Nightfall

Epilogue

^And now, thirty-six hours after the terrible eclipse ended, the snow has started to melt all over the world, and meteorologists predict a return to typical springtime weather,^ reported the young woman, striding through the muddy slush that still spotted the banks of the Hamilton River, ^Although scientists try to determine the cause of the unexplained eclipse, the leading hypothesis is that the event is related to the mass invasion of strange beings that flooded the frozen streets of LA during the blizzard. Who was this army? Information is sparse, but the invaders were referred to by a member of the Spectrum Force as Denebians, which may connect them to the distant star Deneb. There is no sign of these invaders presently, as they vanished completely only minutes after the Sun's return.^

Tracy Preston then paused by one of the bridges crossing the river, which was all but destroyed. She leaned against part of the railing, and continued. ^The mystery woven around these strange recent events is still clouded. However, one thing the eclipse certainly confirmed for the entire world was the existence of the Spectrum Force. This team of superheroes made their debut several weeks ago, when they dodged media coverage after fending off an attack at a local upscale restaurant. Since the actual footage of the team is so sparse, very few individuals out of the Langstrum Alps area put any faith in their existence. However, the eclipse brought these heroes into the public eye yet again. During the eclipse, six members focused their attentions right here at the Hamilton River, where a strange creature was reported to exist. This monster destroyed the bridge I'm standing beside. Also, a new and unidentified winged member of the Force, shown here at the side of the National Guard, came to the general aid of the street forces against the invading Denebian armies. With this footage, plus the inexplicable eclipse, even the most skeptical are beginning to believe that we are not alone in the universe. Rather, there is at least one other species of intelligent life, and they are without a doubt belligerent.^

As the reporter continued her summary of the historic invasion, various clips of the Spectrum Force, including their newest member, snapped past on the corner of the screen. Also shown were screen captures of the invading armies, including one female warrior with a golden tiara and a fierce long bow.

^While the Spectrum Force's existence has been verified, the United States government for one is not planning on letting us fall victim to this type of invasion again. The Secretary of Defense is at this very moment assembling a committee of scientists and military agents to form a defensive strategy to protect the entire planet from such an offensive. Obviously, this endeavor is in its earliest of stages, but the total cost of such a global protection policy with doubtless cost trillions of dollars.

^Now, just a handful of hours after this momentous event, it's clear to see that the world around us is changing. Enemies we didn't even know existed have come out into the open, giving the entire planet all the more reason to consent to peace talks. It's still too soon to know for certain how greatly this event will change the world scene. Back to you, Greg.^

The reporter vanished, only to be replaced by a shot of the news desk. An elderly man with a receding hairline nodded his head, and then fixed his eyes on the camera. ^Thanks, Tracy. While it's true that Langstrum Alps was hit the hardest by the eclipse due to the invasion, it can't be denied that the unseasonal snowfall was devastating to other parts of the world as well. Blizzards threatened crops across the planet, and left many homeless. Globally, several thousand are estimated to have been either killed or seriously injured by the freezing temperatures and unnatural snowfall. Locally, with the strange invasion coupled by the weather, dozens of deaths and numerous injuries have been reported, including a significant percentage of the National Guard. Also, one young woman, a local UCLA student, has been reported missing. As of now, there are no new developments to the whereabouts of Miss Tamara Fox--^

"Enough," Jocelyn whispered, turning off the television and taking another sip of coffee. Wearily, she pushed herself off the couch, and walked into the kitchen to refill her cup. Bloodshot hazel eyes stared into the whirlpool created by her spoon, drinking in the spinning blackness. Vaguely, she wondered if that was what the Nightfall had looked like from the inside... as Tamara had seen it.

Jocelyn swallowed hard, gathering the folds of her cream-colored robe and taking a seat upon the kitchen stool. She lay her heavy head on her palm, and let her elbow rest on the countertop. Lifeless strands of auburn hair fell about her shoulders, as her right hand was caught in the same routine of stirring the coffee.

All she could see was the spinning void of darkness. All she could hear was the sound of silence.

How ironic... the people of the entire planet celebrated their salvation, but the people who fought for that salvation were all neck-deep in depression. And the one person who carried out the impossible... well... she could never celebrate anything.

The hardest thing was lying about Tammy's fate. With all her courage and strength, she couldn't claim her rightful place in history as the hero who saved Earth. Instead, the team decided to report Tammy as missing to the police. Also, Rachel made the painful call to Tammy's parents, informing them of Tammy's disappearance.

At least for the time being, not even Tamara's family would know what happened. They would think her death a pointless tragedy, rather than the selfless sacrifice it truly was.

Suddenly, the slim strength in Jocelyn's body gave out. The young woman pushed her coffee cup away, and let her head drop to the tabletop, nestling it in her arms as she let her weary eyelids drop.

Yet as soon as the darkness became all she could see, her eyes shot open with desperation, and once again stared blankly at her coffee cup.

She just couldn't stand the darkness.

"Hello?" came a weak voice, reminiscent of a groan. The Orange Enforcer rolled her eyes towards the door, where a faint knock accompanied the voice.

"It's... open," she called, her voice hoarse. Slowly, the door pushed open, and a tall figure stepped into the room. He lumbered towards the couch, and sat down heavily, releasing a long sigh as he stared at the ceiling. Both hands reached up to his head, and ran along his face and smooth head slowly. Finally, he leaned forward, clasping his temples between both hands.

"Still suffering from that hangover?" Jocelyn asked, pushing her head up so she could see Craig better.

