Take Two

[Timothy Bastian]

Timothy turned a page in the dusty manuscript, then skimmed through the text on the following page. He paused partway through, turning to consult the notes he had jotted down on a piece of spare paper. He picked up his pen and scrawled out a few notes, then resumed his perusal of the text. The tome was dry reading that didn't really hold his attention very well: a series of treatises on the mechanics behind teleportative magics.

Of course, he already knew how to teleport himself, as well as others. He didn't really feel he needed to know the nitty-gritty mechanics behind how it was accomplished. What was the point, as long as it worked?

The point was that Reginald Pavoltu wanted the information. Reginald was the Midnight Squad mage that Timothy had been told to work with of late. His assignments tended to involve researching uninteresting and bland topics in aged tomes that left Timothy yawning by day's end. Reginald's current interest was in finding a way to enchant an object to teleport its bearer to a pre-determined destination upon request. The eventual idea was to supplement medicom patches so that they could work in a greater variety of circumstances more reliably, though Timothy was pretty certain that that goal was pretty far off.

Timothy set his pen down and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he and Barj could go out on patrol tonight. At least that'd be something interesting to do. Better than shuffling papers around for an old codger of a mage.

As if on cue, Barjnal chose that moment to come barreling into the small room. "Timothy! Quick, come on, we gotta go!" He waved his arms in anxiety, trying to hurry Timothy along.

"Barj, geez, calm down." Timothy grimaced at him, but stood up. "Go where? What're you talking about?"

"They took Ashley!" Barjnal grabbed Timothy's arm and started dragging him from the room. "We have to go save her, before they do anything horrible!"

"Wait, Ashley? My cousin, the one who said my tail made me look like a rat, Ashley?" Timothy let himself be dragged along. "Who's taken her?"

"Yes! That Ashley! The Circle have her!"

"Well, shit."

[Timothy Bastian]

"I think we found it, Timothy."

"Yeah." Timothy looked around the chamber they'd just entered, deep beneath the city. "About time."

They were each dressed in hero attire: Barjnal in his red and white spandex and showy cape, Timothy in his blue and teal leather stealth suit. They'd been descending through a series of tunnels that had started in the northwest part of King's Row. One of the Midnight Squad mages had scried out where the Circle were likely taking Ashley and had sent them here with directions for how to make their way down to find the right part of Oranbega. The directions weren't exactly perfect, much to Timothy's irritation, but they did get them there.

"Well, let's keep moving." Timothy started heading down a corridor. "I'd like to get home sooner than later, and the longer we keep Ashley waiting, the more she's gonna complain about it afterward."

"Something's not right." Barjnal looked around the room cautiously, squinting at things unseen.

"What's wrong?" Timothy stopped, waiting for Barj to look around since he was much better at sensing magical energies than Timothy.

"I don't know." Barjnal shrugged after a short while. "Nothing I guess... I just had a really bad feeling."

"A bad feeling? Come on, Barj." Timothy rolled his eyes, sighing. "Let's go."

"Er, right... but let's be careful." Barj scratched the back of his head apprehensively. "Just in case."

"We always are, aren't we?" Timothy smiled briefly. "We'll be fine. But come on, let's go find Ashley before something horrible happens to her. Okay?"

Barjnal nodded. "Yeah! We better hurry, too. They've had her for a while by now!"

Timothy faded from sight, and the two continued further into Oranbega.

* * * * *

"Take that!" Barjnal slammed an ice sword into a Thorn Wielder's head, knocking him out. As the mage collapsed to the ground, Barj surveyed the tunnel. "I think that's the last of the patrol."

"Only a handful of them. Again." Timothy nudged one of the fallen mages with his toe. "Easy."

"Almost too easy, actually." Barj looked around nervously. "I mean, there's usually some of the ones with the funny hats lurking around, but I haven't seen a single one since we got down here."

"They probably didn't expect anyone to show up so quickly, Barj." Timothy started down the next tunnel. "I'm sure when we find Ashley, she'll be surrounded by them."

"Yeah... I guess." Barj fidgeted. "Let's find her."

"Sure." Timothy started down the next tunnel.

* * * * *

"Well, this is odd." Timothy stopped as he stepped into a very large, completely empty chamber. "You'd think a room this big would have something in it."

