priest wouldn't
notice.

	Willy sat down on the porch, watching him. It was one of those
moments that made the engineer glad he had come on this trip, and
become as close to Lucas as he had in the last twenty-four hours.
Lucas didn't seem eager to stop, but eventually seemed to sadly bring
it to a close, turning around and walking back to the motel. He
stopped in front of Willy and reached down, kissing him on the head.

	"Good morning to you too," Willy said. "You want to go?"

	Lucas seemed more distant than usual, but content. "Not yet. I
want to take a bath before we go. But you can check out." 

	As the sounds of the water running filled their dingy, cramped
motel room, Willy gathered his clothing and stuffed it back in his
bag, and went into the office. The promised "continental breakfast"
consisted of a bran muffin and a glass of orange juice, but he could
have cared less. He finished the paperwork and signed them out, and
requested a bus schedule and directions to the bus stop. The whole
process took him ten minutes, and he was back in the room. The
bathroom door was open a slit, but all was quiet from inside. He
knocked on it carefully.

	"You can come in."

	Lucas was in the bathtub, mostly concealed by the shower curtain,
except for his head. He was resting his chin on his arms, which were
clutched onto the side of the tub. He seemed calm still, but obviously
in a bit more in a nervous funk. Willy sat down on the covered toilet
seat next to him.

	"Anxious?"

	"Yeah," he repositioned himself, splashing around smoothly. "A
little bit."

	"We don't have to go through with this," Willy said softly. "I'm
not encouraging you to turn back or anything, but I'll understand if
you want to."

	"I don't want to. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to. You know
what I mean?"

	"Yeah." Willy clasped his hands together. 

	"Gimme a second to get changed, and I want to show you something."

	Willy left so Lucas could dry himself off and change. When he
emerged from the bathroom, he was not in his monk robe, but wearing a
black shirt, black pants, and a light long trenchcoat. The only
indication of his priestly status was his prayer beads. His white hair
was still drying as he packed up his stuff and removed a small case
from his pack, opening it in front of Willy. 

	Inside was a small syringe. The tube only held what looked like a
few CCs of liquid, and was filled with a blue potion. 

	"This is a mild sedative. It's tailored to my body. It will make
me very, very calm but won't put me to sleep."

	Willy asked nervously, "Why are you showing me this? You have
pills; I've seen them."

	Lucas smiled. "You're very observant. But it's hard to force
someone to swallow pills."

	"I'm not forcing you to do anything," Willy said firmly.

	The priest shook his head and closed the case, putting it in
Willy's hand. "I'm making this decision now - I want to go through
with this. But I know as soon as we try to leave this room I'll start
freaking out. It's a chemical reaction to high stress, and this is my
medication for it. So if you see me starting to act very weird, I'm
*depending* on you to give me a shot." 

	"I don't think I'm qualified - "

	He was interrupted. "Look, it takes 5 ccs of oxygen to enter my
veins to give me a brain embolism. The syringe is only 3 ccs large -
it's idiot proof. Just stick it under my skin." He added, with more
emotion. "Willy, I don't think I can do this without it."

	Willy swallowed, considering for answering, "Okay. But I don't
like it."

	Nothing could have made Lucas happier, as he hugged Willy, "Oh, I
love you so much."

	 "Yeah, well, you won't say that when I drug you," Willy gave a
very nervous grin back.

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

	Willy was getting the feeling Lucas had been right about needing a
sedative. They had barely left the parking lot when a transformation
seemed to occur within the priest, as if it was finally occurring to
him that they were going through with this. He began to visibly shake,
and when the bus stop came in view, he looked very ready to bolt. Not
eager to sedate him, Willy nearly dragged him to the small stand and
sat him down on the bench, distracting him with kind words and tales
of the aniverse. It seemed to be working, until the bus came into view
on the horizon, and Lucas jumped up and attempting to duck into the
nearby gas station. Willy grabbed him and stuck the needle in his left
arm, and Lucas went partially limp.

	"Thank you," he said after about thirty seconds. His speech was
slurred and his eyes were only about half open, but he was very much
awake and able to climb aboard the bus. Willy bought their tickets and
they headed to the back of the bus.

	The bus ride was painfully quiet. Lucas seemed absolutely
fascinated by the back of the seat in front of him, and proceeded to
stare at it for the entire hour. Willy found it unnerving, the silence
Eire, and couldn't believe he was longing for the previous bus ride,
where the conversation had been so animated, it had gotten them thrown
off the bus. He put his hand around Lucas's, which was clammy and
unresponsive, and held it the entire way.

	He was never happier to get off a bus. The driver dropped them off
at the bus stop in Littleville, a tiny Southern hick town if Willy had
ever seen one. There was a grocery store, a gas station, and not much
else around the bus stop. Lucas, who was slowly regaining his senses
but was still noticeably subdued, pointed down one road.

	"I want to go somewhere first."