"Yeah," Craig moaned, shaking his head, "It was dumb, but I didn't know how to handle it all. I mean... it was so out of the blue, you know? The emotional rollercoaster of sure defeat, a glimpse of hope, utter doom, sudden salvation, and then shocking tragic news... I couldn't take it. So, I became good friends with Jose Cuervo."

"It's a good thing Matt stopped you from drinking the whole bottle," Jocelyn muttered accusingly, picking up her coffee mug and walking back to the couch, "You've never been much of a drinker, and tequila isn't something to mess around with. The last thing we need is another tragedy on our hands. Here, drink this."

Craig accepted the coffee, and stared at it a little. "I'm not still drunk, you know."

"True, but caffeine is a great pain-killer," Jocelyn pointed out.

Craig shrugged, taking a long sip of the strong brew. "Thanks, Kiddo."

"No problem," she answered, leaning back on the couch beside her friend. She chewed on her lip for a moment, and then turned back to Craig. "So, how're Matt and Keith? I haven't seen nor heard from Keith since we left Cloud Castle, and Matt's been a stranger too."

Craig nodded. "Actually, Keith hasn't been back to the apartment at all. Matt was basically watching over me," he admitted grimly, "but now he went to find Keith. God knows he's suffering the most."

"Tell me about it," Jocelyn sighed, "And the worst part of it is, Tamara is probably the only one who could've made him feel better about what happened to his father, and now she's..."

Jocelyn cut herself off, her eyes casting towards one of the three bedrooms. "You know, this morning, I woke up, and I honestly thought it was all a dream," she confessed, "The Nightfall, Keith's father, Tammy... I thought it was a nightmare, and that I had woken up to the uncomplicated life I've always had. And then, as I stepped out of my room and saw Tammy's empty room, it dawned on me just how real it is."

"I know," Craig revealed, "Being the Spectrum Force sure did mean we put our lives on the line, but we never won a battle with anything more than a couple scratches. Now, we might have won the battle, but we definitely took a hit... that can never heal."

Craig swallowed another sip of coffee, and glanced around the room inquisitively. "Say... where's Rachel, anyway?"

Jocelyn shrugged her shoulders. "She left before I woke up... or at least, before I got out of bed. Actually, Chris came by about an hour ago looking for her."

Craig nodded. "Yeah, he came by my apartment too. I wonder where she is?"

"She's okay," Jocelyn pointed out, "If she weren't, then our Spectrum Stones would have warned us. I think she just wants to be alone. It's her way of dealing with problems."

"It doesn't matter what she wants," Craig stated, "I have a feeling Chris won't let her be alone. Not at a time like this."

There she was. Standing right in front of her. Grinning despicably, sharp fangs and blood red lips. Laughing mockingly, knowing the pain she caused. Knowing the innocent blood that wet her hands, but feeling no guilt whatsoever. Confident that she would be the victor.

No, she wouldn't be.

A powerful right punch landed in her stomach, while the follow-up left pummeled into her wicked grin. Then, the offense pulled both arms back, and balanced herself for a wicked kick, whipping her right leg with all her strength and plowing it into Celea's knees.

The dark princess only glided back from the fierce attack, and slowly faded away. She was replaced by her father, the towering despot Acheron.

The cold being that threatened to drain the life energy of the mythical Phoenix. The monster that nearly killed Chris Greyson, just because he was there. The demon that unleashed the Nightfall.

The fighter's eyes stung just at the thought of the devastation Acheron caused. So many people suffered around the entire world. So many died, from the freezing temperature and dangerous winds, or the critical power losses that compromised hospitals, to the invading armies that marched through the snowbanked streets of Langstrum Alps.

Nothing like that would ever happen again, she vowed, as a cry of rage escaped her raw throat. She pounded mercilessly, her hands plowing into Acheron ceaselessly. If it weren't for the padded gloves she wore, no doubt the ferocity of the exercise would have drawn blood from her mistreated knuckles. She didn't even acknowledge the stares of the people around her, watching in amazement at her animalistic display.

No doubt they felt sorry for the punching bag that antagonized Rachel Castaneda so.

Suddenly, a feeling of warmth entered Rachel's mind and heart. The ferocity in her body began to fade, and the projected image of the Denebian monarch gave way to the reality of the leather punching bag that absorbed all her fury. She released a ragged breath of exhaustion, tossing her hands onto her hips as she turned around. Her expression didn't change when she saw Chris standing behind her, his hands held in his pockets casually and his dark eyes fixed upon her.

"How long have you been there?" Rachel rasped, pulling off her kickboxing gloves. She tossed them onto the floor and pulled the tie from her hair, allowing her lengthening curls to frame her sweat-beaded face.

"About five minutes," he answered, "I didn't want to interrupt you. It looked like a very... therapeutic exercise."

His answer was followed by a long silence, as Rachel picked up her gloves and sat down on a nearby bench. She glanced around the gym, noting the handful of people using the various weight machines and other pieces of equipment.

"So," Chris said, taking a seat beside Rachel and watching her take a long sip of water, "how long did you know I was here?"

"I picked up on it when you... broadcast your thoughts," she admitted, trying her best to keep her voice even, "Really, Chris, you need to learn how to keep your mind to yourself."

"Maybe I didn't want to," he answered gently, "Maybe I wanted you to know that I was really worried about you."

Rachel glanced at him through the corner of her eye, her lips curling into a slight frown as she took another sip of water. Chris cringed slightly when he saw her expression, that bordered on sheer anger. He caught himself before he tried to touch her mind, to see what she was really thinking. Could she really be angry at him for being concerned for her? Or, was she afraid of something?

