Vacation was over for Rai’s poor green sedan the day Rai was released from hospital. Sao watched the rickety thing make its way down the street to the office, climbing gently onto the pavement. Rai never drove like that. It was somewhat unsettling, and he wondered perhaps if he was still in a dream. There was a heave of relief to be had when Rai hopped out of the passenger seat, sporting an unusual shirt.

”You’re slower than the chief, Raph,” Rai groaned.

“C’mon, did you hear those wheels? I think you should take this thing to a mechanic. So... I just park it in the back?” Raph crooked his neck so he could look out the passenger’s side. “Hey, Sao. Been a while.”

“It certainly feels like it. Had a good sleep-in yesterday, I didn’t realize Rai was allowed to allocate time off.” Sao avoided catching Rai’s glare. “And you…?” 

“I’m clean of any trances, enchantments, hexes and scourges. Also clean out of a job, no surprise. I’m suspended indefinitely. This drive was a personal favor. A legitimate one, this time.” He dipped his head again, aimed a mercurial grin at Rai. “Someone’s magical arms have made a full recovery but thought he should go easy on it for - what was that - peace of mind?”

Sao took Rai’s glare for that one. “Absolutely right.”

“I just can’t get over Sigma,” Raph went on, ignoring the fact that Rai was poised to slam the door in his face. “I was right, he was always going to be trouble, but he didn’t deserve what happened. Or how it started - fucking military-branded torture on orphans, right in the middle of the city. In a way, he had a reason to be the way he was. I guess that part doesn’t matter. What really burns my ass, even when I try to put it behind me, is that Sigma died regretting everything. He knew he was wrong and couldn’t live with it. Meanwhile my old man is still living a life of infinite chances in a cushy rich-peoples jail. They even let him start a video log where he continues to spout the same old nonsense.” He shook his freshly dyed helmet of hair, strands the color of steel. “Fucking forget it.”

“It really is unfair.” Sao said. “I have to wonder how you cope so well.”

“Did you see me over the past week? I never did.”

“You’ll probably be hired back,” Rai said drily. “Central’s always short on people. Now that you’ve got this Sigma thing off your mind...”

“It’s not over yet.” Raph raised an eyebrow. His smile, Sao thought, was a touch bitter. “Have you guys also been getting a hundred calls a day from the news outlets and that scumbag ‘production house’ looking to make a Sigma biopic?”

“You can’t agree to unapproved interviews,” Rai said without answering the question. “The chief’s part of this case. He’ll have a fucking stroke. Right after he skins you alive.”

“He’ll have to catch me first.” Raph laughed, again, not as blithely as he may have been hoping. “No, I’ve learned my lesson. I think everyone in Central knows my story by now, anyway.” He reached over and tugged the door shut, despite Rai’s hand being at the handle. “You, mister, just take it easy.”

Sao waved. “You take care too, Raph.”

Raph calmly swerved around the corner, and out of sight.

---

The office welcomed them with its customary morning glow. Birdsong at the window and grind of multiple coffee machines in the kitchen. Rai, however, did something Sao had never seen before. Foregoing the immediate relief of coffee, he sped straight to his room and shut the door, rustled about and emerged in a ragged button-up with a scowl. Sao stared the the door right up until it opened.

Rai strode by, carefully folding the polo shirt he’d come in with, and slapped it onto the bench in the office. The fabric was mint green, printed with tiny canaries and starched to within an inch of its life. “Gramps lent me a shirt.”

“I could tell it wasn’t yours. Gramp-- I mean, Doctor Cadmus, how is he?”

“Good.” Rai’s expression was a wall. “Although, hand condition freaked him out a little when he first saw it.”

“I can’t blame him.” The smell of flesh rose in his nostrils. Sao tried to think instead of mint and birds. “How’s the hand, by the way?”

“Fine. Life Fountain immutability, as you say. I was lucky it was my hand, or I might have lost something for good. The elbow’s still sore, but it’s getting there. And my coat…” Rai frowned at his curling fingers, no doubt wishing he could trade one to get the old olive drab back.