	Willy didn't argue, and followed him for about half an hour down a
dirt road that seemed to be on the edge of town. They would
occasionally receive strange glances from people in cars passing by,
and one guy actually stopped and offered them a lift, but Lucas
immediately declined, and continued walking just on the ride of the
road. On their left was the road and some houses. On their right was a
sharp drop of about 5 feet into an old drainage ditch that was now
covered with weeds and litter. 

	It seemed like they were going nowhere, until Lucas stopped very
abruptly and cried out, as if having been struck. Willy rushed to his
side and helped him from collapsing beside the road.

	"Shhhh," Willy held him up, letting him lean against his chest.
"What is it?"

	The priest shook his head and pushed away. He seemed to be in
physical pain as he turned to the ditch, and began to climb in.

	"Are you sure that's okay?"

	Lucas ignored him and used a tree trunk to stabilize himself
before hopping down into the ditch. He began picking through the
garbage and debris, seemingly randomly. Willy was tempted to jump in
with him, but he was shooed away. Whatever was going on, Lucas wanted
to do it himself.

	It took a few minutes of shuffling through the debris before Lucas
finally found the object he sought - a half-buried old bicycle,
obvious designed for a young boy. It was sickly twisted and obviously
damaged beyond repair. Lucas looked up at Willy.

	"That's it, isn't it?" Willy asked. "It's the bike you fell off
of. And the fall awakened your - uhm, visionary ability." He looked
down at the dirt, and noticed that the road came very close to the
ditch, and imagined it could be particularly slick if the ground was
wet. 

	"Yes." Lucas clutched his head. "This is where it all began."

	A respectful silence passed between them before Lucas put the bike
down and Willy offered his hand to help Lucas climb out of the ditch.
"I've seen all I need to see."

	The priest seemed to have recovered from the sedative enough to
think coherently. He was nervous again, shaking visibly, but seemed to
have it under control. He immediately brought them off the dirt road
and into the residential area of the town. In a more crowded area,
they were more exposed, and open to attract the attention of people
putting out their wash on lines or kids playing basketball in their
driveways. Lucas's white hair and black clothes got some stares, but
he was obviously used to it to the point of being numb.

	They came at last to an unparticular house, no different from the
ones around, but it had a cross on the door, and Lucas stopped in
front of it, afraid to walk the path to the front porch. Willy noticed
that he was clutching his prayer beads so tightly, it was making his
knuckles white.

	"You're gonna be okay," Willy said softly in his ear. He wanted to
touch Lucas, to hold his hand, but it seemed highly inappropriate. 

	"I know," Lucas responded, taking a deep breath. "Dama Frith-rah,"
he whispered as he began to walk the steps to the front porch. Willy
figured that was a prayer.

	As they came closer, they realized there was someone on the porch.
A tall, muscular boy who looked about Willy's age or maybe a little
older was sitting on the bench suspended by chains. He was wearing
dusty overalls and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As
Lucas approached, he stood up and moved to the center of the porch,
directly in their path.

	"Can I help you boys?" he said in a heavy Southern accent. Lucas
stopped a few feet in front of him and gave him one of his strange
smiles.

	"You don't remember me. That's okay, Matt." He didn't offer any
more information. 'Matt' scratched his crew-cutted head and looked him
over, before realization dawned.

	"Luke! Jesus, where're you been?!" he grabbed his brother, hugging
him roughly and without much care. "They told me you were dead!"

	"Yeah, well, you were seven. You'd believe anything," Lucas said,
releasing his brother and looking at him. "Look at you. You're a man
now, Matt."

	"Yeah, well, so are you!" Matt seemed unable to process what he
should be feeling, other than pure delight. "You gotta go see mom!
She'll be so happy - "

	Lucas and Matt entered the front door, Willy in toe, and Lucas
added, "Oh, and this my friend Willy. He helped me get here." He said
it in a completely neutral tone, ignoring the emotional baggage the
comment carried, but that was what they had agreed upon - what was
between them was between them alone. Willy was slowly gaining
appreciation for Lucas's tremendous acting abilities. Matt had no way,
from that one statement, to derive that Lucas was actually deeply in
love with this "friend" and "helping me get here" entailed a night of
passion. 

	The house was a standard contemporary house, perhaps a little less
sophisticated than Willy's; it was certainly less electronic. Most the
furniture looked antique, the rugs at least forty years old, at least
in style, the family pictures in black and white. Willy and Lucas, in
their city-boy outfits, were certainly out of place. 

	Matt ran into what was apparently the kitchen, "Mom, you gotta see
- "

	But before he could finish his sentence, an older, fiftish woman
emerged from the kitchen, still wearing an apron and carrying a
cooking utensil. She was short and plump, the polar opposite in Lucas,
except for the eyes - Willy noticed almost immediately, in searching
for a comparison, that she had his beautiful clear brown eyes. 

	She was an intelligent woman, with an air of dignity about her. It
only took her about a second before she spoke. "Luke! Oh dear Jesus!"
She held out her arms, and Lucas actually seemed eager to curl up
inside of them, though he towered over her by a foot. The woman lost
her earlier composture, her voice full of emotion, as she began to cry
tears of job against his chest. "Oh thank you Jesus, thank you so much
- "

	It was a real hallmark moment, Willy thought to himself. Lucas
seemed to be at ease with his mother, allowing her to hold onto him
for several minutes before letting go. The dishrag in her apron's
pocket had become a handkerchief, and she blew her nose rather loudly
into it.

