Everyone settled at the safe house Zoe had brought the group from New York to. Yelena and Cassius were well on their way to being back to normal. The swelling had gone down in the young mans face and the bruises, while still noticeable, weren’t as big or as dark. Yelena’s shoulder was still sore and she had to watch how she moved it but Tim’s gun powder field treatment had been just what the wound needed. Shawn finally awoke from his comatose state and was not the least bit happy his original communication device had beenb confiscated but he was thankful for the one Zoe had created for him. It certainly made things easier for the group as a whole.

When Tim introduced the shape shifter to Morgan, immediately Yelena saw the way Morgan looked at Tim and knew the young woman was at least smitten with the Texan. While she thought it was good for Tim to have someone like Morgan, she didn’t want the young woman to get her hopes up too high and get hurt if the cowboy decided he just wasn’t ready for anything yet.

Zoe filled them all in on everything she found when she snooped through the files Beacon had on all of them. Seems as though the covert agency had quite the dossier on all of them. Yelena and Cassius debriefed the group on all that had happened from the time they left the hospital to the time Tim had literally stumbled across them. They told the others about Toril and Yelena suggested to the group they needed to find him if at all possible.

Food supplies were getting low and Yelena knew the trip to the local grocery store was inevitable. Gathering a list from everyone, she asked Tim to get her a vehicle from the barn that was as inconspicuous as possible. While Tim went to get the vehicle, she looked over at Mrogan and tilted her head.

”Since you are only other female that will go eave house, you are elected to go with me.”

Yelena saw the look that crossed Morgan’s face then glance at Tim before looking back to the Russian and giving a hesitated OK. Yelena knew the young woman had some history., During the times she and Tim had been alone to talk, Tim had let Yelena know how he came across Morgan and all the things that had happened to the woman. Even some things from her past.

When Tim brought a vehicle around for them, Yelena had Morgan drive since her shoulder was still sore and the two made their way into town. As they rode along, Yelena told Morgan a little about herself. Told her how she had been deported to Russia when the Riggs Act was signed into law and how she had been hiding as a goat farmer before the news of Herman’s death. The shape shifter didn’t tell Morgan what happened after she returned to Russia. Yelena figured she wouldn’t want to know and quite frankly, it was no ones business.

Once the women had gathered the food supplies for the house, and were checking out, something caught Yelena’s attention. ON a bulletin board near the exit of the grocery store was a flyer.



Glancing around to see if anyone was looking, Yelena took the flyer off the board, folded it up then slid it into her back pocket. When Morgan rolled the shopping cart over to meet her, they exited the store and loaded the groceries into the car then got in and Morgan started it up.

Before Morgan put the car in gear, Yelena pulled the flyer from her pocket and unfolded it again, showing it to Morgan.

”Do you know where this place is?”

Morgan wasn’t familiar with Troy BUT, she told Yelena she had seen the print shop just up the street from the grocery store. Yelena asked her to drive them there. Morgan was a little confused but she didn’t question why. A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the print store. Yelena looked around to see if there were any suspicious looking vehicles or people around before she got out and went inside.

When she showed the flyer to the kid behind the counter and asked who printed the flyers, the kid described Toril to a T and handed her the business card he’d left behind. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized the Norwegian had been in Troy and it appeared he left clues as to where he was. Thanking the young man after he told her she could keep the card, she quickly got back in the car with Morgan.

When they got back to the safe house, Yelena showed the card and flyer to Tim. Knowing the cowboy knew of the conversation Yelena had with Toril about her gymnastics career, there was no doubt Toril had been the one to leave the clue.

The Russian leveled her eyes to Tim then.

”So now what?”

Tim listened to Yelena, as he studied the flyer. "Well, I reckon we best mosey ta shy town an give this har Toril a hand." Tim said, then he looked at the others "Ya'all up fur a change of scenery, I figer things are right hot fur us har and it be jus' a matter a time till them R.A.I.D. varments or the F.B.I. 'll be beatin' on ar door."

Morgan found herself liking the russian woman named Yelena. She didn't beat around the bush and she seemed nice. After taking her to the grocery store, then the print shop, they headed back to the safehouse.

Morgan stood in the background as Yelena spoke to Tim about the card she'd received from the boy at the print shop. She was confused as she and Tim had had no time to talk to each other and she was becoming worried that she had read too much in his words from before, when he spoke about sitting on the porch at his ranch. The most he'd done was touch her hair the day he'd returned as she lay with her head on his lap.