"So," he said, breaking the silence that quickly settled in, "I... uh... I've been thinking about... you know... a name for myself. You know, something for you guys to call me when we're in battle, in case someone's watching."

Chris glanced at Rachel through his chestnut bangs, but she kept her eyes away from him. Still, he could discern she was listening.

"Um... I was thinking of Horizon," he revealed, "I'm the first step in a new stage of human evolution. I'm the first mutant, as Phoenix called it, on our planet. I'm the first human with natural superpowers. So, I'm a glimpse of the future. I'm what's on the horizon for all mankind."

Chris gazed at Rachel for a while, hesitantly touching her shoulder. "So, what do you think?"

"Eloquent," she answered crisply, pulling away from his touch and rising to her feet, "but I really don't feel like talking about this now."

Chris watched in astonishment as Rachel picked up her gloves, and started to walk away from him. His surprise quickly transforming into frustration, Chris leapt from his seat, and followed her across the gym.

"Then what do you feel like talking about?" he pressed, falling into step beside her.

"Nothing," she answered, "I don't feel like talking about anything at the moment. So please, just... leave me alone. Please?"

She paused for a moment, and gazed into his eyes. Her teary eyes were practically begging him to leave her alone, and a single drop of moisture escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek.

A frown forming on her face, Rachel quickly brushed away the tear, and briskly walked away from Chris. "I'll talk to you later," she said, hurrying into the girl's locker room. Chris watched in amazement as he saw the door swing closed behind her.

"Oh, no you don't," he whispered, marching through the door, "You're not pushing me away now, Rachel!

Rachel stared at him with naked bewilderment, her hand dropping from the padlock on a narrow wall locker. "Chris, this is the women's locker room! Can't you take a hint?!"

"Well, I'm not going to give you a hint," he said firmly, folding his arms, "I'm going to be blunt: I'm not letting you do this."

"What?" she challenged, turning her back to him and unlocking the latch on her locker.

"Cut yourself off. Brood. Drown in self-pity and blame. Let your ridiculous display of strength eat you up from the inside."

Rachel felt her entire body tremble with rage at his words. "I'm the leader of the Spectrum Force," she said in a forcedly even tone, "If I'm not strong, then who will be? I can't just fall apart, you know. I've got to keep my team together."

"You don't do that by alienating yourself from your teammates," Chris pointed out, "They're your friends, Rachel. And they know you're human. They're not expecting you to be a rock. You're not an emotionless robot soldier. You just lost your best friend. It's okay to grieve."

"What do you think I'm doing?!" she shouted, collapsing to the bench, "I'm letting out my grief."

"No, you're letting out your anger. That's not the same. You're angry at the Denebians, but mostly you're angry at yourself. You're angry at yourself, for not being ready for this attack. You're angry for not coming up with the plan Tamara utilized. You're angry for not being the one to make the ultimate sacrifice. You're trying to prepare yourself for next time. You don't like feeling inadequate. You want vengeance."

Rachel looked up, throwing a disdainful scowl at Chris. He ignored her bitter expression and continued, for her own good.

"You're letting out your anger, but you're not dealing with your grief. You're keeping it bottled inside you. You've got to face it, and move on."

Rachel's lips trembled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Move on? Dammit, Chris, my best friend is dead! And it's my fault! It should have been me! The captain is the one who always goes down with the ship. The sergeant protects his officers. The leader makes the sacrifices!" Rachel paused for a moment, sniffling quietly. "It should have been me."

"You're making it sound like Tammy was unworthy of sacrificing herself," Chris observed. He carefully kept his distance, not intruding on Rachel's personal space as she wiped the droplets that fell down her face.

"No!" she responded quickly, staring up at him in horror, "No! That's not it at all! I... I..."

"You miss your friend, and you wish that you could have saved her from her fate," Chris finished, "But did it ever occur to you that, maybe... that's exactly what she was doing? Protecting her friends? After all, she didn't even say goodbye. She didn't want to take the chance that someone else would die carrying out her plan. She didn't just die to save her planet. She died to save her friends."

Rachel swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat, and pulled her legs to her body. She then wrapped her arms around her legs, her entire body quivering as she cried into her knees. She remained that way for several minutes, not even pausing for breath as the tears were shed. With every tear... a little bit more of the well of grief crumbled.

Chris watched Rachel, wrapped around herself, sobbing uncontrollably. So fragile... so delicate. So much unlike the bold, brash woman he had become familiar with.

He felt privileged to witness this side of her personality as well. The gentler side. The fragile side. The side she seemed ashamed of. The side she hid from the vast majority of the world.

The side he always knew was in there... somewhere.

After a few minutes, Rachel lifted her head slightly, and glanced at Chris. Considering how quiet he had been, she was slightly surprised to see he was still there. He didn't move an inch. He just waited patiently for her to recover.

"God, this is embarrassing," she whispered, rubbing her eyes with her fist.

"What makes you say that?" he pressed, still keeping his distance, "I'm glad to see you break down and cry. I'm glad to see you release the pain that's been there all along. Now don't you feel better?"

Rachel sighed in defeat. She couldn't deny it... she did feel better.

"And just how do you know me so well?" she inquired, dropping her hands to her lap. She gazed at him fervently, truly curious as to the source of his insight. Was it simply his psionic powers that clued him in? Did he read her mind to discern what was plaguing her? Was it simply a breach of privacy, or was it something more?