“I’ll get you a new coat as a recovery present.”

“I don’t look good in swanky suit jackets.” Rai dropped into his chair and set his monitors whirring to life. “Kiria left the hospital today about the same time I did. She was headed back to Bell. She told me she was thinking of selling it. Apparently, upkeep is a nightmare. The whole place rots in the fall so she wants to offload it before then. And of course, there's the memories she's eager to distance herself from.”

“I can imagine.” 

“She’s got a good head for things, and came out of it with a firm grip on reality. The Bells’ hold on her was already frail. Sigma bombarded her too hard, the trance sort of burned out from overexposure. She’s gotta wait for Delta before making any financial moves, though. Delta was in nasty shape, the shock or the relapse left him semi-paralyzed.”

Sao bit his lip. He hadn’t been sure about asking; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“He’s getting better. He was sitting up and talking by the time I left. A night owl himself. Told me he's had enough of the city and was thinking of moving to the South. Rent a little house on the coast. Apparently Sigma advised him in that direction, not long ago. Said it would be good to get a full change of scenery.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best.”

“Don't feel too bad, there are people who have his back. You’ll like this: his old foster moms came to visit. Nice ladies, in their eighties at least, walkers, wheelchairs and huge bifocals, dancing circles around his bed, sprinkling flowers and cash. They brought along their latest crop of kids, all of ‘em in pastel suits, for the spring, they said. They looked like marshmallows.” Rai eyeballed his own shirt on the bench and cleared his throat. “The oldest of the mothers paid his bills, and left at least thirty huge fruit baskets.”

“More fruit baskets than Bell residents.” Sao laughed, the nymphs of Bell twirling through his mind like smoke figures, outlined in gold, vines and dew. If only that image could be cast off like an old dream. Perhaps Sigma had orchestrated it specifically to pierce the conscience, get past trances, at least for a while.

“Hah. All residents are alive and accounted for, by the way. Only one in critical, one of the suicide attempts by a straggler left at Bell. The father of the baby we met that time. What was his name…?” Rai shrugged. “As Kiria said - bad memories. Crass as it is, I think knowing about Sigma's infidelity far in advance softened the blow for a lot of them. But the fact stills stands they're as much victims of that torture device as he was. At least some of the residents are set to make a killing out of this ‘experience’.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, there’s the movie. And individual book and docu-deals. Being a survivor gave Indigo's old records a sudden sales boost. The police are scrambling to hold everything back, keep all info suppressed, but the dam's leaking fast. There have been random suicides across the city, possibly as a response to Sigma’s death. There’s no telling how many people he entranced and forgot about, who will snap into some unknown state when they hear the news.” Rai sank into his chair, folding his hands. “For better or worse, everybody involved didn’t instantly relapse upon his death. Not a huge surprise, though. Sigma was stuck in Desmond's trance long after the old guy died. But it makes it very hard to guess how far the Bells' reach was.”

Rai closed his eyes. Sao wondered, of all the unearthly things he’d witnessed that week, if Rai was napping. But the coffee machine gurgled and Rai hopped to his feet, almost knocking into Sao who had been creeping his way to the door.

“You first?” Sao ventured.

“Sorry. I’m kind of zombified.” Rai trudged his way toward caffeinated comfort, Sao trailing behind. As he checked the machines, Rai mused, “They let me out early not just because of the hand situation, but because I agreed to see a police shrink, a typical move after seeing someone lose their life right in front of you. That shit always makes me tired. The shrink, that is. And I’m not sleepy, I could just really use some coffee.”

“Aha, the police therapists.” Sao waited in the doorway as Rai rumbled through the kitchen cabinets. “That’s an idea. Do you think I should, too?”

“Why?”

“Will they ask? As you said, someone lost their life in front of us. And… I don’t know, I suppose I should be feeling guiltier than I am. I was the last person to speak to him before...” The memory of what he’d said was covered by a thick haze, and the scent of pine. “I used his weakness. Just like Desmond...”