While he and Yelena spoke, Morgan slipped into the living room, holding a spiral notebook she'd picked up at the store. Opening it, she began jotting down notes and plans for her next encounter with Frank, for she knew that there would be one.

Her thoughts strayed to Tim and how the only affection he'd shown her was stroking her hair the day he'd returned when she lay with her head on his lap. She felt heartbroken, but she didn't show it.

Giving herself a mental shake, she told herself that she had more important things to figure out than where she stood with the Texan. She'd grown fond of everyone here and she wasn't going to let her crazy loon of a father cause any of them harm or get captured by RAID.

Getting up and walking into the kitchen to get something to drink, she heard Tim mention going to Chicago. Her eyes widened in alarm and she stood there, staring at Tim.

"Chicago? Why Chicago?"

Toril rolled out of bed around 10:30 in the morning. He could have slept longer, but he didn't want to be rude. If he remembered right, Julie was a morning person and breakfast was her all time favourite meal of the day and besides he was looking forward to hitting the gym. Julie was preparing for a new body building competition, and she was looking forward to working out with someone who didn't bench press dump trucks for a change. By comparison, Toril's ability to pick up econo-sized cars and the fact that he had to work at it was far more, 'Human' to her.



Making his way downstairs with a slight skip to his step, Toril's stomach suddenly woke up when he smelled the pancakes and sausages. When he entered the kitchen, Julie was flitting about, flipping flap jacks, and setting the table, she wasn't going to touch the stuff but she knew that her husband and their guest could metabolize just about anything and still look good.

It was quite the domestic sight. A muscular blonde haired Ukrainian woman, pouring pancakes on the grill and a giant bronze skinned horned man tending the sausages wearing an apron that read, 'Hell's Kitchen'. Toril could hardly believe that his old friend still had the nerve to laugh as it his hair which was standing up at various angles.

"Did you sleep okay?" Asked Julie, ignoring her husband's snide, boyish comments.

Toril plopped himself down at the table and rubbed a kink out of the back of his neck. "Like the dead." He replied as his eyes wandered to a copy of the Chicago Tribune resting beside a bowel of grapes. He picked it up and quickly read over the front page article.



When Toril was done, he tossed the paper down and gave a frustrated sigh.



Gabriel looked over. "Pisses me off too." He remarked. "Goddamn, RAID is just pussy footing around the city, arresting the good guys while this bastard is tossin' police cars around. That's the third time this month already!"

"Gabe. No need to get all worked up over it again." Mentioned Julie.

The Devil simmered down. "Yeah, you're right. I tell ya, though, if I was still out there I'd give this guy a thrashin'."

"But you're not, Gabe. And you're not going to." Reminded Julie as she carried over a large stack of pancakes to the table.

"Cursed Knight, eh? Any relation to Templar Knight?" Asked Toril, "Do you remember that guy, Bronze?"

Gabriel thought back and laughed. "What was that? Seventy-four?

"1975." Toril corrected. "Man, you hit that guy so hard you pretty much knocked him clean out of his armour." He recalled.

"Yeah! And the bastard was only wearing a bloody jock strap underneath." Roared Gabriel with a hearty laugh.

Toril laughed and winced at the image. "Damn! Those were good times"

"The best!" Added Gabriel then he quickly glanced over at his wife, "Well, next to you, of course." he quickly mentioned with a devilish grin.

"Yeah, yeah." She replied, "Com' on. Less talk, more eating. I want to make the gym before 11:30."

(Tuesday, 10:45 am - May 19th. Bronze Devil's Residence, Chicago)

It was late in the morning when Zoe backed her small black car into the garage and pushed the door open carrying a large box. Dropping this in the middle of the kitchen, she left again and re-emerged with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and carrying a clearly heavier box. This she dropped with a loud thunk in the middle of the foyer not far from where Shawn was sitting on the steps.
Shawn raised his head as the vibration traveled all the way from the floor to the step he sat on and he furrowed his brow in interest, his useless eyes staring emptily through mere slits. Hearing the crash, Cassius rose drowsily from the basement, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Duuude," he groaned, "someone like totally dropped a bomb or some shit..." looking around with half-closed eyes he finally raised his eyebrows and let a tired smile cross his face. "Oh righteous, dude... charity..." he pulled out a pocket knife and promptly tore open both boxes. Both were filled completely with various clothes. The clothes in the second box however, were waited down by another, somewhat narrow one.