	"It's good to see you, Mom," Lucas said, with a strange content
spell in his watery eyes. 

	"Sweet baby Jesus, where have you been?" Mrs. MacArthur took hold
of her son's hand, as if she had to touch him constantly to make sure
he was real. "We were sure you'd passed on."

	"I assure you, I was some place entirely else," Lucas said in his
usual cryptic way. "And this - " he gestured for Willy to join him by
his side " - is the man responsible for helping me get here."

	"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. MacArthur," Willy held and his hand,
and she shook it.

	"I can't thank you enough. I really can't," she was still a little
dizzy. "My Lord! We need to call your father, Luke."

	Lucas kept his face completely normal as she went for the most
rustic-looking phone Willy had ever seen, and dialed up on the ringer.
"Edward, our son's here. No, the other one. No, I mean Luke! He's
home! Come right away!" She waited, listening to the receiver, before
hanging up. "He'll be right here."

	Willy was astounded with the ease that Lucas was obviously hiding
all of his feelings. He had a conversation with his mother while she
made them all tea, except for Matt, who had a coke. He didn't give her
any details about his aniversian experience, or just about anything
else, instead asking her about the family. From what Willy could tell,
Lucas had his younger brother Matt, and an older brother named John
who was now married and apparently coming over for dinner anyway. 

	They all rose from their seats at the wooden table as there was
the sound of a screen door creaking open from the front of the house.
Lucas rose first, watching the front hallway. There was a tall, skinny
man standing there, holding his hat in his hands. He was a bony,
balding, gray-haired man with a stiff posture and a heavily-starched
gray suit. It was obvious exactly where Lucas got his looks from. He
looked at Lucas like a bear shaping up an uninvited guest in his
marked territory, then his features softened only the smallest amount.

	"Son - "

	Lucas said oddly calmly, "Dad." 

	They embraced, but it was stiff, tense embrace, that was not held
long. Mr. MacArthur, or Edward, seemed shocked and unprepared, but not
necessarily in a good way. He was still clearly sizing up the
situation. "We thought you had passed on, son."

	"Trust me, I was in hell for a lot of the time," Lucas said, and
Willy knew he was referring to the toad slave labor camp. "So - did
you build a new church?"

	It seemed like a strange question, and Willy watched the entire
family suddenly go on alert. He wasn't sure quite why, but Lucas had
definitely said something particularly grating, especially to his
father. 

	Edward responded by completely ignoring the question, "How long
are you staying?"

	"As long as it takes." 

	"Well, I hope that includes dinner," his mother said, easing the
tension in the room with her soft tones. "You and your friend must
have had a hard trip - why don't you go wash up?"

	Edward and Matt seemed overwhelmingly relieved at this idea,
especially when Lucas agreed to it. He and Willy were led up into what
was currently a guest room, with a private bath. There was a single
bed, a chair and desk set, and a dresser with a bible on it and a
cross hanging up on the wall directly above it. Lucas immediately took
down the cross, and it shoved it in the drawer along with the bible.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small idol of a lion with a sun
above it, and set in the center of the dresser where the bible used to
be. He kowtowed to it, said something in Lopine, and then collapsed on
the bed, exhausted from putting up his front. Willy closed the door
and sat down on the bed next to him.

	"So what the hell was that about?"

	Lucas sat up, allowing Willy to stroke his hair, which seemed to
calm his trembling body. "I burned down my father's church. It was the
night I was taken by a regen to the aniverse. I really just wanted to
burn the picture of Jesus, but the whole building just sort of caught
and went down like instantly. Stupid wooden buildings."

	"Do they know you did it?"

	"They don't have any proof, and I highly doubt anyone would have
any real suspicions, other than my father. He knew I hated that
picture." Lucas leaned on Willy, resting his head in his lap. "He beat
me over the head with it once. Felt really bad afterwards, but it was
because he cared about the picture more than he cared about me." He
began to sob. "I don't think I can do this."

	"Of course you can," Willy held him still. "You've made it this
far - *we've* made it this far. It's not that much further, I
promise."

	This seemed to comfort Lucas, who managed to slowly get a hold of
himself. He sat up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Why did I come
here? Why did I come back?"

	"Because you're strong. And you're not afraid of anything," he
answered seriously. "And you'll be a stronger person for doing this."

	"Frith in a barn, you're probably right," Lucas used a very
strange Lopinenean phrase. "Okay. I feel better now. You want to
shower before dinner?" 

Willy, who hadn't showered since they checked into the motel the night
before, was eager to do so. He, like Lucas, often preferred to bathe,
so he could sit in the tub with his thoughts, but he was not
particularly in the mood to think about what was coming next. When he
emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, Lucas was in a meditation
position on a prayer mat he had on the floor in front of the
make-shift altar. He seemed calmer, more collected, than Willy had
perhaps ever seen him when not sedated. And, more than anything, he
has a strange focused look in his eyes.