“No, you did it to save Kiria. We could have lost them both. Anyway, a few minutes of talk wasn’t going to cure twenty years of delusion set by a pedophile. If you need someone with qualifications to tell you that, then go ahead. Here, take this.” Rai set a carved mug on the counter. The cup was a pleasant seafoam blue, a little bigger and more ornate than their usual fare. Sao supposed this was one of Rai’s obtuse attempts at consolation.

Rai’s voice continued from inside the shelves, "You know, being in therapy again, I remembered something I learned from one of the other shrinks I saw, as a kid. Reminded me of you.”

“How so?” As a kid? Childhood recollection was (hopefully) not the point Rai was chasing, not now.

“The 54321 technique. Something to do with taking inventory of the five senses. Looking at the little things to overcome the uh, overwhelming. It’s supposed to be a grounding trick - bring you back to reality. Five things you see, four things you feel, three is smell… etcetera.”

“How interesting. I suppose I shouldn’t have thought my ways were anything innovative. Sigma should have seen a professional.”

“But he did. And so did I. I couldn’t make the five senses trick work; it assumes there’s anything more appealing about reality than throwing your hand through a wall, as if reality isn't the trigger making you do it, which is...” Rai snorted. “Ironically, I don’t have enough imagination for that. If I try to stop worrying about the thing that needed worrying about, I feel like I’m gonna flip. No prerequisite inner peace to achieve inner peace. Okay, awareness exercises can help out in investigations, but does nothing to keep the blood pressure down. As for Sigma… he was kind of a special case. But it’s wishful thinking to say he’s the only one of his kind there will ever be. Maybe there’s a light at the end of a tunnel through talk and docs, but the to just send someone at their worst into the dark, stuffing more onto their plate, giving another bill to pay, trips to call and schedule... tasking the kind of people who can barely deal with everyday life to search, vet and assess offices, psych PHDs, hypnotists... it could wind up being last thing they need to knock them off the, uh,” Rai coughed, rattling the cupboard doors. “Off the boat. Get past all that and you’ve only just barely gotten to the meat of actual sessions. Or, it could just end up all being a waste of money.”

“Not a recommendation, then.”

“I'd be a hypocrite to say that after all the hours put in by both me and the docs." The confused clattering came to an end. Sao's ears rang; he strained to hear Rai's muttered follow-up. "The checkmarked papers they give me help to keep HQ off my back, but I know that's not exactly the point. Who knows? Maybe I'm just not good enough for real therapy. Or I’m already at the end of the line.”

“How so?”

“You know. ‘Good enough’ such that there’s no way of getting any better. Not without tripling expenses.”

With a huff, Rai drew out a glass cup twice the size of an ordinary mug - one clearly intended for non-coffee beverages. His dark smile matched the one he’d worn as his arm burnt to a crisp. It seemed a good time for Sao to return to his seat.

Wastes of money, he thought, pulling out his new toy, securing the plastic orb and tapping the switch on the handle. A faint scatter of light hit his desk. The effect in the daytime was hard to see.

“What’s that?” Rai asked, walking in with his coffee. “Wait a sec - it looks familiar.”

The sight of Rai attempting to hoist a stein full of coffee meant his interrogation met with snickers. “It’s a handheld star projector, like the one we found in the basement. I bought this one from a stall by the museums district in the city.” Sao flicked it off. “Morbid, I suppose. But why should we be allowed to just forget so easily?”

“There are more than enough reminders already.” Brushing away papers, Rai carefully placed his cup by his keyboard. “I guess you’ve heard about the sudden influx of evidence at 744 Judgment? When the police went to check out Desmond’s secret bedroom, they found a lot of interesting objects.”

“I did read the brief. Very strange that we’d have missed the blindfolds and dolls…”

“I don’t think we did. The room had been broken into before. I suspect the kids around town were holding onto the evidence and placed it back when they realized a legitimate investigation might actually be starting.”