"I figured everyone could use some seeing as you didn't exactly come with suitcases," said Zoe flatly before turning to Shawn and tossing a T-shirt that was about his size at him. When a rush of cloth whapped him in the face, Shawn started and immediately raised his hands to pull the shirt off of his face and ran his hands over it, quickly figuring out what it was. At that, Zoe walked over and began "typing" on his device which he read using the braille on the bottom as she went along.

Clothes. Go find some that fit you. As Shawn got up and walked over to the box, Zoe watched as his hands immediately found the second cardboard box and he furrowed his brow as he ran his hands over it, feeling the clothes beneath it and the weight it held. At that, Zoe picked up the box and tore it open, placing a few books in his hands. Running his hands over the braille titles, Shawn's useless eyes lit up and Zoe pushed the box into his arms. Moving back over to the stairs, Shawn set the box down and dumped out two more braille books. Lining them, he read each cover as though wanting to take in their every detail: Two by Machiavelli and two by Neitzche. When Shawn turned slowly, a look of shock over his pale face, he signed "thank you" and barely managed to whisper it.

I figured you needed something to do. Zoe said on the device before she dumped more clothes in front of Shawn and headed out the door again to smoke.

"Dude. Clothes are awesome," said Cassius with a grin.

Morgan didn't wait for Tim to reply to her question. She calmly walked upstairs and into her room, shutting the door quietly. She sat down on the bed, thinking.

~Chicago. We're going to Chicago. Okay. I can handle this.~

The big cities were totally out of her element. It was why she was leaving New York when she met Tim. So many people could hide in big cities and so many animals were getting hit by cars and abused. She would have to work on sheilding, blocking what she would feel. To not go would be foolish. To be alone right now, with Frank on her ass would be idiotic. At least, until she had a plan worked out.

Pulling her bag out from under the bed, she began to pack. Knowing Tim, he would want to leave right away. She noticed that her hands were shaking as she packed her bag.

~Chicago. Oh God, Chicago. So many people. How am I going to do this? I don't like being around a lot of people. Maybe, we'll get a big enough place and I can just stay inside, cooking. I'll be, like, the housekeeper/cook. Yea, that will work. I can give one of the others a grocery list every now and then and send them to the store.~

Morgan smiled to herself, pleased that she'd figured it out. She would just stay inside. It would work. It had to. Then her face dropped. It would never work. She would go stir crazy if she stayed inside the whole time they were there. Sitting back on the bed, she leaned over, her head in her hands. Sitting back up, she ran her fingers through her long hair, not knowing what to do. Feeling more alone than ever.

Maybe she could stay here. No, that wouldn't work either. Tim had made a promise to her aunt to keep her safe and he wouldn't break his word for anyone or anything, which meant that there was no way he'd allow her to stay here alone.

~I will just have to do this. That's all there is to it, I'll have to get over it. How, I don't know, but I will.~

She finished packing, thinking about the time spent here, the people she'd met. And Tim. He hadn't said anything to her about her lack of appetite the last few days, nor her lack of cooking. Not that she wanted him to notice her lack of appetite, but she still noticed that he hadn't noticed. He had barely said two words to her, it was like he was avoiding her. She was becoming more and more sure that she'd misunderstood when he spoke about his ranch in Texas. He had never promised anything to her and she just needed to accept that.

She grabbed her bowie knife and the two daggers she wore at the back of her pants, the sheaths hooked to her belt. She hadn't worn them since she was here at the house, but she wore them now.

She sat down next to her bag, her eyes shining with tears she wouldn't let fall. She was becoming stronger than that. Her shoulders slumped a little as she thought about Chicago and Tim, even thinking about the others. They would probably be in their element in the big city. Just one more thing to show that she really didn't fit in here. But, she would go with them, she didn't have anywhere else to go and being along would mean that her father would have her before she was ready. Besides, she couldn't bring herself to walk away from Tim. Not yet, anyway. Not until it was time to confront Frank.

Allie had had a hard night and was glad to get home. Pulling her '68 black vintage mustang into the hidden garage under her warehouse apartment, she set the security inside the car and got out, pressing a button on her keys to activate the alarm. Next, she made sure the garage was locked up and the alarm system set and armed there, as well. Her warehouse apartment was located about a mile south of Stanton Park, not too far from the river.

