Quick

Up.


Down.


Up.


Am I on a ship?


Down.

Sound. I can hear sounds around me.

Up. Down.

Not a ship...my own breathing...laying on my chest.

Up. Down. Up.

Arms are bound behind me.

Down. Up. Down. Up.

A voice. Counting? No...the numbers are in the wrong order...

Down. Up. Down. Up.

I remember being in my tent; writing in my field journal. There was someone in the entrance...shadowed. I couldn't see him. Not a big guy, though.

Mord. My name is Mordecai Ashton. My friends used to call me Mord, but I don't have any of those left.

I can't see. Am I blind? Pay attention to other senses, then. A woman's voice, saying numbers. There doesn't seem to be any pattern to them. I smell sweat, and rust. There's a taste of dust in my mouth.

My hands have gone numb...they're bound too tightly.

There! To the left...someone -- a woman -- sniffing. She's been crying.


"Hello? Is someone there?"

"Mord? Mordecai, is that you?!"

"Sora?!" Her name ripped itself from somewhere deep inside me, and with it came a flood of memories. Childhood games, our whirlwind romance as teenagers, the empty hole she left when she walked out of my life 24 years earlier. "Sora, what are you doing here? Where are we? I can't see..."

A dry, rasping chuckle rippled mere inches away from my right ear. A voice like steel sliding over gravel whispered "Welcome, Captain Ashton..."

Jack watched through the glass as Angel hugged her father. His eyes saw the scene playing out before him, but his mind was watching a different scene: the vision he'd been granted the night he and Angel had met.

---

He'd attended the dinner party for the exact reason his friend Jeff, the host, had figured he would: free food. Early on, he claimed the darkest corner of the room and glared meanacingly at anyone who approached, leaving the corner only for short intervals to swoop in and grab some more food, then retreating back to his corner to eat in what remnants of privacy he could gather around himself.

It was as he returned from one of these "gathering runs" that he returned to find her in his corner -- and not just standing there, but looking as though she were trying to fade into the wallpaper. A little knot of jealousy and fear formed in the pit of Jack's stomach as he confronted her.

"That's my corner," he started to say. But as soon as the first word left his mouth, he felt the familiar tug, as though someone were pulling on a string attached to his soul.



Jack stared at the girl, shocked. Never before had he had a vision which led to anything other than death or pain. She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. "That--?" she asked. Racing to cover his shock, Jack looked at the floor and said "That's a nice dress." Looking up, he watched as a red glow crept up her neck and filled her face. Drawing her eyebrows together in a frown she spat "Cute. You come all the way over here to say that, did you? Yes, I know my dress is torn. No, I don't normally dress like this. No, you can't have my num--"

She stopped, examining Jack's face. Something she found there must have spoken volumes, because her tone changed instantly. "Oh, you were actually complimenting my dress! I'm sorry...I figured you were just another jerk coming to make fun of me."

"Actually, I was looking for a place to hide, but I think you need it more than I do." Jack looked around the room and then stepped over to Jeff's couch, pulling a decorative blanket off the back. Without saying a word, he folded it into a rectangle and wrapped it around the girl's waist, tucking the top back into itself to form a makeshift skirt. Realizing how close the gesture had brought him, he looked down into the girl's face and smiled.

"I'm Jack. And you must be Angel?"

---

Jack woke from his reverie to find Angel staring at him from across the terminal, her jaw clenched. Jack raised his eyebrows and started towards her, but she dropped her gaze to the floor, shaking her head sadly, and walked away.

Jack glanced through the tiny glass panel in the door. I hate it when he sits with his back to the window. I have no clue if he's busy or just staring at his desk...

Glancing around the room for clues, Jack noticed the red light on the phone cradle that indicated a call was in progress. He glanced at his watch, and the clock on Andy's wall. 3:47...if I'm going to be at the airport in time, I need to leave NOW. At that moment, Andy turned, nodded vigorously at the phone, made a brief statement, and pressed a button, terminating the call. Glancing at his door, he motioned Jack in.

"What can I do for you, slugger?"

Jack grimaced. He wanted to say "I hate it when you call me that.", but that wasn't the way one began a conversation with Andy Millicant. Especially not when you were about to ask him for a favor.

"Look, Andy, I've got an important family thing, and I need to leave early."

Andy pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. "Look, Jack, I've been meaning to talk to you...hey, come in and shut the door." As Jack did so, Andy motioned to the armless chair that sat across from him. "Have a seat, big guy."

Jack glanced nervously at his watch and sat. As he looked up from his watch, he noticed a look of...anger?...on Andy's face. The sarcastic voice in Jack's head chuckled dryly and whispered "Sorry, Andy. Does the fact that I have somewhere else I'd like to be diminish you in some way?" Jack smiled wanly and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

"What's up?"

"Well, Jack, I wanted to talk with you about the company's performance. You know things are a little tight right now?"

"Of couse. Ever since I got those shares for 'sweat equity', you know I've gone over every quarterly and monthly status report with a fine-toothed comb."

"Yeah, yeah...that's right. Well, Jack, I spoke with the Board this morning -- in fact, just got off the phone with the Chairman -- and I'm afraid we're going to have to cut back resources in your department."

"You mean I'm going to have to fire someone, right? How many people?"

"Well, champ, that's the good news. You don't have to fire anyone at all!" Andy delivered this with a toothy grin, but there was a dark, hungry look in his eyes. "You're fired, Jack. Clean out your desk. You're still a partner, there's nothing I can do about that, but you've been a millstone around this company's neck for too long. Tiny and Mack will be sharing your duties."

Jack slumped backwards, poleaxed. "What?" he whispered faintly.

Andy's face shifted back to its usual cheerfully anonymous look. "No need to take it personal, champ. We're just having a bit of a rough spot, and had to cut some of the -- dead weight, if you will."

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, gazing at the floor. "What?"

"You're fired, Jack. Hey, come on, don't act so surprised. We both knew this day was coming. You've been cutting back your hours -- only 85 last week! You know how things go around here, Jack."

Fight it. Jack snapped up straight, staring Andy right in the eyes. "You -- you can't fire me, Andy. I built this company! It's MY COMPANY."

"Hey, Jack, calm down. Look, the Board appreciates everything you've done, but -- well, we're going to be taking the company in a different direction now, and we don't really need any of the 'old guard' hanging around, resisting change. And, hey, it's not like you haven't been compensated for your work. The investors paid you almost two million dollars."

"EVERY SINGLE PENNY of that has gone right back into the company and you KNOW it, Andy! Why are you doing this to me?"

Andy sighed and leaned forward, putting on his "earnest" expression. "Jack, I'm sorry, I wish there was something --" He held his hands apart, as though to indicate his helplessness. "Say, didn't you have some sort of emergency -- somewhere to be?"

Jack stood, his thoughts spinning. "Andy -- I --"

The hungry look came back to Andy's face. "Get lost, Jack. And don't let the door hit you on the way out." Andy turned his back to Jack and leaned back in his chair, whistling.

As he left Andy's office, Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 4:15pm.