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Thursday, March 13, 2014 Inquirer Daily News Florida fratricide The GOP civil war moves to the Sunshine State Florida fratricide Way back on May 13, I predicted that Florida would be the setting for "the next Republican civil war." Perhaps that was an understatement. A more updated assessment has been offered by David Frum, the conservative commentator and former George W. Bush speechwriter. He writes on his blog that "Republican fratricide" in Florida will result in a "spectacular bloodbath." Just as in the recent New York congressional race - where conservative-versus-moderate fratricide screwed things up so badly that a Democrat wound up winning a House seat that hadn't gone Democratic since around 1870 - the escalating Florida feud between conservative purists and moderate pragmatists in the GOP Senate race threatens to imperil the party unity that Republicans will need in order to recoup at the ballot box in 2010. Just as in the New York race, where national movement conservatives fatally undercut the GOP establishment's preferred House candidate, the same conservative forces (talk radio, prominent right-wing magazines, Washington interest groups) are ratcheting up their attacks on Charlie Crist, the lame duck Florida governor who is seeking the '10 Senate nomination with backing from the party establishment. From the purists' perspective, Crist deserves to be taken down because he committed the ultimate sin: He not only took President Obama's economic stimulus money last winter, he even hugged Obama at a public rally. The chosen vehicle for conservative ire, Senate primary challenger Mario Rubio (a former Florida House Speaker who is reputedly close to 100 percent pure), has now posted a web advertisement featuring footage of Crist and Obama at that rally. What better way to inflame Florida's conservative Republican electorate - which will dominate the voting in next August's GOP primary? Club for Growth, the Washington conservative group that's flexing muscle in GOP races, has now endorsed Rubio, produced a TV ad, and appears poised to raise money for the underdog; at this point, more than one-third of Rubio's money is coming from conservatives out of state (far higher than Crist's out-of-state ratio). The prominent conservative blogs have signed up for Rubio; Erick Erickson, who runs, reportedly said the other day that, for conservatives, "Florida is a hill to die on." The Weekly Standard and National Review magazines have fawned over Rubio in cover stories. Back in May, Crist was leading Rubio in the polls by 35 percentage points; today, even though a lot of Floridians still don't know much about Rubio, Crist's lead has been whittled to 14. Crist is caught in a classic dilemma. On the one hand, he needs to win over the conservative purists in order to beat Rubio in the '10 party primary; he can achieve that goal only by serving up the requisite right-wing rhetoric about "big government" and "reckless spending." On the other hand, Crist is trapped by his recent actions as governor. Right-wing rhetoric is fine on the stump, where nobody has to take any responsibility for actual governance, but in the real world, where real people are really suffering, governors sometimes have to take practical steps to alleviate the hurt. Crist did that. Florida was one the states hit hardest by the near-Depression economic meltdown of 2008, which wreaked havoc with his state budget. And like virtually all other governors, Crist was constitutionally required to balance that budget. He couldn't come close to that goal merely by raising various state fees and the cigarette tax. So with virtuaally no other options, and with his back to the wall, he (like virtually every other governor, in both parties) agreed to take Obama's federal stimulus aid - thereby averting deep cuts in school budgets, deep cuts in state health aid to poor people, the furloughing of state workers, and further hikes in state taxes. He was also able to extend jobless benefits to Floridians thrown out of work. That's how it works in the real world. By contrast, Rubio insists that if he had been governing, he would have refused the stimulus money. When asked by the press to specify how he would have pulled the state out of the economic emergency, Rubio reportedly replied, "I don't have the budget in front of me." The purists don't seem upset by that kind of answer; what matters is that Rubio's ideology is correct. By contrast, Crist these days seems to be talking out of both sides of his mouth - which is hardly attractive behavior in a Senate primary contest. Crist is making it easy for party conservatives to attack him as a typical pol with credibility baggage. He obviously can't deny that he took the federal stimulus money, so instead he has been trying to distance himself from Obama's economic agenda - an empirically impossible task. His attempts are not very artful. The other day on CNN, Crist was talking about the stimulus bill. He stated, "I didn't endorse it." Well, actually, he did. On MSNBC last February, he listed the practical benefits of the stimulus money and said, "That's why I support it." That same month, he told Time magazine, "I see this package as a pragmatic, commonsense opportunity to move forward." Also that same month, he told the St. Petersburg Times, "We know that it's important that we pass a stimulus package." He also lobbied Florida congressmen, urging them to vote for the bill. He also joined other governors in sending a letter to Obama, urging the president "to sign the bill when it reaches your desk." (Crist's pro-stimulus track record is arguably an asset in the eyes of many Florida Democrats and independents, but those folks are barred from voting in the closed Republican primary.) Worse yet, for Crist, are his recent attempts to distance himself from Obama personally. Late last month, Crist publicly claimed he had no idea that Obama was visiting his state on Oct. 26. Then the St. Pete Times, via a public records request, obtained emails which proved that the White House had sent Crist an itinerary of Obama's visit three days in advance. As a result of all these PR embarrassments, Crist's communications director felt compelled last week to fall on his sword and quit his job. Rubio's national conservative backers are delighted with Crist's gyrations. In a guest newspaper column this morning, the president of Club for Growth chuckled that Crist's campaign "now consists of telling Floridians that he did not do things they watched him do only a few months ago. If you're not sure about what Governor Crist really believes, it's okay – Governor Crist doesn't seem to know, either." Crist is not without weapons in a Senate primary, however. He's a prodigious fundraiser; saturation TV ads in the Florida media market are expensive, perhaps too pricey for a conservative challenger backed by national conservative money (by comparison, the conservative tab in that upstate New York congressional race was a pittance). And two can play the simplistic purity game; Crist is targeting an old Rubio proposal to hike the state sales tax. Rubio can rightfully cry foul - back when he was Florida House speaker, he suggested hiking that sales tax only in conjunction with erasing the property tax on primary residences - but this is hardball, and Crist has the advertising bucks to sow doubts about the purist's purity. Who knows, maybe the movement conservatives will wake up in time and show some respect for the complexities of actual governance - instead of forcing the GOP to nominate ideologues. But that won't happen for the foreseeable future. David Frum, the ex-Bush speechwriter and aforementioned commentator, tells a story of how he was speaking the other day "to a roomful of young conservatives," all of whom were trashing the economic stimulus plan. Frum then said, OK fine, what would you have done to alleviate the worst of the crisis? Somebody laughed and replied, "I guess it's lucky that we weren't in power." That says it all. Dick Polman Inquirer National Political Columnist About this blog Dick Polman Inquirer National Political Columnist Also on Stay Connected	dclm-gs1-006620000
WARNING... HIGHLY ADDICTIVE. Best ever - Bailey's Dipped Toasted Marshmallows. A must when camping! Try it once and you'll be hooked! S'mores Hot Chocolate Bacon Wrapped Smores! Trying this next camping trip... Baked Hot Chocolate by Aleksandra Crapanzano, wsj: Crisp on top. Pudding in the center. Total Time: 40 Minutes Serves: 4 Ingredients 9 ounces high-quality semisweet chocolate, finely chopped 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into cubes 4 large eggs 1/4 cup granulated sugar Lightly sweetened whipped cream, to taste (optional) What To Do 1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Arrange four 1-cup ovenproof coffee cups, mugs or 8-ounce ramekins in a baking or roasting pan. 2. Melt chocolate and butter together in a double boiler set over barely simmering water. Whisk occasionally until smooth. Remove from heat and set aside. 3. Stir eggs and sugar together in a mixing bowl, then set bowl over simmering water. Stir until warm to the touch. 4. Remove from heat. Beat egg mixture with an electric beater until light and fluffy, 3-5 minutes. Gently fold egg mixture into chocolate mixture. 5. Spoon batter into cups. Add enough very hot water to baking pan to come halfway up sides of cups. Bake until the tops lose their glossy finish, 15-20 minutes. Carefully remove cups from pan. 6. Serve warm or at room temperature with a generous dollop of whipped cream, if desired. Puddings may be refrigerated for up to one day. To reheat, bring them to room temperature and then set in a 350-degree oven until warm, about 5 minutes. #Chocolate #Baked_Hot_Chocolate #Aleksandra_Crapanzano #wsj Baked S'mores in your oven. One of the best desserts I have ever made! S’mores Pops - So simple and clever. Marshmallows on a stick dipped in melted chocolate and rolled in crushed grahams. Baked smores in bite size bits? I might have just died and gone to heaven. diabetes in a bowl aka smores dip You can never go wrong w/ Maris' creations	dclm-gs1-006630000
More like this: seahorses, cats and fluffy cows. Pets and their tiny humans Gives me the creeps, but also is hypnotizing with all those colors. The beauty of nature How can this not make you smile? I think I'm slowly turning into one of those people who look at funny cat pictures all day...and I kinda don't even care who knows. Cat reunited with his old basket…This is Sophie every time the kids get new shoes and she wants to sleep in the small box. Orphaned pony’s best friend is a teddy bear called Button… You've heard of the biblical 'Lion and the Lamb lying down together', here we have the cat and the budgie! My best friend Miss Piggy What a beautiful bird! Baby elephant one minute old. pomsky, ohhhh someone please get me one! (: Pink jellyfish in an emerald sea	dclm-gs1-006640000
Bookmark and Share Johnny Carson Johnny Carson died of emphysema on the morning of 23 January. One is tempted to make a bad joke here. Lord knows Carson made enough of them in his career. The awful commercial parodies, the tired old Amazing Karnak bit, the cracks about Ed McMahon’s drinking or Doc Severinsen’s outfits. But we can forgive all the recycled schtick as audiovisual comfort food, the reliable routines that much of America used as bedtime stories for the 35 years of Carson’s run on The Tonight Show. Steve Allen started the program, Jack Paar took it on in 1957, and Johnny inherited it when Paar walked out in disgust with the network, in 1962. But it was Johnny’s show through and through, and no one before or since has done it so well. Leno tries, but he walks for the rest of his career in Carson’s shadow, like so many others. Johnny Carson was that nebulous thing, a “television personality.” Not an actor, though he had been known to make the occasional cameo here and there. Not a performer, like many of the talents he catapulted from the club circuit into stardom, though he spent his teenage years performing magic and ventriloquism in his native Midwest. His monologues were written by committee and frequently hobbled by a certain glib, showbizzy corniness. His primary job was basically to appear on television five nights a week and be “Johnny Carson.” Fortunately “Johnny Carson” was to be. He worked the camera and his guests with a breezy, laid-back persona, often flustered but never edgy. He endured the almost certain disasters that befell him every time Jim Fowler or Joan Embery would show up with wild animals in tow with amazingly good humor. Letterman has turned the concept into his own postmodern mindfuck, but for Carson, the point was always low-key: “It’s just TV, folks.” He was a comforting presence on the tube through three and a half tumultuous decades, and America was grateful for him. Carson’s on. Everything’s okay. After Johnny left TV in 1992, ending with a sentimental bang watched by some 50 million people, he spent his retirement with the same kind of aplomb he demonstrated in his working life. No comebacks, no desperate appearances on other people’s shows to remind them he was still around. He wrote short humor pieces for The New Yorker and contributed the occasional uncredited joke for David Letterman’s monologues. The only time he popped back onto the tube was in cartoon form, on an episode of The Simpsons, and it is telling that that show, notorious for its glee in convincing celebrities to mock themselves, kept its mitts off Carson’s dignity. What may be Carson’s most significant contribution to our lives, culture, and collective future, however, was not what he brought to his show but who. The Tonight Show entertained the nation at night, and its power to make or break performers was huge. Carson was ever the conscientious steward of this power, and he used it to introduce musicians, entertainers, and most importantly, comedians who appealed to his sense of talent and relevance. Johnny gave the world George Carlin, Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Jerry Seinfeld, Roseanne—every major comedian who broke out in the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s did so through Carson’s graces. It was Carson’s personal barometer for value that shaped pop cultural tastes, and in many ways continues to do so. Carson knew what was funny, and he knew how important funny was in difficult times. And he did funny with class. Now on PopMatters PM Picks of PopMatters Media, Inc. PopMatters is wholly independently owned and operated.	dclm-gs1-006650000
Chris Matthews: Searching for the human JFK [3 November 2011] By Thomas Fitzgerald The Philadelphia Inquirer (MCT) PHILADELPHIA — The first time Chris Matthews remembers hearing of John F. Kennedy, he was a 10-year-old Northeast Philadelphia boy obsessed with politics, listening to the 1956 Democratic National Convention on the radio in the family’s ‘54 Chevy Bel Air. Kennedy, then a young senator from Massachusetts, lost a bid for the vice presidential nomination and, then, in a dramatic gesture, bounded to the podium to ask that his opponent, Estes Kefauver, be nominated unanimously. Matthews, a student at the Maternity of the Blessed Virgin Mary parish school, stayed true to his family’s Republican allegiance and rooted for President Dwight Eisenhower in the fall election. But he never lost his fascination with Kennedy. As a paperboy in 1960, Matthews followed JFK’s progress to the Democratic presidential nomination in the Philadelphia Bulletin, the afternoon paper he tossed onto lawns. Later, Matthews joined the Peace Corps that Kennedy founded, and was an aide to President Jimmy Carter and House Speaker Tip O’Neill, D-Mass., before becoming a columnist for the San Francisco Examiner and, ultimately, host of the MSNBC political talk show “Hardball.” All along the way during his Washington career, Matthews collected stories about Kennedy and got to know many members of the late president’s inner circle. The result is a new book, “Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero.” Matthews answered questions about Kennedy and the book project. Q: There are thousands of books about Kennedy. What were you hoping to say with yours? A: I always thought of him as a prince, with a charmed life. I tried to find the human Jack I could get my arms around, to try and understand him as a guy, not just a rich prince. ... He was a guy who was sick and in horrendous pain all the time — who would say, “I wish I had a few good days.” I really wanted to try to find a way with all these people who knew him to catch him in the middle, the theater in the round, to see all of him by putting together their different points of view. Q: What insights did you develop into Kennedy that were fresh or surprising to you? A: How much he was shaped by being in the hospital so much as a kid. Because he was sick, he was a reader, and because he was a reader, Kennedy had heroes. Because he had heroes, he went into politics. (Kennedy liked Sir Walter Scott, King Arthur’s knights, and biographies of political leaders.) If he hadn’t been sick, he might have been like everybody else in the family, a jock. But Jean (Kennedy Smith, JFK’s sister) told me she thinks the whole sports angle has been overplayed, that politics was central to him. This nonsense that he only went into politics because his older brother Joe was killed is not true. He was determined he was going to be in politics, but he would have waited his turn. The idea that he was talked into going into politics to take his brother’s place — you can’t be talked into going into politics. It’s like talking a kid into liking baseball. You liked it or you didn’t. He liked it. It was fascinating what a total interest he had in his tradecraft of being a politician. I didn’t realize before that he was working on his memoirs all along, how he ran for Congress, that sort of thing. He kept a diary and in the White House dictated his thoughts. He felt real guilt at the killing of (Ngo Dinh) Diem, the leader of South Vietnam. On the Dictaphone, on Aug. 24, 1963, Kennedy talked about his signal to Henry Cabot Lodge to back the coup that knocked the guy off. He was really staggered. Listening, I was amazed at how honest he was. Q: To me, it was shocking in the recent book Caroline Kennedy put out that Jackie Kennedy said JFK’s mother never loved him. A: It matches up with what he’d said about his mother. He’d cry when she’d go away. He had leukemia at Choate, or they thought he had leukemia, and she never visited him. Action is character, as they say in drama. Q: So Jack was basically a lonely boy? A: The fact is he always had to have somebody around besides Jackie. Whatever their relationship, he wanted company. I think it gets back to all those years in a hospital bed. He liked fresh company, new people to come visit and then leave. ... I think he liked the protection of numbers too. ... He had compartments. Jackie was in one compartment, and he had his Irish mafia and his personal friends from Choate and the Navy. Q: You focus on the Cuban Missile Crisis as the biggest test of Kennedy’s character. A: Like Henry V, he’s flawed and he’s a hero — they’re both true. And that comes together then; you can really see it as a writer. Khrushchev was ready to push the button. He was going to move on Berlin. It could easily have been the trip wire to nuclear war and Kennedy wouldn’t do it. All the experts around him — McGeorge Bundy, (Gen.) Curtis LeMay — wanted to bomb Cuba and go to war. He said, “No we won’t do that. ...” It was his coldness and his detachment, his ability to stand next to another person and not let their emotions affect him. (Kennedy’s friend) Chuck Spalding at the wedding said Jack was two guys: the groom and somebody else observing from a distance. ... It must have been maddening to be married to a guy like that, but you could at the same time argue that characteristic kept the world from being blown up. ... He was Arthur, the guy in the middle of the room with all the swords pointed at him. ... He wanted control of the situation. Q: Many people are fascinated by the relationship between Jackie and Jack. What did she know, and why did she put up with his infidelities? A: That’s the part you can never get to. Did it hurt her, his behavior? ... I wanted to know how Jackie felt about it, and I got to know Rachel “Bunny” Mellon. Bunny and her were buddies. I asked, “How do you know what Jackie knew?” And Bunny said, “She told me.”... Jackie called him “Magic.” Bunny said she just picked her man. That was it. This was the guy she loved. Q: Are there parallels between Presidents Obama and Kennedy? A: I see some parallels but I don’t see the leadership that this guy (Kennedy) had of other men and women. It’s more than being the smartest guy in room. ... The Kennedys formed a Kennedy party. I don’t sense an Obama party. I think politics is transactional for him. The real difference between relationship politics and transactional politics is loyalty. Obama doesn’t seem to expect it. Published at:	dclm-gs1-006670000
'The Men Who United the States:' United we differ History, geography, ingenuity have made ‘E pluribus unum’ a reality Share with others: Print Email Read Later What about us makes us the U.S.? This is a question that has been pondered since de Crevecoeur (whose meditations on the subject were written in 1782) and de Tocqueville (who chimed in a half century later). Now Simon Winchester, who like Crevecoeur was born abroad but became American, has raised his hand with theories of his own. In "The Men Who United the States: America's Explorers, Inventors, Eccentrics and Mavericks, and the Creation of One Nation, Indivisible,'' the author of "The Professor and the Madman" offers what he calls "a parsing of the rich complexities that lie behind the country's so-simple-sounding motto: E pluribus unum.'' The result is a brisk and bracing race through American history, geography, geology -- and ingenuity, with a dash of psychology and sociology thrown in. The task is like the national motto, simple sounding but difficult to achieve, for the United States, composed as it is of immigrants from so many lands, lacks a natural national demographic unity. It had to build unity in other ways, principally through the zeal of invention, the cult of innovation, the national drive for prosperity -- and a surprising additional element: a vigorous debate about the role of government in creating wealth, assuring justice and cultivating equality. By Simon Winchester. Harper. $29.99. The result is an imaginative book, a kind of rock/paper/scissors game where the narrative is divided into sections dealing with the country's experience with wood, rocks, fire, water and metal. This is not how history was taught to you in the fifth grade, but there is a logic and romance to the categories. Take the first one: "Early America ran on wood. People had an urgent need of it for every aspect of life, from fuel to housing, from boat building to the making of crude paper and the construction of that most esteemed emblem of pioneer life, the log cabin.'' Into these categories Mr. Winchester fits an odd but engaging assortment of American characters, all intended to illuminate the American character: Lewis and Clark, the utopian visionaries of New Harmony, Samuel F.B. Morse, Alexander Graham Bell, George Westinghouse. Johnny Carson makes a cameo appearance. This is your life, America. So much of this includes the process of people traveling the way West, the ultimate American passage, traversing a land of great untapped (and, later, exploited and depleted) resources, keeping their eyes open to opportunity, to be sure, but also to the remarkable things they passed on the way. "They all went west to get somewhere, true; but they went also for the greater reasons, like getting to see all there is to see.'' Government-sponsored explorers of the 19th century were given a direct edict -- "permit nothing of notice to escape your attention'' -- that Mr. Winchester himself takes to heart in this volume. Very little of importance escapes his attention. Which is why this book is so full of curiosities, like the recipe for an alcoholic libation called trader whiskey, which includes -- do not try this at home -- chewing gum, hot peppers and the heads of rattlesnakes. One additional curiosity: the virtual (and to many readers, inexplicable) absence of women and minorities. That said, the book is populated by the colorful, like the one-armed John Wesley Powell ("perhaps the pre-eminent soldier-scientist-explorer of his day'') and the colorless, like Francis Parkman ("an indefatigable snob, a New England swell with money, ambition, courage and a Harvard education''), though with a clear preference for those who defied convention and in so doing defined the West and, thus, the whole country. Mr. Winchester emphasizes what he considers the essence of America, which you might think of as a combination of elan and environment. For him, the physical shapes the emotional and the intellectual, and so he describes Yellowstone, with its marvels of magma, as "a hymn to active geology.'' Along the way he examines the vital role of rivers and canals in using, and in some cases, reshaping geography into destiny. He explains how the Mississippi River, which Lincoln once called the father of waters, unites (gathering all its tributaries and associated territories) and divides ("parsing the country into two -- with industry and academia and antique culture on the eastern side, pioneering and pasture land and cattle culture on the western side''). And he lingers on the building of the railways and highways that also unite the country while dividing it physically. (Once the transcontinental railroad was finished, you couldn't walk unimpeded from the Mexican border to the Canadian without crossing rail track, a factor perhaps less important to the human than to the buffalo.) This is a survey of the miracles of each age, or in some cases the poignant stories of the late-arriving conveniences of each age, especially rural electrification and radio, which, he says, assured that "the stories of the Down Easter were made familiar to a listener in Nevada, that the accents and thoughts of a man from Alabama or a woman from Arkansas could be heard and appreciated by a listener with an entirely different manner of speaking up on the high plains of North Dakota or among the sierras and arroyos of New Mexico.'' This book is the story of those differences and the centripetal forces that bring us together. It's Winchester's story, but its also our story. David Shribman is executive editor of the Post-Gazette (dshribman@post-gazette.com). Join the conversation: Commenting policy \| How to report abuse Commenting policy \| How to report abuse You have 2 remaining free articles this month Try unlimited digital access If you are an existing subscriber, link your account for free access. Start here You’ve reached the limit of free articles this month. To continue unlimited reading If you are an existing subscriber, link your account for free access. Start here	dclm-gs1-006680000
Six Random Thoughts on the Chicago Bears and NFL Playoffs 1. I was 3-1 on playoff games this weekend only being wrong about the Texans. I’m more and more impressed by the Giants every week. They’ve hit their stride at the right time. I’ve picked them to win the NFC. Normally, the Giants are overrated, but not this season. The way the Giants control the line of scrimmage, run the football and can throw the rock makes them a real bitch. Just remember you heard it here first. 2. Tim Tebow is the dead horse of the day. So I’ll take a shot too…because after all, I love beating dead horses. Impressive win for the Broncos yesterday. I’ll give all the credit to John Fox. Guy’s a great playoff coach. And his team was ready to play. Tebow showed some real leadership yesterday. Kudos to the Orange Crush. 3. Watching Sean Payton undress Jim Schwartz was awesome. Payton put on a coaching clinic Saturday. The Lions are such an unlikable team and Schwartz is a putz. That being said, Ndamukong Suh played a great game. But why is the dude so out of shape? It seems like he’s out for chunks of the game. 4. Tim Ruskell cannot be the Chicago Bears GM. He’s a train wreck who makes Jerry Angelo’s drafting look like Ted Thompson’s from the Green Bay Packers. I really don’t think it will happen, but why do the Bears do things to anger me so often? 5. Speaking of things that anger me, Danieal Manning. And this blogger called this In training camp. Many of you loved Major Wright and Chris Harris, but you were blinded by Twitter. Losing Manning was almost as bad as losing Wilbur Marshall. Considering how bad the Bears safeties are and the lack of quality safeties in the draft and in free agency, there’s no quick fix. Oy… 6. I think Lovie Smith is a good coach. That being said, it’s so Bears like to limit a GM on the head coach. If I’m a top GM candidate, I’d demand full control over coaches. By essentially limiting a GM, this has to hurt their chances with some candidates. I would allow the new GM to interview Smith and encourage that person to keep Smith. But ultimately, it should be up to the GM and not Ted Phillips. That’s all for now. Follow me on Twitter at ChicagoBearJew. Around the Web	dclm-gs1-006690000
Accessibility Page Navigation Superficially well, but still grieving - part 1 Every one of us is likely to be touched by the death of someone we know at some stage in our lives. The loss of a family member, friend or anyone else who feels significant can be a bitter blow. The way in which the person has died may lay down its own distressing memories or leave unanswered questions. Death can trouble us soon afterwards, a time when there are also practical issues to sort out, as well as many years later. Bereavement is the most stressful event we can go through (above moving house and divorce on the scale.). While this fact makes sense it can be a challenging time to get through when feeling raw and already managing mental health problems. I recently lost my father to prostate cancer and had to confront a loss I didn’t expect for some years yet. His illness was diagnosed at a very advanced stage at which all medical help could do was try to make him comfortable. He lived for 18 weeks in a way which was hard for him to endure and for me to witness. His death marked the end of his suffering but a new stage of life for me. I have ongoing mental health difficulties which have affected me for 15 years but this is my first major experience of bereavement. This is my own account of the practical and emotional issues that have come up so far. The practical things to do after someone’s death depend on the place where they died and will usually be the responsibility of those closest in relationship. My dad died in a hospice where a doctor signed a certificate about the cause of his death the following day. If the death has been at home a GP would need to be called to complete the death certificate. Unexpected, suspicious deaths (which would include suicides) those in prison and also where the doctor had not seen the person recently, would be reported to the local Coroner who would decide whether to investigate. The practical arrangements were very stressful but I was not the only family member. I found funeral directors to be sensitive and able to assist with any plan for burial or cremation. The death has to be registered at the registry offices of the local council as a priority. The Department of Work and Pensions may make a funeral payment if someone is on certain means-tested benefits and responsible for organising the funeral, there are also bereavement benefits in some circumstances where the bereaved is a partner. A solicitor may need to be consulted over issues such as wills, probate and legacies where complex. There is information on the website about all practical issues. You can also contact your nearest Citizens Advice Bureau where trained advisers will be able to help you. The DWP has a booklet called What to do after a death? My biggest worry then became the funeral and getting through it. I tend to feel faint (a feature of my anxiety disorder) and didn’t know that I would be able to stay standing for the duration of the service at the cemetery. The funeral did pass and provided a sense of closure. I now gain comfort from the fact I have a grave to visit and the peaceful surroundings where my dad’s body has been laid to rest. Funerals have personal significance and spiritual importance depending on that person’s beliefs. Different religions have their own customs around death and its meaning. Talking to a faith leader or minister may be an important part of the grieving process for you. Some people may not want any religious element to their funeral, for example, choosing a Humanist content, there are also natural burial sites in woodland. The emotions that hit me after my dad’s death were a mixture of shock, relief and tearful distress that he had been through so much. Then I began to feel as though I could have done far better for my dad to the extent where anything less than being angelic was not good enough. I remember feeling very empty after the funeral and it seemed as though I had much time on my hands where before this all my thoughts had been focused on my dad’s ill health. I understood not to make big decisions in case I later regret them. Two months later I can feel that ‘no-one understands’ despite knowing otherwise, and as though I am separate from the world because my experiences are so far from everyday conversation. When people remark ‘but you look well’ they have little idea of my intense emotional hurt and inner turmoil. My own recurrent depression feels more intense and now has a tangible cause. I have heard that it will get easier as the days pass, although no time scale can be given. I try to see the positives such as the close relationship with my dad and how I managed to say everything I wanted to him so that nothing felt unresolved. I have relied on my own support network and confided most in my community psychiatric nurse. My consultant psychiatrist has shown real understanding and offered me the opportunity to make appointments as needed. It has been important for me to let go of any guilt as I know I did my best at the time. I need to try to be kind to myself including enough sleep, food and not becoming withdrawn. I also try to resist doing too much of anything, for me this is around my eating as I have a history of severe anorexia. For others it could be drinking, smoking or drug use, as a way of burying or avoiding feelings. Keeping an eye out for any symptoms that may return from previous episodes of mental illness may help to prevent a crisis. If you feel that you are not coping with your own grief there is bereavement counselling. This may be provided privately, by voluntary organisations such as Local Mind Associations, from NHS primary care or specialist mental health services. GPs can also refer to psychiatrists to diagnose and treat mental illness that may be triggered by bereavement. Cruse Bereavement Care have a national information service and helpline 0844 477 9400. I have found a supportive cancer drop in centre open to anyone affected by cancer. Many hospices or hospitals where the person was cared for until their death offer bereavement support services. While no-one knows exactly how it feels for you at this sad time there are many people, such as friends and professionals who can empathise and want to help towards a sense of recovery where you learn to live with a loved one’s death. There are many emotions and certain well recognised stages of grief though you go through them at your own pace and in no set sequence. I had issues within my own mental health management I was trying to address before my dad’s death and now believe I can’t let this event take away all I was working toward. You can’t be expected to feel on top form whilst going through bereavement, but you don’t have to go it alone on the path to acceptance and moving forward. Alex is a service user. Her father died from prostate cancer two months ago Sept 2009 In this section of the website we publish personal contributions that focus on peoples' experience of being unwell or on their recovery. Ideally they should contain information that others might find useful. The views expressed in these articles are personal. They do not necessarily reflect the vews of the Royal College of Psychiatrists. Make a Donation	dclm-gs1-006700000
Building a Better Promise: The Davenport Promise is a Solid Concept, But it Should Address Questions Print News/Features - Feature Stories Written by Administrator Wednesday, 10 October 2007 02:21 Reader issue #655 Every child in Davenport gets a big chunk of a college education paid for. The city's police and fire departments get a new stream of revenue. Paying for it all is an existing tax. While property taxes would likely rise modestly for a few years, they'd be back below current levels by 2014. And the ultimate goal is a growing community with a larger tax base, which in the long run could mean more money for schools and city services with lower property-tax rates. Who could possibly be against that? Davenport Alderman Keith Meyer, for one, who at a public presentation led by the Davenport Promise Exploratory Committee last week called the prospect of shifting more than $13 million in local-option-sales-tax away from property-tax relief and capital projects the "most absurd financial proposal" he'd heard come before the city council. Meyer's perspective is harsh, but it bluntly states the core concern about the Davenport Promise proposal as it has been presented to the public: that citizens would foot the bill almost exclusively, directly through sales taxes and indirectly through property taxes. Backers of the Davenport Promise claim it will have benefits throughout the Quad Cities, and that it quickly pays for itself through growth. But their enthusiasm tries to gloss over some of the less-attractive details about the proposal - that it could benefit Davenport at the expense of surrounding communities, that it's more generous than it needs to be, and that a likely beneficiary is assuming none of the risk. "It Isn't Like Kalamazoo" The program as currently presented would entitle students who live in Davenport to one of three benefits: college tuition, vocational training, or a post-military-service homestead grant. The benefit for college students could be up to $18,000 over four years (with today's tuition rates), while vocational training and the homestead grants have caps of $7,500. The current proposal envisions paying for the program by shifting Davenport's 1-percent local-option sales tax (which presently generates roughly $13.6 million a year) from its current uses (60 percent for property-tax relief and 40 percent for capital projects) to this post-secondary education (90 percent) and the police and fire departments (10 percent). The local option sales tax is expected to cover the entire cost of the post-secondary awards. Administration of the program would be handled and funded by a private organization, although that organization and its funding source have not been identified. The details are subject to change as the concept moves from the idea stage to a form on which citizens can vote; reallocating the local-option sales tax can only happen by referendum. Members of the exploratory committee say they would like to see a referendum early next year, so that members of the class of 2008 can benefit. The program is modeled after the Kalamazoo Promise, which was started two years ago and has had short-term results bordering on the miraculous. According to the W.E. Upjohn Institute, which has done research on the program, between September 2005 and September 2006, enrollment at Kalamazoo public schools jumped almost 9.7 percent after a decade of declines. Enrollment at Davenport schools has been on a consistent decline for 15 years. According to the presentation by the Davenport Promise Exploratory Committee, in that same year in Kalamazoo, home sales jumped 6.7 percent in the district compared to a drop of 5.2 percent in the region. Home prices were up 7 percent, compared to a 10-percent decline in the region. The property-tax-revenue growth rate went from 3 percent to 6 percent. The Davenport idea grew over the past year out of a conversation between Davenport City Administrator Craig Malin and Davenport Community School District Superintendent Julio Almanza, the latter said on Monday. The exploratory committee now includes between 65 and 70 people and is an outgrowth of neither city government nor the school district. There are critical differences between the Kalamazoo and Davenport plans. For one, the Kalamazoo Promise is paid for entirely by an anonymous donation, meaning that there's no public expenditure. The Michigan program is expected to cost $10 million a year when four graduating classes are participating. Kalamazoo's population is roughly 73,000 (compared to Davenport's 99,000), and its student enrollment is about 70 percent of Davenport's. The funding method leads to the other differences. The Davenport proposal has been structured with additional benefits - money for the police and fire departments, the homestead grant for people who choose military service rather than post-secondary education. And the Davenport Promise is being pitched broadly as an economic-development tool that uses post-secondary education as a way to broaden the city's tax base. In Kalamazoo, the primary focus is on using post-secondary education to reverse years of declining enrollment at the city's public schools. The Davenport exploratory committee is also proposing a property-tax cap for low-income senior citizens and disabled homeowners, so that they wouldn't bear the burden of the expected short-term increases in property taxes. "It isn't like Kalamazoo," Almanza said. The exploratory committee is being politically savvy in trying to build support for the plan far beyond its educational component. When asked why the Davenport Community School District or its foundation isn't being actively considered as a funding source for the program, supporters of the plan emphasized that it's intended to help the entire community. "If this does what it's supposed to do ... the community is the beneficiary ... ," said Susan S. Skora, an exploratory-committee member and president and CEO of the Community Foundation of the Great River Bend. "So yes, the school district is one beneficiary, but I believe the community is the primary beneficiary of the economic-development piece of this." The nearly exclusive reliance on taxpayer funding is just one nagging detail of the current proposal. Given all the community benefits that Davenport Promise promises, a substantial private-sector-funding component should be relatively easy to put together, and it would be a good-faith gesture to the city council that private companies, organizations, and foundations support the concept. (The city council would need to vote to put a referendum on the ballot to reallocate the local-option sales tax.) Beyond that, the oft-cited maxim that what's good for Davenport is good for the Quad Cities isn't entirely true here. If Davenport grows because of this program, some of the new students will be drawn from other area school districts. Davenport's gain will be their loss. The Davenport Promise plan also appears to violate a key tenet of good economic-development policy: that a government should offer the smallest incentive needed to achieve the maximum benefit. Under this proposal, it's obvious that some families will receive assistance they don't need. "In the Hands of the Community" The exploratory committee and the city have worked out basic projections for the program's scope and short-term economic impact. Exploratory-committee members expect 950 Davenport students from each class to access the program. (There are presently 1,400 seniors in public and private Davenport schools.) At the outset, all residents of Davenport are eligible, regardless of whether they attend a public or private school, are home-schooled, or are enrolled outside of their home district. Starting in the fifth year of the program, students are not allowed to be open-enrolled outside of their home district. The program also requires students to perform some sort of community service, although the details on that component remain vague. Students getting vocational training could receive assistance up to $7,500. People returning from the military could get a homestead grant up to $7,500. Students entering college would be entitled to a benefit equal to two years' tuition at Scott Community College (presently approximately $2,500 a year) and two years' tuition at the University of Iowa (presently approximately $6,500 a year). "Those are moving targets," Skora said. The benefit is given on a sliding scale based on a student's residency in the city. For instance, students who live in Davenport from kindergarten through 12th grade get the full benefit, while those who live in the city from sixth through 12th grades receive an 80-percent benefit. For college-bound students, it's unclear what form the benefit will take. There's some concern, for example, that scholarships might reduce the amount of financial aid a student could receive. "It's not our intent to replace other money the student might be eligible to receive," said Dan Foley, a member of the exploratory committee and the former postmaster of Davenport. Last week, Malin released a city analysis of the potential impact of the program on property taxes. The analysis assumes that property values in Davenport would grow 5 percent a year with Davenport Promise in place, compared to the current annual growth rate of 3.84 percent. It also assumes that 200 new students would come into the school district in each of the program's first five years. In both of those situations, the projection anticipates Davenport's program only being a quarter as successful as its Kalamazoo forebear. Basically, property taxes would rise for a few years to account for the shifting of the local-option sales tax, and then fall below current levels by Fiscal Year 2014. The analysis anticipates that new families would move to Davenport, thus broadening the tax base, increasing property values, and driving down the tax rate. "That makes a lot of assumptions," Skora said, but "that's what the current analysis is showing us." According to the analysis, "At its highest point [in the short term], the combined [city and school-district] tax rate is $1.46 higher, or 4.5 percent. ... For a median home valued at $118,642, that would be $76.22 [in additional property taxes paid annually]. By 2014, the tax rate would be less than it is currently." If property values grow by 6 percent a year - keep in mind that Kalamazoo's growth rate doubled in one year - the owner of the median home would pay $55.33 more a year in property taxes at the highest point. Malin noted in a memo that because of the property-tax rollback in Iowa, "non-residential property owners continue to bear the greatest burden of any property-tax increase." The fundamental question that could be posed to taxpayers, then, is whether the long-term potential of lower property taxes is worth the cost over the next few years. For all the preparation and positioning that's happened with the exploratory committee so far, its timeline for the next action steps is maddeningly vague. The committee is presently circulating petitions gauging support in a general way for the concept, but it isn't saying when it plans to present those to the city council, or when it would like the city council to take action on a referendum proposal. "The idea now is to find out where the community lies with this," said Frank Klipsch, an exploratory-committee member and president and CEO of the Scott County Family Y. "Do they support the idea of this? The course of action is to let the elected officials know that there are people that think this is important, they think that it has merit, and that we ought to consider it." "We believe that the next steps are to get legal advice" on the wording of a ballot question, Foley said. "We need to write a white paper, which takes everything that we've presented and really drills it down and closes any loopholes that we haven't anticipated." "Before people would have to vote on something, it would have to be clearly solidified as to what it is," Klipsch said. What's the time frame on the white paper? "We don't have one," Foley said. "This is in the hands of the community, the way I see it." Expediency at What Cost? One thing that's clear is that the Davenport Promise Exploratory Committee wants to get this program up and running as quickly as possible. The reason is simple: If Davenport doesn't do it, somebody else might, mitigating any competitive advantage Davenport might gain from it. "We are aware that conversations around this concept have occurred in Bettendorf, Rock Island, and Moline," Skora said. "This is an idea that is bubbling through lots of different communities. But none of them have made the next step. They look at the costs of it, and they can't figure out how to get that done." One reason the Davenport Promise is the Davenport Promise rather than the Quad Cities Promise is that it's relatively simple logistically. The way it's structured, it only involves one municipality, and one referendum to fund it. But simple isn't always best, and Davenport Promise is likely to hurt surrounding school districts. An $18,000 college fund is sweet incentive to move. Members of the exploratory committee responded three ways to the issue. First, they said that the community at-large will benefit. "Davenport is the largest city in the Quad Cities, and it has typically been one that most of the community looks towards, and as goes your leading, largest city, in many cases it's a beacon of how the Quad Cities is doing as a group," Klipsch said. In Kalamazoo, according to the Upjohn Institute, new students in kindergarten through ninth grade came from 88 Michigan communities, 32 states, and nine foreign countries. "This [the program's potential reach] is much bigger than the neighboring towns," Foley said. The second response was that students already move from one school district to another. "Is there going to be some shifting [within the Quad Cities]?" Foley asked. "I think there is, but there's already shifting." That's one reason Davenport enrollment has dropped so steadily since the early 1990s. The third response is that the Davenport Promise program could be expanded to other communities in the Quad Cities. "It would be very easy to expand this program in terms of what it covers if they would come to the table ... ," Skora said. "But they're going to have to come with money." Decisions about program expansion, she added, would be made by the organization that administers the program. On the question of Davenport Promise having no means testing, Klipsch said that the money that families might have spent on college will still be spent within the community. He also noted that one of the benefits of the program would be keeping families in Davenport. "A lot of the families that are capable of sending their kids to college, regretfully a lot of them are leaving," he said. Put in those terms, the question isn't how much a family needs for a child's education, but how much money would keep them in the area. Skora added that the program is diminished as in economic-development incentive if it's based on income or assets. "If you can tell an employer that all of their employees that live in Davenport are going to be eligible for this program, it's a much stronger argument than saying, ‘Those of you who don't have enough money ... ,'" she said. "It loses its strength as an economic-development tool when you only focus on a need-based program." Expediency might hurt the Davenport Exploratory Committee most at the ballot box in terms of funding. It's apparent that committee members found a single source - in this case, an existing tax - preferable to a drawn-out fundraising campaign. As Klipsch said, "Is there a way to get started now with resources that are available?" But relying on the local-option sales tax means the city foots the bill for a program that will greatly benefit the Davenport Community School District, which gets $5,300 a year from the state for each student that attends its schools. Klipsch conceded that the exploratory committee should discuss with the school district and its foundation whether they could help offset the municipal commitment. "That's a great question we need to follow up with," he said. Almanza said the school district had some discussions about helping to finance the program. But, he said, neither the school district nor the foundation will participate unless the benefit is district-wide - including to residents of Blue Grass, Walcott, and Buffalo who live inside the Davenport Community School District but outside the city proper. "I could not support [assisting with financing but] having this go to [only] a segment" of the district, he said. "I've got to do it for all of them." Klipsch also noted that the exploratory committee should cast its net wider in looking for private funding. "Why limit ourselves just to Davenport Schools Foundation?" he asked. The city council and voters are more likely to look favorably upon the Davenport Promise proposal if it's not just a program in search of a handout - if it brings a bag of private money to the table. Skora estimated that an endowment of $300 million could fund the program in perpetuity, but that's not remotely realistic at the start. But each private dollar the exploratory committee brings with it is a dollar that the city doesn't need to replace if voters support reallocation of the local-option sales tax. Private money likely won't eliminate the $13.6-million hole in the city budget from sales-tax reallocation, but it could shrink it. Finally, there's the question of track record. Kalamazoo's program has been amazingly successful, but it's still only two years old. Skora said the exploratory committee is using Kalamazoo because "it's the oldest one there is." Committee members were hesitant to even explore the possibility of its cautious projections failing to pan out - for instance, if the program didn't increase the aggregate property value of the community, turning those short-term property-tax increases permanent. "That's the work of the future," Skora said. "We don't think that's going to happen." But what if it does? "Our projections are all based on being only one-fourth as successful as Kalamazoo," Foley said. "We're trying to be as conservative as we can, because we recognize the risk."	dclm-gs1-006710000