	"Let's do this."

	Willy was glad he had brought a collared shirt and tie. He was
still attempting to tie it when Lucas headed downstairs. Willy heard
sounds from downstairs of greeting, and heading to the top of the
stairs, he saw Lucas embracing a man who looked like he was in his
early thirties. He was the same height as Lucas, with similar
features, but a little heavier. Beside him was a woman of similar age
wearing a flower-print dress who was obviously his wife. Lucas was
introduced, and shook her hand gracefully. He was wearing his suit,
which was entirely black.

	As Willy headed down the stairs, still nervously straightening his
tie, Lucas gestured for him to join them, "Willy, this is my older
brother John, and his wife Ellen." He had a smoothness to his voice
that gave no indication of his earlier nervousness. Willy only prayed
he could maintain his front the entire evening. 

	John shook his hand and thanked him for bringing 'Luke' home.
Ellen gave him a polite smile. It was clear that no one really
understood why a man in his late twenties needed a kid to help him get
somewhere, but it wasn't an appropriate topic for conversation. Willy
idly wondered if Lucas would tell his family about his visions, or his
mental illness and medical treatment. 

Before the conversation could really start up, they were ushered into
the small dining room by Mrs. MacArthur. Edward MacArthur sat at one
end, John at the other, both with their wives on their lefts. Lucas
and Matt sat next to each other on one side, and Willy sat across from
Lucas, next to Ellen. 

	Edward, the patriarch, clasped his hands together, and they all
bowed their heads to say grace. Willy lowered his eyes but kept one
eye on Lucas, who didn't seem bothered by it as Edward spoke, "Bless
us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from
Thy bounty. Help us to be mindful of all our blessings, and the needs
of those who have less. Amen."

	There was a chorus of "amens" from around the table, and the
heaping bowls of food began to be passed around. The food was pot
roast with mashed potatoes, a delicacy for Willy, who lived in a
vegetarian house. 

	John, who was the only member of the family not overwhelmingly
eager to see Lucas other than Mr. MacArthur, was the first to speak as
he took a serving from the bowl of cooked carrots. "So where'ya been,
Luke?"

	"To hell and back," Lucas answered, without hesitation. 

	"You run away?" John mockingly accused.

	"No, I was abducted." The priest didn't offer anymore information,
but he left himself open to questioning, seeing if they would rise to
his bait. 

	Edward spoke for the first time since a tense grace, "You were
abducted by Catholics?" Clearly he was looking right at Lucas's right
hand, which was wrapped in prayer beads.

	"Now, Edward - " Mrs. MacArthur tried to protest. "We don't want
this kind of thing at the table - "

	"Let him answer the question," Edward demanded of his wife.

	Lucas just laughed. "Very funny. But no, I was not abducted by
Catholics." He finished taking his portion of meat and passed it on to
John. "My kidnapper's name was Thresus. He was a very confused
lizard."

	Total silence. Willy scrunched further into his chair, <Here it
comes ...>

	"You were abducted by aliens?" Matt rose to his bait. "I saw that
on TV - "

	"I can assure you that real aliens look *nothing* like the aliens
on the FOX channel - "

	"Willy," Mrs. MacArthur interrupted, trying to keep the
conversation sane. "Where did you find Luke?" 

	Willy glanced at Lucas, not sure what he should say. Should he
tell them he met him on a prisoner escort mission? That Lucas had
taken a spaceship hostage for his own personal gain? Something told
him if he lied, Lucas would just feel betrayed and told them the truth
anyway.

	Lucas, however, rushed in to answer for Willy. "I had just been
let out of a mental institution." He glanced at Willy's shocked
expression. "What? It's true. I was the Institute for the Criminally
Insane on Genus when Chairman Warner pardoned me."

	Willy wasn't sure whether this was a tremendous save or a
hideously blunt comment. They would now disregard all of Lucas's
aniverse-related comments, no matter how truthful he was being, but
they would also look down on him.

	"You're all better now, right?" Matt moved away from him as if
Lucas's body was some kind of diseased contagion. Clearly, he was not
the most subtle member of the family.

	Lucas gave him a mocking but malicious stare. "Most of the time."

	"Are you coming to the bible session with us?" Lucas's mother made
another attempt to steer the conversation away from uncharted
territory. "You should see your father's new church."

	It was time for Lucas's creepy smile, "I've love to see the new
church."

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

	As they entered the small church, Willy was in completely
unfamiliar territory. The last time he had been in a church was when
he was seven - his dad used to take him to an Episcopalian cathedral a
few times a year. But that was a New York City *cathedral* - and this
was a small Southern church, built by the sweat of a small townsfolk.
It was hardly the size of his house in San Francisco, with a steeple
that only went two feet above the roof of the church. It was painted
white, and the paint was just beginning to chip. The whole building -
really just a one room - was made of wood, down to the seats and the
platform meant for the choir. There was a podium with a large bible on
it, and various editions of the King James scattered in the pews.
Behind the podium, on the wall, was a picture of Jesus in full
majesty.