Barjnal stepped up beside him and looked around, squinting. "I sense something... like an echo of a spell or something."

"Well, they are mages, Barj. Maybe they do a lot of magic in here." Timothy shrugged. "Could be why it's empty. Maybe nobody needs to do any complicated magic at the moment."

"Maybe..." Barj looked skeptical.

Timothy gestured across the chamber. "Let's go check out that tunnel over there next. Come on." He started walking down the steps to the chamber's floor. After a moment, Barjnal followed him.

They'd scarcely gone twenty feet when the concealment spell covering the chamber broke.

The first thing that registered in Timothy's mind was that the room was suddenly very much not empty any more. Circle of Thorn mages were everywhere. But before he could even really process that thought, he was almost knocked to his knees by the wash of pure terror that came flooding through his bond with Barj. Without even thinking, he found himself whirling to his right to look at whatever had Barjnal's focus.

Standing before them was the largest demon Timothy had ever seen. It had to be at least thirty feet tall! He could almost smell the evil wafting from the behemoth.

"It's been a while, Barjnal." Its mouth shifted into a horrible facsimile of a smile. "Cerebus has missed you."

[Timothy Bastian]

"Bal'Xanathartes." Timothy said the name quietly, almost to himself, without really consciously thinking about it. That was who it had to be, to put this kind of fear into Barj. He quickly tried to teleport himself and Barj away, but found his attempt blocked by magic.

The demon's cruel smile shifted into a sneer as he shifted his gaze to Timothy. "You dare address me, worm? Yes, I am Bal'Xanarthartes, Lord of Boils!"

Timothy felt his legs weaken at the creature's gaze, but he steeled himself and straightened his stance, then sneered back. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" The creature laughed, a horrible sound that made Timothy want to retch. "I'm here to reclaim what is mine. You've certainly made a nuisance of yourself, trying to keep him from my reach. But as you see, I can reach much further than you could imagine."

"Looks like you needed enough help." Timothy glanced around the room, assessing the mages. After a moment, he identified one that seemed to be maintaining an active ward and silently noted him. "You needed an entire army of mages to take back a single demon?"

"I didn't need anyone, you insolent maggot!" Bal'Xanarthartes's voiced roared through the room. "They are here because it pleases me for them to be here! And I have no need of you, either. Once I have left with what is mine, the Circle will take take possession of you as a reward for their assistance, much as they already have with your cousin."

"Blah blah blah. What is it about evil that turns its pawns into such blowhards? You have no claim here." Timothy stepped forward, interposing himself between Barjnal and Bal'Xanarthartes and lifting his chin in outward defiance, despite what he might have been feeling on the inside. There wasn't anything he could do about his cousin, but at least he could try to get himself and Barj out of this mess. "Leave, now, before I make you regret coming."

The creature laughed again. "You dare threaten me, puny mortal? I'm going to have fun teaching you how to properly respect me."

The demon started to raise his hand towards Timothy but was cut short as the room suddenly turned into a maelstrom of chaos.

* * * * *

Barjnal stood frozen in pure terror. His mind was blank, and though he could hear everything being said, his brain was too paralyzed to make much sense of anything. Only one thing really registered: Bal'Xanathartes was here. He'd come to take him back! He hardly even noticed when Timothy stepped in front of him.

And then, abruptly, Timothy reached through the bond and seized onto his magical potential, drawing so strongly on it that Barjnal fell to his knees weakly. The shock of the move brought him somewhat back to his senses. He realized that Timothy had unleashed as much of a mess into the room as he could. Winds were blowing, sending mages flying. Lightning crashed, thunder boomed. Rain fell hard in torrents, partially obscuring the room from sight. And somehow, despite the deluge, a fiery inferno raged throughout the chamber.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Barj found himself caught in a wave of demonic power that sent him flying backwards into the chamber's wall. He felt his head hit the wall hard as everything went black.

* * * * *

"Is that the best you can do?" Bal'Xanathartes started laughing even louder than before. "Foolish human! Your power is nothing beside mine!"