NewsApp (Free) Read news as it happens Download NewsApp Available on Rediff News All News » Business » India can grow like China if domestic issues settled: Nick Bloom India can grow like China if domestic issues settled: Nick Bloom Last updated on: December 24, 2012 09:18 IST India can grow like China if domestic issues settled: Nick Bloom Dilasha Seth he share of manufacturing in India's gross domestic product can go up to 30 per cent if the country implements labour reforms and relaxes regulations, according to Nick Bloom, professor, Stanford University. He tells Dilasha Seth in an interview that India could grow as fast as China if the country sorts out its domestic challenges. Excerpts: With India's economic growth down to 5.3 per cent in Q2, what are the deterring factors according to you. Domestic issues are India's real problems rather than external ones. So my analogy is like, India is like a boxer with a hand tied behind its back. The government has tied the hand behind with labour regulations, permits, licensing, etc. So, if the second hand is unleashed, then India can grow faster. Imagine that you are a businessman, and want to open a factory. It is really hard with so much of regulation, so you move to Singapore, Hong Kong or US. Are you saying that if India addresses these domestic hurdles, it can tread a high growth path like China? If the domestic issues are sorted out, India's growth rate could be at least as fast as China. The government could increase growth by getting rid of most of these regulations. India's growth rate is lower than China's, as China is a more free market. There are much less labour regulations and the rule of law is very strong. So what can drive India's growth in the medium rate is going to be how much the government can do to push through the retail FDI (foreign direct investment) and the land acquisition Bill. The manufacturing sector has been a drag on the overall economy... India has a very small manufacturing sector. Every country around the world, which have achieved a massive growth rate, is through manufacturing. No one has really been able to achieve high growth like agriculture to services. The National Manufacturing Policy aims at increasing the share of manufacturing from 15 per cent to 25 per cent in the next decade. Do you think that is doable? India's labour is way cheaper than China's. So people are moving out from southern China to inland parts of Indonesia. They would happily invest in India and India's share in manufacturing could possibly go up to 30 per cent if it eases the labour regulations, allow FDI and ease the licence procedure. If I am a big multinational company and thinking where to set up my factory, I think of two options - India and Vietnam. India has cheaper wages than Vietnam, but Vietnam is a lot of relaxed place. There is some corruption, but I can get my way and run my basic business. But if I go to India, I would sign a partnership with the government and I am worried about the uncertainty. I think there is a huge pool of people who wants to invest over this side. If you see the amount of money pouring over Vietnam and Indonesia and China, a part of that could come to India. Image: Nick Bloom, professor, Stanford University. Photographs: Courtesy,	dclm-gs1-006730000
NewsApp (Free) Read news as it happens Download NewsApp Available on Rediff News All News » News » Indo-Pak should tackle disputes in more mature ways: Khar Indo-Pak should tackle disputes in more mature ways: Khar August 29, 2012 19:11 IST Pakistan Foreign Minister Hina Rabbani Khar, who is participating in the XVIth NAM summit being held in Tehran, said on Wednesday, that both India and Pakistan need to tackle their disputes and other issues in a more mature manner, so that they don't continue to haunt the two countries and their respective governments. Responding to a question on the recent flood of SMSes that had created panic and pandemonium among people from the northeastern part of India, and to the Indian government's reaction that some of these messages had their origins in Pakistan, Khar said, "I think simply that we need to really find a more mature way to be able to be handle all of these issues because they will continue to haunt us." "So, I am, in my position, very disappointed every time something reaches Pakistan through the media, because we believe that we have been able to invest in this relationship enough to expect a call from any counterpart if any such concern, suspicion arises. Because, we have to move beyond this. You know, really, giving more fuel to a hostility type of a narrative in each other's media, I think, your media, really needs to become more positive," she added. When asked whether Pakistan would now move against the perpetrators of 26/11 in the wake of the Supreme Court confirming the death sentence on lone surviving terrorist Ajmal Amir Kasab, and whether the much promoted 'Aman ki Asha' would actually have meaning, Khar said, "Recently, the Pakistani High Commissioner in India (Salman Bashir) had given a very good interview, in which he has said repeatedly and clearly articulated what the requirements are to move forward in that. So, we cannot not have a response to that and allow for instance people from Pakistan any access and still expect to forward." "If both sides are committed to move forward, I think, we should show our commitment, and I can assure you, that the Pakistani side is committed to moving forward beyond this, and on any other issue that arises between the two countries," she added. Source: ANI	dclm-gs1-006740000
Last updated on March 13, 2014 at 15:19 EDT Researchers Make Older Beta Cells Act Young Again October 12, 2011 By manipulating a well-known molecular pathway, JDRF-funded scientists breathe new life into aging beta cells As a person ages, the ability of their beta cells to divide and make new beta cells declines. By the time children reach the age of 10 to 12 years, the ability of their insulin-producing cells to replicate greatly diminishes. If these cells, called beta cells, are destroyed–as they are in type 1 diabetes–treatment with the hormone insulin becomes essential to regulate blood glucose levels and get energy from food. Now, longtime JDRF-funded researchers at Stanford University have identified a pathway responsible for this age-related decline, and have shown that they can tweak it to get older beta cells to act young again–and start dividing. In the past, researchers have used other techniques to trigger older beta cells to start dividing, but they have been met with challenging results, explains Dr. Kim, who is also a Howard Hughes Medical Institute investigator. “You can get these cells to grow but they will literally lose their specific identity as a beta cell,” he says. “They will either stop making insulin, or they’ll grow just fine but they will grow uncontrollably or into other cell types.” But with the advent of better genetic tools and the completion of the human genome project, that era has come to pass, he explains. “With these advanced technologies, we are now able to get a comprehensive view–at the genetic level–of the changes beta cells undergo as they age, and we can track these changes and study them in a systematic way,” he adds. “By understanding what genes are turned on and off in a young beta cell, we can try to recreate that genetic environment in older beta cells such that they divide in a desirable, controlled manner.” By better understanding the mechanisms that control and govern pancreatic ï¢-cell proliferation, researchers could transform treatments for diabetes. The cascade leading from PDGF binding to its receptor on the beta cell’s surface to changes in protein levels within the nucleus could inspire scientists with new ideas on how to discover new drugs to safely promote beta cell regeneration to replace those lost in diabetes. “A major goal of JDRF’s regeneration program is to find ways to preserve and restore functional beta cells as a cure for type 1 diabetes. One of the challenges is that adult beta cells do not readily replicate, and these new findings provide key insight on how the body regulates beta cell growth and replication,” says Patricia Kilian, Ph.D., JDRF’s scientific program director of regeneration research. “Based on these key scientific insights, we hope the new findings will help enable the discovery of safe therapies to promote beta cell regeneration.” On the Net:	dclm-gs1-006750000
Report Abuse Report this review to the Review Centre Team Why are you reporting this review? Written on: 10/11/2012 There isn't much I can write about this website and service other than they are both excellent. Got my iPhone unlocked in 48 hours. The process was simple and straight forward. The process in iTunes was exactly as described in the instructions and it worked first time. Very happy with the service and obviously with the product. They deliver exactly what they say they will, quickly and cheaply. If you are looking to officially unlock your iPhone this is most definitely the website to use. 10 out of 10	dclm-gs1-006770000
Skip to content This volume examines historical developments in the field of physics as well as surveys the various topics integrated with the subject such as thermodynamics and mechanics. More Although vulnerable to various infections and other disorders, the respiratory system by and large continues to function in order to sustain us. This book explores each element involved in this subconscious process and the factors... More This comprehensive narrative details both the biological process of procreation and the often divisive debates on how best to approach matters related to the human body. More Examines the emergence of the environmental movement and the basic principles of environmental law. More Examines fossil and geologic evidence from this time that reveals a dynamic planet, where new species of plants and animals were constantly emerging and continents were breaking apart and reforming. More Features the outer solar system and discusses asteroids, meteors and meteorites, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and the Kuiper Belt, and comets. More Examines the diverse features of our galaxy's planets farthest from the sun and our attempts at discovering more knowledge of Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. More Covers the diverse array of objects that are found within the solar system, including dwarf planets, asteroids and meteors. More Provides a study of the Milky Way Galaxy, as well as information on the Andromeda Galaxy and other galaxies scattered across the cosmos. More Examines the era long before humans, where dinosaurs were once masters of land, sky, and sea. More Subscribe to RSS - Britannica Log Out	dclm-gs1-006780000
Put your wider ribbon at the bottom. Also, go around all of the bottom rows and then keep going up levels. You can fit more ribbon in this way. Also, I read where one woman used her hair dryer to soften up the purse and get the crinkles out before she started loading it.	dclm-gs1-006790000
Low Carb Quiz Take this quiz to find out what your low carb habits say about you! 1. If you go through a fast-food drive-thru, you order: a. By the number -- sandwich, fries and a diet soda b. Whatever passes for a salad (with fat-free dressing) c. A la carte -- burger, hold the bun, and a bottle of water. 2. You are most likely to buy which canned product: a. Light sliced peaches b. Green beans c. Tuna fish 3. Most of your food comes from: a. Boxes b. The garden c. Containers in the fridge 4. If you eat fruit, you're most likely to choose: a. Banana b. Grapefruit half c. Melon chunks 5. At a party, you gravitate toward the: a. Pretzels or whole-wheat crackers b. Fried mozzarella sticks c. Little skewers of cheese and meat 6. At the grocery store, you shop primarily in the: a. Candy aisle b. Produce section c. Meat/seafood department 7. Which veggie will most likely find its way to your plate? a. Corn on the cob b. French-cut green beans c. Broccoli florets 8. When you go to your favorite restaurant and order "the usual," you are served: a. Pasta with white sauce and garlic bread b. Fried shrimp and rice c. Grilled chicken breast with steamed broccoli 9. Your Sunday morning breakfast special is: a. Toaster pastries and waffles b. Irish oatmeal with dried cranberries c. Scrambled eggs with ham 10. Your favorite sandwich is: a. A triple-decker special on white bread b. Grilled chicken on crusty bread c. Sub in a tub -- just the meaty innards in a tidy container, please LOW CARB DROPOUT: If you answered mostly "A," you may need to go back to the drawing board. Most of your choices are high in carbs and sugars. Consider using the regular version of your favorite salad dressing (which typically has few carbs than the fat-free kind) or trading a handful of pretzels for a cheese stick. And use all your popcorn as packing material to ship your toaster to a high-carbing pal. Let her eat bagels! LOW CARB DABBLER: If you chose mostly "B," you make many healthful choices, but you're not smack in the center of the low carb road. If you'd like to edit your menu, lighten up on the bread and switch from breaded, fried proteins to steamed, broiled or grilled meats. Veggies are good choices, but choose less "carby" broccoli florets, celery and red pepper strips. Keep up the good work! HARD-CORE LOW CARBER: If most of your choices were "C," you are a confirmed low carber. Most of your diet is great for a low carb lifestyle. You're balancing low carb eating with your busy lifestyle -- and you make it look so easy! Be sure to add variety to keep things interesting and great tasting. You're an inspiration! Recommended for you Comments on "What's your low carb personality?" + Add Comment (required - not published)	dclm-gs1-006800000
celebrity health 1. Celebrity Gossip Is Bruce Jenner getting his Adam's apple removed? Bruce Jenner is reportedly planning on getting his Adam's apple removed, and the news has caused mass speculation as to whether the... 2. Celebrity Gossip The Little Couple star Jen Arnold has cancer Jen Arnold, the star of the hit TLC show The Little Couple , has sadly been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, but is determined... 3. Celebrity Gossip Frankie Muniz has second mini-stroke in less than a year Frankie Muniz suffered a second mini-stroke in less than a year and tweeted out the news on Monday. 4. Celebrity Gossip Amanda Bynes found competent to stand trial Amanda Bynes is mentally unable to make medical or financial decisions for herself but a judge rules that she will stand trial for... 5. Celebrity Gossip Hugh Jackman diagnosed with skin cancer Hugh Jackman just received treatment for skin cancer after being diagnosed for a basal-cell carcinoma. 6. Celebrity Gossip VIDEO: Jennifer Lawrence has been pooping her pants daily Jennifer Lawrence appeared on The Late Show with David Letterman Wednesday night and detailed her hilarious experience with poop... 7. Celebrity Gossip NeNe Leakes is hospitalized for blood clots in lung NeNe Leakes had a health scare on Monday and caused panic amongst her fans when she was rushed to hospital with blood clots in her... 8. Celebrity Gossip Jake Gyllenhaal hospitalized after taking a scene too far 9. Celebrity Gossip GMA host Amy Robach discovers breast cancer on TV Amy Robach really didn't want the assignment she was given by her producers, but it turned out that the story affected her entire... 10. Celebrity Gossip Ryan Lochte injured on dry land He's great in the pool, but he had trouble on land. Ryan Lochte is out of training for a bit after being injured by an overzealous fan. 11. Celebrity Gossip Austin Mahone returning to normal after surviving blood clot 12. Celebrity Gossip Kelsey Grammer ignores kids while Camille recovers from cancer Even though his ex-wife has been through a tough month, Kelsey Grammer hasn't helped her out with their kids. In fact, it's been... 13. Celebrity Gossip Snip, snip! Heidi Montag goes under the knife, again Heidi Montag is no stranger to plastic surgery and has added yet another procedure to her already long list of "improvements."... 14. Music Austin Mahone taken to hospital, postpones tour 15. Celebrity Gossip Ricky Schroder yanks daughter from school: Cancer outbreak Ricky Schroder acted like any concerned parent would after his daughter's school campus suffered from a scary cancer outbreak. 16. Celebrity Gossip Director Michael Bay attacked on the set of Transformers 4 On Thursday, Michael Bay set off for his first day of filming for Transformers 4 in Hong Kong. What followed was a bizarre scene... 17. Celebrity Gossip Michael Douglas: I lied about having throat cancer Max 5 stars My Rating Michael Douglas told the press he had throat cancer, but he really had tongue cancer. He wanted to recover with a bit of privacy,... 18. Celebrity Gossip Camille Grammer has endometrial cancer, undergoes surgery Camille Grammer is taking steps to make sure she is healthy in the future. She had preventative surgery after an early-stage cancer... 19. Celebrity Gossip Tom Hanks reveals he's been living with type 2 diabetes Tom Hanks revealed Monday night to David Letterman that he's been living with diabetes. But it raises the question: Just how far... 20. Celebrity Gossip Giuliana Rancic: Life after breast cancer 21. Drinks, Drugs & Rehab Amanda Bynes leaves psych ward, enters rehab Amanda Bynes has struggled for the last few years with mental health issues. She takes one more step on the road to recovery by...	dclm-gs1-006810000
A Stall Team (Peaked at #4 on UU Leaderboard) Discussion in 'Past Gen Teams' started by Jubilee, Jul 30, 2010. 1. Jubilee is a Contributor Alumnus Jun 20, 2009 I began a few months ago to really get into the UU tier. It was just way more fun to me than the boring OU with every team being the same... After doing ok on the ladder, I faced a few stall teams, and I just lost to each one. So I decided to make my own stall team. This team by far is my most successful team, and it peaked at a CRE of 1706 as SUBAKI7134 and got me to #4 on the leaderboard last round. Team Building Process Team Building Process (open) Every stall team needs a Pokemon to set up hazards. Omastar was perfect for this role because it has access to Stealth Rock AND Spikes, something not many UU / NU Pokemon can do. And, it has incredible physical bulk. Every stall team also needs a special wall. What Pokemon is better than the sister of the biggest OU pink whore? Chansey has incredible special bulk and the ability to Wish pass. I love Clefable. Its ability is just incredible. I needed a Pokemon who could absorb status / Leech Seed, and Clefable fits that role perfectly. Encore is very, very useful and stops any sweeper trying to set up on its tracks. I couldn't pass Clefable up. Ok, looking at my team I had three Pokemon weak to Fighting, and had a physical sweeper weakness. I looked through UU and saw Weezing. It was perfect with its incredible Defense, and immunity to Ground and resistance to Fighting moves. I was also looking for a Pokemon to absorb Venusaur's Sleep Powders as well and I saw Weezing's RestTalk set. I had my fourth member chosen. Now looking at my team, I noticed I needed a mixed wall. Milotic fits that role perfectly with its incredible bulk from both sides, and has access to Recover. Now I needed a Rapid Spin blocker. Looking through the Ghosts of UU, I had to choose Spiritomb with its great Defenses (Why couldn't Game Freak give him better HP? :( ) Looking at my team I noticed how Ghosts like Rotom and Mismagius ran through my team, as Clefable and Chansey cant touch them behind Substitutes. I saw Spiritomb's Pursuit set and knew I had my spin blocker chosen. The Hazard Lead [IMG][IMG] Leftovers Nature: Bold Ability: Shell Armor EVs: 252 HP / 248 Def / 8 Spe 1) Surf 2) Stealth Rock 3) Earth Power 4) Spikes Description: Max HP / almost max Defense gives Omastar the most physical bulk it can have with 8 Speed EVs to outspeed opposing Omastar leads. Surf for STAB, Earth Power for Qwilfish, Cloyster, and Kabutops leads. Stealth Rock and Spikes for entry hazards. Omastar against Top 10 Leads Uxie - I use Spikes first to see if it's a TrickScarf variant, but if it Grass Knots (fails to KO) then I switch to Clefable. Ambipom - It Fake Outs, and then I Surf as it Taunts. I then Surf again as it U-turns and act accordingly to what comes in. Mesprit - I switch to Clefable as it Grass Knots. I then Encore it as it uses Stealth Rock and then Trick whatever comes in. Omastar - Earth Power and hope it runs the standard spread as I outspeed it for the 2HKO. Spiritomb - I first Stealth Rock and take 50-60% from Shadow Ball / Hidden Power then switch to Chansey and Toxic it. Alakazam - Go straight to Spiritomb and Pursuit it as Alakazam fails to do anything to Tomb. Cloyster - I just keep Earth Powering until it's KOed. It usually gets three layers up... good thing I personally don't see too many. Moltres - I go straight to Chansey as it uses HP Grass. Hippopatos - Surf and then Surf again for the KO. Qwilfish - Earth Power as it uses Taunt / Spikes so it can only get up a max layer of two Spikes. The Encorer [IMG][IMG] Flame Orb Nature: Calm Ability: Magic Guard EVs: 252 HP / 124 Def / 120 SpD / 12 Spe 1) Seismic Toss 2) Encore 3) Softboiled 4) Trick Description: These are almost the standard EVs for Clefable, giving it the most bulk it can have from both sides. Except, I run 12 Speed EVs to outspeed ALL standard Clefable so I can easily beat them by Encoring and Seismic Tossing them first every time. I use Seismic Toss so I don't have to rely on Clefable's below average Attack stats and Encore for Pokemon trying to set up on me. I chose Flame Orb as I got tired of Pokemon like Rhyperior, Hitmonlee, and Donphan coming in on me to absorb the T-Wave. Afterward, I get to watch one of these so-called "counters" suffer from a burn. Softboiled is used to recover any damage done. Clefable is an extremely helpful member of this team protecting the team from SubSeeders, SubRoosters, Rest-Talkers, and most importantly it has Encore, which without my team would be swept by numerous Pokemon. The Special Wall / Wish Passer [IMG][IMG] Shed Shell / [IMG] Leftovers Nature: Calm Ability: Natural Cure EVs: 252 Def / 252 SpD / 4 Spe 1) Seismic Toss 2) Wish 3) Protect 4) Toxic Description: This is the standard EV spread for a Wish passing Chansey. Toxic is used to stall out special attackers with Wish and Protect. Wish helps heal weakened team members, especially Spiritomb who has no way to recover HP on its own. I know you're thinking that Leftovers is the better option on Chansey, seeing its only use is for Dugtrio who isn't used much. I just couldn't stand being trapped by Dugtrio and being completely helpless against it, although I am considerign changing due to Dugtrio usage dropping. Chansey protects the team from powerful Special Attackers like Alakazam, Moltres, Houndoom, and much more that other members of the team can't handle. The Mixed Wall / Hazer [IMG][IMG] Leftovers Nature: Bold Ability: Marvel Scale EVs: 252 HP / 252 Def / 4 SpD 1) Surf 2) Ice Beam 3) Recover 4) Haze / Hidden Power [IMG] Description: Max HP and 58 SpD EVs give Milotic a little special bulk with the rest in its Defenses. Surf for STAB, and Ice Beam for Grass-types who love to come in on it. At first I had HP Psychic over Haze for those stupid Toxicroaks trying to set up on me. But then, I later realized Haze was far better, as it helps me against DD / SD Feraligatr and CM mono attacking Spiritomb, as Spiritomb runs through this team if Clefable is gone. Recover is used to recover off any damage Milotic has taken. Milotic is the only thing keeping mixed sweepers like Blaziken from running through my team and it keeps alot of other dangerous sweepers at bay like Rhyperior, Altaria, and Drapion to name a few. The Physical Wall / Status Absorber [IMG][IMG] Leftovers Nature: Bold Ability: Levitate EVs: 252 HP / 200 Def / 58 SpD 1) Sludge Bomb 2) Will-O-Wisp / Flamethrower 3) Rest 4) Sleep Talk Description: 252 HP EVs for max HP, 200 Def EVs for physical bulk, and 58 SpD EVs to give it some special bulk to absorb hits from the versatile Venusaur. Sludge Bomb for STAB and I just didn't like using Thunderbolt / Flamethrower. And, the chance of poisoning is great. I love how Houndoom loves to come in on expecting a Will-O-Wisp or Flamethrower only to be hit by Sludge Bomb. Rest for recovery as I don't like Pain Split much and Sleep Talk so it's not a sitting duck when asleep and so it can absorb sleep moves. And finally Will-O-Wisp to cripple all physical attackers. Weezing is my go to Pokemon for all Fighting- type Pokemon and other strong physical attaclers that the other team members cant handle like Hitmonlee, SD Venusaur, and Heracross to name a few. The Pursuit Trapper / Spin Blocker [IMG][IMG] Leftovers Nature: Sassy Ability: Pressure EVs: 252 HP / 4 Attack / 252 SpD 1) Dark Pulse 2) Pursuit 3) Shadow Sneak 4) Will-O-Wisp Description: These are the standard EVs for Spiritomb nowaday, 252 HP for bulk and 252 SpD to take as much special damage as possible. Dark Pulse for the incredibly annoying Will-O-Wisp Ghosts-, Pursuit for Ghost- and Psychic-types trying to escape, Shadow Sneak to hit Ghosts for quick super effective damage and, Will-O-Wisp cripples physical attackers like Drapion and Toxicroak who would otherwise take little damage from this set. Spiritomb is a very crucial member of this team protecting it from Substitute using Ghosts that would other wise run right through this team. A Pokemon I'd love to fit on this team [IMG][IMG] Leftovers Nature: Impish Ability: Intimidate EVs: 252 HP / 252 Defense / 4 SpD 1) Close Combat 2) Rapid Spin 3) Foresight 4) Sucker Punch / Rest Why?: Id love to fit a Hitmontop on this team because my team lacks a Rapid Spinner. And some Pokemon who fail to 2HKO my Pokemon will 2HKO them with enough hazards on my team which could lead to me being swept. It would also take care of my Aggron weakness. The problem is, I don't see anything I can replace it with... if someone could give me a good enough reason on why I should replace it with "X" Pokemon or why I shouldn't, that would be great. Threat List (Sorry Eo but I jacked this from your RMT ;___;) Red means this Pokemon is a big threat. Blue means this Pokemon is a moderate threat. Black means this Pokemon is easily handled. UU Threats Absol - Milotic and Weezing can take a +2 Attack, I just have to hope it doesn't crit either of them, and hopefully I have entry hazards up so it dies quickly from LO. Aggron - This Pokemon is a MAJOR threat. I can't switch in anything on it, as it 2HKOes everything. If it comes in on Chansey / Clefable, I have to sacrifice them as I cant switch in Milotic and risk Aggron being Jolly and being 2HKOd. A smart player can keep switching it in and out until my special walls are gone. Alakazam -Switch to Spiritomb, Pursuit it and it's KOed. Not a big threat at all. Chansey can take it on as well, even though a Specs Focus Blast is going to hurt. (Noob thund and your Zam nom :P <3) Altaria - Clefable can Encore / Trick DD variants, Milotic can Haze / Ice Beam DD variants as well. Support variants are handled by Clefable easily; just Encore and Seismic Toss it until it's KOed. Azumarill - Choice Band variants are easily handled by Milotic, Weezing, and Spiritomb. SubPunch variants can be Encored by Clefable and taken on by Weezing. Blaziken - Milotic is my only hope against it, but luckily Milotic isn't 2HKOed by anything it can throw (bar SD variants but those aren't very common at all). Chansey - Clefable can Encore it and keep Seismic Tossing, while it cant do much to Clefable and my own Chansey. Claydol - Go to Tomb as it Rapid Spins, Pursuit it, and then it isn't a problem anymore. Clefable - This is exactly why I run Speed EVs on my Clefable to outspeed the standard Clefable. Encore it on a Seismic Toss and then Seismic Toss it till it's KOed, and Softboiled when I'm on low health. Belly Drum variants are hard to wall as it outspeeds Milo for Haze, but hopefully it isn't carrying a Toxic Orb and I can burn it; also, good thing they're not common. Cloyster - Cloyster is blue just because I hate him. It gets to set up 2-3 layers of Spikes on Omastar as Earth Power fails to 2HKO... Donphan - Milotic can Surf for a OHKO. Go to Spiritomb for the spin block, switch to Milo as it EQs, and Surf / Recover depending on the situation and what my opponent's team is. Drapion - Omastar can Earth Power for good damage, Milotic can take any attack at +2 and Surf, and so can Weezing with Flamethrower. Clefable can Encore / Trick it. Bulky SD variants with Taunt can be annoying though and do some damage to me. Dugtrio - Weak dicks are weak. Milotic can OHKO it. Has no chance whatsoever against Weezing, and Tomb can Sucker Punch. It can come in on Clefable in low health and KO it though. Feraligatr - Milotic can Haze and Surf it until it's KOed. Clefable can Encore / Trick it. Weezing can take a +2 Waterfall and Sludge Bomb. Hariyama - Lead Hariyama is annoying, as I have to switch out Omastar and bring in Weezing. Other than lead Hariyama, it isn't very common. Hitmonlee - Weezing can take anything it can throw at it and take it out with Sludge Bomb. I usually go to Tomb first as it uses Close Combat, and then Pursuit it for some damage. Hitmontop - If Milotic / Omastar are in, I usually stay in and Surf as the spinner variants Foresight, then I go to Tomb and Will-O-Wisp it. Then I go to Weezing, but unfortunately it always gets to spin my entry hazards away. Luckily, I always try and keep Omastar in good health for putting them back up. Houndoom - Good thing Spikes + Stealth Rock + Life Orb take a toll on it, as even Chansey is getting hurt by Fire Blast at +2. Milotic can take a Dark Pulse at +2 but, I try and keep Milotic healthy to wall some of the specific Pokemon only it can take on. Kabutops - Lead variants are easily beat by Omastar, as it uses Earth Power first turn then Surf. SD variants are dangerous, because without Milo I have nothing to take it out, and even Milo can be OHKOed by a +2 LO Stone Edge. Lanturn - Clefable can Trick and Seismic Toss it until it's KOed. Chansey can take anything it has and Toxic it. Leafeon - Weezing can take anything it has at +2. Ludicolo - Chansey can take all LO special sets easily. I usually go to Chansey as it Surfs, and then Toxic it. If it has Leech Seed I go to Clefable and Softboiled as Toxic takes its toll. SD variants are handled by Weezing, but if Waterfall flinches though it's GG >.< Mesprit - Go to Clefable as lead variants Grass Knot, and then Encore as it SRs and Trick whatever comes in. Physical Scarf variants are easily handled by Tomb. CM variants are easily handled by Clefable and Chansey. Milotic - Clefable can handle bulky variants, Encore it on a Surf, and keep Seismic Tossing until it's KOed. LO variants are handled by Chansey. Miltank - Clefable can Trick any Miltank a Flame Orb which completely cripples it, and Curse variants are handled by Clefable's Encore and Milotic's Haze. Mismagius - Spiritomb can take CM and Nasty Plot variants, because even at +2 Shadow Ball isn't OHKOing it at full health. The only reason Mismagius is red is because of its Bulky Ghost set. With Taunt / Will-O-Wisp / Shadow Ball / Pain Split it completely shuts down my entire team if Spiritomb is gone. Moltres - Chansey can Toxic LO variants and Milotic can handle it as well. SubRoost variants are easily handled by Clefable. Nidoking - Milotic cant really switch in on it, as Earth Power + Thunderbolt + SR is going to hurt too much and possibly KO. I usually have to predict around it and Spiritomb can Sucker Punch it to low health. Omastar - I Earth Power and hope they run the standard spread which I outspeed. Poliwrath - Clefable actually easily handles it. Switch it in as it Substitutes on Milotic / Tomb and Encore its Substitute as it tries to Focus Punch. Weezing can handle it as well. Regirock - Milotic beats it down with Surf, and Clefable handles Curse variants with Encore / Trick. Registeel - Again Clefable can Encore it as it uses Iron Head / Seismic Toss and Trick it and Seismic Toss it until it's KOed. Rhyperior - Milo outspeeds and OHKOes all variants. I usually switch in Milo as it EQs / SEs and then Recover as it switches out. It comes in on Chansey / Clefable a lot only to be Toxiced or Tricked a Flame Orb. Without Milotic it runs through my whole team. My only hope is to Trick it a Flame Orb or stall out Stone Edge's PP with Weezing's Rest. Rotom - Spiritomb can Shadow Sneak / Pursuit it, and Clefable can take on Will-O-Wisp / Charge Beam versions. Not much of a problem. Sceptile - I usually switch to Weezing to find out what set it's running, as switching to Chansey to take the Leaf Storm can potentially be dangerous as it could be an SD set. Once I find out what set it's running I have each set covered. SD sets are easily handled by Weezing, Specs sets are easily handled by Chansey, and Leech Seed sets are handled by Clefable. Scyther - Weezing can handle SD variants, even though a +2 Aerial Ace is going to do a lot. Spiritomb can Sucker Punch for the KO (at 50% or so). Milotic can Ice Beam it. Slowbro - Clefable Encores CM variants, and easily handles bulky variants with Encore / Seismic Toss. Chansey can Toxic it as well. Slowking - Same story as Slowbro... Spiritomb - Clefable can Encore / Trick CM variants, and Milotic has Haze CM variants as well. Choice Band variants are handled by those two as well. Steelix - Omastar and Milotic can OHKO with Surf. Swellow - Omastar can easily take anything it has, and Weezing and Milotic can take it on as well, although both are 2HKOed by it... Spiritomb can Sucker Punch it as well. Tangrowth - Weezing does A LOT of damage with Sludge Bomb and can absorb the Sleep Powder, and Clefable can take the Leech Seed and Trick it a Flame Orb. Torterra - Weezing easily handles any set it has. Toxicroak - Weezing can Flamethrower for the 2HKO as Toxicroak does shit damage at +2. I used to HP Psychic it with Milo but I changed HP Psychic to Haze. Nasty Plot variants with Focus Blast could be dangerous, but luckily they aren't common. Uxie - I usually use Spikes and see if it Tricks Omastar. If it Grass Knots then I switch to Clefable. Isn't a threat at all. Venusaur - I switch to Weezing to absorb the sleep, and Weezing can take on SD variants (Unless I get lucky with Sleep Talk and it hasd Return) and USUALLY can take on LO variants. Bulky variants are easily handled by Clefable. Weezing - Clefable can handle anything it has, and so can Chansey. NU Threats Articuno - Chansey handles LO variants even though they are very, very uncommon, and Clefable easily handles the SubRoost variants. Cradily - Clefable can Encore / Trick Curse variants, but I haven't seen any other Cradily then Curse ones. Exeggutor - The only reason it's blue is because I hate it. I HATE Exeggutor. Usually I will sac something for the Sleep Powder and go to Chansey for the Leaf Storm, although I have to be careful for the potential Explosion. Jynx - Usually I switch to Weezing for the Lovely Kiss, and then Tomb as it Subs. Chansey can handle it as well. Milotic can Haze it, and Clefable can Encore it. Kangaskhan - Kangaskhan is bulky and hits hard as hell with Choice Band. It 2HKOs everything besides Omastar with Band Double-Edge. I just have to wear it down, but usually something is getting KOed. Lapras - Special variants are easily handled by Chansey, I have never seen a DD variant but that would be handled by Haze from Milotic, and Trick / Encore from Clefable. Manectric - SubCharge sets are handled by Chansey. I have to watch out for Switcheroo though. Magmortar - Just like Nidoking I have to be careful with it. It's very dangerous if it carries Cross Chop, but luckily Spikes + SR + LO will wear it down. Spiritomb can Sucker Punch when it's low on health. Choice sets are easily handled by Chansey though. Ninetales - Chansey can Toxic it, Clefable can Encore it, and Milotic can Haze and Surf it. Pinsir - Uhh Mold Breaker is annoying... hitting Weezing hard with EQ. Milotic can take it out in low health with Surf, and Spiritomb can Sucker Punch / burn it. Luckily, it's not very common at all. The only ones I've seen are Scarfed which Weezing can handle with prediction and lead ones which fails to 2HKO Omastar with Earthquake. Qwilfish - This is why Omastar has Earth Power, because it's annoying as hell. SD variants are very dangerous as it can 2HKO everything on my team and Explode. Just got to wear it down with SR + Spikes + LO. Ursaring - Spiritomb laughs as it fails to hit it with Facade. Sucker Punch 2HKOs. Special Thanks: Thanks to Aromaflora for helping me with the team, staying with me on shoddy for hours, and using her awesome grammar skills to check all my mistakes on this RMT! Thanks! <3 2. dws93rd Jul 12, 2010 Well, from my time playing UU, albeit short, this team looks as though it covers almost every threat and looks like a very solid team. The first thing I would suggest is to put WoW on Weezing as it will help your team with the Aggron problem since it cripples him and makes him next to useless. Also, I would highly suggest changing Weezing to the standard Weezing and making Milotic's set a variant of a RestTalk set. IMO, Milotic's natural bulk+Marvel Scale activated thanks to Rest, will make it a much better wall and user of RestTalk than Weezing as it will multiply Milotic's Defense by 1.5, allowing it to take hits from just about anything in UU. I could see Hitmontop filling the spot of Clefable on your team with the set you listed, but with an Adamant nature and 252 Atk Evs, as that way you can always OHKO and Aggron, with or without Entry Hazards Hitmontop @ leftovers Nature: Adamant Ability: Intimidate EVs: 252 HP / 252 Atk / 4 SpD 1) Close Combat 2) Rapid Spin 3) Foresight 4) Sucker Punch Not to mention, this set can 2HKO any Mismagius, including the BUlky Ghost you have trouble with. Plus, he can OHKO Chansey(if it takes damage from Entry Hazards tehn its a sure OHKO) and can 2HKO the more defensive Clefables, while OHKO'ing the more offensive ones, such as the StallBreaker. Also, Intimidate softens those blows from physical attackers. 3. Jubilee is a Contributor Alumnus Jun 20, 2009 Thanks for the rate dws93rd, I will change Flamethrower to WoW on Weezing and will give it a test. Im going to have to keep Weezing as my Rest Talker though as he can actually stay in on Venusaur. Also I like having Milotic be able to reliably heal its HP with Recover. I honestly dont like the idea of switching out Clefable for Hitmontop either, Clefables Encore's are very very valuable to this team. If I get more comments on that though I wil try it. 4. tawp64 Feb 8, 2010 If anything, this needs a grounded poison type. Toxic spikes can threaten this team greatly, and weezing can't stop it because he has levitate. An option is to change softboiled on clefable for wish, and replace wish on chansey for aromatheropy/heal bell. That way, you're safe from toxic spikes. Then again, Hitmontop helps with rapid spin if you want to replace something. Or, you could just use the grounded poison like drapion, who provides toxic spikes itself. It's bulky and can stop many sweepers. But idk where to put it. Anyways, congratualtions on the CRE! 5. NightShadow Jun 3, 2010 i don't think clefable is very helpful and as dws93rd rightly said, hitmontop should replace it since it can spin away rocks, spikes and t-spikes. however, you do not have a single pokemon which can set up t-spikes, which is ridiculous for a stall team. i would suggest changing spikes to t-spikes on omastar (if it can learn, i'm not sure =.=). overall, GREAT team. very solid. 6. Jubilee is a Contributor Alumnus Jun 20, 2009 Clefable is very very helpful with Encore, Tricking Flame Orb, and its ability. Ive tried using Hitmontop and I honestly like having Clefable more. Numerous times when I switched out Clefable for Hitmontop id find myself trying to switch in Clefable and realizing "oh yeah took her out". Shes very useful to this team even if both her and Chansey are on it. Toxic Spikes in my opinion are INCREDIBLY stupid in UU. Venusaur is the #1 Pokemon in UU, absorbs them and makes those turns of setting them up pointless. 7. august august its hard to miss you when you follow us around is a Smogon IRC AOPis a Tutor Alumnusis a Team Rater Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Smogon Media Contributor Alumnuswon the 5th Official Smogon Tournamentis a World Cup of Pokemon defending champion Nov 25, 2007 Alright a few things quick: Use Careful 252 HP / 252 SDef on Spiritomb or you'll have a ton of trouble with Sub LO Split Rotom and alot more Taunt NP Mismagius troubles. As it is right now, your Spiritomb isn't specially bulky enough to be considered a ghost counter (its nearly 2HKO'd by Scarf Rotom TBolt after SR, and gets nuked by Specs TBolt), and by running Careful you'll have more insurance against CM Zam too since it wrecks stall if Tomb is gone. Will O Wisp would be ideal on Tomb too, so Absol doesn't set up in your face. Speaking of Absol you have a pretty big Absol weak. I really don't see merit in both Chansey AND Clefable, i'd go for one or the other so you can fit Top on the team and fix the massive weakness to CB Aggron / Absol / Taunt Swords Dance Drapion and a load of other stuff. You also really need a spinner because as it is right now, you lose pretty handily to other stall, seeing as Omastar sets up on Weezing and Spiritomb with no trouble, and Hitmontop laughs at your Spiritomb. I also don't understand Wish on Chansey. If you use Rest on Spiritomb (which you should) then the only mon without recovery is Omastar. I'd much rather use Aromatherapy / Heal Bell Chansey so you atleast have a cleric, which helps Milo alot considering it has trouble countering Curse Registeel / CM Tomb and stuff like that if it gets Toxiced. good luck beating other stall without toxic spikes 8. ShinyAzelf is a Battle Server Moderatoris a Contributor Alumnus Jan 18, 2010 Hey, fixing your Aggron problem, you could run 84 speed EVs on Milotic, so it can outspeed Jolly Aggron (you hit 219 speed, and Jolly Aggron hits 218 speed) so you can nail it with a Surf. How about this set? Milotic @ Leftovers Nature: Bold Ability: Marvel Scale EVs: 244 HP/160 Def/20 Sp. Def/84 Spe -Ice Beam -Haze/HP Psychic I'm not sure if HP Psychic lowers your Speed IV so you may have to run more speed EVs if so. I know you say you won't change Shed Shell on Chansey, and I might not be able to convince you to change to Leftovers, but whenever someone traps me using Dugtrio while my Chansey is out, Life Orbed Earthquake from Jolly Dugtrio does around 55% which combined with Softboiled and leftovers in my case can stall it out (provided crits aren't present). In your case, you can stall out with Wish/Protect. Yes, I know there are Choice Banded Dugtrios which do 70% to you, so if thats the case, I get a Seismic Toss on him, and in your case, I'd finish him off with a Sucker Punch/Pursuit from Spiritomb, depending what your opponent will do. Not much about the team. Its great and good luck. =) 9. franky is a Team Rater Alumnusis a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus Apr 12, 2009 Go for Psychic > Sucker Punch on Tomb to deal with Toxicroak - a problem that can beat your team quite easily given the multiple opportunities it has. To name a few though, it can hit Venu and Hariyama for super effective damage as well. Go for august idea with going 252/252 sassy nature on tomb as it maximizes on checking Missy, Zam, and Rotom (especially sublosplit). There is no need to pour in all of those attacks since most of these aforementioned threats are really frail on the physical end anyways. Clefable needs to go - both Chansey and Clefable are redundant when they are placed on the same team. i have two propositions to make: go for the ev change for Weezing to a little more specially defensive to maximize on checking both sd, mix sceptile and venusaur variants. However, you'd need to add a physically defensive venusaur in exchange of Clefable! A physical venu will take care of not only leafeon (sd + double edge bypasses weezing), it also deals with Feraligatr and Azum since Milotic lacks hp grass. Additionally, venu gives you a much needed Milotic check because god knows one Milotic that will stay in on Chansey so it will be hard for it to induce Toxic. Go for Leaf Storm / Sludge Bomb / Synthesis / Roar with the evs 252 HP / 168 def / 16 spe / 72 spd with the bold nature. This spread optimizes on checking physical threats, surviving +2 lo shadow ball from missy (if the need arises), and outpaces adamant aggron! Roar is there over sleep powder to add more spikes damage and ultimately help you against enemy stall teams. As for other options, go for a simple 252/252 bold spread on Milo. Cmon, Moltres is already put in check by the defensive juggernaut Chansey so there is no need to pour in all of that. overall gl! 10. Jubilee is a Contributor Alumnus Jun 20, 2009 Thanks for the rate August. I changed Tomb to Careful 252/252 and I really like being able to take the hits from Ghosts alot better, the damage it does is quite poor though. But its better then him getting KOed and being swept by a ghost (He still 2HKO's Missy / Rotom with Shadow Sneak with the spread you listed). I used Wish / Protect for Toxic stalling, I tried using Softboiled / Heal Bell with Rest Hitmontop and it worked pretty well. Thanks for the rate franky. I cant fit Shadow Sneak / Pursuit / WoW / Rest / Dark Pulse / Psychic Shadow Sneak / Pursuit are the two moves I'd deffinately and will keep. So any opinion on what last two moves...? Dakr Pulse will prove useful for those evil stall breaking Mismagius's, WoW is nice for things like Drapion and Toxicrok that can set up on this set, Psychic doesnt have much use besides Toxicroak and Hitmontop... Hitting Spinner Hitmontop super effectively looks really nice though lol. On adding Saur I think I'd much rather add a Defensive Hitmontop then Defensive Venusaur. I already have changed Milotic's EV's to 252/252, I just forgot to edit my post. And about everyone commenting on Clefable AND Chansey. Yea I know they both do almost the exact thing, but Chansey can take attacks Clefable cant, Like +2 LO Houndoom Fire Blast, Moltres, Alakazam (To an extent), and a few others I cant think of right now. Clefable has Magic Guard and Encore. Two things that have been very important to this team (I cant stress how useful Encore is...), and have deffinately saved me more then once. Ill give Leftovers a try on Chansey and see how it works. The Speed EV's on Milo arent something id change though, thats sacrificing too much Defense imo. =/ And yes HP Psychic does lower your Speed IV. :x 11. Diesel Aug 6, 2007 Lol I'm glad I clicked on this because I made a nearly identical team except I had Hitmontop over Chansey (and more specially defensive spreads on a few pokemon). All I can say is don't do that, because I really didn't have a lot of success and found I didn't have the switch-in ability to certain special attackers, especially if Spiritomb bit the dust early defending my Spikes, and tbh I really don't like Top much in general. Anyway, nice team and congrats on the success I didn't have. Users Viewing Thread (Users: 0, Guests: 0)	dclm-gs1-006820000