Heading over to the elevator, she climbed in, shutting the iron grate before pulling down the old door. Hitting the number 3, she slumped up against the wall, waiting for the contraption to reach her home.

Outside, it looked like any other warehouse, dank, foreboding, grungy, but inside was a totally different story.

Once the elevator stopped, she lifted up the door and opened the iron grate to step onto a shining, well-polished wood floor. The room she stepped into was very spacious, with plush, leather furniture, i.e. couch, loveseat, recliner. All of them were black and dark red, her favorite colors. There were multiple rooms that had cost her a fortune to have done, but it had been worth it and her daddy had paid for half of it.

First walking in, you enter the living room which was more for entertaining guests, something she didn't do often. Off to the far left were two bedrooms with a large bathroom in between. The bathroom itself was just as surreal as the rest of the apartment, with a large, claw-foot bathtub, seperate shower with two shower heads, dual sinks up against the wall, and a state of the art toilet. One bedroom was decorated with different shades of green, a mountain scene painted on the wall with the door. A large, queen sized bed sat in the middle of the opposite wall, a down mint green comforter with plush pillows on it. A t.v with full entertainment system sat in one corner with a plush forest print chair just across from it. The other room was identical except that it was a tropical forest scene.

On the other side of the living room you stepped up into the kitchen and dining area. The kitchen was also state of the art as Allie loved to cook when she had the time. In the kitchen area, the floor was expensive marble-like tile, easy to clean. There was also a bar to sit at when it was just or one other, which was seldom. Most men couldn't handle her heat.

Stepping down of to the left, you stepped into the dining room with a beautiful oak dining room set. It would seat 8 comfortably and had ladder back chairs. It was meduim in the stain, not too dark and not too light.

Off of the kitchen in the other direction from the dining room was the t.v. room with a large screen plasma t.v. with surround sound, dvd player and recorder, panasonic stereo in the corner and a wall full of cds and dvds. The furniture here was easy to clean fabric, the couch, a sectional in deep burgandy. A lazy boy recliner sat off the side and a large dark redwood coffee table sat in front of the sectional. There were end tables everywhere.

Off of the t.v. room, on the east wall, was a door that was always locked and only she had the key. This went to her bedroom which was also her computer room. Inside the large room was a king sized sleigh bed done in dark cherry wood. The comforter and sheets were 800 count Egyptian thread. The colors were black and brick red. On the north wall, behind the bed was a mural of a flaming moon over a mountain. On the west wall was her state of the art computer. There was also a 36 inch plasma t.v. with dvd player and recorder on the same wall.

All of this had cost her an extreme amount to have done in the old warehouse along with the security systems, but she was happy with it. It was home.

Grabbing herself something to eat out of the fridge along with a cold beer, she ate, showered, and went to bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Julie's gym was up around Wicker Park and Toril had unexpectedly learned that it was about a twenty minute jog away. He hadn't expected to be running right after breakfast, but it felt good to stretch his legs while not being chased down by marines for a change. They ran up Oakley Boulevard, past the St. Mary of Nazareth Hospital, took the scenic route through Clemente Park then turned east round the St. Elizabeth Hospital. It became apparent that Julie extended the route because the Iron Works Gym was right around Wicker Park itself.

Toril just loved the atmosphere of the gym, he could do without the smell, but it was worth tolerating to walk around and not stand out, especially in Julie's gym which was geared towards body building. There were several pictures on the wall, tracing back a lineage of body sculptures, including pictures of Toril's host, her skin tanned to bronze, striking a classic front double biceps pose. There were few guys walking around that surpassed the big Norwegians girth and they acknowledged him with that respectful nod that unknown to smaller people was shared by all large men. They were doing their heavy sets, a weight that Toril could easily lift since his muscles were far denser than a Human's giving his leaner physique far more power, but the gym wasn't about pissing contests and he couldn't afford to attract any attention to himself. He planned to do some high reps and assist Julie with any spotting she might require.

Toril's work out went well and even got to do some heavy reps, when at one point the back room hidden from the view of the rest of the gym cleared out leaving it all to he and Julie. He loaded up an olympic bar with 500 pounds of weight as if he were about do some dead lifts, then when the coast was clear did some serious arm curls in reps of twenty, an impossible feat since the world record for one single arm was around 440 lbs by a hulk of a man. With every rep, the super-heroe's biceps bulged, significantly increasing in size, more so than normal and Julie just sat back, watching with wonder. She was always amazed what Toril and her husband could do, and it made her think, that maybe Gabriel should be out on the streets again trying to make a difference. Those days were gone, though, thanks to the weak minded people that made up the majority of their country, that and the crooked politicians spinning their lies. She was getting worked up just thinking about the injustice of it all when she caught sight of somebody coming out of the corner of her eye.