Timothy struggled to his feet, looking over at Barj with concern. He lay crumpled on the ground, bleeding. Before Timothy could even really react though, Barjnal vanished as his medicom patch activated and teleported him away. Timothy heaved a sigh of relief: his gambit had succeeded. The mage he'd noted with the ward apparently had been the one blocking teleportation attempts, like he suspected. Once the mage was knocked out with a well-placed bolt of lightning, he'd been able to fairly easily break the ward thanks to some of the techniques he'd read about that morning.

The demon's laughter cut off abruptly, then became a roar. "Noooo! Get him back here, now!"

"For such a powerful demon, you aren't very smart." Timothy scowled at the behemoth, ignoring the half dozen Circle mages that were charging towards him, then reached to activate his own medicom patch.

[Timothy Bastian]

His head was pounding. Or maybe it was throbbing? Whatever it was doing, it was making it hard for him to think or focus. It took him a while to realize that his eyes were closed. Slowly, he worked them open.

"Barj!" A brown-haired boy came into view. His vision was too blurry to really make him out. "Thank God you're awake."

He felt the boy take his hand and squeeze it. A name finally formed in his head for the boy: Timothy. With difficulty, he forced himself to speak. "What's-- happen?"

"We got ambushed, remember? By Bal--" The boy (Timothy, he reminded himself) paused for a brief moment before continuing. "By a powerful demon. He attacked us and we escaped through the medicom system. Except you got hurt pretty badly."

He felt his hand being squeezed again, gently. At least he thought that's what he felt. His hand felt almost as if it belonged to someone else at the moment. "How bad?"

"Well, you have some cuts and bruises, but they'll heal up easy..." Again the boy hesitated before continuing. "MAGI is concerned though. They said you're pretty badly messed up magically. Me too, actually, but you're... well, in bad shape."

"Can they fix?"

There was a long pause. "They don't know. They think they can stabilize you, probably get you back on your feet within a few days, maybe. But... I don't know, Barj. They don't really understand what happened quite yet."

He realized that the boy sounded worried, perhaps even scared, and for some reason he found himself wanting to reassure him. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."

"I know, Barj." He felt his hand receive another squeeze. "I know."

He closed his eyes and very quickly drifted back into the darkness.

[Timothy Bastian]

Timothy closed the book and set it aside, sighing. He glanced over at the bed, where Barj lay quietly, likely sleeping. It'd been three days now, and while MAGI had been able to stabilize Barj, they hadn't even begun to figure out an actual solution to their problems. They hadn't found Ashley either, and Timothy was getting the impression that the search had been largely given up on by now. At least they'd finally given leave to release Barj. He seemed to be resting more easily here at home than he had been in the hospital. Timothy picked up another book and started to flip through it, but Barjnal spoke up.

"Didn't find anything yet?"

"No, not yet." He shut the book again and tossed it aside, then went to sit on the side of Barj's bed. "I didn't realize you were awake. Feeling any better?"

"A little?" Barj shrugged a bit. "I still feel kinda... I don't know. Disconnected."

"I wish MAGI would figure out some answers. I can't believe he did so much damage."

"He's a powerful demon, Timothy." Barjnal closed his eyes briefly, then re-iterated quietly, "very powerful."

"Yeah, but knocking out our ability to use magic?" Timothy scowled. "That's just plain absurd. But still, we did outsmart him and that says some--"

Timothy paused mid-word, noticing that Barj's breathing had shifted some. He was asleep again. If the bond had been working, he'd have noticed it immediately, but of course, that was knocked out too. He leaned in to lightly kiss Barj's forehead, then got up quietly and moved away from the bed so Barj could rest easier.

The situation was maddeningly impossible. No magic, no bond, no nothing. He couldn't even read Teodors' journal, since it required magic! They were stuck, and although MAGI was warding their house pretty heavily, Timothy knew it was only a matter of time before Bal'Xanathartes made his next move.

They needed to figure something out, and fast. Maybe it was time to seek some additional outside help.

[Timothy Bastian]

Timothy stifled a yawn as he walked across Kings Rows' Ariete Plaza and approached Montgomery's Cupboard. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, but it wouldn't do to advertise the fact. He opened the door to the establishment, then stepped inside and glanced around. There were a half dozen or so customers browsing the store, all apparently minding their own business. One of the staff members was out on the floor helping a fat goth chick with some jewelry, the other staff member was behind the counter minding the register. He hadn't come to speak to either of them, though, so he noted them then ignored them. He'd come to speak to the shop's proprietress, Whisper, who was currently browsing through a tome behind the counter.