	There are about thirty people in the room, mostly middle-aged
married couples, or older folk, and one or two fresh-faced teenagers,
looking none-to-eager to be there. Everyone was in their Sunday best,
or at least a level of dress just below it. There were some scattered
young children about, running up and down the aisles, carrying to fire
trucks and action figures. Some were sitting on the small stage in the
front, next to the podium, and trading pokemon cards. 

	As Edward MacArthur entered, most of the people stood up from
their seats, greeting him with a friendly "reverend" and a kind word
or inquiry about his life. He smiled politely but immediately went to
the potion, taking out his notes from his breast pocket and putting on
his reading glasses. As the rest of the family entered, they were
greeted with similar attention, but as soon as Lucas entered, he stole
the show. It soon became clear exactly who he was, but he was still
victim to a thousand questions and comments. Mr. MacArthur had to bang
on his podium to get order. The MacArthur family sat in the first two
rows, and Willy took a seat in the pew just behind Lucas.

	"Now now," Edward MacArthur said in his thick Southern accent. "As
you all have noticed, the Lord Jesus Christ has chosen to deliver my
son Luke back into the bosom of our family - "

	At this point, Mrs. MacArthur stood up in hear chair and shouted
"Hallelujah!" This was immediately followed by a chorus of hallelujahs
and 'praise the Lord!'s. It took a good thirty seconds for the crowd
to calm down. There was energy in the room, unlike anything Willy had
ever felt - as if an electric current was running through the air. The
people seemed to take every opportunity to stand up and proclaim their
love for Jesus Christ.

	"Praise the Lord," Edward continued, in a calm voice. "Praise him
to the kingdom of heaven. The Lord Jesus Christ, who has divine plans
we cannot comprehend, but we know only of his love for all of the
children of Israel."

	"Amen," shouted back the crowd. 

	Suddenly, Lucas raised his hand as if he were in a classroom and
wanted to be called on. Edward reluctantly said, "Yes, son? Do you
have something to add?"

	<Here is comes> Willy braced himself for the worst as Lucas stood
up from his seat.

	"What if Jesus isn't my personal savior?"

	His father looked taken back, as the audience looked confused.
"Jesus is everyone's personal savior; that's part of his glory."

	"No, Frith is *my* savior, because he delivered me from Hell,"
Lucas retorted. "And by 'Hell' I mean this Frithdamn town!"

	There was another wave of shock among the audience, which was too
flabbergasted to speak. Mrs. MacArthur tugged on Lucas's arm, but he
struggled free and approached the stage, standing only a few feet from
his father's elevated podium. 

	"Son," Edward was barely keeping the pure hatred from his voice as
he seethed. "I don't know what kind of false idol you worship, but I
assure you it has no power against the power of the one true God, and
his son Christ."

	Lucas immediately responded with, "What do you know about Jesus?"
This just made the crowd even more incapacitated by their fear of what
was being said. Lucas shook his fists at his father. "I don't think
you know a thing about Jesus!"

	Willy ducked behind his pew; he had a feeling absolutely nothing
in the known universe could have made Edward MacArthur angrier as he
held up the large bible and waved it at his son. "Now you have a
little respect, you ungrateful heretic. I've studied the good book all
my life - "

	"Blah blah blah," Lucas interrupted him, holding his fingers in
his ears so he couldn't hear his father until Edward stopped speaking.
"You've read it, but have you listened to what it says? What about
'turn the other cheek' or 'treat others as you wish to be treated.?'
Or my personal favorite hypocrisy, 'spare the rod and spoil the
child'?!?" He narrowed his eyes at his father. "And I believe you know
what I'm talking about."

	Before he could come any further, John stood up and ran between
Lucas and his father. Lucas was not without fighting ability, but John
was a burly man who probably worked out at a gym or did a lot of work
on a farm - Willy guessed he could easily take Lucas. He closed in on
his younger brother, practically spitting in his face when he spoke,
"Now you take that back, ghost." It seemed to be some kind of
nickname, and Willy idly remembered Lucas mentioning that kids in
school called him "ghost" because of his white hair.

	"Take back what the bible says? Gladly, since I'm the only one who
seems to understand it," Lucas said without flinching. 

	"Luke, he's your father," Mrs. MacArthur demanded, trying to calm
her wild son. "Don't do this."

	"He's the devil himself," Edward said suddenly. He'd been silent
since Lucas had mentioned 'rod' and 'child' in the same sentence, but
now he returned to the conversation with full force. The preacher
stepped down from the behind the podium, holding the good book between
him and Lucas, but brushing John aside. "This man is a demon, sent by
Satan to tempt us to sin! But we still stand strong against him!"

	There was a chorus of "amens" again, and Willy decided the best
idea for him was to slowly inch towards the door. This was about to
get ugly, as Edward held up the bible between himself and Lucas, as if
it would act as some sort of shield.

	Lucas looked at it, and laughed. "I come bearing truth and you
call me an agent of Satan. Maybe you see something of me in yourself.
Because you see, Dad, I thought you *were* Satan. That's why I ran
away, and that's why I didn't come back for ten years. But now I've
come back, to tell you that you can't do anything to me that you
already haven't done."