For the first time since he entered the locker room, Chris was caught off guard. He gazed at Rachel, locking eyes with her seekingly. Finally, he took a deep breath, and took a step closer to her.

"You really want to know?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Chris took another deep breath, and his eyes fell to the floor. "Well, um... it's actually something I've been wanting to talk to you about for awhile now. But, it's never really the right time. We only met a couple weeks ago, and lately our lives have been quite... complicated. Still, uh..." He swallowed once again, and began chewing on his lower lip as he racked his brain for the right words, "We've only just met, but I think we've been through a lot together. I've been thinking about this for a while and... I think we should talk about... our relationship..."

"No," Rachel interrupted, her voice weak but certain.

Chris' eyes shuttered open, and he stared at Rachel in astonishment. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but her face was grim and firm. "Excuse me?" he asked, more overcome by shock than anything else.

"I can't believe you brought this up now," she muttered, turning away from his gaze, "We don't have a relationship that requires qualifying."

"What?!" Chris uttered in astonishment, his voice a bit harsher than he had intended, "Rachel, what are you saying?"

"We're practically strangers," Rachel said quietly, "We've only known each other for a handful of days. You don't even know me."

"I know you well enough," Chris pressed, watching amazedly as Rachel packed her belongings, "I've seen you in your brightest, and your darkest hours. I know your bravery, your dedication, your intelligence, your sarcasm, your strength. I know your tenderness and compassion. God, Rachel, I can't believe you think we're strangers..."

"It's too soon," Rachel stated, running one hand through her hair nervously, "It's too soon..."

She then closed her locker, and stepped past Chris. Without even thinking, Chris reached out and grabbed her arm. She glanced back at him, noting that his dark eyes were now moist with bitter tears.

"Ray," he said in a low voice, "is this your way of telling me that you... don't want to be with me?"

Rachel swallowed hard, wrenching her arm from his and hurrying to the locker room door. Chris' eyes widened as she moved further from him.

"Please, Rachel," he called after her, "don't-"

She then disappeared through the swinging door.

"-keep running away from me," he finished, sitting heavily on the bench and staring at the door. With a deep sigh, he pushed closed Rachel's locker, which she had left open in her haste.

"Why did I go into that subject?" he asked himself, running his fingers through his thick hair, "How stupid am I?"

He should have known that Rachel wasn't ready for that. In fact, even he was barely coming to grips with his feelings. He wasn't sure exactly at what point his affection for the Purple Enforcer really blossomed. It didn't even cross his mind until their sparring match just before the Nightfall incident. Rachel's reserved admission of her concern for him gave Chris such a wonderful feeling of... fulfillment. As if he had just ran a tedious race, and came in first place. Was he trying to win her love? Was it a prize he'd been yearning for, without even knowing it?

He had reflected upon his feelings for her, but of course the events of the Nightfall and after had seriously limited his time for romantic reflection. But he did know for certain, when he watched Rachel cry before his eyes, that the only thing he wanted to do was to soothe her. To lessen her pain. To free her from the bonds of her self-inflicted emotional torture.

That's when he knew he really cared for her. He cared for her more than he thought possible for such a new acquaintance.

And now, he foolishly chose the worst time he could have possibly chosen to broach the subject. And now, he may have done permanent damage to their budding relationship.

"Way to go, Greyson," Chris berated himself, standing up and leaning his head on Rachel's locker, "You sure have a way with women."

Matthew took a deep, calming breath as the elevator paused on the fourth floor. The metal doors slid open, revealing a long, narrow hallway.

He hurried out of the confining chamber, sighing in relief as he glanced behind him, and watched the doors slide shut. He wiped the small amount of sweat that beaded on his forehead, and rubbed the moisture onto his pants leg before walking hesitantly down the hall.

For a moment, he wondered at what point his slight claustrophobia had intensified. He was never comfortable in small, enclosed spaces, but he could usually handle elevators without really any discomfort. Typically, he needed to already be in a tense, agitated state for any real symptoms of discomfort to display themselves.

It was over a day after Tamara died, and he miraculously managed to maintain an agitated state continuously since then. Of course, the strain of his friends being in states of depression, as well as Craig's dangerous drinking binge and Keith's apparent disappearance certainly didn't help the young man deal with his concerns.

He couldn't get Tamara out of his head. He kept seeing the gentle laugh in her large brown eyes, or her tender smile. She was always bright and shining... always optimistic, friendly, and open. She was always ready for a good laugh.

Tamara was the optimism that canceled out Matthew's pessimism.

Now... where would that balance come from? Who else would be Matthew's glowing older sister, to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't working too hard? Who would make him look at the brighter side?

He always thought Tammy was too happy. Now, he could only wish that someone with that inner light could grace his life, so for a brief moment the darkness could fade a little.

Since Tammy's death, Matthew had pushed aside his own feelings in a futile attempt to forget them. He made his concern the state of his friends... just as Tammy would have done. He tried to cheer up Craig, and sought to find Keith. Of course, there was nothing Matt could do to ease Keith's pain... but it certainly wouldn't hurt to try.

Matt's gaze rose to the number on the large wooden door. He pressed his lips tightly in agitation as he knocked on the door, the echo bouncing around the empty hotel hallway.