"Cool it!" She whispered to Toril, and the big man dropped the bar and reverted to a lifting motion, making it seem as if the weight were more difficult to move than it actually was.

One of the body builders strolled into the room. "Hey, Julie." He acknowledged, "Whose your friend?"

"This is Toril." She introduced and when the guy gave her that curious look at the sound of the name she immediately explained, "He was born in Norway.", to which the guy nodded at the clarification and gave an 'oh'. Julie then introduced the man to Toril as, 'Rico.'

Toril dropped the bar and shook the man's hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Yeah, like wise." Said the body builder whose eyes fell to the bar Toril was dead lifting, "Lifting light today?" he asked.

Toril couldn't help to smile a little, a gesture that could be taken in a number of ways. "Sore back." he explained.

"Yeah." Rico said with a nod, believing that Toril was actually lifting his maximum, but the the Norwegian didn't care. It worked out far better for him in the long run, if the big guys chalked him up as a regular joe, since he wasn't sure how long he'd be staying in Chicago. "Well. I'll see ya around. See ya Julie." said the body builder as he went on his way.

After their work out, they showered up and strolled home. They weren't in any rush, since Gabriel and said that he was stepping out for a few hours, and wouldn't back for another half of an hour. It was weird, for Toril, walking in the old neighbourhood without, Tatynana. He kept on expecting, Julie to laugh or comment on things like she used to and every time he looked over at her she seemed to know that he was thinking about her, but said nothing.

When they reached the house, Julie was surprised to see a stranger sitting on her front step. He was tall, lean man who was distinctly of native descent, his long black hair spilling down his back. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up and the collar buttoned low, revealing tattoos that Toril recognized right away. He wore pair of faded blue jeans and a beaten pair of western style boots made of light coloured leather. When he saw the two approaching he reached down and picked up his jacket and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Asked Julie, wondering if this guy was looking for a half-way house or something.

The man's eyes moved from the smaller brawny woman and settled on the tall man beside her. "I'm looking for someone." He said abruptly, without introducing himself, but Toril understood it was his way.

"You're Haida." Stated Toril, who as a B.C., native was very familiar with the people, their artwork and the distinct tattoos that ringed their necks. The man responded with an almost in-perceivable nod and Toril then asked, "Who're you looking for?"

The Haida man, reached into jacket pocket under his arm and produced a photograph which he handed to Toril. It was picture a beautiful young native girl, with bright lavender coloured eyes.

Toril showed the picture to Julie who shook her head then he handed it back. "Sorry, bud. Never seen her."

The young native man seemed disappointed and a little confused. He looked down the street, pondering where he should go now, but wasn't sure which piqued Toril's and Julie's curiousity even more. "Sooooo, what lead you here? Why are you asking us about his girl?" Toril finally asked.

The native man was silent for a moment. He stood before them, his long dark hair flowing in the wind, thinking of how to explain himself, then he sighed and resigned himself to speaking the truth, no matter how much of cliche it sounded like, "I'm following a vision." He told them.

Toril almost burst out laughing and the young man noting his mocking expression, rolled his eyes and said, "It's not mine. The girl's aunt had a vision." he explained.

"Oh." Replied Toril as serious as he could in an attempt to humour the deranged man. He then protectively ushered Julie past him and proceeded to walk up the stairs. "Well, good luck with your, 'vision-quest' or whatever you're on." he told him.

The Haida man, spun around angrily when the big Norwegian suggested that he was on drugs and Toril took a defensive posture, towering over the smaller man. He wasn't frightened in the least, but as the tension began to build the young man calmed down and deflated the situation. "Look," he explained, "I haven't come here for a fight. I met this woman, who seemed to know things. She told me that sometimes in her dreams, her mind wanders on the tip of an eagle's wing and she see things. Things that have already happened."

Toril folded his arms and lowered his chin to his chest. "So?"

"She asked me, to look out for her niece. She said that she was in danger."

Toril smacked his lips as he slowly opened his mouth. "And you've come all this way, from Canada I imagine, to help this ladies, niece, whom you've never met? I'm sorry, but no one's that good natured."