	"Stop this! Stop this!" Mrs. MacArthur came in between them,
trying to get Edward to put down his bible. "You don't mean what
you're saying - either of you! You're family."

	"This family is dead to me," Lucas said, very seriously. "My
father is dead to me because he beat whatever love I had for him out
of me. The rest of you are dead because you did nothing to stop it."
There was along silence, shaming them all in front of the
congregation.

	Finally, John defended his family, "T-That isn't true! He's the
devil, he's lying!"

	"I don't care if anyone in this entire building believes me,
because the only people that matter know the truth. I didn't come here
to expose you to anyone but yourselves." He looked them over. "I have
no other desire to be here. I can leave now."

	He turned to go, but as he got two steps away, John struck him
from behind, knocking him to the ground. Willy rushed to his side,
helping him back up, but Lucas pushed him away. "No. I don't care. If
they strike me, they just prove my point." He stood up painfully,
facing his brother, who punched him in the stomach, causing him to
collapse forward, coughing up blood on the dusty wooden floor. 

	"Now you take back what you said 'bout this family," John
demanded, holding up his fist as if to strike again, but Edward and
Mrs. MacArthur both held onto it so he couldn't strike.

	"He's just tempting you, John," Edward insisted. "Don't lower
yourself to his level."

	"He's your brother!" demanded Matt, the youngest MacArthur boy,
speaking for the first time. Willy suspected that Matt was too young
to really have known what was going on between Lucas and his father
before he left for the aniverse. 

	"Someone call the police!" a member of the congregation demanded,
and a few people ran out to get the police. Lucas ignored them,
bringing himself to standing position again, though still clutching
his chest. He needed Willy's help to maintain his balance. 

	"I give you a morsel of truth, and you respond with violence. This
family hasn't changed at all." Lucas demanded, "What are you so afraid
of, that you had to strike me in church, in front of Dad's entire
congregation? Are you afraid of the fact that you were no good
Samaritan, that you saw me lying by the side of the road and did
nothing to help me?" Lucas's voice was back at shouting level. 

	"Luke, he did nothing wrong," Edward insisted.

	But this only seemed to make Lucas angrier, as he redirected his
anger at his father. "Whatever to 'he who is without sin, cast the
first stone'?"

	"Please get a hold of yourself," Mrs. MacArthur pleaded, but Lucas
was quivering with hatred and excitement, obviously not in one of his
most sane moods.

	"I was hurt! I was in pain! Frith chose me to have visions and you
thought I was the devil for it! And the more accurate my prophecies
were, the more you were convinced! Well, I have some prophecies for
all of you!" He turned to a man in the conversation, an older man in a
white suit. "You will die in one year from kidney cancer." He pointed
to a large woman in the front row. "You will have three heart attacks
in the next four years, all weight-related." He drew the attention of
the one teenager in the room, other than Matt, "You will lose your
virginity to another man, then kill yourself over guilt because of
your homosexuality." And finally, he turned to his family. "And you
will all be cursed, because I have cursed you. Mom, you will be barren
for the rest of your life. John, you will have a terrible harvest next
year and nearly go bankrupt. And Dad, do I even tell you what's going
to happen to you?" He smiled, and pointed to the front of the church.

	No one had noticed, but somehow, the picture of Jesus had caught
fire. A woman screamed, and Edward tore off his jacket, pulled the
picture off the wall, and attempted to smoother it with his jacket.
This only seemed to make the fire worse, and it quickly spread to the
wooden floor and walls with unnatural speed. The congregants were
forced to flee for their lives.

	Only Edward, Lucas, and Willy standing in the doorway remained.
The preacher was going from pew to pew, trying to get a hold of the
bibles and toss them out the window to save them, only to have them
catch fire just as he had them in his hands. Lucas stood silently in
the center of the room, watching him with an odd silence. Edward cried
out as the flames burned his hand, quickly putting them out by
spitting on his fingers. He turned to his son, holding a bible out in
front of him.

	"You are the devil himself! You've caused this!"

	Lucas answered calmly, "It's not my church that's burning. I know
you believe in Holy Judgement, Dad. It used to be your excuse for
beating me senseless for claiming I heard voices."

	"I did it because I loved you! I wanted to beat the devil out of
you, son," Edward said honestly.

	"It wasn't in me, Dad. The devil was in you. You just saw your own
reflection in me somehow."

	Before Edward could consider whether Lucas was right, the flames
jumped closer to the aisle, putting them both in considerable danger.

	"Come on, Lucas!" Willy demanded from the doorway. "We gotta get
out of here!"

	Lucas calmly walked to the doorway and out onto the porch,
glancing back into the inferno. Inside, his father was still trying to
gather the last of the bibles as they were slowly swallowed by the
flames. Lucas sighed and walked out past the porch, onto the front
lawn. Everyone gave him a wide berth as he walked away from the scene,
followed by a nervous Willy. 