Logging In Invalid username or password. Incorrect Login. Please try again. not a member? October 25, 2001 Saltwater Parasites Unlike remoras that attach and release, these parasites make a permanent home on gamefish. Q: While on a fishing trip to Mazatlan, Mexico, I photographed these three disgusting parasites attached to a dead striped marlin at the dock. They were alive and had some sort of moving, feathered claws opening and closing at the ends. What are they? Are they common? What is their life cycle and how do they affect their hosts? - Dwayne Flebbish, Salt Lake City, Utah A: According to Ron Thune and Al Camus at the Aquatic Animal Disease Diagnostic Lab, Louisiana State University Department of Veterinary Microbiology and Parasitology, they are probably a form of parasitic copepod crustacean, possibly from the family Pennellidae. This family includes species that are particularly harmful to fish. They burrow deeply into their host's flesh, sucking their blood and causing severe wounds and ulcers, often making the fish too repulsive-looking to market. The life histories of some of the more than 140 species of pennelid parasites are more complex than those of other copepod families. They may pass through larval stages requiring intermediate hosts such as squid or pelagic snails, though others may be confined to a single host. The full life cycles of many species remain unknown. Some of the parasitic copepods that have adapted to permanently anchoring themselves to the body of a fish include Lernaea, Lernaeocera, Sphyrion and Pennella. The largest of the pennelids are found in the genus Pennella, a possibility for the large parasites in your photo. Giants among parasitic copepods, Pennella filosa, for example, may reach 7 or 8 inches long with eggs sacs protruding from the ends reaching 14 inches. This genus is found frequently on the skins of swordfish, tuna, sunfish, flying fish and other pelagic species, and were reported by fishermen as long ago as the times of Aristotle and Pliny. The ancient writers described the agony of tunas and billfish jumping out of the water in efforts to dislodge the parasites.	dclm-gs1-006830000
Brendan Simms: Can Angela Merkel forge a United States of Europe? Cometh the hour … regardless of anti-German sentiment, Chancellor Merkel must seize the initiative (Picture: Reuters) Famously, Chancellor Kohl regarded German unification as a prelude to a much larger European unification Suggested Topics In June 1900, the British commander of the international expeditionary force against the Chinese Boxers, Admiral Seymour, found himself in a bit of a fix. He exhorted the Kaiser’s contingent to come to his aid with the immortal words “The Germans to the front”, words that went around the world. Many Germans claimed they had rescued the day. On the contrary, British and French spin doctors replied, the Germans had been cowering in the rear for so long that Seymour had had to shame them into doing their duty. One is reminded of these exchanges today as Europeans dispute whether Berlin should take the lead in the eurozone. For every French socialist party motion condemning Chancellor Angela Merkel for dominating the Continent on behalf of “German savers and German trade surpluses”, there is a Radek Sikorski, the Polish defence secretary, who calls upon Germany to stop skulking at the back and seize the initiative before the European project collapses completely. Anti-German sentiment is growing exponentially in southern Europe, especially Greece and Spain, whose peoples are rebelling against the austerity regime supported by Germany. More recently, Germanphobia resurfaced in France. In Paris, the socialist senator Marie-Noelle Lienemann invokes the spirit of the Second World War Free French leader General Charles de Gaulle against German suggestions that France should balance its books. Even where it is not so explicit, much of the rhetoric against a “German Europe” draws on memories of Hitler’s attempts to control the entire continent 70 years ago. This time, however, it is different. Far from wishing to dominate Europe, the German elite see the European project as both the apotheosis and the transcendence of their national aspirations. Famously, Chancellor Kohl regarded German unification as a prelude to a much larger European unification. The Basic Law, the German constitution, is bookended by a preamble that announces the intent to “serve world peace” as “an equal member of a united Europe”, and the final paragraph — revised after unification — which states that it will be superseded by a new constitution freely agreed to by the German people. In other words, the potential surrender of sovereignty to a democratic single European state is written into the very core of the German political DNA. Where the Germans can be faulted is in their lack of boldness in pushing forward the political unification of Europe on a democratic basis. Too much in hock to the traditions of the Holy Roman Empire and the EU, they see political union as a process. They still fail to grasp the historical truth that successful unions such as Britain’s union of England with Scotland and Ireland and America’s union of states have been events. Berlin’s current strategy of postponing joint debt liability and political union until convergence criteria have been achieved will crush the southern and western periphery economically long before they reach the finishing line. Eurozone political union will happen only if the pooling of debt, and a subsequent “debt-ceiling”, is accompanied by the simultaneous establishment of a common parliament which is responsible for it. The periphery will be able to grow again, while the regulatory structure of a single state ensures that they are not allowed to run up such vast debts again. There is no reason in theory why this solution should not be promoted by any eurozone leader, or political party, but in practice the task must fall to the Chancellor of Germany, the largest and most powerful country — Angela Merkel. Frau Merkel needs to level with the German people and the other peoples of the eurozone by calling a constitutional convention of representatives specifically elected for that purpose. They should work out an Anglo-American style constitutional union with a popularly elected executive president, an assembly elected by population, and a Senate representing the member states. This package would have to be put to the electorate of the eurozone on the same day in every participating country. Populations would then be free to decide whether they wished to go forward together or to hold on to an increasingly illusory sovereignty. It is the only solution with the democratic legitimacy to create a Union Bond covered by the entire tax base of the Union, and to extend the fiscal reach of the state into areas hitherto unaccustomed to it. This new Union would be a fusion of political cultures in which the German element will be hugely important and rightly so. Parts of it will need to learn the German willingness to balance books and pay taxes. These qualities are not unique to the Federal Republic, however. Some northern members of the eurozone are more “German” than the Germans themselves. Moreover, Germans would not dominate. The total population of a single eurozone state including Poland and other latecomers would be close to 400 million, of whom less than a quarter would be German. A German vote in the assembly would count the same as a Greek or an Irish vote, while the smaller acceding polities would actually be over-represented in the Senate, as is the case with the less populous US states. Last week, one British journalist described Frau Merkel as a potential European Abraham Lincoln. What we require, however, is not somebody to defend the current union — which is broken beyond repair — but to create a new one. The better analogy is with the 19th-century Prussian Chancellor Otto von Bismarck, who created the Second German Empire out of the ruins of the old and ineffective German Confederation. Today, the eurozone needs a democratic Bismarck, probably though not necessarily from Germany. If we get one, the sight of more Pickelhauben helmets in newspaper cartoons will be a small price to pay. Brendan Simms is Professor of the History of European International Relations at Cambridge and author of the recently published Europe: The Struggle for Supremacy, 1453 to the Present (Allen Lane). ES Rentals ES Dating By clicking 'search' you are agreeing to our Terms of Use. Don't Miss Beat school Why Chase & Status are opening a free school in east London FISHbone - restaurant review Restaurant review Posh piscine at FISHbone The Spirits: Richard Godwin's cocktail adventures The Spirits Richard Godwin talks to Bompas and Carr about their latest experiment Miranda Hart, O2 Arena - comedy review Comedy review Miranda Hart at the O2 Arena Pictures: Party people - the stars out in London Party people The stars out in London Cara and Kate team up for Burberry Cara and Kate Cara Delevingne teams up with Kate Moss for Burberry campaign Souk up the sun in Fez Souk up the sun in Fez Hogging the limelight: Gervais gets a selfie with Miss Piggy Hogging the limelight Ricky Gervais gets a selfie with Miss Piggy Fay Maschler reviews Marani Restaurant review Fay Maschler reviews Marani Ashley Jensen	dclm-gs1-006840000
Celia Rivenbark - Squirrelly behavior deters pests Published: Sunday, December 30, 2012 at 12:30 a.m. Last Modified: Friday, December 28, 2012 at 12:29 p.m. I realized that things had gone too far in my battle with the squirrels in our yard when I heard myself ask Duh Hubby to kindly step outside and pee along the front walkway where I'd just planted some spring bulbs. "I read somewhere that squirrels hate the scent of human urine," I said. Duh looked at me just like you'd look at a crazy person. "It's four o' clock on a Saturday afternoon," he said. I totally didn't get where he was going with this. At first. "Oh, right," I said. "You might want to wait until it gets dark. Here. Drink some water." It's not like I asked him to poop on them. What's the big deal? Besides, we live on a quiet street. It's unlikely more than 10 or 15 cars would even see him peeing in the front yard. "If it's such a great idea, why don't you do it?" Duh asked when I reminded him of his task. "That's disgusting," I said. Obviously, it would be easier for a man to handle this particular chore. Did I really need to give a grown man an anatomy lesson? I'd spent two hours planting the bulbs, carefully mixing in bone meal for heartier growth. The least he could do was pee on 'em. But Duh refused to budge. I couldn't imagine why he was being so prissy. This was no time for "shy bladder." By the time night fell, those squirrels (whom I imagined watching me all afternoon and laughing their haunches off) would ruin my garden-to-be. I just knew it. Duh said we should put hot pepper sauce on the ground around the bulbs but we decided against that after a Google search said the squirrels could rub it in their eyes and blind themselves. I mean we might pee in our yard but we're not complete jerks. Other suggestions via Google included my all-time least favorite: Put up a squirrel feeder. This was clearly written by an idiot. The idea isn't to make my yard some kind of squirrel spa; the idea is to get them to leave my stuff alone. We have two huge pecan trees in our back yard but no pecans because the squirrels eat them all. They spend afternoons patting their enormous bellies, burping and flipping us off with their tiny squirrel fingers. Yes. They do. We spent so long researching squirrel deterrents that we realized it was really late and just went to bed. The next morning, I went out to get the paper, which the squirrels had probably already read, and that's when I saw it: All 150 bulbs, tenderly planted and fertilized, had been dug up and chewed to bits. Duh walked out to survey the carnage. "WHY DIDN'T YOU PEE IN THE YARD LIKE I TOLD YOU TO?" I shrieked. The new neighbors, strolling their baby, sped up. Celia Rivenbark's seventh book, "Rude Bitches Make Me Tired," will be out in 2013. ▲ Return to Top	dclm-gs1-006850000
TED Conversations Casey Christofaris Owner, CS3 Inc This conversation is closed. Start a new conversation or join one » Showing single comment thread. View the full conversation. • Sep 23 2012: This is pretty fascinating, I read most of the replies. I know little of math, the most advanced math I ever used was bulk specific gravity calculations on construction materials. But let me see if I can stimulate some of your physics brains. Can it be that there is zero matter of one particular matter? Two people in a room, one holding an apple, one holding nothing. The particular matter that makes an apple, is zero, no? Zero of that matter, as opposed to oxygen in the room. I don't know, it's mind boggling. It reminds of of the novel The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco. Nothing from nothing leaves nothing - Billy Preston • thumb Sep 23 2012: Good day Chris, I will have to look into that book. But If one person is holding an apple and the other person has zero apples. That does not make the apple in the other persons hand not exist. So if you zoom out you could still say that there is one apple in the room. • Sep 23 2012: Good Day Casey. I meant that the one person has zero apples, so zero matter. If he leaves the room to the next, there are zero apples in the next room. A person can have zero of any specific matter. • thumb Sep 23 2012: Yes that is true a person can have zero of any matter. How ever that does not make that matter zero. There are still apples in existence. And say they did go out of existence if would just be a transfer of energy. Not a zero "point" of existence. Showing single comment thread. View the full conversation.	dclm-gs1-006860000
Amazing Race Counting Bears Is Not Rocket Science Episode Report Card Miss Alli: B+ \| Grade It Now! Bale out Gus and Hera continue searching. Next out of the Icebar are Lori and Bolo, after he lands on about a two-millimeter area of the target. Outside, Gus tells Hera he can't run a whole lot more. Inside, Don and MJ leave the Icebar next when he lands squarely on the target. Hee. See, now, this isn't bunching -- this is scrambling, which is different. Those in the lead had every chance to stay in the lead or give up the lead, depending on their success at the task. They just, in certain cases, didn't. Outside, Gus is unhappy. "What a time to be lost," he says miserably. Not that there's a great time to be lost during this particular game. Commercials. I don't care what Lands' End [sic] says; your dog does not want a sweater for Christmas. He told me. He already doesn't like you. Get him a rawhide bone or he's running away. When we come back, Gus and Hera are asking someone for the Nordic Sea Hotel where the Icebar is, and it appears that they are actually right in front of it. "It is here," says the guy, which is always what you hope your giver of directions will tell you. Sort of the racing version of "You're soaking in it." They go inside at last, queuing up while there are indeed still some folks left at the shot glass phase. There, Rebecca warms up, says, "Magic one!", and slides a glass right off the bar. Hey, not all magic is happy magic. Ask the next toad you see with a little crown on his head. Next to get out are Kristy and Lena, then Spazpants. Hayden and Aaron -- who, you'll remember, arrived first -- finally hit the target, leaving Freddy and Kendra, Hornio, and the just-arrived Gus and Hera. Hornio hits next. So it's Gus and Hera and Nuance now, even up at the Icebar. Gus is the next person to land it, so despite their navigation problems, Gus and Hera are only second-to-last out of the bar. But right behind them are Freddy and Kendra, after she finally gets the glass in place. The teams basically leave together, and in her taxi, Hera notes that she thinks the task was "all about patience," because they got out so quickly. I'm not sure that proves it's all about patience, but it might prove it's not random. Oh, and Freddy pronounces the name of the store in the clue "Eye-key-ay." I suspect they wrote it in all-caps, as it sometimes appears, so that might have been misleading. Maybe he thinks it's an acronym for International Knives, End tables, and Armoires. Speaking of old Eye-key-ay, Kris and Jon are pulling up in first place, but when they investigate, they find that the doors are locked until 10:00 AM. Other teams arrive one by one, so it's a great big bunch outside the store, waiting for the morning. As a music guy toodles some tinkly music that reminds me of Mr. Rogers's Neighborhood, we see that all the teams are camping out for the night. Before you know it, it's morning, and they're all running in together. And up the escalator! Past the coffee tables! There is a lot of wandering in the store, as it isn't even entirely clear where the task is going to be found. Amazing Race Get the most of your experience. Share the Snark! The Latest Activity On TwOP	dclm-gs1-006880000
Unisciti allacomunità More than a car company While everyone is focused on Tesla as a car company, it occurs to me that if they are successful in their Supercharger build out, they will ALSO be well positioned to have a nicely profitable electricity service station network. Presumably the Gen III car won't be able to fill up for free (that's a Model S perk), so they can make money off those Supercharger stations eventually. I do not think charging for electricity is part of the plan. Rather. The purpose of the Supercharger network is to make long distance travel possible. It has been said to be compatible with all Tesla vehicles that have a range of 200 miles or greater. In other words at least the 60kWh. Gen III may fall in this category with the appropriate battery pack and options. Solar City handles all the electricity costs and revenues. The plan is to generate and sell to the utilities more than the cars consume (overall, over the course of each year). For TM this is PROMOTIONAL. MARKETING; it makes the Model S (and other models) more attractive and salable. Its costs are the chargers in each unit, which are now cheap to make in quantity, and the real estate. I hear they don't even need to worry about real estate costs in most supercharging the surrounding businesses are more than happy to provide the charging areas for free as they know people who have to stop and charge for 20-40 mins are much more likely to eat/shop while they are waiting. I think many retailers are picking up on this fact and we will be seeing many more 240v outlets popping up all over the place. It is a cheap move for many retailers/shopping that will pay for itself pretty quickly. Should also add not just retailers/shopping malls but restaurants, hotels/motels/sporting facilities/marinas/movie theatres/ etc/ etc Speaking of marinas...anyone know when we are likley to see an electric speedboat/yacht? Tesla Marine anyone? I know Tesla Air is coming eventually with Elon's supersonic electric jet idea...could be the beginning of a real empire. 1. Tesla Motors (two and four wheel vehicles - can't wait for them to make a bike!) 2. Tesla Air 3. Tesla Marine 4. Tesla Rail (Elon's hyperloop idea) All powered by SolarCity panels and off-grid storage batteries bought with Tesla's HUGE purchasing power. I also noticed SolarCity is working with Shea homes (experts in eco-home building) to offer the "no electric bill" home. Wonder how long it will be before Tesla starts offering them cheaper batteries for off-grid energy storage? An idea I mentioned awhile ago...roll everything into one mortage payment for an off-grid solar powered eco-home and EV from Tesla...and bam! Eliminate your seperate mortgage, electricity, ICE car lease, and gas bills for one easy payment which would work out cheaper in the long run than all these other seperate bills when combined. Exciting times ahead! See the Sun Country system going in across Canada for retailer/hospitality-sponsorship. 70A all the way. Wait a minute, this is going too fast for my imagination. We used to say: "The sky is the limit". But here its sounds like there is no limit at all!!! Not really Benz...once Tesla proves that the EV is viable it won't be long before all other modes of transport start their inevitable shift to electric drive as well. The batteries needed for all this being produced in higher and higher quantities will drive costs down and spur innovation faster than we have yet seen in the battery market. Not saying that Tesla will do all of the above...but they might if other companies don't act. But I suspect if Tesla is successful shipbuilders will start to look closer at electric drive, Lockheed Martin and Boeing will start to look closer at electric drive, etc. Talking about another 10-15 years here as well...but it will happen if Tesla can start to show a profit...mark my words. In a sense TM is "filling the gap". That's what got Elon to start SpaceX, too; he looked up NASA's Mars plans, and there weren't any. So he decided to "fill the gap". As long as no one else steps into the gaps, TM and Elon will expand into them. The future is bright and sensational. I appreciate what is happening and I am really excited about it. That's for sure. Although, I am never going to Mars. That really would be 1 step too far for me. That's something from the comic books that I used to read during my childhood days. My imagination is limited, and that's good for me, because otherwise I would go nuts. By the way, my wife thinks I already have gone nuts since the last few months. She's right. Brian H is correct, it would be nuts not to want to go to Mars. OK, only if they promise that I can come back as well (within a year). No prob; but a 2-way ticket costs 75% extra. Does Elon Musk give discounts? Like buy one ticket, and get one ticket free? Then we could both go to Mars together, and we could save some money as well!!! Going to Mars takes a lot of time, I would beter not go there alone. Could I persuade you to come along? Sure. Getting old enough to appreciate the reduced gravity. Apparently it will take 6 months to get to Mars. They better pack in ALOT of food and some kick ass entertainment or I would be afraid of everyone going crazy cabin fever style and killing each other before they even get to Mars...not for me...but I admire the pioneers who will go first. I really don't expect anyone going to Mars anytime soon (not before 2040). Therefore, in the mean time I will just stick to EV's. The ongoing development of the technology regarding EV's is just fantastic. I really do believe that mankind can get rid of it's addiction to oil some day. That would really be a victorious day. X Deutschland Site Besuchen	dclm-gs1-006890000
It's a beautiful day in Chicago Ever wanted to avoid the risk of buying a stock that might crater, yet still have the chance to buy it cheap if it's going to go up? Well, now you can. THE CHICAGO BOARD OPTIONS EXCHANGE is the latest investment opportunity to challenge for the title of legitimate Bird Nest On the Ground for investors. Brokers are cheering for the CBOE to make it since the current score is Bird Nests 37, Investors 0. The CBOE aims to bring trading in options on stock out of the closet and into the light of a central marketplace, and in so doing LaSalle Street has stolen a march on Wall Street. The Chicago Board of Trade fathered the Options Exchange, and that parenthood left the financial community in New York looking slightly impotent. Belatedly, the American Stock Exchange is studying a pilot program of trading options on the Curb, which these days greatly resembles a harvested rice field, much in need of replanting. Of course, New York is not entirely defenseless in any battle with Chicago. The Wall Street Journal , for instance, carries page after page of stock tables each business day. There are stock tables from the Big Board, the Curb, the Pacific Coast, Toronto, Montreal, all commodity exchanges, and many others. The table on the CBOE transactions, however, appears on the inside back page of the Journal and is clearly labeled an "Advertisement." Chicago may have stolen the girl, but New York gets the alimony. No investor can understand the opportunities on the CBOE without first having a rudimentary understanding of options, which are essentially the right to buy or sell a particular stock at a specific price anytime during a defined time. One minute after their expiration time, options aren't worth the paper they're written on, but during their brief life they can be as exciting or as disappointing as the Houston Astros, who, it is rumored, are moving to the Philippines to become the Manila Folders. To own 100 shares of American Telephone and Telegraph, an investor must come up with some $5000 plus commissions, but to control 100 shares of the same stock for a few months through an option on the CBOE costs only a couple of hundred dollars. While your option is alive, if Telephone went to $60 a share, you could buy the stock at 50, sell it at 60 and keep the difference less commissions and the cost of the option. Your maximum risk is the total amount you paid for the option. If American Telephone and Telegraph goes bust, the most you can lose is your investment in the option. Limiting the risk is one of the main advantages of options. "Wouldn't it have been better to own a call on Levitz Furniture at 60 than to have owned the stock and not sold it?" A pithy argument, indeed. Options have been around for a long time, but they have been trading over the counter on a negotiated basis. Apparently, it has been a seller's game since only about one-fourth of all the options purchased were ever exercised. Three out of four were allowed to die a quiet death with a total loss of the investment to the buyer. Each option needed two parties: the taker and the takee. Several brokerage firms maintained formal options departments and made an effort to match buyers and sellers within their own systems. But if an investor wanted to buy an option on a particular stock and there were no offers around, the broker had to contact one of the few houses that specialized in trading options. The option house often would have one of its customers write the option. The premium was negotiated, many times to the advantage of the writer and corresponding disadvantage to the buyer. Buyers wanted options on the most volatile stocks in hopes of great rewards, and writers obliged them but made the cost dear. And then along came the CBOE in 1973 to put the buyers and sellers of options together in one auction market. The CBOE incorporates some of the features of commodities trading. For instance, if you've written an option on Exxon that expires in January and the stock and option prices decline, you can buy that particular option back. It's like being short a contract of soybeans without the risk. The ready marketplace for options helps the buyer, as well. If he buys an option that gets "in the money," all he bas to do to reap his profit is sell the appreciated option. "In the money" options over the counter are normally cashed by calling the stock away from the seller and selling it the same day. Selling the option itself involves a commission based on its price, not the price of the underlying stock. The minimum commission charge for sale of a CBOE option is $25 as compared to the $65 it would cost to sell 100 shares of Exxon, for instance. Another feature of the CBOE is the generally good quality of the stocks on which options are offered. The list is growing rapidly, but the quality remains pretty high. There are options on such blue chips and glamours as Exxon, Telephone, Eastman Kodak, and Xerox. Expiration dates on CBOE options are uniform. Every October option expires the last business day of October, no matter when you buy it. All striking prices on that option are the same, too. All the Exxon options currently trading are based on a price of $100 per share, which means the option holder can claim the stock backing up the call at $100 per share anytime during the period the option is alive. Investors sometimes get "locked in" a stock that declines a large percentage, but the CBOE has found away to avoid that trap. If a stock declines too much below its striking price, the CBOE simply introduces another class of options in that same stock at a lower price. Recently ten of the 26 issues listed on the CBOE sported options trading at more than one striking price. Brunswick options were trading at three different striking prices. CBOE options differ from over the counter options in More Texas Monthly Loading, please wait... Most Read • Viewed • Past: • 1 week	dclm-gs1-006900000
Register - WIN a $10,000 Safari \| Login What's the FTA worth to us? June 22, 2004 All the spin about this deal may amount to nothing if Mark Latham and John Kerry win, writes Tim Colebatch. There are three economic studies of the Australia-US free trade agreement. One estimates it will raise Australian incomes by $52.5 billion over the next 20 years. A second says it will make us $47 billion worse off. And a third estimates that, at best, it will generate a tiny gain of $53 million a year. The first, of course, is the report commissioned by the Australian Government. Carried out by Canberra's Centre for International Economics, it stunningly argued that most of the agreement's benefits would come from removing the need for most US investments in Australia to be approved by the Foreign Investment Review Board. The CIE report estimated that while removing trade barriers would give Australians $16.5 billion more to spend over 20 years, the minor change to investment rules - except for real estate investments, FIRB is a rubber-stamp authority that on average rejects one proposal a year - would generate gains of more than $50 billion over the next 20 years. Advertisement Advertisement The report's reception was summed up by Professor Ross Garnaut's devastating putdown that it fails the "laugh test". In the real world, you don't get new greenfield investment of $3 billion a year from a minor change to investment rules. The second report, by contrast, was commissioned by Australian Manufacturing Workers Union. Carried out by Melbourne's National Institute of Economic and Industry Research, under its director Peter Brain, it too took an unexpected tack, but one based on one of the most useful concepts in economics: opportunity cost. The opportunity cost of doing something is the loss of the benefit you would gain from doing something else instead. Instead of spending $10,000 on an overseas holiday, for instance, you could repay $10,000 from the mortgage and have that benefit plus the savings in interest. And it's a concept that applies equally well to everything you do in life. To Brain, the opportunity cost of the free trade agreement is that it will prevent Australia developing into a knowledge economy. He focuses on an area ignored in public debate: the restrictions the FTA imposes to prevent future Australian governments operating an industry policy. Future governments will be forbidden to give preference to Australian firms in contracts, forbidden to require local content (or "offsets") in contracts with US firms, and of course, unable to prevent up-and-coming Australian firms being taken over by US rivals. In Australia, the conventional wisdom assumes for ideological reasons that government intervention must worsen economic outcomes. Hence the FTA's restrictions on industry policy have passed virtually unnoticed; even Labor has made little of them. But Brain points out that, in the real world, in all the success stories from Japan and Taiwan to Ireland and China, governments took a leading role to drive economic development. They negotiated the transfer of technology, created leading edge high-tech companies, got finance, resources and export support to growth firms, and protected home-grown intellectual property. Despite the huge difference in their bottom lines, Brain and the CIE do agree on two things. Both believe the tariff reductions will work to Australia's benefit, mostly in agriculture. And both expect the agreement to create a small but noticeable "dynamic effect" in which increased competition lifts productivity. There are two problems with Brain's modelling. He sees the killer cost coming from a new review body making pharmaceutical benefits far more expensive, as US drug companies get expensive drugs listed and keep out generics. But the Australian Government insists that the review body will be outside the decision-making stream, and all decisions not to list drugs for benefits will be made, as now, by the Pharmaceutical Benefits Advisory Committee. OK, the US Government has presented a very different spin, saying the new deal will raise prices (and hence US profits). And our Government has yet to explain who will be on the review body, and how it will work. But unless the Government has lied to us, it is hard to see how the changes as outlined could make more than a marginal difference to the cost of the scheme. The second problem is that Brain's approach assumes that some future Australian government would want to follow the kind of policies he and I support. He's a more optimistic bloke than I am. The third report was released last week by the Labor-led Senate committee on the deal, and produced by former Productivity Commission economist Philippa Dee, now of the Australian National University. Labor is basically sitting on the fence deciding which way to jump, and appropriately Dee produced a neutral bottom line, picking apart the CIE's analysis and cutting the annual gains to "a mere $53 million a year . . . a tiny harvest from a major political and bureaucratic endeavour". The Howard Government in turn will produce a reply picking apart Dee's analysis. Labor is still likely to support the FTA. But the intriguing question is what would happen if an election is called first, Labor wins, and then John Kerry unseats George Bush. This free trade agreement might never become reality. Tim Colebatch is economics editor.	dclm-gs1-006910000
Dutch crackdown on child porn network The Hague October 6, 2004 - 10:30AM Two people have been arrested and thousands of CD-ROMs, videotapes and computer disks seized in a crackdown on internet-based child pornography networks, Dutch authorities said on Tuesday. Some 200 police and judicial officials searched a total of 173 homes, seizing 280 computer hard drives, the state prosecutor's office said in a statement. The two people have been arrested on suspicion of purchasing child pornography over the internet, a spokeswoman said. The operation is linked to an investigation opened in the US last year over the worldwide distribution of child porn over the Internet, the statement said. US investigators had supplied their Dutch counterparts, via the international police agency Interpol, with information about individuals suspected of buying child pornography. The US inquiry has so far helped to identify a company based in the former Soviet republic of Belarus, which is believed to have made millions of dollars through the online sale of child pornography. Advertisement Advertisement	dclm-gs1-006920000
IUPUI Changes Tune on Student’s ‘Racial Harassment’ Charge By on July 8, 2008 Back in May, FIRE informed Torch readers that Indiana University Purdue University Indianapolis (IUPUI) had revoked its finding that student-employee Keith John Sampson was guilty of racial harassment for publicly reading the book Notre Dame vs. the Klan: How the Fighting Irish Defeated the Ku Klux Klan. School administrators sent us a letter confirming that no documents regarding the incident remain in Sampson’s file and claiming that IUPUI hopes “this experience as well as feedback from the campus community will result in an improved [complaint] process.” We declared victory and applauded IUPUI publicly for admitting regret over the incident. Unfortunately, as we informed you today in our latest press release, IUPUI is now on record in a Wall Street Journal article as saying that Sampson was punished not for his choice of reading material, but for other undisclosed “harassing behavior.” What exactly that behavior was, IUPUI has not sharedwith Sampson, FIRE, or the Wall Street Journal. As FIRE’s vice president, Robert Shibley said, If IUPUI really thought that Sampson had engaged in some ‘racially harassing’ behavior rather than reading a book, there is no reason why they would not have brought it up at the timeand no reason why they couldn’t say what it is now. This apparent whispering campaign against Sampson is truly appalling. IUPUI has either brazenly violated due process by finding a student guilty without a hearing and without even letting him know the allegations against him or, more likely, is lying in an attempt to stave off further embarrassment. Either way, the school has bitterly betrayed one of its own students.	dclm-gs1-006930000
Go to the Globe and Mail homepage Jump to main navigationJump to main content Gemma Arterton in a scene from "Tamara Drewe" Gemma Arterton in a scene from "Tamara Drewe" Movie review Tamara Drewe: Updated adultery in Dorset Add to ... • Country USA • Language English Tamara Drewe is a film with an interesting literary pedigree. It is based on the graphic novel of the same title by the British cartoonist Posy Simmonds, originally serialized in The Guardian in 2005. Simmonds's inspiration for a contemporary work about adultery in Dorset was Thomas Hardy's 1874 novel Far from the Madding Crowd, a tale of romantic entanglements set in the same bucolic part of southwestern England. More Related to this Story Stephen Frears, remembered most recently for directing Helen Mirren in The Queen, and screenwriter Moira Buffini have taken Simmonds's episodic and observational novel and given it a tighter focus and more romantic plot while preserving enough of its dark wit and black comedy to make this often delicious film rise above the usual rom-com. Its chief problem is a title character who is more plot device than personality. On a working farm, handmaiden Beth (Tamsin Greig) runs a writers' colony with her husband, the bestselling mystery novelist Nicholas Hardiment (Roger Allam), who plays star attraction for her paying guests. She breeds goats and bakes scones, manages his appearances and answers his fan letters, while her self-satisfied husband scampers up to London to visit his latest conquest. As the film opens, the conquest in question decides to come down to Dorset: "You said you wanted to be with me," she whines. "Yes," he replies. "In London. Now and then." He quickly dumps the inconvenient young thing, the long-suffering wife forgives him and all would settle back into routine were it not for the appearance of the long-absent Tamara Drewe (Gemma Arterton). The daughter of a recently deceased neighbour, she was once an ugly duckling with a big nose - shown in flashback, it's a schnoz worthy of Cyrano. Now, she's a hot London newspaper columnist with a perky little snub who has come to sell off her mother's house. The two men who rejected the teenage Tamara, Nicholas and the virile and sympathetic farmhand Andy (Luke Evans), are immediately attracted to her and a romantic through-line emerges. Clearly, Tamara should wind up with Andy, and salvation for Beth seems to take the shape of a visiting American Hardy scholar (Bill Camp), who's suffering from writer's block. You know where you're going in territory that's actually more Jane Austen than Hardy, but Frears makes the most of the many bumps and twists, among them a spoiled rock-star fiancé (Dominic Cooper) for Tamara and a couple of celebrity-obsessed teens who meddle with her e-mail. The director draws wonderful ensemble work from the cast. As the young rock star and the aging novelist, Cooper and Allam offer perfectly crafted bookends of male and artistic privilege. At least the insufferable Nicholas gets the reward he so richly deserves and an ending worthy of one of his own crime novels. But roles like these are a gift to actors. What is more notable is Greig's work as the unnoted Beth, subtly capturing the mix of self-delusion and bitter realism in the adulterer's helpmate. Arterton's work as Tamara is less satisfying: Frears has cast her as a romantic heroine rather than as Simmonds's more ambiguous figure, and he has not fully resolved her motivations. Why is this driven woman going to bed with such louts? Revenge is one possibility, but Frears doesn't really explore it - he and Arterton could have given Tamara a much sharper edge without detracting from the ending. Similarly, Frears and Buffini carefully avoid the nastier corners of their own script - in particular pulling back from the potential disasters that might befall those meddling teens, hinting briefly at a brutal comeuppance before defusing it with comedy. Better never to have hinted in the first place: Simmonds's work is far darker, but most of the time Frears successfully navigates the brighter territory he has chosen. The cows may stampede in Tamara Drewe, but there is nothing here to frighten the horses. Tamara Drewe Written by Moira Buffini Directed by Stephen Frears Starring Gemma Arterton, Roger Allam and Tamsin Greig Classification: 14A In the know Most popular video » More from The Globe and Mail Most Popular Stories	dclm-gs1-006940000
Europe finally listening to Geithner Until a few days ago repeated predictions of doom from Tim Geithner and Barack Obama seemed to fall on deaf European ears. Now that leaders are listening, time may be too short US treasury secretary Timothy Geithner at the G20 finance ministers' meeting at the weekend. He warned against chaining down banks and urged action to support the financial sector Photograph: Eric Piermont/AFP/Getty Images There are six days to save the world. That's according to the US treasury secretary, Tim Geithner, who told the G20 finance ministers' summit in Paris on Saturday that only a massive firewall would protect the eurozone against contagion from a Greek default. It's a message that the US president, Barack Obama, and his battle-hardened finance boss have sent across the Atlantic several times in the last six weeks. Geithner has popped up in European capitals three times in that period to deliver the message in person. Until a few days ago it was something the French and Germans closed their ears to. No amount of calls for "shock and awe" shifted their position. There was simply a stubborn refusal to define the Greek situation as anything more than a local difficulty, and definitely not a crisis. Six days is not a long time to design a mix of insurance policies, guarantees and bank capital top-ups worth upwards of €1.5tn (£1.3tn) that are credible to the financial markets and avoid making politicians look like they have spent every last euro cent of taxpayer funds. There is a huge industry in trying to second-guess the direction of travel in Paris and Berlin after Nicolas Sarkozy and Angela Merkel said they would reveal a killer plan next Sunday. What kind of insurance and guarantees are in the pipeline? How much will vulnerable banks (and other private investors) be told to write off in bad loans to Greece and how many euros must the banks find to fill the void left by these bad investments? Hedge funds, pension funds and the super wealthy are all placing bets on how negotiations will work out. Will the euro stand or fall? Betting against Sarkozy and Merkel cobbling together a deal is bold and risky. Most likely they will unveil a package of measures that lacks the clean lines and firepower of the "big bazooka" demanded by many economists, but will be just enough to kill the Greece problem and defend Italy, Spain, Portugal and Ireland. French and German banks, which lent billions of euros to Greece, Ireland and Portugal, will also be sheltered by the deal. Geithner is convinced the French and Germans now recognise the problem, but reading his body language and the way he spoke about the prospects for meeting the six-day deadline, he was more circumspect. He said there was an enormous amount of detail to work through before plans would look convincing and hinted that time was running desperately short. Geithner is also concerned that Merkel in particular is more concerned about rushing through reforms of the system before tackling the problems at the heart of the crisis. Some 38 pieces of EU legislation have either been put on the statute or are in the pipeline. There have always been several problems with this rush to legislate, at least on this scale. First it distracts from the immediate problem of tackling the EU's debts. It whacks banks and other financial institutions when they are already on their knees, and the legislation heaps costs on the finance industry that, in turn, hamper growth. Without banks to lend, especially to smaller companies, we have no investment. It is this last point that most exercised Geithner. He openly warned the EU against rushing to ball-and-chain the banks and make a crisis certain. There is a flaw to the Geithner plan of massive guarantees and insurances for Wall Street that keeps them afloat and lending, and it can be seen in a park only a stone's throw from the New York stock exchange. The Occupy Wall Street campaigners are disgusted that propping up the banks means allowing the old rapacious bonus culture to go unreformed. Geithner argues there are many on Wall Street who are suffering because they are paid in shares and not cash. Some US bank shares are down by a half or more since the summer. But that ignores the wider picture. If the euro is saved, with billions more in taxpayer loans and guarantees, those bank shares will rocket and the bankers will be back in clover, more than they are already. The US treasury secretary worries that Europe needs international investors on board, only to reckon it can win a game of chicken. When countries have borrowed so much from US pension funds, Middle Eastern petrodollar sovereign funds and the Chinese, they need private investors. In 2008 the US treasury dared the markets to bet against the government and lost. It wants the EU to heed that experience. Left to their own devices, traders panic, fearful on behalf of their investor clients that further losses lie just round the corner. The panic, far from being the invisible hand of the markets lauded by many right-wing economists, is a bludgeoning stick causing pain and unemployment wherever it strikes. In these circumstances, reforms to tackle banks, brokers and investors should be delayed while protester-friendly taxes on wealth go ahead. There is another crisis looming, possibly in only a few years. But it will come from another direction –the savings in China, Germany, Japan and the US looking to spark another asset boom. Tackling that situation poses even bigger problems for politicians. But first we need some sustainable growth, and to avert a euro debt crisis. Today's best video	dclm-gs1-006950000