At first, there was no response at all. Briefly, Matthew considered that Keith wasn't at his family's hotel room. Probably a better place to look would have been the hospital. However, since the Nightfall the Langstrum Alps Memorial Hospital had been so inundated with people that it had become a scene from ER. Since he was studying to be a physician, Matt knew he'd eventually have to be able to deal with the pain and suffering of others. But he was only a freshman... he had seven years of study to complete before he'd earn that license to practice medicine. He hoped his sensitivity would dampen somewhat before then.

Finally, there was a faint shuffling sound in the room. Matt held his breath as the door opened slightly, and a slender girl with large blue eyes gazed up at him expectantly.

"Hi... Connie, right?" Matt said uneasily, doing his best to smile in greeting. The girl nodded her head in response. "Uh... I was looking for Keith. Is he around?"

Connie Maloy narrowed her cerulean eyes slightly, staring up at Matthew questioningly. "Who are you?"

Matt blinked. "I'm Matt O'Conner. We met at the... hospital the other day. I'm one of Keith's roommates."

"Right, right," Connie said, nodding her head absently, "I'm sorry I didn't remember your face. That night was just... so intense. I was actually doing my best to block it all out."

Connie chuckled weakly at her admission. She then backed away, making room for Matthew to enter. "You can come in if you'd like."

"Thanks," Matt answered, walking into the hotel room. To his surprise, the room was mostly dark, with the exception of about half a dozen colored candlesticks, sitting in a circle around a small portion of the carpet. Sitting in the circle was a pile of several books.

"Uh... I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Matt said quietly, frowning slightly.

"Oh no," Connie responded, humored by Matt's reaction, "Don't worry... it's not some kind of weird voodoo ceremony or anything. Actually, they're aromatherapy candles. Keith uses them to relax when he's stressed out, and we brought them as a birthday present." Her frown deepened. "This is certainly going to be a memorable 21st for him." Connie suddenly shook her head quickly, as if trying to force her thoughts from wandering to the grim consequences of the Nightfall. "Anyway... I thought I'd try it out."

Matt did his best to ignore the statement about Keith's mournful birthday, and kneeled on the carpet just outside the circle. "And what are the books for? Hmm... 'The World of Microbiology' and Jane Austen's 'Mansfield Park.' What an eclectic taste you have!"

Connie smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled open the curtains, allowing the bright afternoon sunlight to pour into the dim quarters. "Well, the candles are Keith's way of relaxing, and reading is mine. I love to read novels. They just... whisk me away from reality. Suddenly, my problems are lost as the story takes over. I especially love older novels, like the nineteenth century. Or even science fiction. Both of them pull the reader into a completely different world, with exotic costumes, breath-taking landscapes, and foreign cultures. The power of fiction is incredible."

Matthew nodded, picking up the other book. "And what's the micro book for?"

"Well, I do have an exam to study for, but considering... all that's happened... it's just not a concern anymore."

"I know where you're coming from," Matt said, sitting down on the carpet and leafing through the textbook, "I took micro last term, and it was murder!"

"It's rough," Connie admitted, falling back on the couch, "but it's really interesting. The microscopic world is amazing! It's so hard to conceive all the living things that can exist in a space the size of a pinhead. Just imagine all the different bacteria living on your skin at this very moment!"

Matt grimaced, glancing at his palm in disgust. "Actually, I'd rather not imagine it."

Connie released a giggle at Matthew's expression, and leaned closer to him, her eyes dancing for the brief moment when she could push her troubles aside, and forget them. "So you don't like bacteria, but you took micro? What exactly are you studying anyway?"

"Medicine," he answered, his vibrant jade gaze focused on the jumping spark of a nearby candle, "I'm going to be a doctor."

Connie whistled, nodding her head. "Impressive. And you're so sure of it too, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted to be a doctor," Matt admitted, holding his hand above the candle flame, "My dad's a doctor, actually. And he loves his job. He's a pediatrician, and when I was in grade school, he set up his practice at a medical center down the street from our home in Greenwich."

"Greenwich, eh?" Connie interrupted, folding her arms, "Pretty ritzy, eh?"

Matt chuckled. "Well, even the wealthy need a doctor they can trust their children with. And yeah, my dad makes good money. But I could see it in his eyes... the greatest reward for him was when his patients felt better. Sometimes, I spent a few hours in the center after school, in the playroom with the other kids and stuff. My dad has a great way with kids... they were always so nervous, but he took care of them. They'd walk out of the office with a lollipop and a grin." Matt smiled widely at the memory.

"A lollipop," Connie commented.

"Well, my dad's a pediatrician, not a dentist," Matt quipped, stretching onto his back on the carpet. "And I want to be just like him. I want to make people feel better. What can possibly be more rewarding than that?"

"Nothing immediately comes to mind," Connie answered truthfully, staring up at the ceiling, "It's a great motivation for being a doctor. Most of the students in my micro class are pre-meds also, but it doesn't take a genius to see that they have no passion for medicine. They're probably in it for the money, respect, and recognition."

"So, are you a pre-med too?" Matt questioned, rolling onto his side and gazing at Connie, "There aren't many other majors that require micro, and you're probably not taking it as an elective."

Connie giggled. "Far from it. Actually, I'm a bacteriology major."

"Wow," Matt whispered, "I... I didn't even know that was a major."

"Believe it or not, that's the most common response I get," Connie admitted, "but what can I say? The microscopic world intrigues me."

With a small groan of effort, Connie rose to her feet and turned to Matt, streaking back her wayward flaxen hair in an effort to straighten it out. "I'm getting a little hungry," she admitted, walking to the table and picking up the telephone, "Wanna order something from room service?"