	"The flames won't kill him, though I wish they would." Lucas said,
without emotion. "He created his own private hell years ago - I just
brought it to his attention."

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

	Getting out of town without running into the law was surprisingly
easy, considering how apt Lucas was at avoiding the law, and the fact
that technically, he hadn't committed a crime. Sure, the local police
probably wanted him for questioning about what had happened, but Lucas
had no desire to work with them, so Willy and he both decided leaving
quietly was the best way to go.

	An hour later, they were back on a bus to Memphis. Lucas covered
his notorious white hair with a wig, just in case his description
showed up on the news. Apparently, Lucas had planned something alone
those lines all along, and had packed it in his bag. 

	"How did the fire get started?" Willy asked quietly on the bus. "I
was with you the whole time - you were never within five feet of that
picture."

	Lucas gave him one of his infamous smiles. "You think the
Aldeberans are the only ones in the aniverse with magical training?"

	The ride the rest of the way was silent. Lucas seemed happily
content with the outcome of his visit home, but emotionally exhausted
and uneager to engage Willy in even mindless chatter. Willy picked up
on this and remained silent, holding his hand between the seats and
watching the passing cornfields through the window.

	Thought their original intention was to stay in Tennessee
overnight and fly back to California in the morning, they both decided
that it was probably better to get Lucas back to the aniverse as
quickly as possible, just in case the authorities were still on their
tale. For a little extra cash, they were able to change their tickets
to a late-night flight. Willy called his mom to tell her he would need
a pick-up at the airport the next morning, and they both get on the
flight, intending to sleep through it.

	But Willy couldn't sleep. It mind was full of questions that were
beginning to come up. The bond between him and Lucas was something
that was inseparable, but it didn't mean he necessarily wanted to
continue their relationship. The time they had shared he would always
hold dear, but he knew it wasn't feasible to continue that level of
contact in the aniverse. Lucas had his priestly responsibilities on
Noctur Two, and Willy had school and the toad wars. Besides, he
severely doubted they would able to keep their relationship a secret
for very long, something he had a great desire to do. As much as he
cared for Lucas, he knew no one, even people who had accepted his
sexuality, would understand why he cared for an arrogant terrorist.
And there was the legality of their relationship - Willy wouldn't be
legal in the aniverse for another year. 

He didn't express any of these thoughts with Lucas because the priest
had gone to sleep almost immediately on the plane. Telling himself
they would discuss it in the morning, Willy finally drifted off.

	Five hours later, they forced themselves awake and tiredly made
their way to security of San Francisco International Airport. As they
were waiting for their luggage to come up in baggage claim, Lucas
seemed to sense what was on Willy's mind, starting the conversation
without warning.

	"I won't hold you to this relationship," Lucas said kindly, though
Willy knew the priest was deeply in love with him. "I'll understand if
you just want to forget -,"

	"Lucas," Willy said, almost annoyed at him. "I never want to
forget this. This was a beautiful weekend. Parts of it were very
difficult - well, most of it was very, very difficult - but parts of
it were wonderful. But ..." He searched for the words he wanted, "I'm
not ready for a sustained relationship. With anyone. It's not you,
it's ..." Again, he was caught with what to say. He didn't want to
insult Lucas, but he wanted to say how he felt. "I'm still ... burned
from the deal with Scott. I need more time alone. And I don't think
now is the right time for this anyway. Maybe if we lived in complete
isolation, away from the police, our friends, anyone -,"

	Lucas surprised him and said, "I understand."

	"What I mean is -- Hold it. You do?" He was actually shocked. The
priest was taking this really well.

	"Of course. You're seventeen - you're not sure what you want yet.
So you experiment, try things out, but never really stay with one idea
for long. And that whole legality thing, I guess." Lucas looked
peaceful. "I knew this was going to happen."

	"Y-You did?"

	"Of course. I'm a prophet." Lucas grabbed Willy by the back of his
head and shook him a little. "Idiot."

	Willy laughed, but then attempted to stay focused. "Okay. Great, I
guess. But I want you to know that it's not like I'm gonna try to
forget you, or this weekend. It was really special."

"That means a lot to me," Lucas admitted.  

He seemed to be deep in thought, and it was a good minute before he
spoke again.

"Look, no matter what happens, you have to understand that this
weekend was just --"

" - between us. I know." Lucas finished his sentence for him. 

"But I really mean it," Willy said firmly. "You like to give people
too much information - "

"Willy," Lucas ran his arms around Willy's neck, facing him. "I'm a
loudmouth sometimes - I'm a prophet; I'm supposed to be. But I'm not
an idiot. What's between us is between *us*."

"Is that a promise?"

"Of course," Lucas looked hurt. "Now shut up and kiss me."

And Willy did just that.There was an comfortable moment of silence
between them, before Lucas grabbed Willy and exchanged the longest,
most passionate kiss they had each ever experienced. No one gave them
so much as a dirty look or attempted to avoid them. 

	When they came up for air, the first thing Willy said was, "God, I
love San Francisco."


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

Epilogue

	"Four simoleans fer a glass o' swampgrass? Tha's too much, I tell
ya!"