America is stuck in a state of Arrested Development We adore the Bluth family because they are such a bizarre mess, much like our own relatives – and our country • Jump to comments () Arrested Development The Bluth family, from left to right: George Michael, Lindsay, Michael, George Sr, Gob, Maeby, Buster, Tobias and Lucille. America has finally admitted it made a huge mistake, and demanded that Arrested Development return from whence it came. Fans have swarmed the banana stand and writers heaped praise on the show's creator, Mitch Hurwitz, its writers, cast, and producer Ron Howard: it was brilliant, subversive, before its time, etc. That's all true, but there's something else that accounts for the fervor over the show's resurrection: Americans should relate to nothing more than the story of an insane, self-absorbed family who thought they had it all, fell into a sinkhole of their own making, and now are working more than to dig themselves out by tooth and claw. The Bluth family is a portrait of modern America: fractured, more than a little delusional, and bound together by a whole lot of love. As the Guardian has pointed out, times have changed since the Bluths went to Iraq to look for evidence of "light treason", but retrospect has only made the show's satire poignant. Take the Bluth Company, for instance, founded on an immigrant's stolen dream and transformed into a real estate corporation whose financial scheming and lack of foundation leads to total collapse. Shoddy mini-mansions built on shaky land are almost too-perfect a symbol for a country with a wildly misplaced sense of worth and wealth, especially in the lead up to 2008. The Bluths don't know how good they have it, and though their egos are deflated time and time again, they never see disaster until it hits them. Even then, they'd rather forget it now than confront it later. Self-medication is the Bluth family's preferred solution, and America's – the land of rampant prescription drug abuse. The writers pull no punches on the pharmaceutical industry among any number of American institutions, ranging from the legal system to corporations to reality TV. The Bluths know drugs don't provide real happiness, but they insist it's better than what they've got. So the Bluths love a good illusion, which they always distinguish from a trick, those being what they play on each other. Never has a more impotently devious family graced television: they scheme and meddle in each other's lives for fun, profit and spite. The patriarch and matriarch (if you will) circumvent the law, exploit the business and their kids, and leave the family in financial ruin. What's more, they do everything possible to escape with as much money as they can muster. By constantly conspiring, they prevent anyone else from accomplishing anything, causing dysfunction and paralysis. Congress is stuck in arrested development. Only one of their children even tries to fix their problems, and he's stymied at every turn by the antics of his family members, each fumbling after the American dream as they see it. Gob's quest for fame stems from his need to feel loved, which overrides even his minor victories. Lindsay tries to buy happiness. Buster wants freedom (from his mother) but is terrified of its consequences. Michael is so intent on saving his family that he loses sight of his son. Tobias thinks being an actor – reinventing himself as something he's not – will save his marriage. Second chances and the quest for family, fame and fortune make up the basics of American mythology – but with the Bluths, it's an endless cycle of hope and disillusionment, and life lessons all over the place. Because the Bluths are such a bizarre mess, much of the comedy seems to exist only within their closed universe. In a way, this is perfectly appropriate: how better to satirize self-centered Americans than a self-referential, almost hermetic show? These are people, after all, who can't name Britain's houses of parliament even when they're correcting each other, and whose impression of Iraq is skewed, to say the least. But the show isn't closed off. The real world constantly juts in, making Arrested as political as The Daily Show, if much more subtle. The economy, politics and world events will suddenly interfere in characters' lives, yet like most Americans, the Bluths can't be bothered to read the Patriot Act or to pay attention enough to know there's a war on (I mean, come on). No matter how vain any character is, however, they're forced to deal with each other, Orange County, America and the larger world. They thwart each other's plans, get called to the army, prison, court, and even a few auditions. It's a world where every small detail can have huge consequences, and a throwaway joke in one season could result in a beloved character and plot point in another (Steve Holt!). Repercussions might not be apparent till you've almost forgotten their causes, but that's how the world works. The humor tends towards dark, but it's buoyed by the Bluths' greatest attribute: they are incorrigible. No matter how many times their dreams are dashed, the Bluths are pathologically incapable of giving up hope. For every disappointed walk to tune of Charlie Brown, there's a moment of manic joy in which a Bluth devises a half-baked plot. For every defeated scheme, there is a sacrifice, an unlikely alliance or one of the family's better parties. They're somewhere between the solipsists of Seinfeld, the absurdity of The Simpsons and the generous friends of Cheers – juiced with a weirdness those shows lacked. They're a family, whether they like it or not, and they have fun even as they frustrate each other. And with all the irony and sincerity it can muster, Arrested Development insists there's nothing more important than family (except maybe breakfast). The fans, of course, have also become a family, with friendships born of obscure references ("Flashes of Quincy!") and bonded by love for wordplay, quirky details and meta-jokes and the recognition that a comment is no trick – it's an allusion! Americans are together whether they like it or not, too, and Arrested is a fitting reflection of life in the 2000s. Old boundaries fell faster than the walls of Gob's hastily built model home: war, financial crises, political paralysis, the internet and the nation's new confusion about its place in the world, a problem it has tried to ignore, desperately. The show is at once a scathing satire and a self-sustaining engine of happy and absurd wit. Like the Bluths, Americans never quite give up hope, and it turns out that not all our dreams are as impossible as they seem. That season four has arrived after almost seven long years is proof enough. Latest posts Today's best video Today in pictures	dclm-gs1-006960000
Fans hit hard by petrol price increase As if things weren't bad enough for Tottenham fans at the moment, they today face a gruelling 570-mile round trip to Newcastle for the Carling Cup game, just as new research shows that the costs for supporters have increased 21% in the past three months alone. The trip to Tyneside and back is likely to take more than 10 hours and cost roughly £65 in petrol. Then there is the price of the match ticket, food, drink and a match programme to consider. Virgin Money's Football Fans' Inflation Index, tracking the costs for supporters since January 2006, shows that the cost of a match day for a supporter is now an eye-watering £106.21 - breaking the £100 barrier for the first time. Football fans will travel on average 2,031 miles to follow their teams this season but Virgin Money's Scott Mowbray said: "The question is, with rising costs, rising ticket prices, programme costs, food expenses, merchandising and now increased fuel bills, how much more can the average punter take? This could be the season when many fans stop following their teams away from home." And there are those who are even worse off than Spurs supporters. Spare a thought for fans of Carlisle and Brighton, whose 736-mile round trip for games against each other is the longest in the League. • I Am The Secret Footballer Small Graphic Today's best video Today in pictures	dclm-gs1-006980000
Mental health remains the poor relation GPs are having to deal with the rise in mental illness, and a more integrated approach to physical and mental health is vital, say Martin Lindsay and Marc Lester GPs' surgeries see patients with mental health problems on a daily basis GPs' surgeries see patients with mental health problems on a daily basis. Photograph: Frank Baron for the Guardian The gulf between physical and mental health is huge, with just £11bn of the National Health Service's annual budget spent on the latter. It's the classic iceberg syndrome, and what is starting to emerge from beneath the waterline of public awareness is just how many people are affected by mental illness at some time in their lives. The rise in mental illness and its impact on society has long been predicted by bodies as diverse as the World Bank, British Medical Journal and Royal College of Psychiatrists. One in four of us will be affected by mental illness during our lives. Dementia will beset more than one million people in the UK by 2015, and many GPs see as many patients for depression as high blood pressure, which is the commonest physical ailment. This increase is evident in the number of patients showing up at surgeries across north London with mental health problems. This is reported to be as many as 50% of consultations in some surgeries, with common conditions including depression and anxiety. It is a major concern within our profession, because GPs are often isolated and at the coalface of the problem. We see the impact of poor mental health on a daily basis and wrestle with the dilemma of what can be done within the confines of a 10-minute appointment slot. It may be that the newly emerging clinical consortia boards provide an opportunity to redress the balance if given adequate financial resources. One solution would be for primary and mental health trusts to pay greater attention to what GPs have to say. This would improve efficiencies without necessarily increasing costs. A positive experience of this is our work with Barnet, Enfield and Haringey mental health NHS trust, which asked GPs what sort of additional training and support they needed. This is, of course, limited by financial austerity, but includes the recent launch of a "one-stop" mental health referral service offering a faster, more responsive service that triages, screens and signposts patients to the appropriate service within 24 hours. This co-operative and practical approach to problem-solving is the way forward. The trust is increasingly shaping services in alignment with primary care physicians and their day-to-day needs. This includes a primary care academy, which will provide GPs with training days, workshops and interactive multimedia events where they can learn more about various areas of mental health and share experience and best practice. There are many reasons for the rise in incidence of mental illness, but two of the biggest contributing factors we see are the stress caused by increasing the age of retirement and the dynamics of the modern family. Our society's fixation on material wealth and status is exacting its price as we work longer and harder, to the detriment of our own wellbeing. The global recession, and some employers' unspoken expectation that we work longer and harder, are contributing to the problem. In our increasingly busy lives, it is worth stepping back and realising that our most valuable possession is our health. It may be a cliche, but the majority of us really don't understand that until something goes wrong. We often give our house or car more attention than our bodies, and we see all around us the devastating impact of that behaviour reflected in the steady rise of heart disease, obesity, diabetes and a host of other largely preventable conditions. People need to really understand that physical and mental health are interwoven. If your body is run-down and unhealthy it will affect your mental wellbeing, and vice versa. It's about greater self-education and awareness, but it's also about ensuring that health services work more closely in partnership with one another and reflect the synergy of our own bodies and minds. • Martin Lindsay is GP lead for mental health in Haringey, north London, and Dr Marc Lester is clinical director of Barnet, Enfield and Haringey mental health NHS trust Today's best video	dclm-gs1-006990000
Latest News: Cart ContentsCheckoutMy Account Mindgame: DVD Mindgame: DVD Trapped together in a cell, three very different species must strive to work together to escape. But a Sontaran, a Draconian and a human will not get on very easily. Starring Sophie Aldred and Miles Richardson. English French German Italian Portuguese Russian Spanish	dclm-gs1-007010000
LITTLE ROCK, Ark.(KTHV) -- For years Acxiom Corp., headquartered in Little Rock,has been collecting consumer data on millions of Americans. Wednesday, the company will give the public a glimpse into the data files they've been collecting. With Acxiom's new approach, consumers will be able to correct misinformation but also opt-out of having their data shared with marketers. You may know little about Acxiom's business practices, but Arkansas Business Interactive Editor Lance Turner said more than likely they know a lot more about you. "Acxiom is a data mining company, so basically they put together and broker a lot of consumer data," he said. Turner added that the information comes from warranty cards and surveys. He also said they buy data from magazine publishers, retailers and catalog companies. "When they put these profiles together, it helps bigger companies. Banks, car companies," he listed. "All manner of large firms who do business with consumers sort of better understand who their consumers are." With limited U.S. regulation on data collection, Acxiom gathers info from public records. For example, Acxiom may know your profession, your education, if you're a smoker, or even if you own a cat. Until, now consumers weren't able to see exactly what the company may know about them. Little Rock resident Felicia Thomason said she's curious to see what she's doing that Acxiom's watching. "I don't really know where they're getting their information. But, it will be good, maybe going on the website and seeing what they have will give me more knowledge about what they do and what they have," she thought. Consumers will gain access Wednesday to a free website named Turner said the site will allow individuals to view their profiles, change incorrect information and even opt-out of having their info shared. "I think there will be a fair amount of interest. People want to go, just out of curiosities sake and see what Acxiom knows about them. Some people may be surprised that it's not a lot," he added. So why is the data mining giant turning towards transparency? Turner believes the company is being proactive and staying ahead of any privacy regulations. "They're trying to go ahead and put these tools in place to say 'Oh, ok. If you guys are worried about privacy, here's a way you can check it; here's a way you can opt-out of it if you'd like to or correct it.'" Turner said the site will also reveal where Acxiom gets their information. "I think it will be eye-opening to see how much information that they tell about themselves in everyday life and and everyday actions."	dclm-gs1-007020000
An American in Hillsdale /Joel Swain spending senior year as a Falcon after growing up in Czech Republic Andrew Waldman Published: By ANDREW WALDMAN T-G Staff Writer Jeromesville and Prague, Czech Republic, are 4,398 miles apart. Theyre also separated by a continent, an ocean and the language barrier. But for Hillsdale High School senior Joel Swain, both are close enough to call home. Swain was born in the United States but moved with his family to Prague when he was 4. He was educated in the Czech Republic at public schools and later at a private, international school. This school year, he left his parents Czech home and came to the United States to finish his senior year. His parents are missionaries affiliated with Grace Brethren Church of Ashland. They were called to Prague in 1993 and their family, including Swain and his brothers, Dan and David, moved with them. The Swains have a lot of family from the area and Swains father, George, graduated from Hillsdale in 1977. The family wanted Joel to go to an American school to make his transition into the American educational system easier. Hillsdale was a logical choice. We wanted the transition to be as easy as possible for him and us, said George Swain. Swain also wanted to get the American high school experience. And he wanted the chance to play football in the United States. He had played on a Czech club team in Prague. In Prague, his youth team was in the same club as the adult team that won the Czech Bowl, the equivalent of the Super Bowl in Czech football. The Czech Bowl attracts fewer than 5,000 fans, compared to the tens of thousands who watch every NFL game. Football (in the United States) is a lot different, he said. In (the Czech Republic), its not a big deal. Only about 200 people come to games there. Here, you get 2,000, even at a Division IV school like Hillsdale. His Czech team, called the Prague Lions, wasnt affiliated with the school he attended. Instead, it was a club team with a lot less structure. For the Lions, he played mostly defense and picked up three or four tackles per game. Here, hes a better offensive player. Football isnt the only reason Swain came to the United States. Hes also enjoyed the social atmosphere of the school. School dances and other social activities werent part of Riverside High School, the international school he attended in Prague. The cool thing about coming here is Im doing all the things Ive always heard about American schools, he said. In Prague, school is something you do, dont like and go home. Theres no school pride. As an English speaker, Swain had no trouble making the switch to Hillsdale. The transition wasnt so big, but I can put up with a lot as far as culture is concerned, he said. Still, there have been some parts of Ohio that have been slightly challenging for Swain. Prague, a city of about 1.3 million residents, dwarfs Jeromesville. He never had to drive a car until he came to the United States. Without the easy access to public transportation, Swain had to take his driving test so he could get from home to school and his after-school job. I failed the driving test the first time, said Swain with a chuckle. I ran a stop sign. I found out you cant do that. He hasnt had trouble making friends with his classmates and teammates. Its easy to be yourself here, he said Its a bit more accepting than in Prague. Scholastically, Swain also hasnt had trouble as his Hillsdale schoolwork is easier than his work at Riverside. He said there is heavy emphasis on the sciences and mathematics in the Czech Republic. He once studied for 30 hours the week before a physics exam only to score lower than he expected. There is less homework here, he said. For Hillsdale, Swain has brought a new element to the student body. He provides a perspective on Eastern Europe we dont normally have, said principal Kevin Reidy. Weve been very pleased with Joel. Hes a good addition to our school. Swain also is involved with worship activities at GBC in Ashland. He works three days after school mowing lawns and keeping up his grandfathers property. Hes working on a highlights tape of himself to send to colleges and universities. He hopes to play football and major in athletic training. Hes already thought about attending Ashland University, Ohio University or Charleston Southern University in South Carolina. Hes wants to return to Prague at some point after college. I might think about being a translator, he said. n Contact Andrew Waldman at 419-281-0581, ext. 243, or by e-mail at Want to leave your comments? Sign in or Register to comment.	dclm-gs1-007030000
Our TV Shows Got a Tip? Call TMZ at (888) 847-9869 or Click Here Ready for a 'Nailin'?' 2/2/2009 7:12 AM PST BY TMZ STAFF It's the question everyone's been waiting to ask VP wannabeen Sarah Palin: Has she feasted her eyes on hardcore porn spoof "Nailin' Paylin?" Sarah Palin: Click to watch Not only does she answer, but it seems she knows exactly what we're talkin' about.... No Avatar she's way hotter than michelle obama when it comes to "mature women" michelle obama looks like the devil from the tom cruise movie legend how sad, he heart must be filled with sorrow, and palin's filled with porn 1865 days ago *her heart must be filled with sorrow, yeah it's sad 1865 days ago same same same TMZ reporter how tasteless... Why ask this respectful woman such a question... she's a mom first then a public figure! 1865 days ago Phoenix Guy luceille, you're an idiot. 1865 days ago Let's talk about how the good 'ol Dem's don't pay their taxes and get caught with their pants down!!!!! Put that post up TMZ! 1865 days ago I think it's inappropriate for her to sign autographs like she is movie star or something. She needs to be more serious and professional. Her winks and hillbilly talk were her downfall. She needs more sophistication. Why can't she figure this out if she eventually wants to be in Washington? 1865 days ago Capt Jack--you had 4 stinkin letters to write and you screwed that up! 1865 days ago It was probably her idea in the first place! Anything for pathetic! And wtf did she bring a special needs child into the world if she wasn't going to be a good mother to that child? This is what pisses me off about this stupid-ass "mutt with lipstick". That baby needs his mothers love & attention 24/7, not when it's convenient for her. Your 16 year old daughter has dropped out of school, just given birth & you're still running streets in an attempt to be heard & taken seriously. I have more respect for your mouthpiece, at least she can answer a direct question. GO HOME & TAKE CARE OF YOUR BABY....SOCCER MOM, PIG W/LIPSTICK, BIMBO BARBIE WANNABE, MCCAIN'S FLUNKIE, enjoy the rest of your term, Alaska's about to kick you to the curb! So how much did it cost the people of Alaska or your office to build your house? Is that why the hockey rink cost so much, the expense & materials for your house were included? Here in the United States of America, we mother's put our children first! Perhaps if you did the same, your daughter would be graduating soon, your special needs son would be a happy child! And your angry husband just needs Jesus! You all do! GTFOH, Tina Fey is much better than you! 1865 days ago "I think it's inappropriate for her to sign autographs like she is movie star or somethin" And it isn't inappropriate for Obama? I hate you libs, you are always one sided. The media makes me sick how they ridicule this woman when the elections ended almost three months ago! Get over it! She is more of a woman and a leader than anyone in the white house and on capital hill right now! Everyone sees how bias the media is and we are tired of it. 1865 days ago who has the facts? ME Now she's schmoozing with "Washington elite insiders?" Wow - she's palling around with terrorist socialists? Say it ain't so Sarah!! Another example of your hypocrisy and lies. Keep deamin' about 2012 - if that's what the right wing wants, bring it on!! 1865 days ago - - - STAY CLASSY TMZ - - - 1865 days ago I am a republican and you are a psycho. 1865 days ago TMZ should stick to Hollywood elite in its interviews because they have just shown they have no class with this interview. Well need do the Hollywood people, so I guess what do you expect from TMZ. 1865 days ago It's sexist to ask a woman such a question. Nice going, AOLTIMEWARNERTMZLEVIN. 1865 days ago do as i say, not as i do ~ It sounds as thought you need Jesus......................"judging" someone you have never even had a conversation with! People see in other people what they most hate about themselves. So, God bless your children! 1865 days ago Around The Web	dclm-gs1-007040000
Our TV Shows Got a Tip? Call TMZ at (888) 847-9869 or Click Here Evander Holyfield's Son My Dad Does Not Hate Gay People 1/6/2014 11:57 AM PST BY TMZ STAFF 0106_ewin_evander_holyfield_gettyEvander Holyfield may think homosexuality is wrong ... but his son says the heavyweight boxer's got nothing but love for gays -- and even had a great relationship with a gay in-law. Ewin Holyfield tells TMZ ... Evander is no bigot -- despite being bashed for expressing his opinion on homosexuality during last night's "Celebrity Big Brother" in the UK. When is TMZ Sports? No Avatar love, desire all stems from the brain right? 66 days ago those who are gay are not doing themselves any favors by claiming an unfair playing field. it isn't fair because gays have the highest annual income of any sexual orientation. get over yourselves. we are all human. 66 days ago Talk about making a bad situation worse! 66 days ago Listen up gays.....the ONLY WAY U can live a life that is pleasing to God is by being celibate....there is NO DECENT GAY COUPLE....if you are in a gay relationship then u are living an aborminable, perverted sinful lifestyle 66 days ago I think the black community gets an A+ in the man/woman procreation sweepstakes. A few more non procreating black gays would be a welcome relief. 66 days ago I am really getting sick and tired of people shoving opinions down people's throats. So what if he hates gays. If he had said he hated an heterosexual, this wouldn't be news. I live for the day when people just describe themselves without notifying the whole world of their sexual preferences. Heterosexuals do not go around doing so why should someone who is gay feel the need to tell everyone. Haters can start responding, do not particularly care!!! 66 days ago Everyone has a right to his/her opinion. That's America! Land of the free! On the other hand, gays have been around since ancient times. Who's to say what is right or wrong? Whether religious doctrine or not, in the end its all conjecture. Someone dictating a bias view does not make it right. If the issue is procreation, not everyone wants to leave their seed. Hell...with 7 billion people already on the planet, isn't there enough? How is this a requirement to be a man? If the issue is what is typically the traits of a heterosexual man(since Hollyfield comes from a sport that values masculinity traits)--two of the greatest warriors of all time were known to be gay: Alexander the Great and Achilles. Not to go off on a tangent...I am sure there have been gays who served in combat with distinction who never came out of the closet for obvious reasons. I am sure if you asked any vet on why they fought, the usual response is for the guy next to them and not to be gung-ho so to speak. Hey, even women have shown courage. Google the Trung Sisters. Personally, I like the fact that Hollyfield can get along with his gay family member. Its how you want to be treated in the end, with respect. Both parties can agree to disagree and still get along. 66 days ago Timothy Kincaid How nice. Ewin Holyfield thought he'd pipe up and let everyone know that he's every bit as ignorant and bigoted as his father. And how nice that the Holyfield's don't "hate" anyone, even if, EVEN IF (GASP), they are homosexual. Well golly, with that kind of incredible love (EVEN to homosexuals - wow - even to them) maybe they should all get a nobel prize for wonderfulness. 66 days ago What is with these "Christians"? First they slam and demean gays and then back track by saying they love all people. Of course, it's all just "free speech"..... 66 days ago Selebraties Suck 66 days ago boo boo He's clearly not a HOMOPHOBE. He is not AFRAID of gay people. Smearing the reputation of a person because of a dissenting opinion is fascist 66 days ago so the stupid rages in the next generation too. I think he had a weak male self image and so does his son. He is hiding his hate with God. He hates. You 'hate' the sin, you hate the sinner. If he thinks its a choice to change your biology, then change your color, sir. Try it. 66 days ago We have separation of church and state. The bible does not govern right and wrong, and as long as you're living your life as a law abiding citizen and not doing harm to others, then I see no reason to concern myself with who you love or who you go to bed with. It's a majorly presumptuous overstep for people to assume that they have they right to tell others what's right and wrong... or what's normal and what's not, based on a thousands year old book (based on absolutely no fact) that we aren't required to live our lives by. People need to learn to mind their own business and work on bettering themselves rather than concerning themselves with the sexual activity of others. It's time to join the 21st century. 66 days ago well said, ewin 66 days ago Well I have a black brother so it is ok for me to say ******s suck. 66 days ago Around The Web	dclm-gs1-007050000
Sign in with Sign up \| Sign in Your question How access phoenix advanced hidden bios menus Last response: in Windows 7 Related resources give all details for model maker and number of it or an add any other clue that could hepl find details on maker support site on web Most of the big computer vendors gimp their bios so that you can't OC. They don't want to be responsible for the support calls that would occur if people were allowed to change certain setting in the bios. I recently bought a cheap HP computer for my son to do his homework on. It's the first computer I purchased in 10 years. I normally build my own. I was surprised at how gimped the bios was. My dell computer at work actually has more options available than the HP does.	dclm-gs1-007060000
Sign in with Sign up \| Sign in Your question Wifi connection detected but no internet Last response: in Wireless Networking I've just returned from the U.S. from being in Peru. While there I had internet which was set up by a technician. However, now that I'm back, my computer shows that it's conected to the wifi here, but I am unable to get internet access. Is there perhaps a setting that could have been changed while I was in Peru that is preventing me from getting internet access in the U.S.? Hello and welcome to Tom's Hardware Forums. Chances are your Peruvian tech altered settigs in Control Panel>Internet Options, perhaps to a dial up system or through a Proxy. Go in there and under the Connection tab, tick "Never dial a connection" and click Apply then click the LAN button and tick "Automatically detect settings" and untick anything in the Proxy section below that. Related resources Thanks for your help Saga Lout. However, I tried, but my computer still won't gain access to the Internet. I'm not sure what the problem is because I was able to use this internet connection before I went to Peru. As you said, I believe the Peruvian technician changed something in the settings. Inzone, it was DSL through the telephone company, but I used the router for wifi, never used the direct connection. So, right now, I have to use the ethernet cable to get internet access which shuts everyone else out from using the internet when I'm on. Why does using an ethernet cable shut everyone out from using the internet ? Do you have a modem connected to a wireless router ? Have you set up a wireless network ? The cable that you connect is it from the router or the modem ? Perhaps a more detailed explanation of your set up will clear this up a little. Can you post the details of an ipconfig calll so we can see what's going on? Go from Start to Run in XP - or use the Windows key plus R in Vista and Windows 7 or 8, then type in the following into the Open box, including all the spaces:- cmd /k ipconfig /all then press Enter and right click anywhere from the black form that shows up and click on Select All. That places all the details into the clipboard and Control V will put it back here in a reply box.	dclm-gs1-007070000
Send a Message to ESciEncE Sep 10, 2009 ESciEncE Profile Recent Posts Michael Vick: What do you think? U people NEED a Life! Y isn't the last President can't being held responsible & accountable 4 th'BS WE NOW face? Yet, (sum of)U poeple bit** about a football player? What's REALLY WRONG N our society = how people m8ke misstakes, go 2 jail 2 p8y back the "society " they've wronged, THEN get continually rejected (by their same "society ")UNTIL they have no recourse but go back 2 the Life they were supposed 2 have been rehabilitated "from". I guess this= Y WE build more prisons than schools? GET A LIFE - LIVE! (Sep 10, 2009 \| post #43) San Francisco, CA Hip-hop party promoter Eugene Cockerham linked to wild Sa... ..2 bad your insight = as narrow as your IQ Fool! NOT ALL HipHop = as limited as th'type U imagine! IF your CONglomr8ted megaCorps N th'Media would ALLOW other styles then m8yBE you'll C differently. (Sep 10, 2009 \| post #3)	dclm-gs1-007080000
View Single Post Old June 10 2009, 12:11 AM #25 Re: I like Tasha Yar. I have always had a soft spot for the characters who get killed off because the writers 'can't work with their character' - I always think something along the lines of 'give ME a crack at them, I could do something!' Tasha especially, since she's a fascinating character - all the other main cast are these people who have lived the good life in the heart of the Federation, while she grew up on a colony that 'failed' (don't quite understand that - if the colony failed, how exactly are there still people there?) Sadly, Tasha's character was a victim of two things - the writers trying to put a female in a position that traditionally was a 'man's' role while also trying to make it seem a casual 'yeah, happens all the time, and, the bigger problem of the two, the 'our characters DON'T' clause that Gene put in for TNG. Her existence on Turkana IV would have been filled with occasions were she engaged in activities that Gene had dictated that our character would not do, and as such, it made it hard to do anything with her, because she wouldn't have been allowed to draw on her prior experiences, given that as a character, they were things that she should have done, but as a Gene Roddenberry character, she wasn't allowed to do. I know Star Trek wouldn't be around without him, but I firmly feel that by the time of TNG's production, Gene had bought into his own hype and let himself believe that all it took to overcome these inherent human traits he deemed as being 'negative' was the power of positive thinking - if TNG Gene had worked on TOS, we wouldn't have had the Spock-Bones banter, because the characters were 'too evolved' for such arguments. All the TNG characters suffered because of the 'our characters DON'T' rule, but none so much as Tasha - if that hadn't been a rule, I would not be surprised if Denise Crosby would have wanted to remain with the show. DGCatAniSiri is offline Reply With Quote	dclm-gs1-007090000
The ‘Yeah, That Kind of Rich’ ad campaign for the New York lottery is an epitomization of a wealthy lifestyle by using money typography to script clever slogans. In a sly attempt to help the public wrap their heads around how the lottery money could change their lives, the campaign released posters with slogans like “Banks ask you for a bailout,” or “You shop, the market rises.” Using dollar bills to create thick stacks of money, the letters in these one-liners were created using a super rich font. It is estimated that around $1,000 to $1,500 dollars worth of money was used to create each ad. These comical posters can be seen on buses, shelters and in subway stations in New York.	dclm-gs1-007110000
Large PrintHandheldAudioRating Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results Is your email address still valid? The Adventures of Colonel Fuzzy and Moonbrain StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking Summary: When he keeps ending up the in infirmary, Mal thinks someone on the ship is trying to kill him. But it's not so much a "who" as a what. Non-Explicit SLASH pairing Mal/Simon. Written for the Mal/Simon ficathon on LJ. Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete Firefly > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Past Donor)vinniebatmanFR1314,048031,05517 Jul 0717 Jul 07Yes Title: The Secret Adventures of Colonel Fuzzy and General Moonbrain (actual title too long for dialogue box) Author: vinniebatman Fandom: Firefly Pairing: Mal/Simon Prompt: #45: River gets a pet raccoon. Chaos ensues. Amidst the carnage, Mal and Simon find love. Humor and crack! Written for the Mal/Simon ficathon at the_pretty_fits on livejournal Rating/Warnings: Teen, SLASH PAIRING!! Slash box was ticked as this is not explicit. Disclaimer: I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss; he was threatened with hot poker torture and chainsaws so I could meet the real him. I now own all. Thank you. Beta: Suki_blue at livejournal. I lubs her. Author's Note: Takes place after the movie, but includes changes to the movie... screw it, I'll just tell you: Wash lives, because I love him. * * * * * * * * * * * After Miranda, the arrest warrants on the Tams had been lifted. So far the Alliance had steered clear of Serenity. No one knew if it would stay that way, or if the government would come looking for River in the future. Given the horrific death tolls, the cover up, the Alliance's attempt at what was essentially mind control of an entire planet, and the fact that the Alliance created the Reavers, River calculated that the earliest the Alliance would attempt to injure the crew would be in seventeen years, six months, and twelve days. But all things considered (including Inara's return to the training house, Book's death, and Wash's paralysis), things were actually going pretty well. Sure, the operative had killed a lot of their business contacts. Combined with Serenity's sudden notoriety, it had had lead many of their remaining contacts to cease doing business with them. But Sir Warrick had been pleased with their honor and determination to reveal the truth, and had started using Serenity as one of his primary transports. In turn, this led many of his contacts to use Serenity. So the crew was busy and getting paid regularly, doing runs on the Rim and finishing their repairs. Strangely, it had taken nearly dying and exposing a major government conspiracy for the ship to become financially viable. Only a few short months after Miranda, the crew once again landed on Triumph. It was, of course, their first return to the planet since the Saffron incident, but nevertheless they were welcomed with open arms. Mal had immediately declared that there was "no ruttin' way in hell" that anyone was allowed to get married to any of his crew. If someone wanted to get married, it would be done in the light of day, sober. The town elders had agreed and treated the crew to a feast. The mid-day meal gave way to music, and music gave way to dancing. River joined the townsfolk, spinning and swirling around the fire, never tiring in her joy. As the crew watched (and occasionally joined her), the sun set and alcohol was served. The crew also focused on the fact that Kaylee was not sitting with the Doc, whom Kaylee wasn't even trying to dance with. Instead, Kaylee had spent her evening in the company of several young men, all of whom eagerly took turns dancing with Kaylee. And Simon didn't even appear to be the least bit upset. So it wasn't surprising that no one noticed the odd occurrence that followed. As she was dancing with a young boy, River suddenly stopped, barely noticing when he careened into her. Slowly, she drifted away from the fire, leaving the few sober observers mystified as to why she had left. But all events became hazy and unimportant as the night wore on and alcohol flowed. * * * * * * * * * * After enjoying a large breakfast that contained real meat, the crew headed back to the ship. As Jayne helped Wash to the bridge, Mal and Zoe finished stowing the load of cotton destined for Persephone. Kaylee had, of course, scampered off to the engine room, while River and Simon carried fresh food to the galley. As Mal and Zoe shifted the last box into place, they heard a soft sound, rather like a cooing. "You hear that, Zoe?" Mal asked. Zoe nodded, frowning. "Yes Sir, I did. You're not hiding a new bride, are you?" "Ai ya, Zoe! Just look around and see if we got some wild critter onboard," Mal answered her, glaring. As the cargo hold fell silent again, the pair continued to search. Finally, Mal sighed. "I got nothing." "Me either, Sir," Zoe added. "You'd better get up there with your husband, make sure Jayne didn't drop him," Mal grumbled. He walked over and hit the comm. panel as Zoe jogged up the stairs, her boots ringing against the metal. "Wash, take us out," he ordered. "Sure thing. By the way, any brides I should know of?" Wash asked. Mal growled as he shut off the comm. and closed the cargo hold doors. As he headed toward the stairs, he failed to notice the flash of metal above his head. * * * * * * * * * After dropping off the food in the galley, Simon headed down to the cargo hold. The citizens on Triumph didn't have anything advanced in the field of medicine, but they had been kind enough to trade some of the necessities with Simon for some of the more advanced medicines he could find on Persephone. As he reached the walkway, he froze for a split second at the sight of Mal's body. Running down the stairs, he reached the still body of the Captain, sprawled face-down on the floor. A bloodied wrench lay a few feet away as blood seeped freely from Mal's head. Ripping off his vest, he pressed it against the injury. The head under his hand rolled to the side, accompanied by a groan. "Wo de ma*; what happened?" Mal moaned, trying to sit up. "Careful, Captain; you've lost a lot of blood," Simon warned. "What? How? Did I trip or somethin'?" Mal tried to push himself up off the floor only to have his arms buckle under his weight. He tried again and succeeded with Simon's help. Simon pulled Mal's arm over his shoulder, taking the Captain's weight. "Come on, let me get you into the infirmary. I need to check and see if you have a concussion." As the pair stumbled into the infirmary, Simon steered them toward the bed. Mal dropped heavily onto it, clutching the stained vest to his head. "Think I ruined your vest, Doc," he moaned, watching as Simon dashed around the infirmary, gathering supplies and setting them on the tray. Simon moved over to the Captain, carrying his supplies. "You planning on knocking me out so you can have your wicked way with me?" Mal joked. As a secondary meaning to his words floated to his consciousness, Mal winced and tried to ignore the flicker of erotic images that passed through his mind. Simon's eyes widened as he swallowed hard and focused on his work. Work was good for Simon, allowing him to ignore the small flip of his stomach at Mal’s words. "I’d rather not give you pain relievers at the moment, Captain," Simon said, dragging his mind out of the gutter. "Seeing as you may have a concussion, I don't want to give you anything that might make it harder to wake you." Simon grabbed a small flashlight and shined it into Mal's eyes. Simon’s brow furrowed in a way that Mal secretly thought was kind of cute. "Well, Captain, you don't have a concussion," Simon sighed as set down the flashlight and pulled on his gloves. Reaching forward, he pulled his vest away from Mal's head. "Sorry 'bout your vest," Mal mumbled as Simon cleaned the wound. Although to be truthful, Mal wasn’t really that sorry. To his way of thinking, the less clothing Simon wore, the better he looked. It would have been better had Simon not been wearing a vest and thus been forced to strip his shirt off. "I'm the one who placed it on your head," Simon countered. "You bear no responsibility for my choices." As he moved his gloved fingers through the Captain's hair, Simon couldn't help but wonder if Mal’s hair hadalways been so nice and soft. He couldn't recall having noticed it that much before he'd he slept with (and got dumped by) Kaylee. Of course he knew what it looked like. After all, why wouldn't he notice it when the Captain walked into a room? Or stood in the sun? Or ran his hands through it? Clearing his mind with the focus taught at Medacad, Simon continued his work and pushed all thoughts of soft, pretty, grab-able hair from his mind. * * * * * * * * * As the crew gathered in the mess at Mal's orders, various exclamations of concern and suspicions filled the air as the crew saw the white bandage tied around the Captain's head. "You alright, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked, her brow knit in worry. Mal smiled and nodded, then winced. "Yeah, Doc says I just got knocked out but I’ll be right as rain in a couple days. Right, Doc?" Simon merely nodded in response. "If you're going to be fine, why call us all here?" Zoe asked. "Good point, Wifey," Wash added, twisting his jury rigged wheel chair from side to side. Zoe pressed her lips together, but the soft light in her eyes betrayed her amusement. Even stuck in his wheel chair, Wash found a way to enjoy it. "Because of this," Mal explained, dropping the bloody vest on the table with a loud thunk. Frowning, Zoe reached forward and pulled back the edge of the soft, blue fabric, revealing the blood-spattered wrench. "Hey, that's my wrench!" Kaylee yelled. "Yep, and it fell from the ceiling and almost broke my head." "When did this happen, Sir?" Zoe asked, frowning. "Right after I spoke to your husband." "But the room was empty; we would have seen someone hiding," Zoe said, leaning forward. "'Less they was real quiet and sneaky," Jayne pointed out, quickly looking over at River. The crew frowned, their heads turning one by one to gaze at their resident reader. "Not me. It was the Colonel," she explained, smiling gently. "Who are you talking about mei mei?" Simon asked, frowning. River rolled her eyes. "You don't know him yet." "Well, let's just worry about people that are actually here. So, did you do this, Little Witch?" Mal asked. "I said I didn't. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd never know it was me," she whispered, her eyesgoing wide and dark. The crew fell quiet as Jayne grabbed his chair and scooted it away from her end of the table. "Good point," Mal acknowledged. "So then, who did it?" "River was up here with me," Simon offered. "I was in the bridge; so was Jayne," Wash added. "And I talked to Kaylee right after I talked to you." Mal leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he spoke. "Great, I'm being attacked by a ghost." * * * * * * * * * * * After Mal's strange attack, the crew was wary. Each time one of them entered a new room, they surveyed their surroundings carefully. And Jayne had taken to carrying Vera with him wherever he went, though this was due more to his fear someone might hurt her. It wasn't until two days later that the next incident occurred. Despite Serenity's notoriety and bad luck, space travel was usually fine for them. It was landing on planets that seemed to be the trouble. Mal had just poured himself a cup of tea and was walking over to the table when it happened: a small, glass vial filled with liquid dropped from the ceiling. He barely had time to register that something had fallen before he was stepping on it. His momentum carried him forward, his stride breaking as his foot slipped out from under him. As his vision seemed to flip, Mal braced himself for the impact. He hit the ground hard, landing on his ass. Mal had been prepared to bruise his tail bone. He hadn't been ready for the glass that was cutting into his as. "Ta ma de hundan*!" he roared, scrambling and sliding away from the shards of glass. Reaching for the nearest chair, he pulled himself up to his feet, wincing as hisbuttocks cried out in pain. Looking up, he could see Kaylee running toward him from the engine room. "Cap'n? Are you okay?" she asked, frantic. “Yeah, I'm fine, Little Kaylee," he reassured her, even if he wasn’t certain himself. As he turned away, Kaylee gasped. "Cap'n, you're bleedin'!" she cried. Mal twisted his neck, trying to look down at his ass. He saw several small patches of red blossom across his backside; he groaned. "Ni ta ma de, tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi*," he growled. There was no way around it; he'd need Simon to look at his ass. "Kaylee, find the Doc and tell him to meet me in the infirmary. Then have everyone meet me up here," Mal growled as he started making his way downstairs. He barely even heard Kaylee's affirmative answer as she ran over to the wall comm. panel, trying to find Simon. As he moved down the stairs, Mal reminded himself once again that his attraction to Simon was stupid, very stupid. Lately, it had seemed to Mal that every moment spent in Simon’s presence made him more aware of… things. Like Simon’s eyes, and his smile. Mal knew there wouldn't be anything but trouble if he started making moves for Simon. And while he didn't plan on making any moves for the Doctor, getting an erection just because Simon was touching his ass could count as a move. As he reached the infirmary, he saw Simon waiting for him. "What happened, Captain?" Simon asked warily. He couldn't see any injuries, aside from the slow, rolling gait that was rapidly dragging Simon's mind in the gutter. Once inside the infirmary, Mal shut the door. It all seemed a bit strange to Simon, from the Captain's walk, to the fact that he'd closed to door. A part of Simon's mind rushed back to one of those of skin vids he'd seen during his time in Medacad. "Close the blinds," Mal ordered, his voice low and gravely. Simon swallowed hard as his eyes widened a fraction. His heart started to pound hard as he obeyed the Captain and lowered the blinds. Turning around, Simon tried hard to appear comfortable. He watched, entranced, as the Captain slowly walked toward the examination bed and bent over it. A part of Simon was relieved to see the wounds, confirming that this wasn't some cheesy skin vid. But another part of him was sorely disappointed. "Alright, Captain," Simon sighed, trying to think of ugly, unsexy thoughts. "Take off your pants." * * * * * * * * * * From outside the infirmary, Mal's secret attacker listened to the clinical discussion between the two men. Damnit, this wasn't how he and his cohort imagined their gambit would play out. By giving the tall one minor injuries, he would need to spend time with the other one, giving them time for amorous feelings to form. But apparently, the two men were a lot stupider than previously thought. It was time for a direct approach. * * * * * * * * * * * An hour later, Mal and Simon emerged from the infirmary, neither sporting the erection they'd been so afraid would materialize. Luckily, Mal had only received a mild pain reliever, so the constant, dull ache from his ass had kept him calm. And seeing the Captain in pain had put a hell of a damper on Simon's libido. The two men made their way up to the kitchen. Mal was mostly prepared for numerous smart-ass comments from Wash, and a lot of crude humor from Jayne. When they entered the room, Jayne snickered. "Hey, Captain, Doc leave year ass sore?" he guffawed. Simon's face flushed a deep red while Mal wrestled with his urge to shoot Jayne. But before Mal could even take a painful step toward his target, a fuzzy, gray creature shot across the room and leapt onto Jayne's face. Jayne jumped out of his chair, his arms alternately flailing and trying to pull the creature off of his face. Finally, Jayne pulled out a knife. "Colonel!" River shrieked. "Retreat!" Then, just as quickly as the attack had started, it ended with the creature jumping away from Jayne and dashing across the table and into River's arms. The crew was frozen in surprise, a tableau of confusion and amusement. "What in the gorram hell was that?" Mal shrieked. "Captain Reynolds, meet Colonel Fuzzy," River said sweetly, placing the animal on the table. The crew stared at it. It wasn't very large, perhaps two feet long with grey fur and a long tail covered in black rings, as well as black rings surrounding its eyes. "What is it?" Jayne asked, frowning. "Procyon cancrivorus," River answered. "A raccoon," Simon supplied, amazed. "They were quite common on Earth-that-Was, and are common in zoos and parks on some of the Core planets." Mal ran his hand through his hair, and then winced as he grazed the bump. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than stiff drink of Kaylee's engine liquor. "Where did you find him?" Wash asked. "I heard him on Triumph and went to meet him," River explained. "You heard him?" Zoe echoed, eyebrow raised. "Smart raccoon from a smart family; genetically engineered and trained to be capable of higher brain functions and communication with those like him," River explained. "You’re saying he's super-intelligent, and you are able to communicate with him?" Simon asked, confirming the strange words. "Yes. They cut and snipped him before they cut and snipped me. They turned the animal into a soldier," she finished sadly. "Soldier?" Mal asked, his eyebrows crawling ever-higher on his forehead. "Who made him into a soldier?" "The same ones who made the girl," came the whispered answer. “It is wrong that the fact they hurt a little fuzzy animal makes me hate the Alliance even more?" Wash asked suddenly. "No, I hate 'em more, too," Kaylee pouted, blinking back the tears in her eyes. Colonel Fuzzy chattered before leaping out of River's arms, crossing the table, and going over to cuddle with Kaylee. His fingers clutched at her hair as Kaylee cooed. Mal sighed loudly. "So you're saying that your raccoon, Captain-." "Colonel," River interrupted sternly. "Right, Colonel Fuzzy, was experimented on by the Alliance?" Mal clarified, wincing. River nodded in reply. Jayne snorted. "If he's Colonel Fuzzy, who're you, General Moonbrain?" Fuzzy's fur bristled as he growled. Suddenly, he scrabbled across the table toward Jayne, teeth bared. But before it could reach Jayne, River interceded and grabbed the raccoon off of the table. She settled back in her chair, and handed him back to Kaylee. "Wait," Wash interjected, smiling. "Is this the same Colonel you said dropped the wrench on Mal's head?" "This is who was tryin' to kill me?" Mal yelled. Fuzzy chattered from Kaylee's arms. River watched him, then shrugged. "Didn't want to kill you; wanted to hurt you," River explained. "Because I asked him to." "Mei mei!" Simon exclaimed, horrified. "Why would you do that?" "Because you're both boobs," she answered simply. Wash and Jayne laughed loudly, while Zoe hid a smile behind her hand. "You got mad at your brother and decided to hurt me? Why not hurt him?" Mal sputtered. "Because if he got hurt, Zoe would fix him, and that wouldn't make you spend time with him," River explained slowly, as though Mal were a child. “I know I’m gonna regret asking this, Little Witch, but why do you want me to spend time with your brother?” Mal asked, cringing. “So you can be in a relationship and engage in sexual congress,” River smiled. Simon groaned and dropped his head onto the table. Kaylee brightened up. "So Fuzzy was helpin' ya set the two of 'em up? That's so sweet," she squealed, looking down at the offending raccoon. "Sweet? Aren’t you dating Simon?" Wash asked. "Nah," Kaylee shrugged, running her fingers through the gray fur. "I like Simon, but I think datin' him was more romantic in idea than it was in real life. Things just kinda petered out." "So the raccoon was helpin' ya play matchmaker with the Captain and yer brother?" Jayne asked, his nose wrinkled. At River's happy nod, he frowned and crossed his arms. "Well that’s just weird," he muttered. “Why are you trying to set up the Captain and your brother?” Zoe asked as she started to rub her temples. “Because Simon has a crush on the Captain.” Simon jumped up quickly, sending his chair crashing to the floor. He wasn't one to anger quickly, but he could feel his temper rising along with his embarrassment. And any words he could say somehow dried up in his mouth when he faced the crew. They smiled at him expectantly, save Mal who simply looked curious. "I'll be in the infirmary," he said before briskly striding out of the kitchen. The room fell silent. Mal watched him go, his face holding an inscrutable look that Zoe knew concealed the Captain’s concern. Her knowledge was confirmed when Mal stood and followed after Simon. Once their footsteps had faded away, River turned to the raccoon. “Our intel was correct, Colonel. The Captain does indeed reciprocate my brother’s feelings and this course of action was most fruitful.” The raccoon chattered and seemed to nod his head, before suddenly leaping off of Kaylee’s lap and disappearing into the shadows. River followed her cohort, Kaylee on her heels. Zoe continued to rub her temples, while Wash had a strange mix of humor and horror on his face. “Hey, you think he’d he kill Badger fer us?” Jayne asked, suddenly smiling. * * * * * * * * * * * Simon pressed his fists into the countertop, breathing deeply. Mal watched from the doorway, the tension curling off of the younger man like smoke. The Captain cleared his throat. Simon inhaled sharply, but didn’t turn around. “Doc? Simon?” “Just go away, Mal,” he sighed. Mal cleared his throat again, then stepped inside the infirmary and closed the door behind him. The blinds on the windows were still closed. “Look, Doc; this had been a weird couple of days. But, your sister was telling the truth, wasn’t she?” Squeezing his eyes shut, Simon spoke. “Yes, she was.” “Okay, then. Considering the fact that a gorram raccoon has been trying to kill me, that’s pretty good,” Mal said, scratching behind his ears. As the two men talked, three figures crept down into the common area. Quietly, they crawled until they reached the panel beside the infirmary door. Kaylee pried the cover off of the panel and then watched as Fuzzy squeezed up into the wall. He returned only a few seconds later, pulling on a group of wires. Kaylee grabbed them, and quickly began switching wires. After reconnecting the wires, a small click sounded. Kaylee smiled and gave a thumbs-up to River and Fuzzy, before silently slipped away. Inside the infirmary, a laugh devoid of any humor puffed out of Simon’s mouth. “Well, it’s nice to know that my feelings for you aren’t as bad as you being injured.” Turning away from he counter, Simon schooled is face into a blank mask. “Well, it’s not like that, it’s just, well…” Mal trailed off, grimacing. He’d never been one for words. Dropping his gazeto the floor, Simon moved past the Captain to open the door; it held fast. Clenching his jaw, Simon punched the door. “It’s locked,” he growled. Mal frowned. “What? How’s it locked?” he asked. Simon slowly turned, his jaw clenched. “My guess, the illusive Colonel,” he ground out. Mal sighed and stared at the door. “Well,” he shrugged, “It’s hard to get time alone on this ship. I aim to take any minute I get.” Simon spun around to face him. This time, Mal chose not to use words. Grabbing Simon by his shoulders, he pushed him against the door and captured his lips in a kiss. Simon was frozen again, unable to process just what was happening to him. Luckily, his smaller brain took control and within seconds, he was kissing Mal back. As they ate at each other’s mouths, Simon rested his hands on Mal’s hips. When Mal slidonethigh between Simon’s legs, Simon’s brain shut down. Desperate, he grabbed Mal’s ass. Mal’s pained shriek could be heard through out the ship. In the galley, Wash started to laugh while Zoe merely shook her head and Jayne frowned. And in the engine room, River frowned as she looked at Colonel Fuzzy and Private Frye. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have used a glass vessel to contain the oil.” Damnit, Zoe! Mother of God! Mother fucking son of a bitch! **Everyone under the heavens ought to die. The End You have reached the end of "The Adventures of Colonel Fuzzy and Moonbrain". This story is complete. StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking	dclm-gs1-007120000
The Most Boring Episode in TV History: A FlashForward Review by at . ABC must have been playing a joke on FlashForward viewers this week. Follow along... The show has often been compared to Lost. That drama aired an infamous episode ("Stranger in a Strange Land," season three) in which Jack traveled abroad, met an Asian woman and got a tattoo. Many critics consider it the worst episode in Lost history; and producers have cited it as a reason why they demanded a series end date from ABC: so they would no longer be forced to write filler episodes in which nothing happens. Enter "Believe," last night's horribly uneventual hour of FlashForward. It also involved a man traveling, an Asian woman, and a tattoo. It was also an incredibly boring hour of television. Demetri Pic Similarities to Lost aside, we'll review the episode and ask questions that depict our frustration in a series of bullet points below: • Why should we care about Bryce and Keiko? The show has barely featured Bryce at all. Then, he and his flash forward are suddenly the main focus of an installment that centers around two people's visions of love, one of whom we've never met before. It's worth repeating: 20 million people died in the blackout. We're expected to muster any interest in the imagined love lives of two strangers after that? • For the record, FlashForward has now aired nine episode. SEVEN of those concluded with scenes involving characters viewers had never met before that week, and five of those new characters have never returned. (The exceptions are Simon and Suspect Zero.) It's one thing to surprise viewers with a suspenseful ending, but it's another to have those endings continually pile up with no pay-off in the weeks that follow. • Did Al really kill himself? • Did Mark really shoot that guy with the tattoo last week? • We ask these questions because nothing has changed at the FBI, despite the supposed impact of those events when they took place. Mark cried into Olivia's arms last week because they now have a "second chance." So why are they still following leads from his future board? Why does Demetri think he's still gonna die? Al must be chilling in heaven, looking down at his former co-workers and muttering: I died for this?!?! Nothing harms a show more than inconsistent character behavior and storytelling. But that's the problem FlashForward encounters each week. It can't make up its mind about the future. Should we be rooting for it to happen? Is the FBI trying to prevent it from happening? Are they trying to determine the cause of the blackouts? Most importantly: why does everyone act as though the future is set in stone? The series has never done an adequate job of proving these visions will come true. It's simply made the characters talk and act as though it will. That's frustrating enough. But we could forgive FlashForward if these actions were at least interesting and/or tied to major world events. Last night, however, was nothing but the personal tales of two characters we hardly know. Did anyone out there feel invested in the fortunes of Bryce and Keiko? Tags: , From Around the Web 3 Comments New Comment Subscribe This show is as awful as for the fact that Heroes ACTUALLY HAD A GOOD SEASON. Boring, poorly written, dreadful acting. This show is headed for the tv land dumpster. You have to undrstand that the first eight or nine episodes were already written and many were filmed by the time the show first aired. The producers can't take the viewers thoughts and the ratings into consideration until the first eight to nine episodes,and from next weeks preview it seems things might start to change. They also let one of the Showrunners go, and David Goyer is now the only Showrunner. Wow. Comparisons to Stranger In A Strange Land are completely null because that was a truly abysmal hour of television. I thought this was a great departure from the bombast and (often times illogical leaps in piecing together) the mosaic of Mark's board for those of us starving for some real character development. It was across the boards - we learned that Aaron was in the army, Olivia finally admitting that a flashforward may need to come true and I was totally invested in Bryce & Keiko's storyline. Character focus is what made Lost great and then the mythology kicked into high gear. We need to care for these characters and I feel FlashForward is finally making headway in that area. To answer the questions posed... Of course Al killed himself. Unless we do a rewind of time at the end of the season, I don't see him coming back from the splat. Yeah, Mark shot the tattoo guy... his tunnel vision is preventing him from admitting to himself that there would be more than one guy with the same tattoo. Or he's truly the dimmest FBI guy on tv. The questions of fate and free will have gone on since the beginning of man's will continue to go on. It makes sense that these characters will still be going around and around as to whether or not these visions are set in stone. Those questions are all being worked out on screen. I dunno, I thought the episode was fantastic, if a little uneven.	dclm-gs1-007130000
Scott Foley and Kerry Washington Scandal boss Shonda Rhimes was not kidding when she said Olivia Pope has bad taste in men. ABC's resident political fixer now finds herself attracted to Captain Jake Ballard (Scott Foley), whom Olivia (Kerry Washington) randomly met at a coffee shop. What she doesn't know is that Jake was actually contracted by the President (Tony Goldwyn) to spy on Olivia by any means necessary. Those means include planting video cameras all over her apartment. But it's not creepy at all, insists Foley, who truly believes Jake has real feelings for Olivia. But will she return those feelings if she ever learns the truth? caught up with Foley to get the scoop on what's in store for Thursday's episode (10/9c) and beyond: Scandal's Edison vs. Jake! Who's better for Olivia? Does Jake have real feelings for Olivia? Scott Foley: That's a great question. I think yes. He obviously took himself out of the voyeuristic aspect of his life and made it into an in-real thing, so by the very nature of that I can say Jake has very real feelings for Olivia. Does he honestly think he can really have a relationship with her considering the foundation of their meeting was a lie? Yeah, I agree with that, but I think he does. Relationships flourish through all sorts of beginnings and rough times. Usually it's best when you're not spying on the person, but I think he believes that they can overcome that should that come out. Although, it doesn't necessarily need to come out. It's a Shonda Rhimes drama! It's going to come out! Of course it is! Of course. Are we going to see Jake grappling with whether or not to be honest with Olivia? Yeah. By the nature of what Jake does for a living — and we're not exactly sure what that is, but we know it's military intelligence — I think he's pretty comfortable with keeping secrets. Although, when you mix personal feelings and secrets, there's always the want to be completely honest with the person you have those feelings for. He definitely wrestles with them. He feels a sense of not just responsibility to the President to keep an eye on her for whatever reason, but the need to be honest with her. That's a big drive for him. Scandal Scoop: Fringe's Jasika Nicole to guest-star We've seen their first date. What's their next step in this relationship? The next step is overcoming the hurdle that is Olivia Pope and her perspective on relationships and where she's been in the past. To get them to the next step, she has to be willing to say, "OK, let's try it out!" How will they be working together in Thursday's episode? Speaking of trust, there's a great thing that happens in this episode where Jake has to trust Olivia. There's a hostage story in Thursday's episode and she gives him information, refusing to give him the source and he has to take her word that this information is going to be correct, especially if he's going to take it to the President to help free these hostages. He was has to take a leap of faith with her. In doing that, it brings their relationship to another level. We've seen in the promo that a photographer takes a picture of Olivia and Jake together. That would obviously compromise Jake's standing with the President if that got out. What lengths will he go to fix this situation? Jake needs to be very careful. He's doing something here by using Olivia not just as a source, but as a potential love interest that is way outside his purview. It's something that the President would definitely not approve of. I think it's going to be interesting to find out what lengths Jake will go to to make sure that any photo or any evidence of his relationship with Liv is not in the public. Do you think he feels bad lying to the President? I don't think he feels bad deceiving the President. I think he knows that the President has, like Jake does, ulterior motives when it comes to Olivia. It seems only inevitable that Olivia will find out the truth about Jake's true motives. How will Jake handle that? It does seem inevitable. If and when it does happen, it's hard for it to go down in any way that it could be positive for their relationship. Now, that being said, if I were to speak about an imaginary relationship that began with stalking and cameras in someone's apartment and that person found out, I would put a lot of money on the fact that it's not going to end well. Wouldn't you? [Laughs] Imagine dating a guy and you really like him and he's cute and sweet and has a good job — in this economy, he's got a great job! — then you find out that he's had cameras in every room of your house watching you for who knows how long. Could you continue a relationship with that person? Scandal Scoop: Is Billy Chambers really dead? But the President told him to do it! I couldn't agree more! That's the excuse right? That's how he'll get off the hook, right? "Hey, it's my job! I'm following orders. I'm a military man. The highest commander in the military has ordered me to do this. It's my job to do so." I would play that excuse out for as long as I f---ing could. [Laughs] You're used to playing good guys, so what has it been like playing this morally ambiguous guy? And do you think he's actually a good guy? It's been a challenge. I'm used to a different type of character. It's been an interesting challenge that I've enjoyed. Everyone thinks he's a bad guy and morally questionable, I don't know if I agree with that. We're going to find out that he's in a position that's hard to get out of and maybe he wishes that he could get out of it. There's so many more layers and ways to play a character and options you have when you're going into a scene. It's been so interesting. The Twitter universe has erupted on both sides of the fence, vitriol and praise. I love that. Will we ever get to see more of his background, maybe even going back to when the President first enlisted him to spy on Olivia? I don't know if we're going to get to see that far back, but we're going to find out a little bit more about who he is, where he's from and why he's doing what he's doing; not necessarily in regards to the President and their relationship, but his place in the world and why he's there. That's going to answer a lot of questions for people. Are you rooting for Jake and Olivia? Scandal airs Thursdays at 10/9c on ABC.	dclm-gs1-007140000
Twice this month a woman in a minivan reportedly approached students at school bus stops in Cottage Grove, prompting law enforcement and school officials to alert the public. Parents are urged to talk to their kids about suspicious incidents, and anyone with information is urged to call police. According to a statement from police, a parent called to report what she thought was suspicious activity at a bus stop near 90th Street and Janero Avenue on Sept. 25. The parent said she saw a woman get out of a blue minivan and approach a student. The woman "asked the student where he went to school and if he would bring a violin to a student there," the police statement said. The incident was similar to a Sept. 4 incident, Cottage Grove Capt. Pete Koerner said. "It was after school and a minivan was at a bus stop. A lady rolls down the window and asks the two kids if they were looking for their parents," Koerner said. "They did exactly what they should have. They ignored her and went straight home and told their dad." Descriptions in the two cases are similar: an older white woman with gray hair driving a blue minivan. Koerner said it doesn't seem as if any crime has been committed, but the scenarios didn't feel right to witnesses or police. He said if the woman is found and police are able to talk to her, she will be warned. "Just educating them and letting them know that, hey just by approaching kids, that's alarming behavior, that's going to draw attention to you. You're not making good choices," Koerner said. Police ask anyone with information to call the Washington County sheriff's communications center at 651-439-9381 and ask for a police officer.	dclm-gs1-007150000
Madison's controversial "Pabst buses" -- three city buses fully wrapped with ads for Pabst Blue Ribbon beer -- are off the streets. The city has had public complaints about alcohol advertising on buses, but the most-recent Pabst ads were much more dynamic and caught people's attention, making buses look like beer trucks and not transit vehicles, Metro Transit spokesman Mick Rusch said. With the Pabst contract ended, Metro is trying minimize alcohol advertising on buses while still respecting advertisers right to freedom of speech, Rusch said. Starting Jan. 1, Metro is no longer using a third-party vendor to sell advertising, and in-house efforts have been directed to first seek local advertisers and not actively pitch to alcohol advertisers, he said. Metro can't say no to alcohol advertising but will explain to advertisers how the community has felt about past advertising campaigns, he said. If alcohol advertisers are still interested in the Madison market, Metro will work with them to create a campaign the community will find more acceptable than what's been done in the past, he said.	dclm-gs1-007160000
These maps focus on various themes such as humanitarian interventions, access, population, and other general information pertaining to humanitarian assistance in South Sudan. * The boundaries and names shown and the designations used on this map do not imply official endorsement or acceptance by the United Nations. Final boundary between the Republic of Sudan and the Republic of South Sudan has not yet been determined. Final status of the Abyei area is not yet determined.	dclm-gs1-007170000
First: Mid: Last: City: State: Beverley Poff Gather reliable and accurate details about Beverley Poff on USA-People-Search.com. You can access hundreds of thousands public records data and view in-depth profiles on everyone named Beverley Poff. Read info that includes names of possible relatives, age, city, state, and more. Did you find more than one Beverley Poff? Not to worry! You can hone in on the right Beverley faster by adding more details, such as previous addresses and age, into the search boxes. You can also access personal information, like an email address, names of family members, and more on their profiles. We have also categorized the search results for Beverley Poff into four separate headings, including name/aliases, age, location, and possible relatives. This way, you'll find it easier to skim through the results to find the right Beverley Poff by identifying with some of the associated information listed beside their name. When you find the Beverley Poff you want, proceed to the details page to get more facts about the person. Name/AKAsAgeLocationPossible Relatives	dclm-gs1-007180000
Democrats Seek to Reform FISA Court in Light of NSA Revelations Senators fight for more transparency in FISA court. (Left) Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., gestures during a news conference on Capitol Hill Dec. 16, 2009, in Washington D.C. (Right) Sen. Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., stands on the steps of Hartford Conn., City Hall on April 5, 2013. two new bills introduced by Sens. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., and Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., would reform the secret FISA court that gave the government the ability to spy on Americans in the first place. As Edward Snowden left a Russian airport terminal Thursday, a group of Senate Democrats introduced the first two bills to reform the National Security Administration's secret spying programs. Introduced by Sens. Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., Ron Wyden, D-Ore., the two new bills would reform the secret FISA court that gave the government the ability to spy on Americans in the first place. The first bill would change the way FISA court judges are appointed and ensure that judges come from varying regions of the country and represent a broad political spectrum. The second would create an independent office that would argue for civil liberties in the court and have the ability to appeal a FISA court decision thus ensuring the secret court did not act as a rubber stamp, approving all of the government's requests to collect large volumes of Americans' communications. [READ: Snowden Granted One Year of Asylum in Russia] "The FISA court is a judicial body with no parallel in American history," Wyden said during a press conference Wednesday. "A group of judges operating in complete secret and issuing binding rulings based solely on the government's arguments have made possible the sweeping surveillance authorities that the public only found out about two months ago. This court must be reformed to include an adversarial process where arguments for greater privacy protections can be offered alongside the government's arguments for greater surveillance powers." [OPINION: Snowden Both a Hero and a Traitor] The FISA court was established 33 years ago and out of the more than 30,000 record requests that have been made by the government, just 11 of them were stopped, according the senators. Lawmakers say that is a sign that the court needs reforming. "FISA courts appear to be stacked against our civil liberties," Blumenthal said. "When FISA court judges make decisions with profound implications for the individual rights of every American, they should first hear both sides of the argument." The fight over the NSA has been intensifying on Capitol Hill. In late July Rep. Justin Amash, R-Mich., led a bipartisan campaign to defund an NSA program through a defense spending bill if the agency continued to collect phone data of Americans who were not under investigation. [VOTE: Should Foreign Countries Provide Asylum to Snowden?] The effort ultimately failed, but barely. Tech companies like Facebook and Microsoft are also beginning to throw their weight behind efforts to restrict the NSA from collecting data inside the U.S. According to the Center for Responsive Politics, tech lobbyists are beginning to spend their time meeting with lawmakers about the scope of the classified data collection programs. Twelve companies mentioned FISA as one of the main issues they were spending time on in the second quarter, something that they had not lobbied on before Snowden revealed the NSA's programs. More News:	dclm-gs1-007190000
Man who helped Oregon police collapses and dies — A 58-year-old Good Samaritan who helped police in Oregon catch a car prowler collapsed and died while walking back to his office in Eugene. Brad Killian's wife, Deborah, told The Register-Guard there were no warning signs, and while it appeared he died of a heart attack, the official cause has not yet been determined. Killian was a former police officer who worked as an addictions counselor. He called police Friday when he saw a man trying to break into cars. Killian followed the man until police arrived and arrested the 22-year-old suspect. Killian collapsed minutes later and could not be revived. Information from: The Register-Guard, The Associated Press	dclm-gs1-007200000
find a flight Search Deals Sorry, but we did not find a match for Please re enter a city or region : Why book with Vayama ? Roundtrip flight deals to Johannesburg Vayama knows Johannesburg Johannesburg, sometimes called Jozi, Joburg or Egoli, is a fascinating city that made history when, in 2010, it hosted the FIFA World Cup. This was the first time the World Cup had been held on the continent of Africa. In order to beautify the city for the World Cup, Johannesburg was revamped and renovated. To view the new and improved Johannesburg for yourself, book your flights to Johannesburg on, a site where flights to Johannesburg are affordable and easy to find. There’s never a bad time to book flights to Johannesburg; the city has nice weather year round. In the summer months, the weather is dry and sunny with frequent showers in the afternoons. In the winter, the temperature does drop a bit, but this season is the sunniest of them of all. Rarely does it ever snow in Johannesburg, so if you’re looking to escape your snowy city, then buying flights to Johannesburg should do the trick. Purchasing flights to Johannesburg will get you one step closer to a city filled with informative museums, great shopping and wildlife safaris. Although Johannesburg has an unpleasant history filled with apartheid and racism, the city has made great strides toward an egalitarian society, and the struggles the city has been through have been memorialized in the Apartheid Museum. Once you’ve gone through the museum, see the actual progress the city has made by taking a tour of Soweto. You’ll find more museums as well as art centres and music venues in the Newtown Cultural Precinct. For all your shopping needs, make sure to visit Sandton, Rosebank, Fordsburg and Milpark. In these places, you’ll find everything from designer clothing to tribal beadwork. If you’re interested in going on a wildlife safari, then Johannesburg is the place to be because safaris leave from Johannesburg on a daily basis. To experience the wonders of Johannesburg yourself, book your flights to Johannesburg on, the website where great deals on flights to Johannesburg are always easy to find.	dclm-gs1-007210000
Arkansas - 908 vacation rentals How to book the vacation of your dreams... Enter your Travel dates. Contact multiple listings. Pay securely. Arkansas Travel Tips Making Your Way to Arkansas Vacation Rentals The Little Rock National Airport is the largest airport in Arkansas. The airport hosts most major airlines in North America and has regular commercial connections to most major cities in the U.S. There are three smaller regional airports that host domestic and regional flights in and around the state. These can be found in Texarkana, Fort Smith and the Northwest region. For a more leisurely way to get around, why not do part of your journey on the Texas Eagle railroad? The route runs through the state of Arkansas from the northeast to the southwest, and stops in towns and cities such as Walnut Ridge, Little Rock, Malvern and Texarkana. The train runs twice daily. Because of the many outdoor attractions, most people like to drive around Arkansas. If you are not traveling by car from your hometown, you can arrange a rental from any one of the regional airports. Visitors to Arkansas Cabins Arkansas has earned a reputation for being the "Nature State." It has vast wilderness areas where vehicles are not allowed and the only way to explore is on foot or horseback. The landscape is made up of wide fertile valleys, mountains and thick forested areas. The Northwest part of Arkansas forms part of the Ozark mountain range. This wealth of natural assets attracts those who enjoy nature and the outdoors. There is a large number of local outfitters that offer guided trails and excursions through the different regions. If you enjoy hunting or fishing, there are many wilderness areas where you can spend your vacation time. Hiking enthusiasts can follow nature trails and camp at remote wilderness campsites. It is not just the sporting enthusiasts who will enjoy the region. Arkansas has a rich cultural heritage. There are several important Native American sites, Civil War battle sites, and museums detailing the history and culture of the state. Those with an interest in American culture and history can enjoy visiting the various attractions. Top Things to See and Do near Arkansas Lake Homes Arkansas is a destination where you can really have fun exploring the outdoors. Pack the bicycles, canoes and hiking boots before you head off to your destination. The Ozark Mountain region in particular offers a wealth of adventure activities. The most popular are the scenic hiking trails that traverse the mountain slopes and explore the thick forests. Another favorite pastime is to explore the region on horseback. Mountain bikers can spend days exploring the many challenging biking trails in Arkansas. Choose from cross country climbs to some thrilling sections of single-track trails. If you are on a family vacation, you can spend some time on the rivers paddling and fishing. Golfers can also enjoy a few rounds of golf on championship golf courses designed by Robert Trent-Jones. Best Season to Travel to Arkansas The majority of Arkansas enjoys a humid subtropical climate which results in hot humid summers and cold dry winters. The northern regions of the state have a more temperate climate, owing to the higher elevation and mountainous regions. Your season of choice for traveling will largely depend on what activities you want to do. The winter months see snow over most of the northern region and snow sports can be enjoyed. In the summertime, the rainfall generally is characterized by dramatic thunderstorms which are relatively short-lived. As long as you are adequately prepared for rain, summertime is a great time of year to explore the many natural attractions that the state has to offer. Sponsored Advertisement	dclm-gs1-007230000
In The News: A.V. Ristorante Italiano $$$$ ($15-$24) Please note: A.V. Ristorante Italiano is no longer a part of the Going Out Guide. This restaurant closed in July, 2007. Mon-Fri: 11:30 am-10:30 pm Sat 5-10:30 pm (NW Washington) Gallery Place-Chinatown (Red, Green and Yellow lines) Editorial Review A.V.: True to Its Roots For Nearly 60 Years By Eve Zibart Washington Post Staff Writer Friday, May 4, 2007 It has been a Washington institution for nearly 60 years, and a sort of Rorschach test for at least 10, but after several reprieves, the end of A.V. Ristorante Italiano may be near. Although "nothing is set in stone," according to t he family, there is a sales contract, and as the restaurant always closes for three weeks in August, at the end of July it may go dark forever. Even if it's granted another stay, real estate development marches on, and eventually, like much of the neighborhood east of Mount Vernon Square and the convention center, this labyrinthine old eatery, and its outdoor patio, which has looked out over several generations of renewal and decline, will be razed. You have been warned. There's little point in treating this as a traditional review; A.V. is the sort of place patrons either love or belittle. (Its advocates are many and famous: Perusing the autographed photos of the celebrities and politicians that are gradually going dim and dusty is one of several A.V. traditions.) But if this odd piece of local culture is unknown to you, or you have always intended to visit, you should consider it. In the age of trattoria and designer pasta, A.V. remains a monument to the heyday of the homesick Italian restaurant. The place itself is a "Sopranos" stage set: a series of smallish, dark rooms painted bordello red and crowded with photos and such kitsch as a five-foot alabaster Leaning Tower of Pisa and, curiously, several renditions of Don Quixote. The jukebox is still stocked only with opera, many tracks of which are touchingly worn, and the huge 18th-century fireplace dwarfs its own andirons. There is still a folding-door public phone booth near the kitchen. And the "piazza" -- for concrete or not, you can't possibly refer to something with a fountain of Poseidon as a patio -- remains, though the jungle of plastic greenery and Christmas lights I remember are gone. (There is one brighter party room in the back, with an impressive marble bar, but somehow that's not where the action is.) A.V. can be a madhouse at prime time but a sanctuary of quiet in midafternoon (it would be a great pre-baseball stop). Come in the early evening and family groups of eight and 10 are already into the antipasti, looking as if central casting had just settled them in. There are rumors that a few people have been served wine in wineglasses, but that would almost be a subtle sneer: Drinking out of jelly glasses and old-fashioneds is another tradition. The kitchen is up a half-flight of stairs, and the cooks usually can be seen storming back and forth. The wait staff is famous for either surliness or suavity, depending on whom you ask (fine by me). And almost everyone has an A.V. story, one of the most famous involving a waiter and a Christmastime patron who got into a fistfight and rolled right into the life-size Nativity scene. My colleague Richard Harrington remembers taking Rod Stewart there in the '70s for an after-show meal that without Richard's intervention might have earned the shaggy-headed dandy a radical haircut from some unamused Marines. I had a "Casablanca" moment there, running into an ex from another city, and on another occasion, a waiter who overheard me saying that I had been mugged presented me with the empty claw of a six-pound lobster. It was like a mace and must have weighed most of the six pounds by itself. A.V. is short for the original owners, husband and wife Augusto and Assunta Vasaio -- Gus and Sue -- and the restaurant is still in the family two Augustos further on. (Although there was no apostrophe initially, it has been known as A.V.'s almost from the start.) In 1949, when the restaurant opened, Vasaio began making the white pizza popular in his hometown of Abruzzo, and the crackery-crust pizza sprinkled with garlic, red pepper flakes and oregano is still probably the most famous dish. You can also have it topped with anchovies and fontina: Split it while you read the long, nostalgic menu of pasta, veal and seafood. In recent years, because times and tastes have changed or because the kitchen staff isn't up to the largest crowds anymore, there have been complaints of soggy pasta and tinny peppers. Here's what you can probably bet on: the stuffed fried artichokes (another longtime staple); clams with white wine sauce or shrimp Fra Diavolo over linguini; whole fish (head on and unboned unless it says something like "grouper steak," which is filleted); and rabbit cacciatore, which is larger and more flavorful than the chicken version. The tomato sauce is so thick and lightly sweet that it tastes as if it has sun-dried tomatoes in it; if you get it with the calamari, you'll be eating for a long time. Everything comes in big portions -- a foot-long red snapper lies at full length with the linguini, which is exactly al dente -- including the side veggies sauteed in oil and impressive amounts of garlic. There aren't as many organ meats or specialties as there might have been when Augusto Vasaio ran the kitchen, even though chicken livers remain on the menu, and the veal rib roast is only a rare special. You won't need a gazetteer to negotiate the wine list, but you won't need a platinum card, either. Maybe not even a gold one. And while you're at it, drink a toast to all those Italian mamas and papas who brought a little of the old country, homey as it might have been, to so many Washington immigrants. Note: There are handicapped stalls in the restrooms, but up five stairs; the staff will help wheelchair users up. A.V. Ristorante Italiano 607 New York Ave. NW; Metro: Gallery Place-Chinatown or Mount Vernon Square Phone:202-737-0550 Kitchen hours: Prices: Appetizers $6.50-$9.95; entrees $7.75-$18.95 Wheelchair access: Limited	dclm-gs1-007240000
The Magazine Over There A historian hears the echoes of the Great War. Dec 8, 2008, Vol. 14, No. 12 • By ANDREW NAGORSKI Widget tooltip Single Page Print Larger Text Smaller Text Alerts The Summer the Archduke Died On Wars and Warriors by Louis D. Rubin Jr. Missouri, 184 pp., $24.95 Only death is inevitable. Short of that nothing is inevitable until it happens, and everything is inevitable once it has happened. The historian deals with past events and therefore to him all history is inevitable. But these past events were once in the future and then they were not inevitable. -- A.J.P. Taylor In The Summer the Archduke Died, Louis D. Rubin Jr. infuses his elegant, absorbing collection of review essays with Taylor's credo. He explains not only the vagaries of history, particularly how we look back at wars and their origins, but also the role of those who led their nations in those decisive moments and how their choices determined the anything-but-predetermined outcomes. A literary critic who spent his career teaching English at the University of North Carolina, Rubin doesn't explicitly answer the question: "Does the man make history, or history make the man?" But there's no doubt that he's in the "man makes history" school. Rubin was always fascinated by epic conflicts. Born in 1923 into a Reform Jewish family that had arrived in Charleston in the mid-19th century, he recalls witnessing the last Confederate reunion in Richmond in 1932. Looking back at that event, "I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck--seventy-five years ago as I write this." His father was a sergeant in the Marine Corps in World War I, and the "Great War" exerted a similar claim on his imagination. In the course of his writings, he reflects on his childhood emotions and develops his adult conclusions. As for how those conclusions may apply to the world today, he leaves it to the reader to take that next step, providing plenty of ideas to ponder. Nowhere is Rubin more convincing than in his exposition on the origins of World War I. In contrast to World War II, where the stakes were clear and Hitler left others no choice but to submit or resist, "the Great War need not and ought not to have been fought," he argues. The primary culprit, in his eyes, was Kaiser Wilhelm II, whose chauvinistic policies and massive miscalculations amounted to "a catastrophic failure of statecraft." The interlocking system of alliances, ostensibly designed to protect each country, triggered the well-known escalation of local conflicts into a European-wide war. As a result, 10 million men died for no apparent gain. While explaining the mechanisms that made war appear inevitable, he keeps returning to the theme of the responsibility of those who set up the alliances, dictated the timetables, and triggered the clashes. Times were different then, he points out, with almost no avenues open for negotiations. "No United Nations, no councils or forums were available for extending and broadening discussions and circulating proposals and responses," he writes. Just as he implicitly approves of those kinds of institutions today, his warnings about the dangers of alliances with automatic triggers are clearly meant to convey a contemporary message, arguing for more flexible defense arrangements among allies. All of which gets back to his thesis about the central role of leadership. Hence his fascination with two men he considers giants of the last century: Theodore Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. Among the striking parallels: "Both were renowned for their furious activity, and apparently both were manic depressives. Both were aristocrats." While he is by no means blind to TR's "touch of megalomania," or his more erratic behavior, he admires his outsized personality. So, too, with Churchill who "was no stranger to ambition or to egocentricity." True enough, but Rubin keeps the British leader's singular accomplishment in clear focus: recognizing the evil of Nazi Germany early, and then leading his nation in its fight for survival, saving the Western world. Little wonder that Rubin has no patience for the revisionists of the New Left in the 1960s or a later generation of "young Englishmen of right-wing persuasion" who praise Hitler's appeasers and condemn Churchill, blaming him for allegedly dragging Britain into a war it should have avoided. He icily points out, for example, that John Charmley's 300,000-word biography of Churchill never mentions "Dachau, Auschwitz, Treblinka, etc." The real source of such revisionism, he argues, is frustration with Britain's loss of empire and influence after World War II, allowing the United States to emerge as the new dominant force in the world. In essence, he concludes, the revisionists' arguments amount to "a fond wish that the twentieth century hadn't happened."	dclm-gs1-007250000