Matt grimaced slightly at the thought. "I ate at the hotel's restaurant before and believe me, it's not very impressive. How do you feel about Chinese?"

Connie smiled. "Chinese food is probably my favorite. Do you know a good restaurant?"

Matt grinned proudly as he moved towards Connie, and took the phone from her grasp. "Believe me, you haven't tasted Chinese food until you've ordered from Bejing's. They're General Tso's Chicken is terrific, and the best thing is... they deliver."

Connie watched amusedly as Matt dialed the phone number. "Sounds good to me."

As he walked through the sparsely populated hallway, all he attended to was the sound of his own footsteps. His winter boots had carried some mud and moisture from his long walks throughout Langstrum Alps, and now that moisture created a squeaking sound when his feet rubbed against the smooth tiles of the Langstrum Alps International Airport.

For the most part, the intercoms were quiet, and only a fraction of the heavy traffic that usually filled the large airport was present. That was because the majority of flights leaving or arriving were canceled due to the invasion. Inclement weather is still a problem in many areas, especially in places that weren't prepared for heavy snowfall. Still, there were some flights daring to take to the skies, for the most part bringing families together to cope with the aftermath of the tragic Nightfall.

While he watched people entering from a gate, rushing into the warm embraces of loved ones, Keith couldn't help but realize that no such solace awaited him. No tender hug would make his problems melt.

There was no healing from this wound.

He watched families reunite from the shadow of his own guilt. It was a blanket of guilt, stemming from so many places. There was so much to be guilty for. So many reasons to be depressed.

Just a few short hours ago, his life was perfect. True, he had a tenuous relationship with his father, and yes, he had the regular battles against evil... but they just added a bit of spice to his life.

Now, his life was so bleak he couldn't even think of a single reason to smile.

Keith finally tore his reddened eyes from the reunion scene at a nearby gate, and took a seat on the cushioned seats near Gate 13. For a moment, he stared at the seat next to him. Then, he pulled his hand from his jacket pocket, and gently ran his fingers along the vinyl.

Just hours ago, he was sitting at this very seat waiting for his family to arrive to celebrate his 21st birthday. And sitting beside him was the woman he loved. The woman he couldn't picture his life without.

The woman that died to save Earth.

He leaned back in his own seat, keeping his hand on the neighboring chair. He could almost make himself believe that she was still sitting beside him, holding his hand gently and assuring him that things would work out.

Still, he knew it was over. That time in his life where one woman's touch made everything better. That time where he let himself believe that the future was full of bright possibilities, in which the guilty suffered and the innocent were spared.

It was all delusions. Life wasn't fair. The guilty laugh mockingly during their bloody victory. The innocent spill their blood on the floor.

He let his body go limp, leaning his entire weight upon the back of his seat. The last time he sat at this seat was the last time he really saw Tamara. True, after they had met the Maloy family at the gate, they had fought the Shiva creature, but that wasn't the same.

That was the Yellow Enforcer. The fighter. The defender.

At the airport, it was simply Tamara Fox: the bright-eyed theater arts student with a smile that could melt ice.

They sat at the airport for half an hour. At some points, they sat in silence. At others, they talked about insignificant things. At yet others, they talked about deeper concerns. Still, they were together.

Keith would always remember that airport as the last time he saw his love. Certainly many lovers parted in that airport. And many lovers were united in that airport.

But he would never be reunited with Tamara. She was forever out of his reach, and no airplane could bridge the distance.

He hadn't slept in the two days. His every waking moment... which was every moment... was spent in deep thought on both Tamara and his father. Still, while his father's condition had concerned him greatly earlier, the doctors had concluded that his condition was very stable. Stephen Maloy III would make a full recovery.

Keith had a second chance. He had the opportunity to mend the tears in his relationship with his father. How petty and childish their arguments were! Hopefully, this tragedy affected Stephen as well. Now, both Maloy men could put aside their pig-headedness, and be civil to one another. Perhaps, they could forgive one another completely of all past wrongs, whether genuine or imagined.

Perhaps they could genuinely and unconditionally love one another.

Perhaps, although neither would have admitted it... they always had.

But he only had a second chance with his father. He would never have another chance with Tamara.

He desperately wanted another chance with Tamara... even if it were only a few moments.

The last few moments they were together, Keith was so concerned with the battle and his father to pay her any attention. She wrapped her arm around his, trying to comfort him, and he turned her away.

He sealed himself off from her affections when he needed them the most. And now, he would never have that affection again.

What would he do with himself now?

First, Keith tried to think of the positive. He was so near graduation, which would truly herald the beginning of his life. His family was alive and well, and perhaps a little more closely knit. He had the friendship and support of the rest of the Spectrum Force... which included friends he had trusted his life with.

But, that couldn't balance out the loss. He'd lost Tamara... but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

He'd lost faith in himself and his ability to make a difference.

He'd lost hope.

During the Nightfall, all he could do was seethe as his entire planet slowly froze over. Once the Shiva attacked, he was at least provided with a little distraction. Still, that battle was completely insignificant. Would it matter that they destroyed the river monster if their entire planet was destroyed?

No. That battle didn't matter. None of them did. The Spectrum Force kept on fighting, kept on facing the forces of Acheron and Phaedra. But with every defeat, the Denebians got stronger. They pulled in new resources. They weaved more powerful spells. Their tricks became more diabolical as they targeted the loved ones of the Spectrum Force.