The Haida man nodded in agreement. "You're right. But I have faith and she told me that our spirits were entwined. I thought that if I found her I might find..." He paused for moment searching for the proper translation.

"Find what?" Questioned Toril impatiently.

"Peace." Answered the native man. "She said to come here, to this yellow house. Here I would find the 'wind' and a 'devil' and they would lead me to her."

Toril's eyes widened and he began to consider that the young man was being lead by some type of clairvoyant or telepath. As the Haida turned to leave he called to him, "Hey! Wait!", and ran over. "What's your name?"

"Why does it matter?" Asked the young man, "You think I'm crazy. You'll probably just call the cops or something."

"Look, I'm sorry, but you have to see it from my perspective. A man of native descent following a vision seems a little to commonplace to be taken seriously." Toril clarified.

After the young man thought about it he laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Toril then extended his hand in greeting. "The name is Toril. There's a coffee shop down the road. How about I buy you a cup and we'll talk about this."

"Russel." Said the Haida. "Sounds good."

Toril walked back to Julie and handed her his gym bag. "Mind taking this. I'm going to figure this out. I'll see you in a bit." Julie nodded and went in the house. She knew Toril could handle himself, so she wasn't worried. The two men then headed off down the street to discuss this 'vision' that had lead this strange young native gentleman to the home of the Bronze Devil.

Toril new of a nice little coffee shop on Hoyne just off of Chicago Avenue West. It was his wife's favourite place to stop by after a movie, to unwind or just hang out. The place hadn't changed a bit and when tall, blonde haired man entered the establishment he immediately heard a voice from the back shout, "Vitaju! Toril! Radyj tebe bachyty! Jak sebe pochuvajesh?" Then a small, round Ukrainian woman in her sixties with her dark hair drawn back into a tight bun came running out and wrapped her chubby arms around Toril's waist.



"I'm doing fine, Ellen. Jak sja majesh?" He replied reaching down to return the hug.

"Things are fine." She answered with a thick ethnic accent. "You look good! What brings you back here?"

"Your famous Kyivsky torte." He said with a big smile.

The little woman stepped back, and playfully tapped him. "You remembered!"

"How could I forget. Best I ever had."

"The only you ever had." She quipped, her round face beaming. For a moment she just stood back and stared at him. It had been nine years since she last saw the big man and back then Tatyana, whom she had known since she was a little girl was by his side. She then shook her head dispelling the trance and ushered him and his friend to a table by the window, the same one that Tatyana and him always sat at. She poured them each a coffee then scampered off saying that she would bring his friend a slice of torte as well.



Russel didn't even know what Kyivsky torte was, or if he would like it, but Toril assured him that he would. It was quite evident that this man had history in this place, but he had been away for a long time. He could see the pain of loss in Toril's bright blue eyes in everything that he looked at in the small coffee shop and knew then that someone very close to him had died but he could not let them go. Probably his wife.

Ellen returned and placed down two plates on the table. Russel who was not familiar with torte, was pleased to see that it was rich looking piece of cake.

"You...not, get sick from nuts?", Ellen asked Russel who shook his head. "Dobre! Enjoy!" She reached over and squeezed Toril's beefy shoulder, "It's so good to see you again." she told him, her pudgy face scrunching up, then she disappeared behind the counter and into the back of the shop.

"It's good." Complimented Russel who usually didn't like desserts, "Thank you."

"No. Thank you. I've been wanting to get down here for a piece of Kyivsky."

Russel nodded. "So you're Ukrainian?" he inquired.

"Norwegian. My wife was Ukrainian. She grew up not far from here." Toril answered his eyes focused on the torte.

A silence ensued while the two men ate their tortes and sipped away at their coffees, and when they were both done Toril finally broke the silence and inquired about the girl he was looking for.

"Her name is Morgan Shepherd and aside from the photograph I don't know a hell of a lot about her." Russel began, "I was in South Dakota at an exhibition near the Rosebud reserve and that's where I met her Aunt Jackie. To tell you the truth, she freaked me out when she started talking to me about all this stuff, but the more we talked the more she knew things that just wasn't possible. She said that she could see things far away, but that her dreams were a new thing. We spoke for over an hour and after all that I was convinced she was telling the truth. Honestly, I had always wanted to travel east and the girl was cute. Part of me also wanted to see if everything that woman said would come true."

"And has it?" Asked Toril

"Well I'm here aren't I? I mean I found the house, don't know what the hell she was talking about when she mentioned the wind and devil, though." Replied Russel.