The Magazine Americans Under Fire Three accounts of fighting the war on terror. May 26, 2008, Vol. 13, No. 35 • By MACKUBIN THOMAS OWENS Widget tooltip Single Page Print Larger Text Smaller Text Alerts In any large population, especially one that involves the management of violence, we should not be surprised that people snap. But the Vietnam narrative still prevails in the press, and the public is far more likely to read about Lynndie England than Paul Ray Smith. This is a sad state of affairs. In his remarkable book about Falluja, No True Glory, Bing West wrote that stories of soldierly courage deserve "to be recorded and read by the next generation. Unsung, the noblest deed will die." There are now a handful of new books that attempt to do what West calls for, and these three titles--Moment of Truth in Iraq by Michael Yon, House to House by David Bellavia, and Hard Corps by Marco Martinez--are worth a look. The first, by an intrepid reporter--called by some the Ernie Pyle of this war--is a detailed portrayal of the remarkable soldiers who have helped turn the tide in Iraq. The second recounts the story of an Army non-commissioned officer during the horrendous second battle of Falluja in November 2004, for which he was recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross and the Medal of Honor itself. The last is the story of a onetime gang member who rejected the aimlessness of the gangster life to join the Marine Corps, becoming the first Hispanic since Vietnam to be awarded the Navy Cross, the Navy-Marine Corps version of the Distinguished Service Cross. Yon, who has been providing straightforward dispatches about the war on his website almost since the outset, has proved to be the most reliable source of information about how things are going on the ground in Iraq. In his dispatches, Yon, a former Special Forces soldier, has provided a perspective that one doesn't get from "mainstream" reporters who write stories from the Green Zone based on reports from Iraqi stringers whose veracity may be in question. Unfortunately, Yon is not well known outside the -blogosphere; Moment of Truth in Iraq will change this state of affairs. Yon has been no cheerleader for the military or the Bush administration. Those who know him say he is completely apolitical. Indeed, he raised the ire of senior military officers by criticizing the approaches to Iraq that he believed were leading to defeat, and was twice denied access to the country. Yon praises Gen. David Petraeus and the surge, but makes clear that it is working because of the remarkable soldiers and Marines who are implementing it. Two of these remarkable individuals have written memoirs, and the stories they tell are riveting and poignant. Those who have served in the military, especially if their service involved combat, will recognize the dynamic both describe in recounting their experiences: cohesion, loyalty, trust, and comradeship. In House to House, the reader (as in The Iliad) is thrown in media res where these characteristics are taken as the starting point. Hard Corps recounts the way the characteristics are built during Marine boot camp and infantry training. Neither volume is for the faint of heart: The language and the descriptions of events are graphic. Bellavia's account of killing an insurgent with a knife is a case in point: The blade sinks into him, and he wails with terror and pain. The blade finally sinks all the way to the handle. . . . [The insurgent's] mouth is curled in a grimace. His teeth are bared. . . . I'm bathed in warmth from neck to chest. I can't see it but I know it is his blood. His eyes lose their luster. The hate evaporates. . . . He takes a last ragged breath, and his eyes go dim, still staring into mine. All too often, the popular culture portrays our soldiers as victims or cold-blooded killers. But the flesh and blood men described in House to House and Hard Corps don't fit those caricatures. They may kill the enemy, but they don't take pleasure in it. They are Americans, and they are men. They miss their loved ones at home, but they forge a bond with their comrades that only those who have been in combat can understand. They feel guilty when they are away from their comrades, and this takes a great psychological toll, especially on men like Bellavia who are family men. Our logistical system may be magnificent, enabling American soldiers to fight far from America's shores; but it doesn't mean that these hard, dirty, exhausted infantrymen aren't cynical and angry when it seems they are the only ones bearing the brunt of the action. It doesn't mean that they don't have disdain for those rear echelon types who eat hot chow at secure bases while the infantrymen fight and die in the dirty, bloody streets of Falluja.	dclm-gs1-007260000
Health knowledge made personal Join this community! › Share page: Search posts: Parentless Parent: Allison Gilbert Posted Feb 23 2011 10:34pm The scarecrow could not understand why she wished to leave this beautiful country and go back to the gray place called Kansas. "That's because you have no brains," answered the girl. "No, matter how dreary and gray our homes are, people would rather live there than anywhere else. There is no place like home." L. Frank Baum Almost all of my childhood memories before age nine are in black and white. I think I've said that before. Why do I keep saying it? Why do I keep drifting back to that gray, long ago place? It's getting ridiculous. I used to carry the shame of that overwhelming lack of color on my shoulders. Now, at middle age, I'm beginning to feel the shame associated with still not being able to fill the hole it left me. Most people don't understand the deep reaching impact of growing up with an emotionally disturbed parent, one who ensnares you with their sad brand of charm, makes you their caregiver, their lifeline when they have nothing else. Most people can't imagine a five-year-old child somehow rising up to parent a parent, to provide an emotional load of assistance, and what the cost can be. As the child rises up, they are left with a sinking hole, a blank spot that can never be filled because the time to fill it was that day, that year, that moment. The moment was lost. When I was twelve-years-old, my mother said that God told her that my daddy was going to die so that she could marry our pastor. We were in our car going somewhere. She told me this as if it were a casual FYI. I asked her about the pastor's wife, and she replied that perhaps she would die as well. That instant sticks in my mind as one of the single most devastating moments of my life. It was the moment when I realized something was horribly wrong. I remember staring out of the car window as I felt my heart break in a brand new way that only happens when you're finally old enough to grasp the notion that life is filled with complexity. I somehow lost my mom that day. Since then, I've lost her over and over again. I keep trying to find her, to pull her back, to make her see me, to make her love me. I keep wanting to find that gray place when we were both so young again because it was my home when everything was simple, when all I felt was my overwhelming, pure love for her. It's just not working. Life is often ironic. A few days after I spoke with today's guest, Allison Gilbert, about her new book, Parentless Parents , I lost my mom ... perhaps for the last time. Once again, she is here but not here. Allison has explored and written about the challenges of raising children when your own parents are missing from the puzzle; they are deceased. I asked her about folks whose parents may still be alive, yet emotionally or physically out of reach. She recognized that there are similarities, but explained that Parentless Parents focuses on the singular situation of deceased parents. Soon after I spoke with Allison, I happened to call my mother at a time when she was working to balance her monthly budget. She spoke about her finances, and became more and more agitated. Then she said, "Adult children who do not provide for their parents should be prosecuted under the law!" As you can imagine, this was a loaded statement packed with years and years of struggle. In my heart, a five-year-old heard the words, "I need you to take care of me!" I remained calm, knowing that if I became upset, she would become more upset. Finally, I said, "I doubt that adult children could be prosecuted under the law, based on the fact that their parents have had years and years to make numerous adult decisions regarding their own financial well-being." I was attempting to provide a logical answer that she might relate to. It didn't work. Within an hour, my husband and I received a abusive email informing me that I was no longer her daughter ... again. So here I sit, a parentless parent in my own category. Regardless of its primary focus, I need to read Allison's book. You've worked in television news for nearly twenty years, and have won numerous awards, including three Emmys. I'm sure you did a lot of writing in that professional space. What inspired your focus on book-length projects? It's really was a gift. I felt that TV news provides an incredible opportunity to cover the most important news of the day, but no matter what, an article can only have a certain number of words, or television story only allows for a certain amount of time. So I felt that if I was going to use all the same skills, then I was going to use all those tools toward a project that I had much more opportunity to explore. I wanted to put those tools to use on a topic that meant so much to me personally. You write nonfiction. Is that what you've always wanted to do, and if so, why? Will that continue to be your focus? Yes! I think so. I really enjoy it! I always enjoy asking writers who focus on nonfiction how creativity plays a role in their work. Do you view creativity as a component in your work? If so, how and why? For sure! Even though it's nonfiction and it's based on very real facts and interviews, I believe that how we pick and choose what to include and in what order to include them has everything to do with creativity. That is because you do want people to enjoy the books they read. You want people to want to turn each page. Picking and choosing what stories to tell, and how to tell them, determines how interesting the book is to people. It's all about creativity. You've written several books. Have you developed a specific writing process that enables you to meet your goals? If so, can you tell us about it. Where do most of your ideas come from? I get up really early! So my process is to do the work when everyone is sleeping because I feel that my day is never long enough. I create time where I didn't have time before, and so I continually get up at the crack of dawn. I have coffee. The house is quiet. I'm able to be in my work space for a few hours. That's really the best tool I have. I carve out a time when nobody is going to interrupt me. This has been a real gift. With regard to your current focus, Parentless Parents , was there an "ah-ha" moment you can tell us about? There are two parts to that answer: (1) After my last book came out, Always Too Soon , the one part that everyone wanted to keep talking about was how the loss of our parents impacts and shapes how we parent our children. I thought that was really interesting. That was the primary issue that everyone wanted to talk about. (2) The other part was me. It was my personal story. I was dealing with being a parentless parent day in and day out. So in response to my readers, the topic emerged as something important for me to take on both professionally and personally. In conducting research for my novel, Aberrations , I read Hope Edelman's books on Motherless Daughters. The protagonist of Aberrations is motherless; however, my interest in writing about a motherless daughter was driven by my own profound feeling of motherlessness, which existed despite my mother being alive. She was there but not there. Did you come across any research related to situations where the parent(s) may be alive, but yet emotionally or physically absent from the family unit? Can you share your thoughts on any similarities or differences between the two scenarios? That's a really good question! My research was extremely focused. There are so many variables that could have been included, such as parents who were emitionally or physically absent, parents who may have been incarcerated, etc. There are a lot of reasons why parents are not involved. Because of my experience that they were gone due to illness and eventual death, I kept my focus very limited. Your web site has tons of great information for parentless parents. Can you tell us about some of the top issues that parentless parents face emotionally, and why? There is something I write about called the I factor, where I stands for irreplaceable. This refers to the loses that are specific to losing one's parents via death. It's not about parents wishing they had more babysitters, for example, because that's a very easy thing for people to brush aside. For example, they could say, "Well, my parents live in California and I live in Idaho so they can't babysit either." I tried to come up with the I factor as a way of explaining why there are the differences in being a parentless parent versus not being parentless. One of the big differences is not having a connection to your own childhood in terms of a direct link. It's often those very specific and detailed tidbits for which a parentless parent lacks access. Parentless parents read blogs and parenting books, and do all the things you do as educated group, but the real information they need is specific to them. They are never going to get that info from those other avenues. Really important details that could impact their parenting choices are lost forever. Not having a parent or parents, whether deceased or emotionally absent, is one of those major aberrations in life that are thrust upon us. There must be a loneliness factor involved. Is it only me who has that big hole, or is it there for everyone? If so, can a person ever really fill that space? Could it be that the gap exists only in cases where the relationship was lacking as opposed to losing a parent with whom there existed a healthy relationship? Can you comment on this? I think there are going to be tremors of the loss or aberration forever. It becomes part of your DNA. It becomes part of your fabric. It becomes a part of who you are. I believe there are many things you can do, not to completely fill the void because I actually do think that's impossible, but rather to put a very healing and effective band-aid on top of the wound. What I mean by that is finding support. It's hugely important that anyone who has an aberration of any sort connect with people who are of the same mind set and experience. Finding support groups, whether in person or on line, is incredibly important. For example, people are joining the chapters of Parentless Parents, which are spreading out across the country. Those are great places to go; in person connections are really important. Also, I think the Parentless Parent group page on Facebook is another great place. So many people are on line and on Facebook already, so for people to be able to easily, and in the course of their general day, check in and connect with others who are in a similar situation is another incredible value. It helps folks feel supported. The last thing I would say is that family doesn't have to be what you're born with. I truly believe in the soul of my souls that family is what you also create. It's your best friend. It's your aunt who may be a fill in for you mom. Maybe it's your best friend's mom. Maybe it's just people who you've met in the course of your life, or on Facebook who may get you perhaps better than your own spouse does. What was so interesting about the surveys I did is that so many people who were happily married felt that even their spouses didn't understand where they were coming from. People process these aberration differently. It's a matter of putting yourself in a place where you can connect with people who can proactively make all the difference in your world. Post a comment Write a comment:	dclm-gs1-007270000
Health knowledge made personal Join this community! › Share page: Search posts: How to...Hard Boil an Egg Posted Dec 02 2010 9:06pm There are certain things I should just know how to do. Like how to hard boil an egg. Every time I want to hard boil eggs, I have to research how long they boil! That made me think - if I can't remember, there must be other people out there who can't remember and want a one-stop-shop for basic kitchen how-to recipes. I hope that you find these new, super simple (and speedy) basic kitchen tips & tricks helpful. If you have any requests - please send them my way and I'll get them up here for you. So without further ado: How to...Hard Boil an Egg* Gently place the eggs in a large pot. Fill the pot with enough cold water to completely cover the eggs plus an inch. Turn the stove to high heat. When the water starts boiling, immediately take the pot off the heat, cover it, and let sit for 10-15 minutes. Drain immediately. Peel and eat them warm, or cool them under cold running water. Refrigerate. Storage: Shell on = up to 1 week. Peeled = eat that day. Nerd Alert: Technically, you want to hard cook your eggs - but who says hard cook? It sounds silly. However, if we're talking semantics, we're not boiling eggs here. Boiled eggs tend to be overcooked, rubbery, and green. In hard cooking, you bring the water to a boil before you take the pot off the stove and let your eggs cook* in the hot water until done. So, if you want to be a total kitchen geek - you're one step closer. Want More? Get recipes, nutrition facts, and more at The Incredible Edible Egg site Post a comment Write a comment:	dclm-gs1-007280000
Person:Anne Marbury (1) m. Abt. 1589 1. Mary Marbury1588 - 2. John Marbury1589/90 - 3. Anne Marbury1591 - 1643 4. Bridget Marbury1593 - 1598 5. Francis Marbury1594 - 6. Emme Marbury1595 - 7. Erasmus Marbury1596/7 - 8. Anthony Marbury1598 - 1601 9. Bridget Marbury1599 - 10. Jeremuth Marbury1601 - 11. Daniel Marbury1602 - 12. Elizabeth Marbury1604/05 - 1613/14 13. Thomas Marbury1607 - 14. Anthony Marbury1608 - 15. Katherine MarburyAbt 1617 - 1687 m. 9 Aug 1612 1. Faith Hutchinson 2. Edward Hutchinson1613 - 1675 3. Bridget Hutchinson1618/19 - Bef 1698 4. Susanna Hutchinson1633 - Bef 1713 Facts and Events Name Anne Marbury Gender Female Christening[1][2] 20 Jul 1591 Alford, Lincolnshire, England Marriage 9 Aug 1612 London, Middlesex, EnglandChurch of St. Mary Woonoth. to William Hutchinson Death? 20 Aug 1643 Pelham (town), Westchester, New York, United States the text in this section is copied from an article in Wikipedia Anne Hutchinson, born Anne Marbury (1591–1643), was a Puritan spiritual adviser, mother of 15, and important participant in the Antinomian Controversy that shook the infant Massachusetts Bay Colony from 1636 to 1638. Her strong religious convictions were at odds with the established Puritan clergy in the Boston area, and her popularity and charisma helped create a theological schism that threatened to destroy the Puritans' religious experiment in New England. She was eventually tried and convicted, then banished from the colony with many of her supporters. Born in Alford, Lincolnshire, England, Anne was the daughter of Francis Marbury, an Anglican minister and school teacher who gave her a far better education than most other girls received. She lived in London as a young adult, and married there an old friend from home, William Hutchinson. The couple moved back to Alford, where they began following the dynamic preacher named John Cotton in the nearby major port of Boston, Lincolnshire. After Cotton was compelled to emigrate in 1633, the Hutchinsons followed a year later with their 11 children, and soon became well established in the growing settlement of Boston in New England. Anne was a midwife, and very helpful to those needing her assistance, as well as forthcoming with her personal religious understandings. Soon she was hosting women at her house weekly, providing commentary on recent sermons. These meetings became so popular that she began offering meetings for men as well, including the young governor of the colony, Henry Vane. As a follower of Cotton, she espoused a "covenant of grace," while accusing all of the local ministers (except for Cotton and her husband's brother-in-law, John Wheelwright) of preaching a "covenant of works." Following complaints of many ministers about the opinions coming from Hutchinson and her allies, the situation erupted into what is commonly called the Antinomian Controversy, resulting in her 1637 trial, conviction, and banishment from the colony. This was followed by a March 1638 church trial in which she was excommunicated. With encouragement from Providence founder Roger Williams, Hutchinson and many of her supporters established the settlement of Portsmouth in what became the Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. After her husband's death a few years later, threats of Massachusetts taking over Rhode Island compelled Hutchinson to move totally outside the reach of Boston, into the lands of the Dutch. She settled with her younger children near an ancient landmark called Split Rock in what later became The Bronx in New York City. Tensions with the native Siwanoy were high at the time. In August 1643, Hutchinson and all but one of the 15 other members of her household were massacred during an attack. The only survivor was her nine-year old daughter, Susanna, who was taken captive. Hutchinson is a key figure in the development of religious freedom in England's American colonies and the history of women in ministry. She challenged the authority of the ministers, exposing the subordination of women in the culture of colonial Massachusetts. She is honoured by Massachusetts with a State House monument calling her a "courageous exponent of civil liberty and religious toleration." She has been called the most famous, or infamous, English woman in colonial American history. Early Years the text in this section is copied from an article in Wikipedia The text in this section formerly appeared on Wikipedia Among her notable descendants are U.S. Presidents Franklin Delano Roosevelt, George H. W. Bush and George W. Bush, First Lady Lucretia Garfield, former Michigan Governor George W. Romney and former Massachusetts Governor and 2008 U.S. presidential candidate Mitt Romney, actors Chevy Chase and Ted Danson, actresses Marilyn Monroe (possibly) and Jane Wyatt, writers Louis Stanton Auchincloss, Dubose Heyward, Robert Lowell and John P. Marquand, U.S. Attorney General Elliot Richardson, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. and Chief Justice Melville Weston Fuller, Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, Senator Stephen Arnold Douglas, Ambassador Pamela Harriman, neuropathologist Stanley Cobb, numismatist Q. David Bowers, and LDS evangelists Parley P. Pratt and Helaman Pratt This page uses content from the English Wikipedia. The original content was at Anne Hutchinson. The list of authors can be seen in the page history. As with WeRelate, the content of Wikipedia is available under the Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License. 1. The New England Historical and Genealogical Register. (Boston: New England Historic Genealogical Society), 20:355-67. 2. Dudding, Reginald Charles; Church of England. Parish Church of Alford (Lincolnshire); and Church of England. Parish Church of Rigsby-with-Ailby (Lincolnshire). The Parish registers of Alford & Rigsby in the county of Lincoln collated with and supplemented by the Bishops' transcripts, a.d. 1538-1680. (Lincoln: The Society, 1917 (Horncastle : W.K. Morton)). Anna Merberi chr 20 Jul 1591, father Francisci. Marriage: St Mary Woonoth, London, 9 Aug 1612 Anne Marbury, baptized Alford, Lincolnshire, 20 Jul 1591, daughter of Rev. Francis and Bridget (Dryden) Marbury [Marbury Anc 33]. She was killed by Indians in late summer 1643 in an area that is now in Westchester County, New York [WJ 2:163-65] 4. Hutchinson, Anne, in American National Biography Online. 5. Anne Marbury Hutchinson, in Find A Grave. 6. Gateway ancestor Founders of Portsmouth, Rhode Island	dclm-gs1-007290000
Quest:The Grol'dom Militia 99,921pages on this wiki Horde 32 The Grol'dom Militia StartUna Wolfclaw EndUna Wolfclaw Level12 (Requires 10) CategoryNorthern Barrens Objectives Edit Slay 6 Razormane Pillagers. Description Edit They came out of nowhere, <class>! Quilboar from horizon to horizon. Spines and snouts and teeth. We fell back to the farm but they kept on coming. Our best defenders have fallen in the field, and we've no sign of Farmer Ralton. I need you to go on the offensive for me! Hold these swine at bay while I defend the wounded until help arrives. Rewards Edit You will receive: 5Silver Progress Edit I can see smoke from the neighboring building - what's going on out there? Completion Edit I see you've left a string of corpses in your wake, <race>. I couldn't have done better. The livestock may be lost, but the land remains ours - thank you! Patch changes Edit External links Edit Advertisement \| Your ad here Around Wikia's network Random Wiki	dclm-gs1-007300000
RSS Feeds Thai ex-PM charged with murder over 2010 crackdown Thursday - 12/13/2012, 8:31pm ET Associated Press BANGKOK (AP) - A former prime minister of Thailand was charged with murder in the latest twist in a political war between supporters and opponents of another ex-leader, Thaksin Shinawatra. The murder charge against Abhisit Vejjajiva stems from the violent suppression of anti-government protests in 2010 when demonstrators were seeking to have Abhisit, Thaksin's rival, call early elections, saying he was installed in office illegitimately. Thaksin was ousted as prime minister by a military coup in 2006 after being accused of corruption and disrespect to the monarchy. Abhisit is accused by the Department of Special Investigation of allowing the unrestrained use of deadly force to quell the protest. Speaking to reporters after meeting for more than four hours with DSI officials Thursday, Abhisit said he had formally acknowledged the charge against him, but denied he was guilty. He said he would present documents supporting his position after studying the charge more closely. A court must still accept the case before it goes forward to trial. DSI specifically found reason to believe Abhisit culpable in the death of a taxi driver because he allowed troops to use war weapons and live ammunition against protesters. A recent criminal court inquest had found security forces responsible for the man's death. The shooting occurred during two months of demonstrations by Thaksin's supporters, known as the Red Shirts, who occupied a central intersection in the capital Bangkok. As tensions grew, the army garrisoned the area around their encampment, while Abhisit lived at an army base for his own safety and security. Soldiers swept through barriers to forcefully end the protest on May 19, 2010. Former Deputy Prime Minister Suthep Thaugsuban, who was in charge of the special security agency set up to contain the protests, arrived with Abhisit to be charged with the same offense. The two were greeted by DSI chief Tharit Phengdit as they walked smiling through a gauntlet of reporters into the offices of the agency, the Thai equivalent of the FBI in the United States. The political tide has shifted several times since Thaksin's ouster. His sister Yingluck Shinawatra is now prime minister, while Abhisit leads the opposition as head of the Democrat Party. Tharit was DSI chief during Abhisit's administration, and was widely seen then as his hatchet man for aggressively prosecuting Red Shirt leaders and supporters. Thaksin is in self-imposed exile to avoid serving a two-year jail term imposed on him for a conflict of interest conviction in 2008. Thaksin's supporters say he was unfairly convicted and would like to see him return without being jailed, while his opponents, such as Abhisit, insist that he not be let off the hook. The case against Abhisit and Suthep is seen by many as a bargaining chip, to gain support for an amnesty that would cover many of the people charged or convicted of crimes in connection with the political battles after the coup. An amnesty to lift Thaksin's conviction would be would be more politically palatable if it covered Abhisit as well. However, Abhisit in recent interviews has said he is willing to face justice, implying that Thaksin should take the same position. About 50 Red Shirt demonstrators gathered peacefully outside DSI headquarters before Abhisit's arrival, seated on the ground and holding framed photos of relatives killed during the protests, as they shouted protests slogans over loudspeakers. Several expressed the hope that the politicians would take responsibility for their actions and be placed in custody immediately after being charged. Payao Akkhahad's daughter, Kamolkate, was a volunteer medic who was shot dead while treating injured Red Shirts who were sheltering at a temple after the army swept in. "Her siblings and relatives have been waiting for this for a long time," said Payao, 47. "This is the first time that a person who has ordered the killing of civilian protesters will be put through legal proceedings. Even though it's late, it's better than a day that never comes at all." About a dozen people showed up to offer flowers and moral support to Abhisit and Suthep. About 400 policemen were on the scene to maintain the peace, but had little to do.	dclm-gs1-007310000
RSS Feeds Thousands walk in D.C. to support cancer cure Friday - 10/12/2012, 9:36am ET Neal Augenstein, WASHINGTON - Thousands dressed in pink, telling stories of survival and determined to walk 60 miles through the weekend, are participating in the annual Susan G. Komen 3-Day. Most of those gathered at the D.C. Armory have some previous connection with breast cancer. All say they hope to find a cure. Tricia Bedenbender is walking with her mother. "Today is my mom's second-year-anniversary of being cancer-free," she said. Her mother, Sherry Morgan, will never forget the moment she was diagnosed with breast cancer. "When you're told you have something like that, you always think it happens to someone else," she said. Even after initial screening showed potential problems, Morgan avoided confronting cancer. "I didn't really think that's what it would be. I didn't really believe that would be me." Walking with her sister and a friend, Taylor Tucker says breast cancer is a danger that can often be avoided. "You constantly think of it as a woman, because it's so prevalent. The walk is one of the things that puts it in your mind." Her sister, Elizabeth Stamper, says mammograms provide valuable information, early in the cancer process. "You wouldn't know. You don't get sick, like you do with the flu," she says. Stamper says one screening came back questionable. "They immediately called and want you back ASAP. That's scary. You don't know. That 24-hour period is not fun." Further testing showed she had nothing to worry about. "The quicker you get in, the easier it is to take care of it," said Stamper. Walker Seal Wilson is participating for her daughter and four nieces. "I want it eradicated. I want them to grow up and not even know what breast cancer is. I want it off their plate, to not have to worry about it." Walkers will cover 60 miles over three days in the fundraising walk, ending Sunday afternoon in a ceremony at the Washington Monument. Follow Neal and WTOP on Twitter. (Copyright 2012 by WTOP. All Rights Reserved.)	dclm-gs1-007320000
Lewis hopes to be hat-trick hero Jackpot feeling good ahead of PDC World Darts Championship By Nick Hext. Last Updated: 06/12/12 2:26pm • Share: Lewis: There are tougher draws than mine Sky Bet Adrian Lewis is confident he can win his third PDC World Darts Championship title in a row despite a few troubles on the oche. The 27-year-old is feeling good ahead of the North London extravaganza but admits his season hasn't gone entirely to plan. Jackpot finished a disappointing sixth in the Premier League and failed to make a big impact at the recent Grand Slam of Darts and Players Championship Finals. Now Lewis returns to the scene of his greatest triumphs and believes his top form will return for darts' number one tournament. "I'm confident I can win it again," he told Sky Sports. "I've had a patchy six months but my form will come good. "I can't really put my finger on why (the form hasn't been there). Whether it's too much on the exhibition circuits or promotional stuff, I couldn't really tell you." Lewis believes his previous triumphs at Alexandra Palace come down to "bottle" on the big stage and admits this is what all the hard work throughout the year is for. "I think it's just about a bit of bottle," he replied when asked for the secret of his World Championship success. "That's what it comes down to as it's the biggest tournament and everybody knows that. Main man "For some reason people don't perform as well as they should do but you've got to go up there and try and enjoy it. "You put in the work all year just for that one tournament." Phil Taylor has commented that Lewis is "under pressure" at Ally Pally and Jackpot is fully aware his former mentor is the main man for him to watch out for. The 27-year-old also expects plenty of other top players to contend for the title but there is still belief that his ability will be enough to make it a hat-trick of titles. "Phil Taylor is still the main man in my opinion," added Lewis. "You've got Michael van Gerwen now who won the Grand Prix and lost in the final of the Grand Slam. "Barney has just won (at the Grand Slam) so his confidence will be high. "You've still got Gary Anderson, Simon Whitlock and James Wade, so it's a really tough field. "But at the end of the day if you don't believe in your own ability it isn't worth you being there." Don't miss any live and exclusive darts coverage this festive season. Click here to visit Sky Sports' Festive Calendar • Share:	dclm-gs1-007330000
LIKE a good American, I have endeavoured to remain ignorant of the "fiscal cliff" and its perils. When confronted with stories about tense negotiations in Washington, I have let my consciousness ramble freely over more agreeable subjects, such as debt peonage or vivisection. But then a local news outlet burst my cozy envelope of oblivion with a powerful spot about the prospect of $8 gallons of milk. This I could not fathom. How? No agreement on taxes and spending and, bang, just like that, $8 milk? And now we've plummeted over this "cliff". How will Americans afford to make their cereal delicious? First, we should ask how milk could conceivably double in price through legislative inaction? I will admit that I am not quite convinced that American lactophiles will really feel the pinch. According to a Reuters report: It's this "trigger a chain reaction" bit that gives me pause. What's the government going to do with all that dear milk? Float a battleship in it? Why not sell it back to distributors at the prevailing market price? Or cut checks to farmers for the difference between the price-per-gallon they got at market and the price mandated by the antiquated price-support scheme? Better still, the government can simply refuse to buy milk at ridiculously jacked-up prices. If Barack Obama can sidestep the legislative process and implement central elements of the DREAM Act through adminstrative fiat, if he can arrogate to his office the unilateral power to determine who will die designated a "terrorist", surely he can have the USDA make an ad hoc rule on the prevailing price floor for dairy. In these latter days of enbridled executive power, if the executive is determined not to be legally obligated to do something, it isn't. The idea that the USDA will be left utterly powerless to avoid buying up all the milk at outrageous prices, helpless not to punish consumners with extortionate milk prices, in the absence of a new farm bill is so fantastic it's impossible not to suspect that the adminstration has been playing the media for fools in order to foster further popular disdain for the "do-nothing" Congress. The Washington Posts' own piece on the ticking time-bomb of milk prices contains the sort of vague language one expects from a bit of a snow-job: Who says "by more than $3 a gallon"? Whose "hopes are diminishing". Tom Vilsack's? That the USDA "is exploring all options for heading off a mess" prepares us not be surprised when it inevitably finds one. Surely the Post's intrepid journalists, if not Houston's Fox affiliate's, might have done something to get the secretary of agriculture to say more about these options, instead of so readily dancing to his tune.	dclm-gs1-007340000
Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay Tracing the circuitous, totally illogical byways of politics on popular culture and vice versa can not only be frustrating but infuriating. Take, for example, Hollywood’s response to the Bush war on Iraq. Sure there have been some excellent films, and even some that are emotionally stirring. James C. Strouses’s Grace is Gone, for example, is a complicated look at the effect of the war on the family of a female soldier who is killed in battle. What do we make then of Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay? Here is a film so stupid, so blatantly offensive, and so striving to be subversive that it frequently takes chances it doesn’t even seem to realize it is taking. On one level, it satirizes almost everything related to the "war on terror," then trivializes it to the point where it becomes completely ludicrous. It does so with the veneer that everything from defecating to prison rape is not only prime for laughs but, essentially, so politically inconsequential and absurd that in the end nothing matters. Escape is the sequel to Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, which was the last in a long line of stoner films featuring drugged-out teenage boys getting into trouble because they are too stoned or stupid to know what’s going on. From Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure to Wayne’s World to Dude, Where’s My Car, the stoner film has become a mainstay in Hollywood cinema. To a degree it has been moderately political in its own way. The casually sexist Dude, Where’s My Car makes some interesting points about the politics of gender and the stupidity of traditional masculinity. What made Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle interesting (and often funny) is that it faced racial stereotyping head on. Harold (Harold Lee) is a high achieving Korean-American college student who is primed for business success. Kumar (Kumar Patel) is a slacker Indian-American student whose parents want him to become a doctor. They are on their way to the local White Castle where, after many misadventures, they get hamburgers, fall in love, but don’t get "laid." Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay picks up the next morning with Harold in the shower and Kumar on the toilet when they decide to go to Amsterdam to find the woman with whom Harold has fallen in love. On the plane they get arrested as terrorists and sent to Guantanamo Bay where they are terrorized by prison guards who are going to make them "eat a cock sandwich." They escape and, as the tag line for the film states, "This time they are running away from a joint." The plot is too ridiculous to relate in its entirety—I’ll leave out the fairly offensive trip to the brothel with Neil Patrick Harris (in a cameo playing himself) as a sexual psychopath—but it does involve being chased by a psychotic CIA agent, having to fake being Ku Klux Klanners, meeting up with incestuous hillbillies with a seriously birth-defected child, and then smoking up with President Bush at his Texas ranch as they are about to attend the wedding of the woman with whom Kumar is in love, who is marrying a right-wing Republican. But even as the film bashes one aspect of the war on terror after another—racial profiling, the inanities of federal policies, the inhumanities of Guantanamo Bay, the ineffectiveness of government agencies to do anything right, the tossing out of the rule of law (at one point a government agent uses the fifth amendment as toilet paper)—it relegates these critiques to the trash barrel of stupid jokes. It’s not so much a case of writers and directors Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg being too sardonic or too clever for their own good, it’s that, at some level, they don’t seem to have an actual point of view. At the end of the film George W. Bush turns out to be a stoner who has problems with his father’s expectations—like Kumar. But rather than turn this conceit into something that matters, the film presents Bush not as a ravingly destructive political leader, but as a frat boy who is more than one toke over the line. Perhaps the most curious part of Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay is that it is obsessed with gay sex, homosexuality, penises, and prison rape. What’s this about? You really have to wonder what the writers and producers are thinking about their target audience —most probably 13- to 16-year-old boys. Does this demographic really want to hear endless jokes about penises and forced blow jobs? What do they think about Kumar saying to Harold—while they are parachuting from an FBI plane on which they have been kidnapped—"Hey dude, are our dicks touching?" Meanwhile, the film has no problem showing heterosexual behavior and women’s bodies in non-humorous situations. Do teenage boys have this much anxiety about homosexuality? Is it all they think about? According to Harold and Kumar, apparently they do. I think that a more productive way of thinking about the male-male sexual jokes in the film is that they represent a real anxiety about the war on Iraq, the war on terror, and the state of American masculinity—just as In the Valley of Elah was a forceful critique of how American manhood is in essence about death and destruction. Unfortunately, Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay is as aimless and muddle-headed as its eponymous characters who every now and then (through the haze of cannibas) have a bright insight or a sound revelation. It is also a very interesting manifestation of how deeply disturbed our culture is about men, war, sex, pain, and terror. Michael Bronski is a journalist, cultural critic, and political commentator He has been a visiting professor in Women’s and Gender Studies and Jewish Studies at Dartmouth College since 1999.	dclm-gs1-007350000
id summary reporter owner description type status priority milestone component version severity resolution keywords cc focuses 14777 "Adding ""fields"" to arguments array for get_posts()/query_posts()/WP_Query()" mikeschinkel "Hi all, I find myself more and more often needing to get a list of post IDs so I can call another WordPress database API function to include or exclude those posts. Calling `get_posts()` on a potentially large number of records and passing all the fields (especially `post_content`) between MySQL and WordPress is hugely inefficient when I only need the one ID. My two (2) options are: 1.) '''Code is directly in SQL.''' This is easy but I know it's definitely not a best practice and I would like to use the WordPress API wherever possible. 2.) '''To use a `post_fields` hook'''. Problem is that those are global and I have to start wrapping logic around my code to ensure I don't accidentally break some plugin or some other part of WordPress (this approach is much like trying to secure a server by starting with all the attack vectors open and then trying to close them all.) So I'd like to propose we simply add `""fields""` as a recognized argument for `get_posts()`, i.e. {{{ $posts = get_posts(array( 'fields' => 'ID,post_title', 'post_type' => 'movie', 'post_status' => 'publish', 'order' => 'ASC', 'posts_per_page' => -1 )); }}} I know I could make the same argument for `joins`, `where`, `orderbys` et. al. but I'd argue this is enough of a special case it could really use some early attention. For a query on the home page of a high traffic site that changes often enough to not be able to be cached this tiny change could make a major difference in performance. If you'd like to see a use case here is one: - [http://wordpress.stackexchange.com/questions/1140/removing-duplicate-custom-taxonomy-terms-from-within-a-dropdown-select Removing Duplicate Custom Taxonomy Terms from within a Dropdown Select?] Unfortunately I still struggle with creating patches even though I have done it a few times in the past but each time I seem to have to start relearning from scratch. I seem to have a mental block for some reason on patches ([http://wordpress.stackexchange.com/questions/990/ '''can someone help me with this?''']) so I haven't gone ahead and written a patch but will tackle it if I get the task blessed. -Mike " enhancement closed normal 3.1 Query normal fixed	dclm-gs1-007360000