And the Force? Nothing really changed. They didn't get stronger. They tried to learn from their mistakes, but they never managed to deliver a real blow to the Denebian Empire. And how could they? How could they defeat an enemy consisting of millions of soldiers and magical creatures, all willing to die in battle in the service of their ruling family? Even if they did somehow manage to kill Acheron and Phaedra, Celea remained. And if Celea died, surely there were other members of the royal household that would strike back... with a vengeance.

Not that any of that would happen. Killing the monarchy had never seemed to be an option. Why? The Spectrum Force was a team of defenders. They didn't attack the Denebians. They didn't have a chance of success if they did.

There was no grand victory. The Spectrum Force only delayed the inevitable. How could six humans, a mutant, and a single sorceress possibly defeat and entire species of warriors?

They couldn't. Not a chance. Not a prayer.

And without that faith... that belief that he could make a difference... what did he have?

How could he defend the entire planet if he didn't believe he could succeed?

The answer was simple... he couldn't.

He couldn't save the world. He couldn't even save Tamara.

He shivered, his body contracting as he hugged his legs to his chest. He hated feeling weak. He hated feeling vulnerable.

He hated being useless.

Keith pursed his lips together tightly, forcing his legs to be steady as he rose to his feet. Tears stinging his eyes, he thrust his hands into his jacket pocket once again, and abandoned his seat at Gate 13.

He knew he needed time. Time to come to grips with everything that happened. Time to reconcile himself to a future without Tamara. Time to figure out what he'd do with his life now. Time to think.

And he couldn't do it here.

He continued walking, marching somberly through the halls, until he reached the ticket office. For once, there wasn't too much of a line, as many didn't want to risk flying given the lingering affects of the Nightfall.

Keith was ready to risk it.

He stopped at a desk, where a young woman smiled at him. "Welcome to the Continental Airlines ticket office. How can I help you?"

Keith leaned on the desk, fishing for his wallet. "When's your next flight to Austin, Texas?"

He needed time to think. And he couldn't do it here.

Jocelyn's heavy eyelids sprang open as the loud bang of the front door slamming abruptly forced her from her much-needed slumber. She blinked in confusion, pulling herself into a sitting position on the couch.

She stared in bewilderment when she saw Craig open his eyes as well, groaning slightly from the rude awakening.

"What's going on?" she whispered, rubbing her eyes. She was still startled that she had managed to fall asleep.

Jocelyn got her answer when Rachel stormed out of her bedroom, carrying her jacket to the coat stand near the door. Her movements were abrupt, and even from a distance Jocelyn could see the tears that still streaked down her roommate's cheeks.

"Ray?" Jocelyn asked, rising to her feet, "Are you...?"

"I'm fine," Rachel interrupted, pausing for a moment to lay her weary fingers on her forehead, "Just fine."

Both Craig and Jocelyn watched in amazement as Rachel then proceeded into her room. She reached to close the door behind her, but she paused for a moment, and turned back to her friends.

"If Chris comes looking for me, tell him I have nothing to say to him," she requested, before closing the door behind her.

Jocelyn and Craig traded confused glances. Craig's surprise quickly turned into anger, and his lips curled into a frown.

"If he did anything to her..." he muttered.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Jocelyn warned, walking towards Rachel's bedroom door, "We don't know what happened yet."

Just as Jocelyn raised her knuckles to the locked door, a soft knock echoed from the front door.

Craig quickly rose to his feet, stretching out his neck and arms from the awkward position in which he fell asleep. "I'll get it."

Craig pulled the door open, and glared down at Chris, who couldn't help but swallow hard at the imposing figure Craig made.

"I... take it Rachel told you what happened?" he said quietly.

"She didn't have to," Craig muttered, folding his arms, "She said she doesn't want to see you, and that's enough for me."

Chris nodded his head slowly, pursing his lips. "Well, I guess that's fair enough-"

"Just a minute, Chris," Jocelyn called, squeezing past Craig and grabbing Chris' arm before he could depart, "Look, guys, the last thing we need right now is animosity. We're all friends here. And at a time like this, friendship is really all we have."

With that, Jocelyn gently shoved Craig out of the doorway, and guided Chris to the couch. "None of us should be alone right now," she affirmed, walking to the kitchenette, "Can I get you anything, Chris?"

Chris leaned forward, casting a single glance at Rachel's bedroom door. He then shook his head, and rose to his feet. "No, he's right Jocelyn. I feel a little awkward being here, considering I know I'm not welcome here."

"Chris," Jocelyn sighed, "don't be silly-"

"Rachel and I had a little... disagreement, and I was hoping we could clear it up now. But it's a very stressful time, and we all have things to deal with. I'll talk to her later... when she actually wants to talk to me."

As Chris moved towards the door, without warning a psionic call burst through everyone's consciousness. *Everyone, meet me at the girls' apartment pronto. I have something to say, and you all need to be there.*

Chris, Jocelyn, and Craig all froze in response to the message. Jocelyn ran her fingers through her auburn curls, and took a seat at the nearest kitchen stool.

"That... that was Keith," she whispered, gazing at Craig and Chris in concern.

"His psi-voice was so... bland," Chris commented, once again taking a seat on the couch, "I hope he's feeling better."

Then, everyone heard the sound of a door unlocking, and all eyes fell on Rachel's door. Moments later, the leader of the Spectrum Force stepped out of her room... a concerned frown marring her brow.

Immediately, Chris stood up from his seat, and fixed Rachel with an inquisitive expression. Rachel didn't pay him a second glance.

"Does anyone know where Matthew went?" she inquired, scanning the living room quickly.