Sao thought of the boys he and Rai had passed at the steps to Desmond’s house. Their manner had struck him as oddly dignified.

“The kids.” Sao wrapped his hands around his coffee. “They suspected what had happened - no, they knew. The vileness didn't die with with Desmond, after all. But they also recognized that they had no power - the military covered their own; blowing the whistle would have left a child homeless at best, shamed into further horror at worse. So they saved evidence and passed down the story, until the right moment...”

“The problem is, some of the stuff planted in the room weren’t relevant to Sigma or Desmond. Yeah, there were fingerprints of some other distinguished military folk living on Judgment Street.” Rai exhaled hard. “But that will just make it harder. For Sigma’s, at very least, they found a camera containing some pretty damning evidence.”

“I did read something about it. So the camera had…!” Sao stopped. The contents he had in mind were repellent, unfit for words.

“The reel was still inside, untouched for twenty two years, as determined by the manufacturing date. Whoever was holding onto it was careful. Old fashioned film with no nearby specialists - unlikely to be doctored. And the images - definitely impossible to ignore.”

“Thank goodness,” was all Sao could say. He put the star projector on the shelf next to him, a huge, empty fixture of dark wood, on which battery-powered stars could see a little more play. He wondered why Rai never used the shelf - perhaps he was hoping Sao would fill it himself. But Sao’s work was small, infinitesimal even. His transcripts came and went within the confines of a single laptop.

Looking at the blurred stars, he felt very small.

Rai struggled to take another sip of his coffee. “Police are still searching the forest.”

“I saw a bit of yesterday's reports.” But Sao hadn’t opened those.

“They didn’t find Sigma,” Rai said, no doubt sensing Sao’s unspoken clause. “But they did recover all of the Bells. The chief rooted himself to the campsite until they did. And a lot of car parts turned up, including a bumper with a license plate that matched the model - but not the owner. The plate itself was in better condition than the piece it was attached to, which was not just burnt, but badly weathered over the course of years.”

“Desmond’s van.”

“Looks like it. Parts of two vans were scattered all the way down the mountainside, some up trees, but the contents - specifically, the drivers’ seats of both were otherwise totally disintegrated by flames. It was one thing reading the rants in car magazines, but the TPP really was a death trap.” He sat back, the cup on his knee. “There was also the gas spillage around the clifftop. That was from yesterday. Sigma might have doused his own drivers’ compartment with a little extra.”

“He planned it to some extent. If only I had said something more--”

“Quit it, Sao. You'll always feel like you didn't do enough for the dead. But Sigma's not here to smile and accept the extra effort, so don't waste your energy trying to fill some unfillable void." 

Sao blinked. Rai's admonishment was unexpectedly mild. Refusing to meet his eyes, Rai sloucher further down in his chair, his voice lowered to a murmur. "Sigma had plans for that day. A big fire. The flames of a takeoff - the flames Desmond ‘went up’ in - really had an impression on him. An image so strong he stuck it into the heads of four other kids when he was little. Even I saw that final trance.” Recalling his injury, Rai set the cup down and gave his fingers another experimental curl. “The 'takeoff' that took away Desmond saved him, but it also marked the end of his 'real' life. That image was mixed with the willpower he used to harness the Bells, to fire them on Desmond long enough to drive him off a cliff. The same willpower that can entranced people to kill themselves. Sigma suffered, but he wasn’t weak. But of course, the fire was real. Whether he burned up or not, Desmond’s body is unlikely to be found after so long. With no bodies, it’s a little like they did end up taking off.”

“Like vanishing.”

“Like, to outer space.” Rai flicked a hand toward the ceiling. “Another dimension.”

Sao smiled. “To think you say you’re not one for imagination.”