It'd been difficult to decide who to turn to for help. Theoretically, the Midnight Squad or MAGI should have already come up with an answer given that they had such vast resources at their disposal. However, Timothy had long ago come to the conclusion that the larger an organization was, the less capable it was of getting anything done. He had discussed with Barj their options for local mages who might be of help, but unfortunately they could not think of anyone who seemed likely to be of any direct help. Thus they turned to their next best option: seek a referral. The mysterious Whisper was rumored to be surprisingly well-connected, and Barjnal insisted that she was someone they could trust. He couldn't explain why he thought that, of course. He called it "demon's intuition", which didn't really comfort Timothy very much considering their circumstances.

Now that he was here, Timothy wasted no time in crossing the store to approach her. "Ah, excuse me?"

"Yes, can I help you with something?" The pink-haired woman finished reading the sentence she was on, then looked up.

"Yeah, I was hoping you could give me a referral for a rather... uh... delicate magical problem."

"I can do that." She casually marked her place in the tome and set it aside. "May I ask the nature of the problem?"

Timothy glanced around their vicinity. The guy tending the cash register was in earshot, but didn't seem to be paying them much attention. Not that appearances meant anything. Timothy realized he was being slightly paranoid, but lowered his voice some anyway. "My friend and I were both attacked by a demon. He uh... knocked out our magic. And my friend is injured. Badly."

"Do you mean he's blocked your ability to use magic, or completely... wait..." Whisper paused momentarily, fixing Timothy with an assessing look. "Timothy Bastian?"

Timothy paused. He'd briefly spoken with Whisper on a couple of past occasions when he'd needed particularly rare spell components, but he wouldn't have expected her to remember his name. He didn't even recall that he'd given her his name. "We're not sure what he did and yeah, I'm Timothy Bastian."

"I was told to expect you."

Timothy tensed in alarm, though he tried to conceal it as best he could. He shifted his hand to rest on his hip, near the pocket where he had a small canister of mace. With his magic gone, Timothy had very few defenses against another mage. No matter how skilled a mage was, pepper spray to the eyes couldn't hurt his chances for getting away, if it came to that. "Who told you to expect me? Nobody knew I was coming."

"I was told by one who is outside space and time."

Timothy frowned at her in mixed irritation and anxiety. "What the heck does that mean?"

"It means we need to talk. Not out here though. Step into my office."

Whisper came out from behind the counter and led the way to the back of the store. Timothy followed her warily, slipping his hand into his pocket for faster access to the mace, just in case. They entered a small office furnished with a desk, a few comfortable sofas, several bookshelves, and a wide assortment of miscellaneous arcana. Timothy made a quick visual survey of the room. There were no other doors except the one they came in through and no windows, so there was only one exit. There didn't appear to be any good hiding places for an ambush except perhaps behind the desk or a couch, but then, as recent experiences bore out, the ambush could be hiding in plain sight. He realized he was probably being paranoid again, but really, could he afford not to be?

"Please, have a seat." Whisper gestured to a sofa as she settled into one herself. She waited a moment while Timothy sat down cautiously. "How is your friend?"

"Not well. Very tired, out of it." He was talking in clipped speech, he realized. Not very smooth, but he was so on edge and worn out. "Nobody seems to have any idea how to help him."

"He is fortunate to be as well off as he is. The Lord of Boils is a formidable adversary."

Timothy stared at her for a moment before responding. "How do you know that?"

"I received a visitor last night, or early this morning rather." Whisper spoke calmly yet surely, in a faintly detached manner. "He bore a message from one who would aid you."

"What kind of message?"

"For you, two parts. A warning, and an offer."

Timothy frowned slightly at her, his irritation and exhaustion wearing at him. "Well, go ahead then. What's the message?"

"First the warning. As things stand, your cause is hopeless. Without access to your magic, your friend will eventually be reclaimed by his former master, and you will be taken by the Circle." Timothy tensed up again with alarm as she spoke. After a brief pause to let her words take hold, she continued. "There is still the offer."

"And what's that?"

"If you are willing, there is one who can help you."