"I thought he went looking for Keith," Craig answered, "but he's been gone for a couple hours."

At that moment, the front door swung open, revealing a very worried Matthew.

"Is Keith here yet?" Matt inquired, looking around.

"Where were you?" Jocelyn asked.

Matt shrugged his shoulders. "I was-"

Matthew stopped short when he heard footsteps behind him. Keith lumbered into the room, casting a flat smile at all his friends before closing and locking the door behind him.

"Keith, where have you?"

"Are you...?"

"What's going on...?"

Keith raised his hand, silently asking the inquiry to pause for a moment. In silence, the rest of the Spectrum Force all took seats, while Keith paced around the room, his hands still buried in his pockets.

"I know everyone's been worried about me," he started, "and I appreciate your concern. I'm sorry I've been so distant, but... a lot happened. True, a lot happened to all of us, but in my case... I really needed to be alone to sort through my feelings."

"Keith, you know we're all here for you," Jocelyn whispered.

Keith smiled in gratitude. "I know you are. But... I'm afraid that won't be enough."

He walked over to the window, gazing out over the city, bustling with renewed life in the late afternoon.

"I've combed the entire city. I went to the river, the hospital, the airport... everywhere. And all that time, I've been thinking. My life has changed too much for me to just go back to routine and pretend the Nightfall never happened. I... I can't just put it behind me." He drew a deep breath, leaning against the windowsill while gazing at the assembled heroes before him. "I feel like I'm standing in front of a huge wall blocking my path, and I can't find a way to move passed it. So, the only option I can think of is to try a new path, and see where it takes me."

Craig wrinkled his nose. "You're being a little vague, Man," he pointed out, "Just come out and say it... whatever it is you're building up to. We're all friends here, and you can be open and honest with us."

Keith couldn't help but smile. "One of these days, Craig, you're going to make a great psychiatrist."

Craig grinned widely at the compliment.

"Okay," Keith said, taking a breath, "I'll come right out and say it. After a whole lot of thought, I've come to the conclusion that I'm lost. I don't know where my life is heading, and after the Nightfall, it looks bleak. I think I've come face to face with grim reality. This battle we're fighting- to save the world from the Denebian Empire- well, I don't think it's a battle we can win-"

"Keith," Rachel interrupted, rising to her feet, "don't think that way! I know we're facing terrible odds, but if we don't have faith in ourselves, and our abilities, we have nothing. Confidence is a warriors best weapon."

"You're absolutely right," Keith said, stepping closer to his long-time friend, "A Spectrum Enforcer without confidence is nothing. And I can't just re-light the fire that died in me. It's not in my power to do it. I just know I'll never be the same. I can't fool myself into thinking that everything will be okay. That we'll win this war, and there won't be any battle scars. That this invasion will some day be a distant memory."

"I'm not saying there won't be scars, Keith," Rachel whispered, fear widening her eyes, "but we can't just give up."

"That's just the problem," Keith said, taking Rachel's right hand with his, allowing the light from the window to shine in the purple stone on her finger. "You see, Ray, you never give up. You face your problems. You believe you can make a difference. That's why Spectra gave you this."

He then rotated their hands, so his would be in clear view. Rachel, as well as the other Enforcers, gasped when they saw the red stone was nowhere on his hand.

"In my case... I think I've given up," Keith admitted weakly, "I can't be a part of this team."

"Keith, wait," Matt blurted, rising to his feet. In instant reaction, the rest of the group congregated around Keith and Rachel, with Keith still holding Rachel's hand.

"I'm not saying it's permanent," he continued, "but I've got a lot of thinking to do. A lot to heal from. And until I come to grips with all I've lost, I can't serve as the Red Enforcer."

"You don't have to do this," Jocelyn whispered, tears streaking down her cheek, "We're all hurting, Keith... you more than the rest of us, but this is a pain we're sharing. You can't leave us now!"

"I have other responsibilities," Keith explained, "I know there's someone out there with the right stuff to be the Red Enforcer. But I'm the only one who can fill my role in my family. I almost lost my father. I've been given a second chance. I belong with my family. I don't belong here."

With that, Keith dug his left hand into his pocket, and pulled out his ring. He held Rachel's hand open, and laid the ring in her palm.

"It seems like a lifetime ago, when you ran over to us on the beach, and we were attacked by Shadows," he said, "You gave me this ring, saying that I was a good fighter, and a dependable friend. You thought I was perfect to be the second-in-command of the Spectrum Force. I'm sorry, Ray... but you were wrong. I can't fight a battle I'm convinced I can't win, and I'm not very dependable. I've always been a loose cannon. And now, I don't even have a fighter's spirit."

He folded her fingers over the ring, and clasped his hands over hers. "Choose someone else."

With that, he let go of Rachel's hand, and stepped back so he could face the group. "I'm going back to Austin," he announced, "My flight leaves tonight, actually."

"Tonight?" Chris asked in amazement, "You're being very hasty here."

"No," Keith answered, "I'm not. I'm going home... to a place where I can leave this all behind me. My dad will be released from the hospital soon. He's made an almost miraculous recovery, and considering how many were injured during the Nightfall, the hospital can't keep him much longer. My family will be coming in a few days. I just need... to get away."

Keith swallowed hard, and walked towards the door. "I can't make you understand, but I have to do this. I have to sort things out. I'm sorry."

The five remaining members of the Spectrum Force watched mutely as Keith walked through the door. He waved once, and then closed it behind him, slowly making his way down the hall to the elevator.

He didn't look back.