“Really? Thought I was being too literal.” Rai raised his back into a work-ready posture and stretched until his joints clicked. “And it’s wishful thinking compared to the obvious answer. But hey, if Sigma made it to the sixth dimension, I hope he stays there. Magic, Central, the army, the police - every part did all they could to break him. And if he comes back, they’ll just destroy him further. I don’t know what even we would do to help. The chief putting that gag order on the whole case - I don’t think it’s purely for the people who might be suicidally entranced. It has the benefit of sparing his military generals' luncheons the topic of one - or more - of their own pensioned folk touching kids. Plus, there’s that disgusting movie situation--”

The office phone, which sat precariously on one of the shallow shelves near the door, began to ring. Before Sao could rise, Rai sauntered over, picked it up, listened for two seconds and slammed it down, knuckles flickering as if afflicted by an electrical surge.

“Disgusting.”

“Truly.”

“Don’t pick that thing up for the rest of the day.” Switching one phone for another, Rai checked the time on his mobile. “We got started late because of me. But I’m still technically on medical leave for one more day. Let’s get lunch.”

---

“You been haunted by ghost kids lately?”

“What? Oh - no, they seem to be gone for good.” It was true. Sao had given up on wandering through the fog that surrounded that particular memory.  He smiled and folded his hands, to occupy them. “A shame you couldn’t talk to them.”

“No sweat off my back.” Rai chewed slowly on something wet and tacky. “I don’t think they were a real ghost, anyhow.”

“Even after all the revelations on weapons formed from souls...?”

“If the apparition disappeared when Sigma did, chances are they weren’t an apparition at all. Was there anything that indicated that the kid was not conjured up by Sigma? The stuff the kid told you - well, Sigma knew his own gardening plans, and probably learned about the trees from Desmond, who graduated from a school famous for its camellia corridor - even had a photo of it in his house. The kid only appeared around Sigma, affected followers, places he’d been, and the Bells themselves, which we know can be pretty potent even when distanced from their owner. The main contradiction is that the kid tried to warn you away from Bell - but think about it, did Sigma really believe deep down that Bell was a good place for you, or anyone?” Rai sifted through his appetizer, the dish making a rubbery sort of noise. “If a ‘ghost’ is made and controlled by a living person, then it defeats the point.”

The stein of coffee had brought Rai back to life and then some. The mess he was making of his lunch left his face looking bloodied. How could something so red be edible? Sao had his head down. He smelled the steam but couldn’t bring himself to look at the source.

“Something wrong with the food?”

Sao sighed. When Rai had barrelled his way back into the office, Sao knew there’d be trouble - no, he should have caught himself before the order was made. Rai came in swinging the same cheap, greasy delivery bags. Out drifted the same scent of sour and spicy soup that seemed to hang in the air, numbing on contact. Open the lid and it was the same red oil, sprinkled with sesame, ginger and pureed garlic, the same silken sheets of pork he’d set aside the day Delta had come knocking.

Delta. The vampire headed down to the beaches of the sunny South. Sao smiled absently. “It reminds me of an old friend.”

Rai’s eyebrow raised over his soup, a swirl of crimson with bits of fungus floating on the oily surface like lily pads. “You said you hadn’t tried this stuff before last week.”

“It’s because it’s the second time.” Sao snapped his wooden chopsticks into their separate parts and stirred. It had been a mistake to begin remembering Delta. “Humans tend to see patterns. What might have started as a survival mechanism has turned into a fault in our programming. Isn't that horrible? We long for the familiar, and yet that’s exactly where we can easiest and most surely find paranoia and fear.”

“Are you saying you can’t eat?”

“Never mind.” Sao smiled and shook his head. It was all too similar. But this scene, as many in his lovelier memories, as with dreams, was fragile. Easy to ruin. Images to be handled delicately, lest they shatter or fade, or else stain and spoil. But sometimes, he was grateful for their weaknesses. Just drop it. Let it go. Turn the pretty little memory over to junk.

Junk begets junk.

There were worse fates. Sao stirred his soup and asked, “Actually, if I may - can I try some of that side dish?”

Rai held up the plastic bowl of wrinkled black fungi, oil dripping to the wooden floor. “Knock yourself out.”