Visão geral sobre segurança Este documento mostra uma visão geral sobre o framework de segurança do Mozilla Firefox OS, do qual é desenhado para proteger dispositivos móveis das ameaças para a plataforma, apps e dados pessoais. No Firefox OS a fundação Mozilla implementou uma arquitetura bem simplificada, segurança , de várias camadas que traz maior segurança aos donos de dispositivos móveis. Segurança da plataforma A segurança do Firefox OS é baseado em vários modelos de camadas, tais camadas de segurança é desenhada para bloquear qualquer tentativa de falha. As medidas de combate da linha de frente é combinada com uma forte estratégia que provê total proteção para qualquer ameaça. Arquitetura segura O Firefox OS conecta-se as aplicações web através de sua arquitetura simplificada de hardware, combinando com suas camadas de proteção, cada camada corresponde a um nível de abstração que o protege de qualquer risco, como todas são integradas, esse é o esquema de níveis de cada uma delas: O dispositivo móvel representa um aparelho inteligente rodando o Firefox OS. Gonk consiste basicamente de um kernel do Linux, bibliotecas, firmwares e drivers do dispositivo como a camera, microfone, etc. Gecko é a camada de execução de suas aplicações, onde tudo é rodado, desde o navegador até suas apps, assim como acesso as APIs Web, que usam a API para deixar você acessar a Camera, Microfone, Acelerometro. Gaia é uma suite de apps web que trás até você a experiência do usuário (UX), que consiste basicamente de HTML5,CSS,Javascript, images. Digamos que é a versão da Mozilla para o Twitter Bootstrap. Gecko é o segurança da plataforma, ele é quem decide o que pode e o que não pode rodar, baseado no esquema de política de segurança aplicada ao Firefox OS, garantindo sempre o bom uso da plataforma tanto para os usuários quanto para desenvolvedores, afastando os usos indevidos da platforma. A camada do Gecko comporta-se como um intermediador entre uma App(Gaia) e o Firefox OS. Por exemplo se sua App requer acesso a camera, o Gaia requisita, o Gecko verifica se existe permissão, aprovando a permissão ele repassa a informação ao Gonk que entrega o acesso direto ao Gecko. Todas as funções de hardware do dispositivo são só entregues pelo acesso as APIs Web, não existe jeitinho para tal ou "porta dos fundos". Isso garante segurança ao usuário que irá utilizar sua App. Implantação de um sistema seguro Firefox OS já vem instalado em um telefone inteligente (smartphones). A imagem original mais conhecida como ROM é gerada por uma fonte conhecida e segura que possui parcerias de OEM com a Mozilla. Os distribuidores dos smartphones OEM, geralmente eles montam o dispositivo, criam, testam e assinam digitalmente o pacote de distribuição. As medidas de segurança são usadas em todos os níveis de tecnologia. Privilégios de sistema de arquivo são aplicadas por listas de controle de acesso do Linux (ACLs). Aplicativos do sistema são instalados em um volume que é somente leitura (exceto durante as atualizações, quando é temporariamente leitura e escrita). Apenas as áreas que contenham conteúdo do usuário pode ser de leitura e escrita. Vários componentes do hardware do dispositivo têm embutido proteções que são implementados por padrão como uma prática padrão da indústria. Fabricantes de chipsets, por exemplo, utilizar técnicas de endurecimento para reduzir vulnerabilidades. A plataforma central (Gecko e Gonk) é endurecida para reforçar a sua defesa contra ameaças potenciais, e as características de endurecimento do compilador são usadas quando aplicável. Para mais detalhes, consulte Runtime security. Secure System Updates Subsequent upgrades and patches to the Firefox OS platform are deployed using a secure Mozilla process that ensures the ongoing integrity of the system image on the mobile phone. The update is created by a known, trusted source – usually the device OEM – that is responsible for assembling, building, testing, and digitally signing the update package. A built-in update service – which may be provided by the OEM – on the mobile phone periodically checks for system updates. Once a system package becomes available and is detected by the update service, the user is prompted to confirm installation. Before updates are installed on the mobile device, the device storage is checked for sufficient space to apply the update, and the distribution is verified for: • update origin (verify the source location protocol:domain:port of the system update and manifest) • file integrity (SHA-256 hash check) • code signature (certificate check against a trusted root) Os procedimentos de segurança abaixo são usados no processo de atualizar: • Strong cryptographic verification is required before installing a firmware package. • The system must be in a secure state when the update process starts, with no Web apps running. App Security In Firefox OS, all applications are web apps – programs written using HTML5, JavaScript, CSS, media, and other open Web technologies (pages running within the browser are not referred to as Web apps in this context). Because there are no binary ("native") applications installed by the user, all system access is mediated strictly through the Web APIs. Even access to the file system is only through Web APIs and a back-end SQLite database – there is no direct access from apps to files stored on the SD card. Firefox OS limits and enforces the scope of resources that can be accessed or used by an app, while also supporting a wide range of apps with varying permission levels. Mozilla implemented tight controls over what type of applications can access which APIs. For example, only certified apps (shipped with the phone) can have access to the Telephony API. The Dialer app has privileges to access the Telephony API in order to make phone calls, but not all certified apps can access this API. This prevents a scenario, for example, in which an arbitrary third-party app gets installed, dials a pay-per-use phone number (900 and 910), and racks up a large cell phone bill. However, other OEM apps might be selectively given access to the Telephony API. For example, an Operator might provide a systems management application that allows a customer to manage their account, including the ability to phone the Operator’s billing or support office directly. Apps confiáveis e não confiáveis Firefox OS organiza os apps em categorias de a acordo com os seguintes tipos: Nível de confiança Altamente confiável Web (everything else) Não confiável Regular web content. Includes both installed apps (stored the mobile phone) and hosted apps (stored remotely, with only an app manifest stored on the mobile phone). The manifest for hosted apps can be obtained through a Marketplace. • Certified apps have permissions to most Web API operations. • Untrusted apps have permissions to a subset of the Web API operations accessible to Privileged apps. These are only those Web APIs that contain sufficient security mitigations to be exposed to untrusted web content. Princípio de poucas permissões Processo de revisão para Apps privilegiadas no Marketplace Apps empacotadas e Hospedadas Apps empacotadas Apps hospedadas Manifesto da App ( App Manifest) Exemplo de manifesto "name": "My App", "description": "My elevator pitch goes here", "launch_path": "/", "icons": { "developer": { "name": "Your name or organization", "url": "" "default_locale": "en" Configuraçòes de segurança no manifesto da App • description - A string specifying the intent behind requesting use of this API. Required. Origin of the app. Array of origins (scheme+unique hostname) that are allowed to trigger installation of this app. Allows app providers to restrict installs from only an authorized Marketplace (such as Type of application (web, privileged, or certified). Firefox OS requires that the manifest be served with a specific mime-type ("application/x-web-app-manifest+json") and from the same fully-qualified host name (origin) from which the app is served. This restriction is relaxed when the manifest app (and thus the app manifest) is same-origin with the page that requested the app to be installed. This mechanism is used to ensure that it's not possible to trick a website into hosting an application manifest. Execução na caixinha de areia This section describes application and execution sandboxes. Aplicativo na caixinha de areia The following figure provides an overview of this security model. By isolating each app, its impact is contained within its own worker space. It cannot interfere with anything (such as other apps or their data) outside of that worker space. Caixinha de areia para execução B2G (Gecko) runs in a highly-privileged system process that has access to hardware features in the mobile phone. At run-time, each app runs inside an execution environment that is a child process of the B2G system process. Each child process has a restricted set of OS privileges – for example, a child process cannot directly read or write arbitrary files on the file system. Privileged access is provided through Web APIs, which are mediated by the parent B2G process. The parent ensures that, when a child process requests a privileged API, it has the necessary permission to perform this action. Apps communicate only with the B2G core process, not with other processes or apps. Apps do not run independently of B2G, nor can apps open each other. The only “communication” between apps is indirect (for example, when a listener process detects an event generated by some other process), and is mediated through the B2G process. Hardware só é acesso pelas APIs Web Infra estrutura de segurança The following figure shows the components of this security framework: • Credential Validation: Authentication of apps/users. Gerenciamento de permissões e reforços • permissions associated with calling app (as specified in the manifest and based on the app type) • permissions required to execute the requested operation (Web API call) Requisitando permissão do usuário Processo seguro de atualização da App • update origin (verify the source location protocol:domain:port of the update and manifest) • file integrity (SHA-256 hash check) • code signature (certificate check against a trusted root) Segurança do dispositivo (Hardware) Segurança de dados Código de bloqueio e expiração das telas Sandboxed Data As described earlier, apps are sandboxed at run time. This prevents apps from accessing data that belongs to other apps unless that data is explicitly shared, and the app has sufficient permissions to access it. Serialized Data Web apps do not have direct read and write access to the file system. Instead, all access to storage occurs only through Web APIs. Web APIs read from, and write to, storage via a an intermediary SQLite database. There is no direct I/O access. Each app has its own data store, which is serialized to disk by the database. Data Destruction When a user uninstalls an app, all of the data (cookies, localStorage, Indexeddb, and so on) associated with that application is deleted. Mozilla is committed to protecting user privacy and user data according to its privacy principles (, which stem from the Mozilla Manifesto ( The Mozilla Firefox Privacy Policy describes how Mozilla collects and uses information about users of the Mozilla Firefox web browser, including what Firefox sends to websites, what Mozilla does to secure data, Mozilla data practices, and so on. For more information, see: • Do Not Track option • ability to disable Firefox browser cookies • ability to delete the Firefox OS browsing history Arquivo Tamanho Data Anexado por Platform Overview 25010 bytes 2013-03-04 18:37:54 ptheriault Sandbox diagram 127469 bytes 2013-03-04 18:39:08 ptheriault FirefoxOS Security Framework 133208 bytes 2013-03-04 18:39:22 ptheriault Update Process 20031 bytes 2013-03-04 18:39:31 ptheriault Document Tags and Contributors Contributors to this page: morvanabonin, igorcosta Last updated by: morvanabonin,	dclm-gs1-007370000
Apple Support Communities: Message List Most recent forum messages en Mon, 28 Oct 2013 12:06:45 GMT Jive SBS ( 2013-10-28T12:06:45Z en playlist has up to 50 empty play lists for some artists or albums that I have not put there? <!-- [DocumentBodyStart:2a498e2a-d71a-43da-a3bd-18a8f4352fb8] --><div class="jive-rendered-content"><p>, & growing have spent at least 6 hours with ? supervisors 0 solutions also match, dups and deletes from my albums when used. I spend 80% time on Mac fixing 20% using. Also have soent over $400.00 having Mac in shop for corrupted files, programs move to wrong places, Will not back up time machine to time capusle, wich now shows up as two data files of 1T ea and it is a 3T time capsule.</p><p> Can not afford the money or time to keep it working. Have had two Macbook pros prior with normal problems but iMac should have flown out my window a long time ago. I hate to turn it on because once on I just spend all my time fixing issus. #1 Mac fan prior to iMac. Have given up on support with a 20 issue and 2 fix ratio, that is about 20 hours talking with supervisors that don't know the answers so imagine the hours I spend reading, another pet peave, the answers you get in help. How many answers do you get that have nothing, what so ever, to do with your question? Yes I make my questions simple and to the point.</p><p style="min-height: 8pt; height: 8pt; padding: 0px;"> </p><p> The playlist issue, if anyone knows how to delete the playlists that show up from mars, that is faster than one by one, b ecause at that rate I can not keep up with the incoming duplicating and empty play lists.</p><p style="min-height: 8pt; height: 8pt; padding: 0px;"> </p><p> Does anyone know how to keep your albums locked so that songs do not dissapear and duplicate for no reason? When they duplicate I put the duplicate in trash now thinking that perhaps the Cloud had dups. But I am to the point of bypassing any help subjects because Mac does not know which is why they suggest the community for help. Would you buy another sony TV and a problem, you contacted sony and\ and they told you to call up other sony TV owners to find out how to work it? </p><p style="min-height: 8pt; height: 8pt; padding: 0px;"> </p><p>I may sound frustrated but I left that behind quite a while ago, apathetic, numb, tired, pretty much. But thats the american way and how other countries think about our government running us instead of us running it. Actually they mention scared of our government first, apathy second. Do not censor this as political it is just a backwards analogy where the fear comes afterward a chain of failed attempts to fix problems, by the experts, then my mates who are rowing in the upstream in same boat, waiting to row off the edge of the world.</p><p> A bit melodramatic but that is now, not after wasting hours without results. Imediatly after the 15th or 16h time melo would not have work as a  preverb to any of the expressions that escaped from my ordinarily clean speach.</p></div><!-- [DocumentBodyEnd:2a498e2a-d71a-43da-a3bd-18a8f4352fb8] --> Mon, 28 Oct 2013 12:06:45 GMT 2013-10-28T12:06:45Z 4 months, 2 weeks ago 0 <!-- [DocumentBodyStart:58d17dca-1edb-403d-9fd7-9f317126adde] --><div class="jive-rendered-content"><p>I am trying to find an application that records conversations on an iPhone, (4S IOS 6.1). I keep hearing that there is a good application out there but everyone I ask can not remember it's name!</p><p>Please help</p><p>murff</p></div><!-- [DocumentBodyEnd:58d17dca-1edb-403d-9fd7-9f317126adde] --> Sat, 13 Jul 2013 05:56:45 GMT 2013-07-13T05:56:45Z 8 months, 3 days ago 1 0 How would you take a patch and flip it, half mustash missing? <!-- [DocumentBodyStart:c654f547-49d2-47f2-af39-6e40f55b67fc] --><div class="jive-rendered-content"><p>On a boat and half of the mustash is washed out,. Could you take a patch from the other side and flip it or would there be an easier was to burn it in?</p><p style="min-height: 8pt; height: 8pt; padding: 0px;"> </p><p>Murff</p></div><!-- [DocumentBodyEnd:c654f547-49d2-47f2-af39-6e40f55b67fc] --> Fri, 12 Oct 2012 01:32:45 GMT 2012-10-12T01:32:45Z 1 year, 5 months ago 1 0	dclm-gs1-007380000
Cookbook:Irish Soda Bread From Wikibooks, open books for an open world Jump to: navigation, search Irish Soda Bread Category Bread recipes Servings 8 Time Prep 15 minutes Bake 50-70 minutes Difficulty Easy Cookbook \| Ingredients \| Recipes \| Irish cuisine \| Vegetarian Cuisine \| Holiday \| Bread 2. Grease and flour a 9x5 inch loaf pan. 5. Mix until just moistened. Too much mixing will make it tough. 6. Stir in butter; pour into prepared pan. 7. Bake for 65-70 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the bread comes out clean. The loaf should sound hollow if you tap the base. 8. Cool on a wire rack. 9. Wrap in tea-towel or foil several hours or overnight for best flavor. Tips, Notes, and Variations[edit] • May serve toasted and buttered. • Soda bread rises as a result of acid being mixed with baking soda. The acid is commonly in the form of vinegar, lemon juice, or buttermilk. A tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar in one cup of milk can be substituted for each cup of buttermilk. • For best results, bake it at 375°F (190°C), for about 50 minutes, on a preheated baking stone. Conventional bread, containing live yeast, leavens (rises) as the micro-organisms make carbon dioxide gas as a by-product of their metabolism. Similarly, soda bread utilizes the reaction between baking soda and vinegar, or some other acid, to make the bread rise through the production of carbon dioxide. This recipe uses buttermilk, or optionally a combination of milk and vinegar, but other recipes use sour cream.	dclm-gs1-007390000
Skip to content This repository Distributed systems infrastructure used by Riak. branch: hp-vnode-force… This branch is 2 commits ahead and 1225 commits behind develop Fetching latest commit… Cannot retrieve the latest commit at this time Octocat-spinner-32 ebin Octocat-spinner-32 include Octocat-spinner-32 src Octocat-spinner-32 test Octocat-spinner-32 .gitignore fix edocs and "docs" make target Octocat-spinner-32 .hgignore fix some include paths Octocat-spinner-32 .hgtags Added tag riak_core-0.13.0 for changeset 5b2683c697e6 Octocat-spinner-32 Makefile Octocat-spinner-32 rebar Octocat-spinner-32 rebar.config Riak Core is an open source Erlang library that helps you build distributed, scalable, fault-tolerant applications. Riak Core is influenced by the Amazon Dynamo Paper and CAP Theorem. Quick Start You must have Erlang/OTP R13B04 or later and a GNU-style build system to compile and run riak_core. The easiest way to utilize riak_core is by installing the full Riak application available on Github. We encourage contributions to riak_core from the community. 1. Fork the riak_core repository on Github. git clone # or git remote add mine 1. Create a topic branch for your change. git checkout -b some-topic-branch git push mine some-topic-branch Something went wrong with that request. Please try again.	dclm-gs1-007410000
Skip to main content showing 1 - 2 of 2 Name Projects Interests Username: livintroll -- if, you, surf, the, web, you'll, find, numerous, application, that, will, help, download, and, convert, streaming, videos. Username: chiflatiron89 -- luxurious, eco-friendly, and, just, about, anything, related, to, grazing, glimpse, a, little, bit, of, clear., is, placed, powering, an, awesome, hair, straightening, iron., division, regarding, justices, site, with, the, oughout.ohydrates., keep, your, any, chi, flat, iron, because, well-known, additionally, recognized, virtual, stores., employment, porcelain, ceramic, china, will, allow, typically, heat, in, minutes., golf, irons, objects, take, advantage, number, plates, very, hot, doubtlessly, infra-red, waves., enjoying, wonderful, hands, on, locks, let, you, more., out, doors, done, are, actually, lead, served, by, chiseled, areas, which, behavior, warmness., this, type, constructed, ceramic/tourmaline, dishes, offer, really, glossy, final, results., high, quality, straightners, characteristic, sophisticated, complex, integrations, including, even, tourmaline,, summary, some, sort, myofascial, introduction, tactic, often, known, as, memory, foam, changing., it, has, fresh, clay, courts, used, for, ceramic., professionals, provides, most, beneficial, different, ., scavenger, seek, &, purpose, indoor/outside, functions., while, picking, should, have, power, choose, these, products, depending, haired., i, truly, do, cardio, exercise, c, or, build, up, people, today, short, time., you'll, discover, variety, variables, who, cost, usual, straightener., that, certainly, all, likelihood, low, well-liked, way, 4, kinds, suggested, preceding., can, find, healthier, items, around, portion, features., p90x, generated, pursuits, specifically, raises, sports, entertainment, abilities.the, easiest, creates, be, skin, gels, tresses, ointments., continuously, see, tell-tale, signs, symptoms, whatever, upcoming, situation., forms, joined, historical, past, endorsed, films., responding, requirement, head, defense, new, technical, benefits, currently, announced, straighteners., along, hold, there, easy, continue, obtain, other, business, secrets, techniques, internet., locate., precisely, what, helps, succeed, so, excellent, designed, frizzy, curly, hair., ways, effectively, websites, brings, being, familiar, individuals, vital., we, start, wal-marts, significant, plenty, concentrates, community, place, depots, lowe's., my, partner, view, also, come, distinctive, dimensions., them, powers, cuticles, more, pliable, shiny., once, seriously, isn't, changing, wasn't, able, touch, our, own, toes., if, seasoned, natural, organic, did, programs, slightly, differently., storage, containers, sufficiently, isopropyl, booze, thoroughly, clean, textile., actual, coder, favorable, course, could, instyler. Please Confirm	dclm-gs1-007420000
HK Flying mini-hunter model 403 An urban pacification tool, the mini-hunter 403 has a single purpose when released for autonomous operations. In order to do its job it is equipped with non lethal disencentive device dubbed “the pain” it is a focused microwave generator, and a backup Battle rifle, loaded with suppressive rounds when needed it’s unique sound when fired burns a permanent memory for future altercations. many civilians who have met one before run away immediately upon hearing the first burst of automatic fire. its primary use is when pacification is not an option. but has also been quite effectively used for nonlethal Doc wagon extractions. it’s manueverability is unmatched and often enemy combatants will simply not provide a hostile target than risk being subjected to the paingiver. while deemed a nonlethal weapon it is connected to the overpowered generator of the drone and has the potential of melting secure barriers if concentrated upon a metahuman for too long it can permanently damage and even kill. <> don’t think just because its a legal armament that the star doesn’t use them for impromtu interrogations in the field. that pain giver is a military grade version of the fichetti if I ever saw one. <> Teamzero <> The urban settings for the pilot default to not engaging any target that has not threatened and does not have a weapon. But this is the star we’re talking about, kill first then send in officers to plant evidence…I mean…assess the situation. HK Flying mini-hunter model 403 Judas Kiss Djinni	dclm-gs1-007430000
Re: why Linux? On Tue, Feb 20, 2001 at 07:12:12PM +1100, Drew Parsons wrote: > The reason I bring this up is that where I'm working we're preparing to > deploy a Java-based web application using JSP technology, and my boss > asked me to convince him to deploy the system on Linux rather than NT > (which we've been developing on - the fear of the technical unknown for > them). Well, if they dont know Linux and can't support it, they should not use it. What kind of Java Framework are you using? Currently Linux Java is lacking behind a bit. You will get a VM on solaris or NT faster. The Performace is recently quite compareable, NT and Solaris used to be much faster than Linux due to missing hotspot VMs. So in short: if you are the person who has to run it, you could argue pro Linux, if others have to run it and they dont want or cant learn linux it may be a bad idea to risk your head :) Unless you are heading for a very big installation with a lot of access the performance is no issue. And if it is the only Linux Box in an NT shop it wont save you costs, so the TCO is no argument, eighter. (OO) -- Bernd_Eckenfels@Wendelinusstrasse39.76646Bruchsal.de -- Reply to:	dclm-gs1-007440000
Foundations Team Weekly Summary, 2009-02-19 Robbie Williamson robbie at Thu Feb 19 21:06:29 GMT 2009 == Present == * RobbieWilliamson - chair * ColinWatson * EvanDandrea * LarsWirzenius * LukeYelavich * MatthiasKlose * MichaelVogt * ScottJamesRemnant * SteveLangasek == Apologies == * JamesWestby == Actions from previous meeting == * None == Agenda == * Feature Freeze Check == Actions from this meeting == * None == Activity reports == === Colin Watson === * Spec reviews: * daily-upstream-builds-poc (by e-mail) * distributed-development-debian-import (by IRC) * Feature work: * Added prompt during LVM partitioning for how much of the VG should be allocated (#160156). * Changed server CDs to use LVM by default (although still ask). * Finished changes to allow manual package selection in d-i. (This took quite a while; getting the terminal definition into the right place was unwarrantedly * Installer: * Merged partman-auto and partman-auto-lvm from Debian to fix #225785. * Made use of new dmraid exit code sanity to fix #325947. * Fixed grub #317085 (trailing slashes in fstab mountpoints). * console-setup fix for users of the CyrSlav codeset. * Wrote up TB meeting notes for TeamReports. * Tracked down the cause of ubuntu-cdimage #309396. * Removed ancient /etc/init.d/ === Evan Dandrea === * Sponsorship queue work. Uploaded gnome-system-tools. * Modified ubiquity to use PNGs instead of SVGs for the timezone map for better * Email to Robbie about usb-creator work. * Spoke with Ken about the time zone map requirements, and posted some mock ups from him to the wiki for future design consideration.Ken will provide me with a final copy by the artwork deadline. * Modified the time zone map to only select cities in the time zone band the mouse is over instead of selecting the absolute nearest city. * Started reviewing shtylman's ubiquity bzr branch, specifically changes to the time zone map. Roman is working on bringing the KDE frontend up to speed with changes to the GTK frontend. * Added support to ubiquity for translating between partman-auto translations and their ubiquity equivalents. This removes the confusing "Guided -" portion of the text on the automatic partitioning page as well as allows us to provide more specific options ("Use the entire disk, replacing Windows XP"). * Finished the code in the new partitioning bar with resize slider (SegmentedBarSlider) to set proper bounds and return a correctly formatted value to partman-auto. Finished integrating this widget into ubiquity. * Discussed the automatic partitioning page with Matthew Paul Thomas at Millbank. He's provided a mock up that I hope to at least partially implement before Feature Freeze. ==== Specifications ==== * UbuntuSpec:oem-tracking-id : Implemented. I still need to rip out the old oem-id code and might need to make additional changes if they do not find the current functionality to be sufficient. * UbuntuSpec:jaunty-ubiquity-usability : Mostly implemented, just a few deferred items and little bits here and there that I might be able to knock off before FF. * UbuntuSpec:ubiquity-slideshow : Deferred due to Julian's team not having sufficient time for it this cycle. I spoke with him at the sprint about this and they are going to try to work it in for the future. ==== To do before FF ==== * Rip out the old C time zone map code to remove bloat from the ubiquity package. * Finish implementing mpt's automatic partitioning page suggestions. * Knock off any small remaining items from JauntyUbiquityUsability. === James Westby === * Distributed Development * New features for bzr-builddeb, most notable: * Extra options for building without so much hassle $ bzr builddeb -- -S -v0.2-1 * pristine-tar integration. No more checksum mismatches,and more things just * Had to break backwards compatibility in a few places to do this, but I hope the pain is worth the benefit. * Spec re-written following review feedback. Tentative re-review looks good. * Ubuntu - Plenty of sponsoring. - Some archive admin work. === Lars Wirzenius === === Luke Yelavich === ==== Audio ==== * Audio bug triaging * More uploads of pulseaudio with fixes from git, and a few configuration changes. These were Daniel Chen's decisions, but I am happy to go with them at this point. One major change was to turn glitch free off, since it was causing manu users a lot of headaches. * Uploaded 0.9.15~test2 of pulseaudio to my PPA. * Uploaded a fix for alsa-lib, again thanks to Daniel Chen. * Started testing pulseaudio's glitch free for myself, and yse I get glitchy audio as well. ==== dmraid ==== ( Found the cause ofRAID0 arrays not being activated. It was a patch that the Ubuntu and Debian packages were carrying that was in the upstream release, but the patch still applied anyway. * Updated the git tree for the debian dmraid package with all the fixes I'd written for the activation script, and the dropping of the patch. I have direct commit access to the git tree, so will be sending all my changes via Debian first, except for extremely urgent cases, like late in the Jaunty release. In general, this will mean we will be syncing the dmraid package from now on. * Investigated dmraid and ubiquity/live CD again. It looks like nothing substantial needs doing here, except for deciding whether we activate dmraid arrays on the live CD by default, and if not, at what point in the CD load do we ask the user if they want them activated. ==== Misc ==== * Some sponsoring of both packages for main and universe, particularly with feature freeze coming up, this was good to get some good sponsoring work under my belt, as I have not done nearly as much as I should have. * After several uploads, got kernels for ports architectures all built, so that lots of packagse can be built on all architectures. There is still a kernel issue with endianness on sparc that needs addressing however, however thats for my own time, i.e personal time, as well as tweaking the kernel configs, adding Ubuntu aadded modules, etc. === Matthias Klose === === Michael Vogt === ==== compiz ==== * update to the 0.8 branch (will get released very soon) * debug/fix issue that seb128 brought up with incorrect placment of windows (wrong viewport). sent patch upstream (#1124) * compiz metadata/plugin default sync * update plugins-main,extra and upload to compiz ppa and then jaunty (0.8 release is comming soon) * Multi screen compiz-manager fix (#207770) and sent upstream ==== plymouth ==== * patching plymouth to work on ubuntu * add integration into our initramfs * packaging in lp:~plymouth-dev/plymouth/ubuntu * uploading into my ~mvo PPA and later into the ~plymouth-dev PPA * Create kvm image with plymouth by default (no kernel modesetting in the image) * no success in getting kernel mode settng to work on my hardware ==== update-manager ==== * discuss/prepare possilbe fglrx transition * Work on the update-manager not-automatic branch, not quite ready for feature-freeze :/ * Work on the computer-janitor<->update-manager code merging in the lp:~mvo/update-manager/janitor-merge branch with liw This is taking its time, the code bases are different ==== update-notifier ==== * implement the DX team changes for autoamtic launch of update-manager * add automatic launching of dialogs too (e.g. reboot required will not show a bubble but a dialog instead) * worked on avoiding focus stealing, not everything ready, needs to get fixed after FF ==== misc ==== * bug triage * Mail robbie with ongoing tasks/responsibilites I do/have * Look into codenia (fluendo codec installer) * Work with asac on the partner-repository policy mail (partner-repository spec) * Call with randy about codec install/sent mail with screenshots of the new * Review/sponsor deja-dup upload into universe (jaunty backup spec) * Apt ddtp translation update * Work on gdebi (lots of small fixes, talk with sianis who helped greatly with triage and fixes), upload new version * Followup on ddtp import bug (turns out to be a LP problem: #317482) * upload new gconf with changed gconf system defaults location (to be in sync with the other distros) * Help arne with language-selector questions * Bug triage for dpkg trigger processing problems (thanks to bdmurray for compiling the list) ==== sponsoring ==== * Review/sponsor gnome-desktop-sharp2 update * Review/merge/sponsor multiscreen compiz-manager patch (#207770) * Review/sponsor brasero, gnome-terminal * Review/sponsor yet another new brasero * review/sponsor tomboy === Scott Remnant === * udev * Added support for udev to watch block devices with inotify. When closed after being opened for writing, udev will fake a "change" event for the underlying kobject. In practice this means that running dd, or mkfs, etc. on a block device will update /dev/disk/by-{uuid,label} automatically. * module-init-tools * Updated to latest GIT head. * Compared the performace of 3.3, 3.6 and GIT head. Results posted to ubuntu-boot ML. * util-linux * Worked on the patch to hwclock to support stepping the system clock and setting the kernel timezone without reference to the hardware clock. * udev rule to call this new hwclock option when the hardware clock was not in * Worked with LaMont to put together a GIT tree for my work that he can merge * Restored patches LaMont accidentally dropped when doing an upstream update. * First cut of a performance comparison, results not yet mailed. * Boot performance: * Meeting with Arjan Van der Ven of Intel to discuss the work Moblin have been * Compared the 2.6.28-7, 2.6.29-rc4 and 2.6.29-rc5 kernel versions, and compared with/without the fastboot async patches enabled. Results posted to ubuntu-boot ML. * Compared boot with/without LRM. * Fixed bootchart dependencies since it turns out to need a full JRE * Updated autoconf to 2.63 * Update automake to 1.10.2 === Steve Langasek === ==== Release management ==== * triaging of jaunty nominations/targeted bugs * release meetings * alpha-4 preparations/release * Feature Freeze announcement / coordination ==== Specs ==== * nail down the Hotkey spec and get the implementation going during the platform team sprint * extensive hotkey testing / debugging, availing myself of the local hardware access during the sprint ==== Packages ==== * Follow through on nut SRU, uploading the fixes to jaunty.(bug #222761) * merge libgsf (bug #325682) * merge samba 3.3 (bug #328874) * follow through on the acpi-support drive parking mess, uploading pm-utils to hardy/intrepid/jaunty (bug 59695) * lay the basic groundwork for openldap 2.4.14 in jaunty == Misc == * trace down a false-positive regarding a regression in a kernel security update (bug #322497) * Monday archive duties x2 * participate in hwclock discussions with Scott and Colin More information about the ubuntu-devel mailing list	dclm-gs1-007450000
C API ?: checking if an object is a class Tavis Rudd tavis at calrudd.com Sat Aug 11 22:34:06 CEST 2001 how do I check if a PyObject is a class object? Is there any equivalent of PyInstance_Check() that can do this or do I need to use PyObject_Type()? If it's the later where do I get the 'class' PyType object? More information about the Python-list mailing list	dclm-gs1-007460000
A survey of Python IDEs Paul Boddie paul at boddie.net Fri Aug 17 18:37:29 CEST 2001 web.mail at lycos.com (Alan Green) wrote in message news:<270c68fe.0108162046.15ee55ac at posting.google.com>... > Despite these IDE's, it seems that most Python developers use a text > editor to program Python. Here are three theories about this: > a. Python is the kind of language that doesn't need a lot of tool > support. > c. Python programmers are the kind of people that don't use IDEs. I can't say that I've ever been completely immersed in an IDE and enjoyed the experience, although there are certain things about PythonWin (which I started to play with recently) which are quite nice, such as attribute completion. One thing I don't like about PythonWin is the "C64-like" editing mode - I much prefer the readline interface, but there is a multi-line readline interface which could appeal to me, I suppose. (There was also a weird bug which came up every now and again while editing programs - if I were using it now I would probably be able to report the details within a few minutes.) Integrated debugging and GUI layout support may well be the main benefits of IDEs, and you note that many of the available IDEs offer only these things on top of program editing and an interactive session window. For me, intensive debugging support with breakpoints and so on are only really interesting when trying to track down bugs in languages like C, when the program crashes spectacularly due to some uninitialised pointer. As for GUI builders, since I don't do "native" GUI design (preferring Web application development instead) there isn't a big selling point left to appeal to me amongst the different packages. Perhaps I underestimate the utility of a comprehensive IDE, but since I'm happier with the command line than the IDE implementation where things like version control are concerned, current generation IDEs have some way to go before I'll use one. More information about the Python-list mailing list	dclm-gs1-007470000
Shared publicly - Happy Darwin Day An artistic depiction of evolution (yes, with some artistic, non-scientific, liberties taken) from the Origins of Life Scene in Mission to Mars for +ScienceSunday (co-curated by me and +Robby Bowles) Dennis D. McDonald's profile photoKeith Smeltz's profile photoVinoth Ragunathan's profile photoJoel Bondurant's profile photo This religion requires a lot of faith to believe into this theory... :-) +Dennis D. McDonald - great review. Love this part: "more of a dreamer’s movie at a time in our culture when the crack of bone and splash of blood are expected" +Erika Stahoski Alright. Evidence that one become a bug, ant and cockroach and another an elephant, dinosaur and a crocodile from the same living cell other, than just a religious hypothesis, please? I am going to post this solely so that evolution deniers will identify themselves. :P +Erika Stahoski Hey, I am not saying you shall not believe in that religion, especially if no one can answer the exact question I've asked. Sure, believe it... But it requires more belief than being a Pastafarian, a member of Flying Spaghetti Monster Church. :-) +Bo Maryniuk, I would recommend if you really want some comprehensive answers. Evolution isn't a hypothesis. You shouldn't confuse the scientific meaning of the word "theory" with the way it is used colloquially. Evolution is a both a theory and a fact just as the heliocentric model of the solar system is both a theory and a fact. You may choose the think that believing in the heliocentric theory as opposed to the geocentric theory amounts to a religious belief, I guess, but I think that's silly; just as with evolution. I suppose it may be the fact that evolution contradicts some religious scriptures (at least if you take them literally) that confuses people into thinking it takes a religious position. Or maybe their ignorance of how it all works (willful, imposed or otherwise) causes them to think that no one else could really understand it either, and so they assume we just take it on faith. +Bo Maryniuk In fact, you do not believe evolution. You know it's true and you are trolling, or you deny it against all evidence, but either possibility is painfully boring. A simple google search would set you straight in the second case, and a personality adjustment would help in the first. I would like to back up +Bo Maryniuk here. I am a man who believes that we are somewhere inbetween those 'truths' and that both are right, to some degree But I see his point. There is enough emperical data to support both claims, more on behalf of the evolutionists, but again, the bible states there will be falsities placed to test faith The point I am making people, I am at piece with myself. I believe in God, yet, I do understand and believe in evolution, but you have to agree with the main point Bo is making Your Theory of evolution, all by itself, is not a fact, it is a theory with a lot of empirical data behind it, and that data has been applied in what many good minds think is the only possible and plausible answer. They might have been wrong, it is still a guess, a 'leap of faith' - all of you believed that light was the fastest thing in the universe. If I were to say that is Bunk, say 5 years ago, you would stand up and say 'that is fact' There is no fact - there is only theory, some stronger than others You having one, and Bo having another, and somebody liking the flying Spaghetti church, doesn't hurt me at all, so enjoy Non believers - +Erika Stahoski I just stood in the middle of this debate - to say I agree with both sides, yet that still isn't good enough for you? You aren't happy until the entire world believes what you believe? What a sad world that would be, nothing to talk about, all of us thinking like you (Not saying you don't have good thoughts, you probably do) Oh and yes, there is a LOT of empirical data supporting religion, the existence of Jesus, and his workings, backing stories of the bible, and lore. If my definitions don't meet yours, that is just kind of, oh well, you know? This is my opinion, it is mine, and I like it. I am a very well educated, semi retired business man, IT exec taking it easy +Bo Maryniuk - A lot of way crazier theories went into making the computer that you're using to display your annoyingly foolish misunderstandings of science. +Erika Stahoski I didn't swear, maybe you shouldn't eh? As for calling the study of darwinism a religion - a word, a label hurts you? Why? does God scare you? I don't need chill out, if you could see me, or knew me, I am chilled - serious, I am just trying to figure this out - opponents to religion really are a funny lot, so sensitive if you ever say anything about them being at all associated to something they hate, the organizational construction of idea's around a belief, but that is what your doing? Albeit, it is a loose representation, but it is true - I don't care what you call me, not one bit, I raised 3 native kids, taught them to call themselves native, they were never harassed because they 'took the power' out of words So up to you, I don't care either, but I give a (&*& you know? +Joel Bondurant why do you feel, because he thinks differently than you, he is annoying and foolish Wow, if being a scientist, or a supporter of science means you have to be rude and rash with people I will walk away from you sir, that was just imature and rude I am funny +Erika Stahoski :D Really, I don't, I find most Atheists to be hardline, and mean, I have a lot of Atheist friends, and they are great, so let me rephrase, I find the Atheists on here, to be more Hardlines, and pushy, and pushing their "Non religion" as badly as the Jehova's do at my door - that is why I call 'that' a Religion, they are trying to change the way I think, to their way, in an Organized manner, and through manipulation of facts, theory, and some downright mean and rude ways. But when I was Atheist in my 20's (Things change, I want every Atheist to write me when I am 70, and they have grown another 20 years) - I didn't fight people who believe, I didn't care they beleived so I don't know why it is that way now (My blog speaks of this phenomenon I find Scientists a funny lot though - for centuries, or more, a millenia or 2, Science has been in direct opposition to church. Why? Easy, while church would use things we cannot explain as symbols and miracles, Science would explain them away, as we grew to know more, the skies stopped looking like heaven, and became a place we can travel while alive - miracles became chemical reactions and other explainable things - so I get it But, today, the "Wonder" of the world is gone - Science hasn't explained everything, but we don't "wonder" like back at Jesus day, doesn't mean he didn't exist, doesn't mean his father didn't exist, just means our interpretation of what was happening by them then, was wrong or warped But now, we 'should' have Science embracing the "Non extremists" of religion, and learning together - God fits, and it can be that God doesn't fit. It is NOT black and white, it is NOT Binary - this is a spectrum of human existence, there is room for all of us +Gideon Rosenblatt I suspect that evolution puts a lot of pressure on google+ circles. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing probably depends on how well we understand how that pressure works. But I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure what you mean, otherwise. As for the thread that followed, wow. So much wow. I've watched three people reject medical science and quickly die, so, no... the views of +Bo Maryniuk and +Gord Birch are neither harmless nor victimless. Rejecting science isn't just an intellectual mistake but also a moral failure. Then why, are Scientists so hard on me, and in fact (Not knowing who he is) +Keith Smeltz above says I am a "Moral Failure" - wow big words from someone who didn't even read what I said???? Keith read first, I didn't reject Science - in University I took extra curricular Science (Back in the old days) because although my interest is Business Theory and Structure, and Computer Science (8 years post secondary) I love science, and, when I look at that flower that +Erika Stahoski looks at, I think I am a bit more lucky - I too marvel at how matter can tie itself together so uniquely to create such beauty, and in other forms to create such ugliness - I marvel at Science every day, yet, I can also have a God to help me through tough times, to help me in teaching my family (doing my 2nd family now that my first is grown and giving me grandkids) to be nice. So Keith, I am not a Moral Failure - I have added so far 4 of my own kids, 5 grandkids, 3 of those kids have grown, and one is Atheist, 2 not, all business people, all went post secondary (We had no mom at home, yet all this) So put your foot back in your mouth Keith, and learn some acceptance. Before you insult someone that has done some real honest 'great' in their lives already, and... who you were wrong, doesn't 'reject' science (But even if I did, who cares) Erika, you seem cool. I like people who do not expect everyone to think the same way as they do, peace. Add a comment...	dclm-gs1-007480000
Jerry Detwiler Detwiler is in his late 40s. He is tall and lean, keeps his hair neatly groomed and wears crisp suits to class. He insists on decorum from students and has been known to kick pupils out for wearing hats or chewing gum. Detwiler fidgets constantly. Jerry Detwiler is, and always has been, arrogant and self-assured. A professor of psychology, his research into schizophrenia and its treatment promised to herald a new era of psychiatric medicine. Or so he believed, until further research demonstrated that his methods were flawed and required much more testing, all of which Detwiler brushed off bitterly (and still does). He remains a dogged pragmatist and atheist. He has even begun teaching an annual course in paranormal studies with the unstated purpose of disproving and discrediting such bunk. Jerry Detwiler That Old Black Magic haunters	dclm-gs1-007490000
• AFRICA UNITE!time to stop all the Tribal,Political,Religious and boundary wars and conflicts,cause we are all one people,United we rule divide we fall.One Africa one people,one love.Blessings.xx As we aproach our UAF(UNITED AFRICAN FEDERATION) Golden jubilee season 2013,i and my team members are still trying to pass across the awareness of our African golden jubilee next year.Laws of the Jubilee is Leviticus 25 which is a Mosaic law.i have done my research on the laws of the JUBILEE and would encourage everyone including the churches,schools,youth and africa as a whole to research on the laws so they can have a better understanding of what is a Jubilee season. In my own understand i will share my knowledge of what a Jubilee is.WHAT IS A JUBILEE?Biblical refference a JUBILEE is the HOLY Year( the Sabbatical year)A Jubilee year happens every 50 years;declare the year Sacred.Regulation has a special impact on the ownership and management of LAND in the territory of the KINGDOM OF ISRAEL and of JUDAH.REFFERENCE OF THE LAWS OF THE JUBILEE,BIBLE LEVITICUS 25. Jubilee deals largely with land, property, and property rights. As with most cultures, the property rights regarding land, slaves and indentured servants was less absolute than for other property rights such as for tools and personal artifacts. As examples, in Leviticus,ALMIGHTY is speaking to Moses: Leviticus 25:10 You will sound the Trumpet;On the day of Expiation you will sound the trumpet throughtout the Land.Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof: it shall be a jubilee unto you - and you shall return every man unto his own clan, you shall return every man to his family. Leviticus 25:23 The land must not be sold permanently, for the land belongs to me. You are only foreigners, my tenant farmers. Leviticus 27:21 When the field reverts in the Jubilee year it shall become holy unto the MOST HIGH, as a field set apart; and it shall become owned by the priests." Rejoice cause it shall be holy unto us,Almighty has showered his blessings and is interving for us in this holy season of our JUBILEE.Wake up Africa the time is now! to comment	dclm-gs1-007530000
Charmed and Legend of Zelda Crossovers Zelda: The Charmed Ones by Ilovesnurtlez reviews "Not again!" Paige screamed. Then a transparent image of a dark skinned man, with flame colored hair appeared. He stretched out his hand, and large triangular light engulfed the women. The next moment they were standing in the middle of a field. Rated: T - English - Adventure/Fantasy - Chapters: 8 - Words: 18,590 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 7/8/2012 - Published: 8/7/2011	dclm-gs1-007540000
Reviews for The Devil's Own Hospitality Xion is my fate 'Laura Heart chapter 1 . 10/22/2009 It was very good. I know about "dream writing" and it is very difficult to make understandable. You have a natural talent. Lasgalendil chapter 1 . 12/1/2008 I. Am. Intrigued! The whole dream like sequence showed us how bizarre and confusing the events must have seemed to Molly herself. I still maintain that the strongest part of this piece is the ambiguity-did Molly dream the whole thing, starting with the inn, or did it actually happen? The reader is forced to choose an option, which elevates the tension. Grubbing around in the dirt under the bridle gives me the creeps...her horror and acceptance of the revelation were vivid. Realizing, or knowing concretely, for the first time, what sort of horror this creature is is quite terrifying. Especially given the foreshadowing of 'losing' when playing a fae's game. The repetition of Schmendrick's warnings/plea tied the whole piece together-and left us even more intrigued. Is he wounded, dying? Wanting to hold her? Is danger passed or is it only just beginning? This piece definitely ended on a strong note. Thanks for a great one! Tiamat42 chapter 1 . 7/13/2007 Oh, very nice! The descriptions are just enough to give you an image, but not enough to be overbearing. It feels very much like a dream, but then again, so did the book, really. Molly and Schmendrick...what a couple, if only for the names. Boring normality meets wildly improbable and almost silly fantasy... what's not to like? There were a couple of mistakes, missing words I think, and a few awkward sentences that only stand out because the rest of it flows so well. I haven't read any Last Unicorn fanfic before this...but it's nice to see that it's out there. I loved this book once upon a time. ;) Kyer chapter 1 . 3/23/2007 You wrote this after severe sleep deprivation? It's a wonder it's as understandable as it is. And quite lovely even if I wish it hadn't ended quite so soon. pigtailedgirl chapter 1 . 3/2/2007 Wow. Wonderful story. It reads so much like the novel in style and description, I'm wondering if you are secretly Mr. Beagle. ;D Fantastic and favored and printed.	dclm-gs1-007550000