Timothy wanted to scream at her in frustration. Why couldn't she just get to the point already? He reigned himself in as best as he could though. Losing his temper at her would accomplish nothing and could very well cause problems he couldn't afford right now. Instead, he asked the obvious questions: "Who? How?"

"'Who' is a hard question to answer. As I said before, this being exists outside of space and time. Even I know little of its kind. What I can tell you is that they oppose those who threaten you. How... I cannot answer that either, except to assure you that I believe this being is more than a match for the Lord of Boils and his Oranbegan disciples."

"It sounds like he should've sent a more informative messenger to you."

"If you desire more information, if you want to help your friend..." Whisper paused briefly, and Timothy would have sworn she was doing it deliberately for effect. "Then there is a very direct option."

Of course she didn't volunteer more, so he had to ask. "What?"

"We open a gateway and allow the entity to manifest on our plane. Then you can ask it yourself." She said it as if it were the most simple and obvious answer possible.

It all sounded too convenient. Too many questions, not enough answers, and it would put them in a situation of complete vulnerability. Once again, his paranoia was screaming. "And how do I know this isn't some sort of convoluted trap?"

"You don't." Timothy glared daggers at her, and after a moment, she continued. "As long as your own art is blocked, you will have to trust someone."

Timothy was really beginning to lose his patience. "Well then how do YOU know it isn't some sort of convoluted trap?"

"It is my business to know and understand the denizens of the other planes. The one who contacted me is without question an opponent of the one who threatens you."

He took a moment to reflect. Whisper was right, of course: he had to trust someone or they'd never get out of the mess. In fact, if her messenger was right, they'd be flat out doomed. This was the first hint at a possible solution he'd found. "So what's the catch, then?"

"That is something you will have to ask for yourself. My involvement does not go beyond facilitating a meeting. I assume some sort of bargain will be involved."

"Figures." He knew nothing came free, especially from extraplanar entities. Or from humans, for that matter. "What about you? What will we owe you for your part?"

"You will owe me nothing. The other party is providing my... compensation."

Timothy startled faintly, raising his eyebrows. He certainly wasn't expecting that answer, but somehow, it was reassuring. "Well, that's something. Alright, fine. It's not like I have any choice. When and where?"

"Tomorrow night after closing?" She stated it as a question, but it clearly wasn't.

"Alright. I'll be here, with Barjnal."

"Try to get some rest. The experience will be very taxing."

"Yeah." Rest was wishful thinking at this point, but he planned to try anyway. "Anything else I need to know?"

"Probably."

Timothy stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but of course she didn't. Timothy was about ready to pull his hair out. Or pull her hair out, for that matter. He spoke sharply, "Well?"

Whisper half smiled at him. "Sorry, that was my attempt at a joke."

Timothy just stared at her some more. A joke? Was she crazy? "Right. I'm going to leave then. I don't like leaving Barj this long." He stood up, then paused a moment. "And uh, thank you."

"You are very welcome. I shall see you both tomorrow night."

She escorted him back to the shop and Timothy headed out the door. He had more questions than he'd come in with, but at least he also had hope for an answer.

[Timothy Bastian]

Timothy stood with Barj in the storeroom in the back Montgomery's Cupboard. Around them, Whisper had traced out a circle. She moved about the space easily, casting wards and raising protections. Normally, Timothy would have been able to sense some of the flows of magic happening around him, and he once again found it very unsettling that he currently could not. Whisper finished, then stepped to the side out of the way.

"Are you both ready?"

Timothy glanced at Barj, standing unsteadily next to him. Barj nodded faintly, so Timothy turned back to Whisper. "Yeah. Let's do it."

Whisper inclined her head. Timothy couldn't really see that she was doing anything, but he felt everything around him go quiet and still. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, that he was frozen in a moment of eternity. Then the tension broke, and brilliant light washed over them.

Timothy found himself on his knees, bowed before the being that now appeared before him. He did not recall moving to the position; it had simply happened. His mind was overwhelmed with awe by the being's presence. The experience was surreal, hyper-real, above and beyond the capacity for language to express. Then the sensations started to fade, or perhaps simply withdrew, and Timothy found his mind working more coherently again.

"Do not bow before me, child of earth." The voice was melodic and strong and otherworldly. "I am sorry for overwhelming you, but it is not I who should receive your reverence."