	Willy smiled to himself, watching his four-armed crewmate attempt
to haggle with the poor bartender, who was obviously on his first day
at that job. No one really expected him to lower the price, but
Deadeye liked to get worked up about that sort of thing. 

	"Look, pal - I don't set the prices, I just serve the drinks.
You'll have to - "

	Walking back from the bar to their table and sitting down in the
seat next to Bruiser, who was munching on a banana sundae, Willy tuned
out the conversation and put his mind towards more important things,
like his usual game of seeing how many pieces of sliced bananas he
could sneak off of Bruiser's sundae while the baboon wasn't looking.
Blinky had ordered a can of oil and was currently greasing the seams
of his robotic body.  

	"I don't think I want to see another binder or folder again - "

	The engineer looked up to see his captain and Jenny entering the
crowded bar, which was dealing with the usual lunch crowd. They had
spent the entire morning meeting with the Security Council to discuss
the final budget allotments for the fleet, something that Bucky had
certainly not been looking forward to. He nearly collapsed into his
chair across from Willy, Jenny sitting next to him. She was her usual
calm and understanding self, attempting to soothe his tired mind,
which she was quite good at doing.

	"How much did we get?" was the first question he posed to the
green hare, who was rattling off his order the waiter droid.

	"Three million simoleans, but we now have to pay for gas out of
our budget instead of charging it to the U.A.C."

	"What? That's like half our budget right there!"

	Bucky rubbed his whiskers tiredly. "Yeah, I know." He seemed to
spot something from behind Willy. "Oh, Great Mother. I'm not in the
mood for this."

	Willy turned around in his seat to see Lucas, in his usual black
habit, approaching the table with his an arrogant smirk on his face.
He had his arms crossed and buried his robes, looking particularly
monkish. "Hello to you too, Captain O'Hare."

	Bucky rolled his eyes. "Is this a business call or are you just
here to bother us?"

	"Well, I was just going to say hello and leave some important
information on your answering machine, but since you've given me such
a warm welcome, I think I'll join you for lunch." He pulled out the
chair next to Willy and sat in it.

	"Just get to the point," Jenny said as neutrally as possible.
"Please."

The priest pulled out a data pad and slid it across the table to
Bucky. "Rumor has it that in the underground market for banned
technology, someone has been heavily into buying out all controlled
substances used for making bombs - things like bombs, large explosive
missiles, and the like - to the point of driving up prices of those
items to almost double what they were two months ago."

	"And you think this mysterious buyer is a toad?"

	"The types of materials this buyer has been buying up are all
materials directly compatible with the toad technology system. So I
thought it should be brought to your attention, in case you want to
watch that."

	Bucky raised a long ear. "And how would a simple priest know about
the weapons black market?"

	Lucas just smiled. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Captain
O'Hare. Now if you'll excuse me -," He left the data pad when he got
up from the table, leaving room for Deadeye to join the table with his
drink, but not before sneering at Lucas, who disappeared into the
crowd. Bucky looked over the material in the data pad.

	"This could be interesting - or it could be a trap." He hooked the
data pad up to his belt. "I'll check it with the Chairman. He always
seems to know what Lucas is up to."

	"I'll be right back. Bathroom stop," Willy announced
unceremoniously, getting up from the table. He knew the bar quite well
- it was a popular spot for U.A.C. people, being right outside capitol
square. And, most importantly, he knew how to get into the back alley
from the bathroom.

	"I was wondering when you were going to show up." Lucas grinned
widely and they embraced briefly. "How's everything?"

	"Pretty good. Lots of work to do on the Righteous, spent the last
two weeks filling out budget request forms. The colleges are gonna
start ending me their answers in a week and a half."

	"What's your current favorite?"

	Willy thought about it. "M.I.T., I think. I'll find out about that
in two and half weeks. The first one to come in is Berkeley. The IVYs
are all much later; they want you to sweat it out." He continued,
"Hey, I wanted to tell you that you made national news."

	"Oh, really?" Lucas's eyes lit up. "Did I get blamed for the
arson?"

	"The media sort of made that assumption. I'm not sure what the
police think; they haven't really released any statements. It's really
funny - nobody got a picture of you, so they had to make a police
artist sketch."

	"How do I look?"

	"Terrible. They just didn't color the hair so everyone would know
exactly how white it is. And they got your cheekbones all wrong."

	This seemed to give Lucas a good laugh as he paced the little
alley. Willy leaned up against the wall, kicking at the ground.
"Anyway, I should be getting back. But it was good seeing you."

	"Same," Lucas agreed.

	Willy pecked him on the cheek, which made Lucas the happiest
person in the world for that moment, and then ducked back into the
bar. Lucas considered pursuing him, but resisted it and headed through
the alley to the sidewalk of the street. Standing there was Kadaf
Warner, who Lucas bowed stiffly to.

	"How're you feeling?" Kadaf asked. It was a little strange, coming
from him - maybe he'd heard about the trip to earth. Fritz always kept
tabs on all of his servants, no matter how insignificant.

	Lucas smiled. "Never better."

The End.