Toril stared into the native man's dark grey eyes for a moment. He was pretty sure the man was not lying in fact he seemed to be a very honest young man, but he was holding something back. "Why you?" Asked Toril.

"What?"

"Why did this Aunt Jackie choose you?" Probed Toril.

Russel just shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. She said she dreamed of me. Isn't that enough?"

Toril's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the young man's story, slowly noddinghis head. "Let's get out here." he said rising out of his chair.

"Where?" Asked Russel.

Standing above him Toril smiled. "To see the wind." he answered.

Morgan came back downstairs, having decided to confront Tim. She went around the house, looking for him, finding him in the kitchen.

"Tim, could I talk to you? Outside."

She walked on outside, Tim following her. She headed towards the treeline, where she felt the most relaxed. Once there, she turned around, her lavender gazing looking up at his face. Emotion showed in her expressive eyes, ranging from anger to heartache to confusion.

"Tim, have I done something wrong? Something that has upset you? Since you came back, it feels as if you're avoiding me. I need to know what I did."

She stood there, her eyes full of confusion and fear of what he was going to say. If he gave any indication that she was no longer welcome, she would leave right away. She was already packed for Chicago anyway.

Tim hadn't answered yet and Morgan looked down at the ground, thoughts running through her head. She finally looked back up, her eyes soft and yet, there was a new edge to them. A resolve that hadn't been there before.

"Look, Tim, you have never made me any promises and maybe I read too much into what you said about the chair on the porch at your ranch. You had even said that you thought there was something special between us. Then, you're gone for awhile, only to return and barely say two words to me. I've been around, even been in the same room with you. I don't know where I stand with you, if I've done something wrong."

She looks back down again so that she can regain some composure as she'd felt the tears beginning to well up with what she was going to ask next.

"Do you want me to leave, Tim? Have your feelings changed?"

Now she was quiet, waiting for him to talk to her. Her heart beating hard in her chest, afraid at what he was going to say.

Tim looked at Morgan and saw the confusion in her eyes. "Naw you ain't done nuthin' an' my feelin's ain't changed. This nonsense 'bout leavin is jus' that nonsense." he reached out an took he in his arms "I'm right sorry I ain't ment ta ignor ya. I am right tuckered out, ya know I ain't slept in nigh on ta a week. Septin' fur a cat nap har and thar. An' we gotta lot ta do, 'fore we move this whole operation ta Chicaga. I tole ya when this har is all over ifin' ya stil gotta a mind ta come down ta the ranch, thar'll be a rockin chair fur ya. An' I aint takin it back."

Allie rose the next morning, feeling as if she'd been hit by a mack truck. She'd lost her concentration last night and the gang she'd been up against had gotten a few good smacks in before she'd managed to scare them away from the young girls they'd been stalking.

She walked into the bathroom, stretchintg, cracking her back. Walking into the shower, she cleans up, letting the hot water work out the kinks. She was only 23, but she felt as if she were 75. She had a patchwork of bruises over her torso, her ribs aching where one of the gang bangers had gotten a kick in.

Once she was done, she dried off and dressed in her black jeans, black biker boots, and a black tank top. Checking her face, seeing no need for make-up, this time, as there were no bruises, she headed to the kitchen to fix breakfast.

After eating her 3 meat and cheese omelet and glass of milk she brushes her teeth and heads down to her garage.

Turning off all of the alarm systems, she climbs in to her vintage '68 black and red mustang, backing out of the garage, she presses the button, watching the garage door slide shut, she resets the alarm and heads to the gym to work with the kids.

She volunteered 4 days a week down at a small gym called Second Chance Gym. It was a gym that catered to troubled teens and tried to get them off the streets and a way for them to release their frustration in a controlled enviroment. The owner, Mikala "Mikey" Knapp, was from the streets and a strong empath. She knew what each individual kid needed and did her best to see to it they got it. She was 40 years old and had taken Allie in after she'd left the mets-human work camp. It was because of Mikey that Allie had made the trip back to her parents house.

Walking into the gym, Allie waved to various kids of various ages, all of them smiling back at her. She headed upstairs to the office to see what was on the agenda today.

"Hey, Mikey, what's up? Any new kids today?"

"Nope, not today Allie. But, something tells me they'll be coming." She smiled up at Allie, then her brows furrow as she feels Allie's discomfort. "Hard night?"