Timothy stood uneasily. He noticed peripherally that Barjnal remained bowed, shaking and crying with what was unmistakably pure terror.

"Fear not, child of earth, child of fire. You have walked a path of redemption. You are our enemy no more."

Barjnal seemed to calm down a little bit. Timothy squatted next to him and helped him back to his feet, keeping an arm around Barj to steady him. Barjnal was still visibly terrified, but seemed under control at least.

Timothy realized he hadn't yet looked at the being directly, that he'd been averting his eyes thus far. Deliberately, he turned to look towards it.

It was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It looked very much how Timothy would envision an angel. It was taller than most humans and had large wings. Its skin glowed with an inner light. Timothy couldn't decide on its gender--it somehow looked both masculine and feminine, in perfect balance.

"Are you an angel?" Timothy was surprised to realize he'd asked the question out loud.

"I am called Epitereo. I am one who watches." The being regarded Timothy. "We stand outside the bounds of space and time. We watch, but rarely intervene. We have been given leave here to make an exception. It is exceedingly rare for a demon to seek redemption. Your situation was such that you had no hope of surviving it. We do not wish to see our cousin lost again."

"Well, uh, thank you." Timothy paused for a moment, then bowed briefly, having absolutely no idea how to interact with this creature. He noticed peripherally that Whisper was standing off to the side, watching and waiting quietly. He supposed she had done her part in getting them this far, now it was his part to finalize the deal. "So, you're willing to fix us?"

"All that is broken cannot be properly mended. The damage is layered. Your shared bond is flawed in its creation and wears at both your souls. The merging of human and demon within Barjnal is incomplete and is without any bond of substance. The damage caused by the demon Bal'Xanarthartes has fractured the bonds as well as caused damage to the substance of your persons. I cannot fix you in the manner you would desire."

Timothy frowned, in frustration at having his questions answered so evasively as well as in anxiety over his and Barj's fate. Could Epitereo help or not? And if not, who could? "But... then... wait. You told Whisper you could help us, right? What can you do for us?"

"We stand outside the bounds of space and time. I cannot repair you, but I can alter the flow of time to restore you to who you were in the past by aging you in reverse. I can then alter the flow of time to knit Barjnal's human and demon selves together as he ages forward again, properly merging him into a single non-demonic being. These tasks are difficult and demanding, but I am capable of seeing them through."

"If you're aging us forward and backward, what will that do to our minds?" Timothy frowned in thought. "It doesn't sound entirely safe."

"I will shelter your minds, your memories, and your senses of self as well as I can. Your memories will fade, but will not be lost entirely. You will be the same person."

"And what's the price?"

"We wish you to learn." The being regarded Barjnal. "Barjnal, you have tortured souls in hell and have saved lives on earth. You have learned much of humanity, but you have much left to learn. We wish for you to seek out those who suffer, so that you can aid them. Tend to the hungry, the homeless, the imprisoned, and the sick. The price of our aid is this: That you follow your heart in devoting time over the next seven years to those who need it most. Do you accept this price, child of earth, child of fire?"

Timothy glanced at Barj, who was still relying on Timothy's support to keep him upright. He didn't look so good and was clearly avoiding looking at the being. Barjnal cleared his throat gently and answered meekly. "Yes."

"Timothy, you have struggled to find your place in the world and have alienated yourself from those around you. We wish for you to reach out to the world around you with friendship. The price of our aid is this: That you be kind to and engage with others for the next seven years. Do you accept this price, child of earth?"

Timothy blinked, then grimaced. Epitereo held all the cards, and Timothy knew he was in no place to negotiate. "Yes, fine. I accept."

The being inclined its head briefly. "Then let us begin."

The world around Timothy started to glow, to blur, to spin, to fade. He found his mind wandering, his thought scattering, his awareness drifting. And then... nothing.

[Timothy Bastian]

His head really hurt.

That's what he first became aware of as he started to wake up, the headache. It wasn't the worst one he'd ever had, but it certainly ranked. Had he been drinking or something? He couldn't really remember. He forced his eyes open.

There was a woman with pink hair sitting in an office chair nearby, reading. He looked around a bit. He was in someone's living room, on a couch.

He sat up, rubbing his head a bit. It was kind of hard to think through the headache. He glanced at the woman, then looked around the room a bit better. There was a coffee table next to him. There was also another couch nearby, with another guy sleeping on it. Nothing looked at all familiar.

"What the hell?"

The woman with the pink hair spoke softly without looking up from her book. "Good morning, Timothy."

Timothy stared at her for a few moments, trying to sort out in his mind what was going on, but not having much luck. "Who are you?"

The sighed, then set her book aside so that she could look over at him. "My name is Whisper. Do you remember me at all, Timothy?"

"I... don't know. It feels like I should." She did actually feel familiar somehow, though he couldn't quite place her. Then he realized that he felt some amount of magic around him. "Are you from MAGI?"

"I have done work for them, but I am an independent contractor. We are in the back of my shop, Montgomery's Cupboard."

"Montgomery's Cupboard." He said the name experimentally. He looked around again. The name felt right somehow. Had he been here before? He felt like he had, but couldn't really remember when.

"How do you feel? Would you like something to drink?"

Something about her voice, the cadence of it felt familiar. "I've got a headache..." A few things came together in Timothy's mind: he was in a strange place, with a strange woman who knew magic, he didn't know how he got here, and he felt like hell. All these facts felt like they somehow went together all of a sudden. He turned to her a bit accusationally. "Why do I have a headache? What did you do to me?"

"Normally I could do something about your headache, but right now it's best that I don't. You've experienced a number of ... changes ... over the past twelve hours and it's best to let things run their course." She paused for a moment, looking at him consideringly. "As to your other question... I did nothing to you personally. Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink?"

"I dunno... maybe. I guess." Timothy rubbed his head some more while she walked to the refrigerator. What had he been doing twelve hours ago? He couldn't remember.

"Water? Or would you like a soda? I can also offer tea if you wish."

"Uh..." Timothy looked up at her. For some reason, the question felt more difficult than it should. "Just water."

Whisper returned with an unopened bottle of cold water, which she set on the coffee table in front of him before seating herself on the couch nearby. Timothy picked up the bottle and looked at it for a moment without really focusing on it.

A memory surfaced in his mind. He had been in a shop, browsing through stones. Gem stones, rune stones, stones for all sorts of various kinds of magic. He recalled selecting one, a piece of topaz, though he couldn't recall for what purpose. And then... when he paid for it, he'd seen the pink-haired woman behind the counter. Speaking with another customer, he recalled. The memory was vague and elusive, with details missing throughout.

He twisted the cap off and took a drink.

"I was told your memories would be unclear. Your mind is attempting to rationalize two separate perspectives, and it will take some time to sort itself out."

"Two separate perspectives? Huh?" He glanced over at the young man on the other couch, seemingly dead to the world. Timothy suddenly felt like he knew him. There were no specifics, no details, just a sudden surge of knowing. A horrible thought emerged in his hazy mind. "You didn't like, put another person in my head did you?"

"No, although it is almost as if that is what was done." She paused for a moment. "But the other person is a different version of you."

"What the hell?" Timothy frowned. "That doesn't even make sense."

"No, it makes perfect sense. It's just... complicated. You have been subjected to reverse time. This has effectively de-aged you by about four years. However, you retain memories of those four years. So in a way, you do have two people in your head. Timothy at age 15, and Timothy at age 19. Your mind will eventually find a way to reconcile the two perspectives, but until a balance is found, you will experience some... confusion."

He frowned worse. He started to complain that it all sounded like a bunch of nonsense, but stopped. Was it nonsense? He tried to remember. Where was he yesterday? He couldn't recall. He felt somehow distanced from whatever he'd last done. What had he last done, though? He remembered going to class recently. He remembered a recent fight with his parents. He vaguely recalled doing something with scrolls, copying them? Except they were old scrolls, of a sort he'd never seen before. Except, he had seen them. Or had he? His headache worsened.

He capped his water and set it back down on the table, then rubbed his head again. None of it really made sense. Clearly he'd been kidnapped, and this pink-haired woman was deranged. His gut told him that she wasn't deranged, and that he hadn't been kidnapped, but he knew he wouldn't have signed up for getting reverse aged. That was crazy! His anger and frustration suddenly boiled up. He turned and began half-shouting at her.