Allie smiles, knowing she couldn't hide anything from her friend, "Yea, but I won."

She grabs her sweat outfit she keeps at the gym and changes. Heading down to the kids who were now lined up along the north wall, waiting for her. Today, the group of 14 year olds would learn how to defend themselves against punks like the ones she went up against last night. Afterwards, she would run over to the Iron Works Gym to pick up the used mats they had donated. She stepped into the center of the workout mats and began talking to the kids, pairing them off, teaching them self-defense.

Morgan laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I understand Tim, but I can help you. Just tell me what you want done. I'm already packed and ready and I think Zoe has everything under control with Shawn and Cassius. Yelena is doing good. Why don't you go and get some sleep, before you fall over."

She enjoys the feel of his arms around her, "Okay, Tim. Let's just get you some sleep, get everyone to Chicago safely, and see where everything stands."

As the days past after discovering the flyer and business card left behind, everyone seemed to be settling into a good routine. Yelena talked Morgan into taking up a daily workout routine with her. They would start with stretching then go for a mile long jog through the fields around the safe house, always staying off the roads so no one saw them.

It was during these isolated moments Morgan saw the usually quiet Yelena was not quiet because of jealousy or arrogance but simply because the Russian was constantly thinking about this or that. Yelena shared some things about her past with Morgan telling how she and Tim were like siblings. They either agreed totally with each other or butted heads. When things were good, it was really good but when they butted heads, it could be quite volatile between them. But the one thing that kept them together was the fact they could always, ALWAYS count on each other no matter what. It was the difference between being merely friends and being like family.

While Yelena had hoped for some gymnast equipment to practice up on her skills that way, she was just happy for the physical release of her pent up frustration and energy. Finally the night came when she pulled out the business card and stared at it to no end. As the sun was setting on the safe house, Yelena stood out on the back porch soaking up the last warm rays of the sun as she made up her mind.

It was 8 New York time so that means it was 7 Chicago time. Someone HAD to be at this comedy club by now. If for no other reason than to get it set up for the nights events. Pulling out the secure cell phone Zoe had given her, Yelena dialed the number to the club and waited for someone to pick up the phone. When the voice answered, Yelena spoke in a perfect eastern American accent.

”Yeah. I’d like to leave a message for Doctor Paul Carson. He left word for me to contact him at your place. Yes. P-a-u-l C-a-r-s-o-n. Yes. Tell him Doctor Angela Martin called looking for him. A-n-g-e-l-a M-a-r-t-i-n. Yes. 534-6382. Yes. Thank you. Good night to you too.”

Now, all she had to do was wait for the call back. She’d recognize his voice immediately if he called back and it was really him. Yelena never forgot a voice. It was one fo the things that separated her from the other shape shifters. Not only was she able to take their shape but mimic their voices perfectly as well.

The days passed quickly for Morgan and thanks to Yelena, her mornings were spent with someone other than her animal friends. She had forgotten what it was like to have a female friend and had grown to like Yelena, almost like an older sister.

On their runs, when Yelena would get done talking to her about herself, Morgan would in turn, tell her about her own past. She found that Yelena was easy to talk to and at times, though rare, could be funny. She found herself looking forward to the mornings now.

One morning, while jogging, Morgan was preoccupied, thinking about the plans she was making for her next encounter with Frank, which she wisely kept to herself and the notebook hidden inside her bag. While jogging, both women were silent, deep in their own thoughts, when Morgan's thoughts caused her to inadvertantly call for aid. She'd wished she'd had a picture for the look on Yelena's face when a large buck started running with them, about 10 feet to the side, dodging trees and bushes, keeping his eyes on Morgan. When Yelena had heard something above her, she looked up to see about 4 squirrels running from tree to tree through the branches, chattering away.

Morgan turned red a little bit, "Sorry, sometimes, if I think about something that upsets me, the animals sometimes pick up on it and automatically come to me."

Sitting at the kitchen table, deciding what to fix everyone for supper, Morgan smiled at the thought, glad that she didn't have to leave just yet. Once in Chicago, she knew Frank would follow and that's was when she would implement her plan and keep her friends safe. She didn't know if Tim knew what had happened and she wasn't going to tell him if he didn't know, but she'd seen the black SUV through the owl's eyes and knew that it was just like the ones the RAID people had. She had a sinking feeling that somehow, her father was working for them and she would be damned if anything happened to her new friends. Neither RAID nor her father were going to get their hands on any of them.