"Then change me back! That kind of thing isn't even legal, especially against my will. I'll have my parents sue you if--"

He stopped abruptly. He suddenly was feeling quite nauseous. With his head aching as badly as it was, it left him feeling somewhat dazed and subdued.

"There is one more thing."

Timothy tried to clear his mind a bit. "Huh?"

"You are under a geas."

Something told him that was bad, but he couldn't really remember what a geas was. "A what?"

"A geas. In this case, think of it as an enforced vow."

He turned to look at her with incredulity. "To do what?"

Whisper tilted her head back slightly and spoke as if quoting. "You are to be kind to and engage with others for the next seven years."

"I'm what?! What the hell kind of stupid vow is THAT!" He clutched his stomach, feeling another spike of nausea. Between the geas and the nausea and his headache and everything else... it was just too much. He stood to his feet, swaying briefly before catching his balance.

"Are you alright?" Whisper looked ready to move if necessary, but otherwise unconcerned. "Do you need help?"

"I'm fine, no thanks to you." He turned to stare at the boy on the other couch for a moment. He looked to be about twenty, with brown hair. He looked so very familiar. "I'm out of here. This is just... stupid."

"Very well, Timothy. I'll show you out. You may return if you have any more questions."

Whisper stood, then led the way out of her apartment and through the store. Timothy followed her out, then left the store in a huff. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stay there any longer.

[Timothy Bastian]

"Timothy Bastian?" A tough, middle-aged black woman wearing a dull green blouse and faded jeans had emerged from the office as another sullen teenager was leaving. Timothy grimaced and quietly followed her into her office.

"Please, take a seat." She gestured to a simple, uncomfortable-looking chair facing her desk as she took her seat and opened up a folder filled with forms and documents. Timothy took the seat, but remained silent. The woman leafed through a few pages, jotted down a few notes, then sat back and fixed Timothy with an appraising look.

"It's like déjà vu." She shook her head in mild amusement. "Never thought I'd see you in my office again, Timothy. They said your memory's a bit damaged. How much do you remember?"

"It's not really damaged." He frowned at her. "It's just kinda faded. It keeps feeling like I'm remembering things that haven't happened yet."

"That has to be frustrating. Then I take it you remember working with me before?"

"Yes. Ms. Regina Wolston, social worker extraordinaire." Timothy grimaced slightly.

"I'm glad you've developed such an elevated opinion of me," she remarked wryly. "Maybe it'll make working with you easier this time around. Now, let's get down to business. According to the psychologist, you're mentally about fifteen years old. The doctor's report puts you developmentally at about the same age. The academic placement tests put you back in tenth grade. Based on all of this, the courts have decided to grant your parents plenary guardianship over you, pending re-evaluation on a periodic basis. Has anyone explained to you what that means for you?"

"More or less." Timothy shrugged. "Basically means I'm where I was at age fifteen."

"Exactly. Including a requirement to attend high school." She turned a sheet of paper over. "I've spoken with Saint Joseph School and, given your unusual situation, they agreed to re-admit you to the tenth grade."

"What?!" Timothy gaped at her. "No way! I'm not going back there. I can home school."

"No, you can't. Your parents were very clear that home school isn't an option." Regina frowned at him. "And based on your history, it seems ill-advised to put you back in public school. You start classes next week on Monday. Here's information on your dormitory assignment and class schedule." She picked up a packet of papers and tossed them to the other side of her desk.

"Dormitory assignment? Are you cra--" Timothy cut himself short, fixing Ms. Wolston with a glare as he felt the stirrings of nausea. He picked up the packet of papers. "Fine. Whatever. Anything else?"

"Yes. A piece of advice." She leaned forward and fixed him with a stern look. "You did a pretty good job at making your life miserable on your last trip though high school. I don't know why, but you've apparently been granted a chance to do it all over. I suggest you view this as the opportunity it is. You follow me?"

"Yeah." He frowned at her, biting back whatever else was on the tip of his tongue.

"Good. Now get out of here." Regina's tone was just casual enough to make it sound almost friendly, but she definitely was herding him out of the office and dragging the next sullen teenager into her office before he had a chance to say another word.

Timothy sighed, then left the building. Looks like he had some packing to do.