Reviews for Shepherd SkywardShadow chapter 1 . 4/3/2009 Ooh, very dark and controlling (more or less) side of L. Very unusual. Loved it. Kanki Youji chapter 1 . 3/29/2009 Quick almost correction, m'dear: "The second sheep had turned black black like coal and hellfire and this would not do" I'd suggest you have a comma between the first and second 'black' here. This was wonderfully done. Quite good. shivers Jeezums, L! Now I'm happier to play you when we're doing a Beyond-less shoot with our second Misa, becuase I like playing crazy creepy people but... damn! Scary! Eep! hides behind Demented Inu Save me, Maddie! L is scarring me! Use you're awesome female-gamer skillz to keep me safe from the insomniac panda! Contemptus Saeculi chapter 1 . 3/29/2009 Well this is creepy and awesome. And made of win. It's something about Evil!L and innoecent children's songs, I think. Have I ever mentioned how much I like the idea of refering to the Whammy's kids by number? It has just the right amout of distance to the story. I like the idea of L being able to just...move on and get rid of entire generations or 'flocks'. The only thing I would change or emblish is probably here- "One by one more of her men fell to the poison." - and use that to add in a line about the helplessness of not being to be able to act on the knowledge, having to watch the men die without consequence. But that's just me. All in all, it's very dark and very good and I'm sligtly disturbed that L wants his own sucesors dead, even if I can understand is betrayal-issues. So, uh. Win?	dclm-gs1-007560000
Reviews for A New Enemy Countrycat17 chapter 2 . 9/8/2013 I still don't understand. What does this have to do with Jafar and Dr Facilier? Guest chapter 1 . 9/8/2013 I don't really get this. Is this before or after the movies? puddingtalk chapter 1 . 3/24/2011 write moooorrrreeeee Nausicaa of the Spirits chapter 1 . 2/1/2011 I'm afraid to ask, but who's the girl Jafar's talking about? Jasmine or Tiana?	dclm-gs1-007570000
Chapter 11: Revelations and Complications Nothing decided! Then what were you all doing? You were shut up for hours. Talking. There was a deal of talk, and everyone had an eye-opener. Even old Gandalf. I think Legolas's bit of news about Gollum caught even him on the hop, though he passed it off. Pippin and Bilbo—The Fellowship of the Ring (The Ring Goes South) Gimli would be the first to admit that when it came to finding one's way around an unexplored cavern, there were better dwarves for the job. Not that Gimli was unskilled in such matters. Far from it. He was leagues ahead of any man or elf and far more adept than most hobbits. But among his own people, Gimli's talents beneath the earth were considered average at best. He had a discerning eye when it came to the potential of virgin lodes, but the actual exploration and excavation of a mine were things that had not interested him as a child. Instead, he had spent most of his youth accompanying ore shipments across Eriador, protecting the goods from thieves and negotiating prices with prospective merchants. A dwarf of "many journeys" was how he had once described himself, and Gimli considered the long years of travel to be years well spent. But he now wished that he had paid better attention to his instructors when they had spoken of the subtle nuances in stone that could enable one to forge a path through uncharted territory. Glaring up at the dark, dusty walls around him, Gimli lifted his torch and studied the hallway carefully. He took note of the size and quality of the stonework as well as the width and height of the passage. He even spent a few minutes inspecting the blackened wall sconces where torches once sat in days long gone. He examined everything he could and made a guess about everything he couldn't, but in the end, he lowered his torch with a sigh, his spirits as dark as his surroundings. He had yet to come across anything that looked familiar, and the further he traveled in the hidden passages of the King's House, the more this concerned him. He still felt that he was going in the right direction. That was a comfort of sorts, though it would have been a greater comfort had Legolas been at his side. The elf was altogether hopeless beneath the ground and had once confessed that the only reason he could navigate his father's subterranean halls was because he had lived in them for centuries. If Legolas's bewildered instincts had been available for comparison, Gimli's vague notion that he was on the correct path would have felt like a near certainty. There was sometimes much comfort to be drawn from the incompetence of others. But Legolas was not here, and therein lay another problem. Gimli's attention was divided between himself and his fear that somewhere a lost and frantic elf had succumbed to the dark and was now beating his head against the stone walls. It might have been an amusing thought under other circumstances, but given the extent of these passages, it could easily take hours to find Legolas once Gimli reached the mains halls and enlisted help. By that time, the elf would have driven himself mad. Madder than he already was. And though Legolas had insisted upon joining the dwarf in these passages, Gimli still felt a measure of responsibility for him. If Legolas removed himself even further from the land of the sane, it would be upon Gimli's head. Scowling at the implications, the dwarf stomped around a corner and found himself at a crossroads adjacent to an ascending staircase. He needed his concentration to decide his next path, so with an embarrassing amount of effort, Gimli pushed Legolas to the back of his mind. There was no use worrying about the elf until he could actually do something to help him, and he would not be able to help him until he found his own way out of the passages. Once Legolas was safely removed from his thoughts, Gimli considered his choices and tried to determine where he currently stood. Calling to mind a mental map of the King's House, he decided that he was probably one level below the nursery, which meant that he should take the stairs. But he was far from certain of this choice, and there was a very good chance that he was already on the nursery's level. He had lost track of the number of stairs that had been climbed, and he was not entirely sure of how many had been descended. Absently tugging at his beard, he walked over to the steps and raised his torch, hoping to see something in the darkness that might help him. But the shadows were loath to give up their secrets, and the dwarf found nothing. Pursing his lips, Gimli wondered what his old instructors would say if they could see him now and decided to hazard one more set of stairs. At the top of the stairs, Gimli was faced with corridor so narrow that he was obliged to turn sideways in order to walk it. Fighting off a disturbing bout of claustrophobia—it was almost elven in nature—he hastened forward and burst into a wider corridor. Stopping to clear his mind, Gimli closed his eyes and sagged against a wall, suddenly grateful that Legolas had decided to become lost on his own. The elf's absence would undoubtedly cause problems later, but at least there had been no witnesses to Gimli's sudden panic. Composing himself, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, focusing once more upon the stonework. His torch was beginning to sputter, but it still burned brightly enough for Gimli to see something that made him pause. The stonework here looked very similar to the stonework that had lined the walls of the nursery. It was not the same but it was close, and Gimli felt a tremor of excitement race through him. With one hand tracing the patterns upon the wall, he started forward again, scarcely noticing his failing torch. After a few minutes had passed, he came to a crossing hallway, and his eyes were immediately drawn to something in the dust upon the floor. His footprints. And with them, scarce to be seen, a slight distortion in the dust that could only be an elf's footprints. He had done it. He had found a way back to the nursery without the infuriating elf and without taking the same passages they had used when leaving the nursery. Feeling immensely pleased with himself and deciding that he had not needed to pay attention to his old instructors after all, Gimli quickly backtracked along the trail. The torch was dimming quickly now, but Gimli was not concerned. The stonework had begun to look very familiar indeed, and he was convinced that he could reach his goal before the torch failed completely. And a short time later, with his light reduced to no more than the red glow of embers, Gimli stumbled over a pile of unused torches. Even as he tripped, he let out triumphant cry, for he recognized this pile. At least, he thought he did. There was not enough light remaining to be certain, but Gimli felt sure that this was the same pile of torches he had discovered upon entering the secret passages. Dropping his own torch as it fizzled into darkness, he seized one of the new torches and reached into his tunic for his flint and steel. Within moments, the dusty passages were brightly lit once more, and Gimli proceeded to study the walls around him. What he found made him smile. He was correct. This was the same pile of torches that had supplied him with his first torch, and this meant that the nursery was just beyond the walls. Gimli paused to wonder why there was a collection of torches here and not elsewhere, but he pushed that thought aside for more practical concerns. He could ponder the mystery of the torches once he was back in more approved hallways. A quick analysis of the stones in the wall revealed the nursery doorway's exact location, and having discovered that, Gimli looked around for the switch to open it. He expected it to be opposite the stone he had used to close the door, but after a cursory search yielded nothing, he realized that he was working with something a bit more sophisticated than that. With grudging respect for those who had built the King's House, Gimli went back to basics and examined the depressed stone that had closed the nursery door. An experimental push and a tug resulted in the sound of a rattling chain, and Gimli nodded to himself. He was dealing with a locking mechanism and a set of opposing weights. If the door was open, pushing a certain stone inwards—as he had done earlier—raised a weight and a chain that allowed a lighter weight and chain to pull the door shut, whereupon it locked in place. If the lock was released, the heavier weight fell, dragging the door open. It was a simple enough device, and Gimli was familiar with the engineering. There were a few doors in Aglarond that employed a similar design. All he needed to do now was find the stone that released the lock. For a dwarf specifically trained in hidden doorways, this should have taken about two or three minutes. For a dwarf of Gimli's caliber, it should have taken about five minutes. And for a dwarf of any caliber, it should have taken no more than ten minutes. Fifteen minutes later, Gimli was still searching. He had searched the base of the door. He had searched the wall around the door. He had searched the wall opposite the door on the off chance that those who had engineered the lock had run the release over the ceiling and down the other side as a perverse joke. In an act of desperation, he had bodily thrown himself against the door several times, hoping to force the lock. But after all this, the door was still shut and the dwarf was still trapped. Stepping back and giving the immovable stone a baleful glare, Gimli once again felt grateful that Legolas was not here to witness his failure. Or his next actions. For when faced with problems like this, where all attempts had met with defeat, the best recourse was to yell for help. Children were among the most confusing and confounding creatures that Elladan had ever met. The previous evening, he had joined Arwen and Estel in the Queen's Gardens and watched with bemused fascination as Eldarion ate a bug despite his mother's best efforts to prevent it. Elladan now watched that same child adamantly refuse far more conventional fare on the basis that it was repulsive. The bread and dried fruit Elladan had purchased in haste had been all but thrown aside, and even though his stomach was rumbling loudly, Eldarion resolved to have nothing to do with such things. It was only after Elladan bought some especially smelly cheese and complimented it with his own stash of elven bread that Eldarion agreed to eat. By that time, it was almost too late. Watchful for approaching Rohirrim, Elladan caught sight of Lord Elfhelm and a small contingent of Riders entering the Second Circle, and he immediately began looking for places to hide. The markets were still crowded enough that there was little chance of being seen, but he was not about to take chances. Not after Prince Elfwine had managed to find him so easily. "Eldarion?" he hissed, pushing his way to the edge of the streets. Perched on his uncle's hip, Eldarion looked up expectantly, his cheeks flaked with a cheese so strong that Elladan's stomach rolled over. "Eldarion, we are going to play a game," Elladan said, forcing himself to ignore the smell. "But I need you to give me your food for just a moment and climb onto my back. And I need you to be as quiet as possible. Just as you were when you were hiding from Gimli this morning. Can you do that?" Eldarion studied Elladan with solemn, gray eyes that seemed far too old for his four years of age. But then his face brightened in a wide smile and he nodded eagerly, handing over his food and shifting around until his arms twined around Elladan's neck and his legs pressed tightly against his sides. "Good," Elladan said, glancing back at the Rohirrim. They were blocked by the masses but making surprising progress, and Elladan hurriedly ducked into an alley where he had noticed some vines growing down the side of an inn. "Now hold tightly," he whispered, stuffing Eldarion's cheese into a belt pouch as he made his way to the wall. "We are going to do a bit of exploring in an upward direction." Eldarion seemed to approve of this activity, and he giggled softly, spewing cheese across Elladan's shoulders. Deciding not to breathe for the next few minutes, Elladan gauged the distance between himself and the tangled vines, took a few steps back, and then leaped. Forgetting the earlier admonition to be quiet, Eldarion squealed with delight, but Elladan did not stop to hush him. He could feel the vines trembling under their combined weight, and he hastily began climbing, hoping that no one bothered to glance down this alley and that if they did, they would pass this off as an oddity of the elves. Valar take you, Elrohir, he thought darkly as he struggled up the wall. Had you any respect for me at all, you would have allowed me to see distract Elfwine while you cared for Eldarion. A wild shriek in his right ear jerked him from his thoughts, and he suddenly realized two things: he was choking and Eldarion's feet were no longer against his side. Instead, the crown-prince of Gondor was swinging from his uncle's neck and laughing excitedly. A jolt of fear enabled him to hurriedly scramble up the rest of the vines, and with a gasp of relief that involved inhaling a large quantity of Eldarion's cheesy breath, he hauled himself over the edge of the flat roof and collapsed. "Again!" Eldarion commanded, releasing his stranglehold on Elladan's neck and clapping his hands. "In a moment," Elladan said, pulling Eldarion away from the edge. "This is the part of the exploration where we must hide." "Because there are men looking for me and I would rather they did not find me." Elladan was suddenly reminded that aside from the infamous pout of Isildur, Isildur's heirs were also notorious for incessant interrogation sessions. "Because there is a game of sorts going on, and some of those playing the game have been less than kind," he explained patiently. "Legolas, for one, though I suspect that Gimli was also involved." "Legolas and Gimli weren't kind?" Eldarion wore an expression of disbelief. "Nay, they were not," Elladan said, crawling to the edge of the roof so that he had a view of the street below. The Rohirrim were now marching by, but fortunately, they seemed unaware that the subject of their anger was less than a stone's throw away. "You're lying," Eldarion declared. Elladan frowned at the accusation but did not look away from the street. "And what cause have you to say that?" "Because you said Legolas and Gimli weren't kind, but that's wrong. Gimli is always kind." The omission of Ithilien's elven lord caught Elladan's interest, and he glanced back at his nephew. "And what of Legolas?" Eldarion folded his arms across his chest and assumed a look of supreme indignation. "He won't let me touch his bow." Elladan hastily turned back toward the streets and transformed his laugh into a cough. "Ah. Yes, well, I understand how that could be seen as terribly unkind. My condolences. But now I am curious: What of Gimli's axe? Does he allow you to play with it?" Elladan could sense Eldarion's scowl deepening. "He says he would if mother and father would let me. And the nurses, too. But they won't." "I see. Therefore, it is not Gimli's fault that you are unable to wield the axe." Elladan shook his head, impressed in spite of himself. Gimli, of course, would never let such a young child near such a dangerous weapon, but by shifting the blame, he had earned himself a place of high favor in Eldarion's eyes. Elladan had not thought the dwarf capable of such devious maneuvering, but then, he had been spending quite a bit of time with Legolas of late… "Can I have my cheese?" "May I have my cheese," Elladan corrected absently, his eyes following the last of the Rohirrim as they departed up the street, finally clear of the crowded market place. "And yes, you may. I think we shall wait here for my brother. We have a good view, and we shall see him the moment he emerges." "It is indeed a good view, but I doubt you will linger long enough to enjoy it." Elladan froze, his eyes widening, and then he spun around, leaping to his feet and feeling for his belt knife. "Legolas!" On the side of the roof closest to the towering wall that separated the Second Circle from the Third, Thranduil's youngest son stared back at Elladan, his face unreadable but his eyes burning. "Is not this an interesting meeting?" he observed coolly. Elladan immediately stepped in front of Eldarion, determined to keep his prize. "It is," he answered, matching the other's tone. "This is also an interesting place for a meeting." "True enough," Legolas said with a slow nod. He took a casual step toward Elladan and Eldarion, the latter of whom seemed fascinated by this new development. "I am amazed that a creature of Imladris was able to venture so high without mishap." Firmly bridling his temper, Elladan did not move from his protective stance. "And I am amazed that a creature of Greenwood was able to venture so high without the coddling assistance of trees." Something flashed in Legolas's eyes, and he took another step closer. "I am reassured, at least, that Rivendell is not bereft of all its traditions. You have managed to cleverly conceal yourself in a place where all looking down from above might see. My congratulations." Elladan frowned and struggled to understand this insult and also to answer it. This inn was among the tallest buildings of the Second Circle. There was no opportunity to look down from above unless… "Did you just come from the Third Circle wall?" he demanded, surprise getting the better of him. "I did," Legolas said. Legolas arched one elegant eyebrow. "I jumped." "From the wall?" The archer shrugged. "It is a reasonable jump if one knows what one is doing." Elladan looked up at the towering wall of the Third Circle and blinked, deciding that it was a reasonable jump only if one was a Wood-elf who cared nothing for the safety of his own neck. "But enough of this," Legolas said, tearing Elladan from his thoughts and assuming a purposeful look. "Where is your brother? I must speak with you both." Wondering if this was a test of sorts and well aware of the fact that Legolas was more comfortable with heights than he was, Elladan attempt to craft a safe answer. "I fear that Elrohir is away at the moment, but he is within calling distance should need arise." Something that might have been a smirk flashed across Legolas's face, and he glanced toward the streets. "Would I be wrong in assuming that you are both avoiding the Rohirrim?" Elladan checked his temper sharply by promising himself that vengeance would be sweet, satisfying, and extensive. "You may assume whatever you wish." The smirk returned, tugging at the corners of Legolas's mouth. "Very well. To business, then, since you seem loath to call Lord Elrohir. I have come to collect Eldarion, and I would rather you give him to me than I force him from you. Are you willing to concede?" "Concede?" Elladan's anger dissolved into an outright laugh. "My dear Legolas, the morning has clearly wearied your mind. In order to concede, one must be defeated, and I am not." "I can see to that shortly if you insist upon it," Legolas replied with unnerving confidence. "Truly? If you refer to the actions you have taken upon the Pelennor, then allow me to point out that one crown-prince is of far more importance than a few brood mares," Elladan answered. "Perhaps," Legolas allowed, the smirk becoming more pronounced. "But your own dignity coupled with the respect that Minas Tirith accords Imladris may be worth more than one crown-prince." Now somewhat nervous, Elladan decided that Legolas was too sure of himself and that a prudent retreat was in order. "If you can offer naught but vague threats, then we are done here." He turned to his nephew, careful to keep one eye upon Legolas. "Climb on my back again," he instructed. "It is time for us to depart." "Stay, my lord prince," Legolas commanded when Eldarion started forward. "I have somewhat more to say to to your uncle, if you will allow it." And much to Elladan's surprise, Eldarion stopped. Apparently pleased by Legolas's sudden formality, he responded in kind and nodded gravely. "You can speak to him," he announced with every ounce of dignity that a four-year-old child could muster. "My thanks," Legolas said with a deep bow. Elladan suspected the bow was primarily to hide a growing smile than to show respect. "Lord Elladan of Imladris, a word in private?" "If you believe that I am so foolish as to—" "I ask for no more than a short discussion," Legolas interrupted, raising his hands to show his good intentions. "You have my word on my father's realm that I wish only to speak with you." Elladan frowned, but there was not much he could say in response to that. A refusal to take Legolas at his word constituted a breach of trust and an insult to his honor. Such insults were not born lightly by those of Thranduil's line, even on light-hearted days. After a quick look back at Eldarion to see that he was both out of Legolas's reach and not too close to the edge of the roof, Elladan moved forward. "And what have you to say to me?" he demanded, attempting to regain control of the situation. "I propose an exchange," Legolas whispered, his eyes straying to Eldarion for a moment. "You surrender the crown-prince to me, and I promise to forego certain actions this evening." "Certain actions?" Elladan echoed. "If seems to me that we are dealing with vague threats again. Or perhaps you refer to further activities among Rohan's horses?" "Nay, nothing so banal at that," Legolas said with a dangerous smile. "Rather, I had an idea to speak to the minstrels that will be present at the feast this evening. It occurs to me that their repertoire of songs might be enlarged." Elladan blinked in surprise. What did Gondor's minstrels have to do with anything? "The king and queen have been very helpful in supplying old lays remembered only within the House of Elrond," Legolas continued, his eyes gleaming. "But there have been some grievous omissions. I believe it is time to correct that." Now thoroughly confused, Elladan could only stare at Legolas and wonder if there was a point to all this. "Tell me if you are familiar with this song," Legolas said. "O! Where are you going with beards all a-wagging? What brings—" The shout escaped ere Elladan could stop it, so great was his horror at hearing part a song that was regarded as one of Rivendell's most closely guarded secrets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eldarion jump in surprise, but Legolas seemed to have expected his reaction and was now smiling serenely. "Nay, I think more is required," Legolas said. "For after all, the valley is jolly. Ha! Ha!" Attempting to restrain his anger, Elladan took a deep breath and fixed Legolas with a glare worthy of Glorfindel. "Where did you learn those words?" "Bilbo Baggins," Legolas answered. "Just ere he departed, I asked if I might have a copy of some of the songs he heard while in Rivendell. He was only too happy to share, and on the topic of this particular song, he decided to share more than what he included in his book. Truly fascinating, I must confess. Of course, many of us in Greenwood had long suspected the existence of a balancing song. Something that offset all those dour laments of the First Age and your eternal pining for the Undying Lands. But never did we think to hear of a song so inane as the one recorded by our esteemed hobbit friend." Legolas shook his head, his expression one of unfettered glee. "Really, Lord Elladan. Tra-la-la-lally?" Torn between a desire to curl into a ball and disappear and a desire to throw Legolas off the roof, Elladan settled for a burning glower and clenched fists. "If you breathe one word of this to Gondor's minstrels, I will—" "But that is the point! You can ensure that Gondor's minstrels are never subjected to such nonsense and that Rivendell's madness is kept safely contained within its own borders." Elladan stared at Legolas, bringing to bear everything he had ever learned from his father on the subject of intimidating looks. Legolas responded by calling up one of Thranduil's most infuriating expressions: smug victory. And unable to think of an alternative offer or threat, Elladan was forced to admit that the Wood-elf was right. Keeping Eldarion for the rest of the day would be enjoyable, but Rivendell's dignity came first. Thanks to Bilbo's records, a few verses of the infamous Tra-la-la-lallly song were already common knowledge among hobbits, but until now, Elladan had believed that the full scope of the song remained mercifully unknown. If Bilbo had shared the other verses with Legolas… "Take him," Elladan snapped, stepping aside and nodding to Eldarion. "My thanks for your cooperation," Legolas said, inclining his head with a smile. "Though I will miss hearing that song tonight." "See that you do." Legolas's smile grew, but he said nothing more on the subject and walked toward Eldarion, dropping down on one knee in order to speak with the prince. Disgusted with himself, with Legolas, with Bilbo Baggins, and with the world in general, Elladan fumed silently and headed for the vines. He sensed the beginnings of a large headache and felt it would be best to leave before anything else happened. It was only when he was halfway down the vines and he heard Eldarion's voice suddenly rise in a demand for his food that Elladan remembered a certain smelly chunk of cheese still hidden in his belt pouch. Deciding it should remain there, he quickly dropped the rest of the distance to the ground and hastened away. Petty, yes, but at the moment, Elladan would take what he could get. It did not take Pippin long to discover that Meriadoc Brandybuck was much heavier than he looked. Even with Imrahil's assistance, Pippin was exhausted by the time they dragged the inebriated hobbit into his quarters. He was ready for a nap himself, and he probably would have curled up right there on the floor had it not been for a sudden rumbling outburst from his stomach. "Are you concealing a small dragon, Master Took?" Imrahil asked, turning down the blankets on Merry's bed. Pippin scowled and shot a glare at Merry, who was propped against one wall and blissfully unaware of his surroundings. "No thanks to him, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast." "Then it sounds as though lunch is in order. It is certainly time for it, and I feel the need for nourishment myself. Help me put your friend to bed, and once he is settled, we shall seek out the butteries in the Tower. Afterwards we can search for Legolas and Gimli. Once we are assured of their whereabouts, we should probably go together to search for Elladan and Elrohir. It may be difficult to find them, even if they are still in the Second Circle." "I suppose that will have to do," Pippin sighed, bending down and pulling Merry's left arm over his shoulder. "But I was looking forward to the feast down on the Pelennor. I had some choice words to say to Strider about Arwen. If we hurry and find Legolas and Gimli, do you think we can still catch them on the fields?" Imrahil had been taking Merry's other arm, but he stopped at this and flashed a sharp look in Pippin's direction. "You mean to say that you do not know?" "Know what?" There was a slight pause, barely noticeable, and then Imrahil shook his head. "Naught. I am merely surprised that word of this has not spread. The citizens of Minas Tirith are not usually so discreet." He gripped Merry beneath his right arm and pulled the hobbit to his feet. "Discreet about what?" Pippin asked, forgetting his exhaustion in the face of his curiosity. "There was an accident upon the Pelennor this morning," Imrahil answered, moving Merry toward the bed with Pippin's assistance. "I will not tire you with the details, but the king and queen are currently in the Houses of Healing tending to one of the accident's victims." "Do I know this victim?" "You have met before. Here, lay him against the bed and we shall lift his legs." Pippin obediently let Merry's upper body flop forward onto the bed. "So where have I met the victim?" he asked, not about to let Imrahil divert the conversation. "And what kind of accident was it?" "It involved…horses," Imrahil said, gasping slightly as they maneuvered Merry the rest of the way onto the bed. His face creased with pain, and one hand went to his side. "Horses?" Pippin blinked, thinking back over what he had heard just ere he left the Pelennor with Merry. "Did something happen during the race between you and Eomer? Is Eomer hurt? And are you hurt, too?" "You are perceptive, Master Took," Imrahil murmured, straightening and pulling the blankets up over Merry. "As for your questions, yes. Something did happen during the horse race, and Eomer was injured. Thanks to his actions, though, I am only bruised." Pippin gave him a rather skeptical look. "How badly was Eomer hurt? And how certain are you that you're all right?" "I am reasonably certain of my own health. As for the king of Rohan…he suffered a blow to the head. We are convinced that he will recover in time, but for the moment, he is in need of rest." Imrahil sounded confident and Pippin wanted to believe him, but experience had taught him that just because someone sounded confident didn't mean they were telling the whole story. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, in particular, were quite good at claiming one thing when the opposite was true. Sam thought that it had something to do with being a leader over a large group of suspicious-minded people, and if he was right, then Imrahil was probably equally skilled at deception. Which meant that Pippin would have to press harder for answers. "So how much rest does Eomer need?" he asked. "As much as King Elessar deems necessary." "And how much is that? How severe was the blow to his head? Did he fall and hit it on something? Or did something fall and hit him?" Imrahil's face took on a bemused expression. "A little of both, I believe. Are all hobbits so inquisitive?" "Both?" Pippin echoed, ignoring the last part. He started to ask more, but his stomach suddenly let out another loud growl. "Perhaps we would be better served discussing this over lunch," Imrahil observed. With a grimace, Pippin nodded. "Probably. I feel as though I could—" Pippin flinched violently and spun around. "Merry? You're supposed to be asleep!" "Am I?" Merry blinked and rolled over, tangling himself in his blankets. "Have I been awake long? Wha's the time?" "It is time for you to sleep again," Imrahil said. "You have already been awake far too long." "Can't tell what time it is!" Merry said crossly. "Everything keeps changing." "That's what happens when you drink Mirkwood wine, you ninny," Pippin scolded. "Now close your eyes and—" "The wine's made in Greenwood," Merry corrected. "The wine is aged. It was made when Greenwood was still Mirkwood," Pippin answered, wondering why he was bothering to argue with a drunk. "But it's still p'lite to call it Greenwood." "Of course it is," Imrahil said. "And we shall certainly do that in the future. Now close your eyes and go to sleep. We will be returning later to see how you fare." Merry's eyes had already begun drifting shut, but he opened them wide at this news and hiccuped. "You're leaving?" "Just for a little while," Pippin assured him. "I promise that I'll be back as soon as I can." "No!" Merry said, shaking his head violently. "Have to watch on you. S'pposed to keep you out of trouble." Pippin stared at him. "And who will keep you out of trouble? Honestly, Merry, you can barely walk! And I don't need a minder. I'm a grown hobbit with a wife and a—" "Always same ol' Pippin," Merry interrupted, somehow managing to roll to the edge of the bed. He peered over the side and squinted at the floor. "Why's it still moving?" "Perhaps we should slip away now," Imrahil murmured, moving towards the doorway. "No!" Merry cried, promptly falling out of the bed. Stunned, Pippin could only watch helplessly as Merry tried to sit up, fell over, and then began patting the floor soothingly. "S'alright," he whispered. "You can hold still now." "Or perhaps I should slip away while you remain here," Imrahil said. Pippin bit his lip and stared at the other hobbit. "But Legolas and Gimli—" "Are better left to others." "But I need their help to…" Pippin trailed off and decided that telling Imrahil he needed to do something horrid to Arwen was probably not a wise decision. "I need to talk to them. And I need food and—" "It will be easy enough for me to send food to you," Imrahil answered, his tone growing firm. "But I would rather not have Mastery Meriadoc wandering about without supervision. He has already attempted to start a fire in the storerooms. Who knows what he shall attempt next?" Recognizing defeat, Pippin nodded reluctantly as his stomach let out a petulant growl. "I'll look forward to whatever you send, then," he sighed. "And if you don't mind, could you send something for Merry, too? He may not want food now, but he will once he properly wakes up." "A wise idea, Master Took." Imrahil turned to leave but then paused for a moment. "You will be able to handle him?" "Yes, we'll be fine," Pippin said. "Usually the situation is reversed, but I've had to help him out of a few taverns back in the Shire." "Very well, then. I will send a guard around with a plate presently." Pippin nodded and bowed slightly as Imrahil left the room. Then he turned to Merry, who was still patting the floor solicitously. "Well, you've now decreased our chances of getting into the pantries downstairs. I hope you're proud of yourself." "It's calming down," Merry answered. "Don't you think so?" "I…suppose," Pippin said slowly. "I think so," Merry said, laying his cheek on the ground. Pippin shook his head and decided that all discussions could wait until Merry was more coherent. "Yes, well, do you think you can get back into bed now?" Merry looked as though this was the most ridiculous idea he'd heard all day. "Bed? But it isn't night! The time's all funny, but the sun's still up." "Yes, but you need to take a little nap," Pippin said. "I know the floor would appreciate it." Merry giggled. "All right. But if it acts up, you might try singing to it. I think that would help. It likes Imra'il, and he sings." Not knowing how to respond to that, Pippin said nothing and helped Merry to his feet, bracing him when the other hobbit swayed dangerously. With a bit of coaxing, he was able to push Merry back into bed and straighten out the blankets. "Now," he said, "go to sleep. You'll feel much better when you wake up." "I'm 'wake now." Pippin bit back a groan. If Merry insisted on babbling throughout the duration of his inebriation, it was going to be a very long afternoon. Pippin had once been forced to listen to several hours of drunken prattle during an evening's ride home from the Golden Perch, and though amusing at first, it had become tiresome quickly. "You might be awake now," he reasoned, "but perhaps you shouldn't stay awake. Don't you think you'll have nice dreams if you sleep?" Merry considered this for a while, and Pippin held his breath as the silence began to stretch into minutes. "Would you tell me a riddle?" Pippin almost choked. "Excuse me?" "A riddle. You were going to earlier, but I ran away." Shaking his head, Pippin tried to adopt a soft and soothing tone. "If you go to sleep, I'll tell you all the riddles you want when you wake." Minutes ticked away again in silence, and Pippin held his breath once more. He sighed. "Yes, Merry?" "What if I tell you a riddle?" "I think you ought to be sleeping." "No, this is a good riddle. I think you told it to me b'fore, but maybe you'd like to hear it again. Do y'know how many Bolgers it takes to light a torch?" "No, I'm afraid that I don't. And given your current condition, you probably don't know either." "None!" Merry announced triumphantly with a wide grin plastered across his face. "They don't care 'bout the torch. They just need the food." "Well, this particular hobbit doesn't need any food whatsoever. He needs sleep!" Pippin said firmly. "But I'm not tired!" Merry protested, lifting his head and staring at Pippin with wide eyes. "Yes, you are. You are very tired. You just don't know it yet. But for my sake, I hope you figure it out soon." Walking briskly before an armed contingent of Rohirrim, Lord Elfhelm of Rohan threw open both doors to the Houses of Healing with a thunderous crash. Years of laboring against Wormtongue's lies and deceptions had taught Elfhelm the value of a good entrance, and a quick glance around at the startled healers told him that his entrance had been more than adequate. Elfhelm gave the entry chamber a swift but thorough glance, taking in how many shocked healers stood between him and the hallways most likely to contain the king. His first reaction was one of surprise, for he had expected to find Elfwine arguing with the healers about seeing his father. Yet the prince was nowhere to be seen. Was it possible that some healers held sympathy for the young heir of Rohan and had surrendered to his wishes? Studying the bewildered but stern faces before him, Elfhelm decided this to be highly improbable. The more likely scenario was that Elfwine had sneaked in another way, and Elfhelm nodded in silent approval. The boy showed promise. But whatever the reasons behind Elfwine's absence, it was clear to Elfhelm that he and his men would not readily be admitted entrance. Already the expressions of surprise were turning to anger, and the advantage gained by an impressive entrance would soon be lost. Moving quickly, Elfhelm stormed across the threshold with enough speed to make his cloak billow behind him. "I am here on business for my king," he announced, coming to a stop in the middle of the chamber. Seizing one edge of his cloak, he pulled it back around him with an authoritative snap and gave the healers an imperious look, daring them to challenge his presence. "It would expedite matters if one of you revealed the way to his rooms," he continued. "However, should you be otherwise occupied, I will take what measures I must in order to find him myself." His words were met with incredulous stares, and deciding that he would need to provoke a reaction, Elfhelm signaled the other Rohirrim forward. The results were immediate. Galvanized by the presence of armed warriors in a healing ward, the attendants threw off their shock and moved to block the entrances to the hallways. "Who are you to issues orders in this House?" one of the older healers demanded, walking forward until he stood but a few feet away from the intruder. "Lord Elfhelm of Rohan, and I mean to speak with my liege lord immediately," Elfhelm answered coolly. "Now am I to be given an escort to his rooms, or shall my men forcibly conduct a search?" Elfhelm could see a multitude of arguments marshalling in the healer's eyes, and he closed the remaining distance between himself and the man, releasing his cloak so that it could billow outward again. Appearances could sometimes be far more persuasive than logical reasoning. "My lord," the healer stammered, and Elfhelm had to fight back a snicker. It would not due to ruin his ominous visage with an ill-timed laugh. "I am sure that your errand as urgent, but I cannot disturb the rest of any patient unless I am satisfied that there is sufficient cause." "You doubt the word of a lord of Rohan?" Elfhelm hoped that the growing tightness in his jaw would be interpreted as anger rather than his desperate attempts to hold back a grin. "Certainly not, my lord!" the healer exclaimed. "But if you would take into consideration the needs of—" "My only consideration at the moment is the safety of my king and the welfare of his kingdom. And that should be more than sufficient for you." For emphasis, Elfhelm let one hand stray to the ceremonial knife hanging from his belt. Another warrior would have immediately recognized the implied threat, but the healer simply stared at Elfhelm, oblivious to the fact that he could be gutted within seconds. With some exasperation, Elfhelm repeated the action and exaggerated his movements, allowing the dagger's jeweled sheath to flash in the sunlight that streamed down from high, arching windows. This time his efforts met with success, and the healer stepped back, his eyes widening. "The guards—" "Will not wish to provoke an incident between Gondor and Rohan," Elfhelm interrupted smoothly. He studied the man just long enough to create an uncomfortable silence, and then he spoke again, his voice low and deep. "All I ask is that you take me to my king. My men will stay here if it will ease your mind, but I must be allowed to pass. Surely you will grant me that much." Another uncomfortable silence ensued, but Elfhelm made no effort to break it this time. He kept his eyes upon the healer, intense but not quite challenging. And after a bit of restless shifting on the part of the other attendants as well as the waiting Rohirrim, the older healer nodded slowly. "Your men will wait here, my lord?" "If that is your wish, I will so order it." "Please do, and then follow me. I will take you to your king." And they say the Rohirrim are unskilled as negotiators, Elfhelm thought wryly as he gave the healer a gracious smile and a quick bow before turning to his men. Snapping off a few commands in Rohirric, he watched as his men drew together before the entrance, somewhat offended at being kept from their king but obedient nonetheless. Satisfied, Elfhelm turned back to the healer and indicated that he was ready to proceed. They traveled down one of the wider hallways, and as they walked, Elfhelm fought off the urge to throw back his head and shout in triumph. He had been practically helpless all morning. Helpless to aid his king, helpless to control Shade, and helpless to corral the elven stallions. But now he was acting. He had overcome the healer's reservations. He had gained entry where other Rohirrim had failed. He was on his way to see his king, and he would learn exactly why Eomer was confined to the Houses of Healing! These victories more than made up for the morning's frustration, and it was all he could do to keep from proclaiming his excitement to the world. When the healer finally stopped and knocked quietly on a door, Elfhelm could contain himself no longer and pushed the door open the moment he heard a voice call from inside. His euphoria died almost instantly. A wave of silent tension hit him with enough strength to make him gasp. Reeling with shock and struggling to right his churning feelings, Elfhelm shook his head and stopped on the threshold. Triggered by the animosity that seemed to fill the chamber, battlefield instincts flared to life, and Elfhelm's hand fell to his knife as he cast his eyes about the room, searching for the source of the tension. His eyes came to rest upon Eomer, who lay still and listless upon a healing bed. "Lord Elfhelm. It is good to see you again." Elfhelm blinked and turned to find the queen of Gondor at his side. Bowing more out of reflex than anything else, he moved his attention back to Eomer and took one step forward. "We…we received word that—" "He is sleeping at the moment," another voice said, and Elfhelm looked over at Lothíriel, who hovered near the bed alongside a very haggard-looking Eowyn. "Have no fear. He is merely in need of rest." Deciding that this statement was very much at odds with the amount of tension in the room, Elfhelm turned around to confront the healer who had accompanied him. "And your opinion?" "I…do not know much of his condition," the healer said. "Lord Elfhelm, you have my word that Eomer is in no immediate danger," Eowyn said, rising from her chair. "He requires time and rest. And unless I am very much mistaken, I gave orders that this rest was not to be disturbed," she added with a stern glare for the healer. "My lady, he was most insistent and—" "Oh, I am certain that he was," Eowyn interrupted, turning her glare upon Elfhelm. For his part, Elfhelm was doing some rapid thinking. Eowyn never gave her word lightly, and if she insisted that the king was in no immediate danger, then he was in no immediate danger. But this did not explain the tension, and Elfhelm was beginning to wonder if he had been mistaken about the cause. He could not help but notice that Arwen was staying at least an arm's length away from Lothíriel at all times, and Lothíriel seemed to avoiding eye contact with Arwen. Eowyn was pointedly ignoring both of them, and on the subject of ignored persons, Elfhelm now realized that Elfwine was missing, a rather suspicious absence considering how anxious the boy had been to see his father. Yes, something was happening here that had nothing to do with Eomer's injury, but Elfhelm did not have time to decipher what that something was. At the moment, he needed to deal with Eowyn, who looked as though she had just reached the end of her tether. "My ladies," Elfhelm said with a deep—and hopefully appeasing—bow. "Please accept my humblest apologies if I have caused harm. But on behalf of the Rohirrim, I wished only to assure myself that our king was yet whole so that I might comfort those still anxious for news." Elfhelm paused, debating about what to say next, and then decided to forge ahead. He had an opening. He would take it. "I am certain that the prince can vouch for my intentions, for he knew of my coming. Where is Lord Elfwine?" Three blank stares met his eyes. Feeling as though he had just stepped into a stable that had not been properly cleaned for weeks, Elfhelm swallowed and rephrased the question. "Is not the prince here?" Eowyn frowned, Arwen pursed her lips, and Lothíriel's eyes hardened. "Did you expect him to be here?" In the hallway, the healer said something about needing to see to other patients and hurried away. Pushing aside the urge to follow him, Elfhelm tried to think of a good answer to Lothíriel's question, but his mind drew a confounding blank. "I sent Elfwine ahead of my men, my lady," he eventually said. "He should have arrived ere we did." "Did he know that his father was here and not in the Citadel?" Arwen asked. "Yes, my lady, he did," Elfhelm said, his mind racing. "Then you mean to tell me that my son is lost in Minas Tirith?" Lothíriel did not lose her temper often. As Imrahil's daughter, she was confident almost to a fault, and this confidence took the form of a maddening serenity in times of crisis. She could be stern and commanding if needed and she had raised her voice upon occasion, but until now, she had never been provoked into shouting. When this shouting was coupled with flashing eyes the color of storm clouds and a glare cold enough to freeze the Anduin, the end result was quite intimidating, and Elfhelm found himself on the verge of a tactical retreat. "Peace," Eowyn said, stepping in to save her former conspirator. "Peace, it could be that Elfwine merely stopped to find something to eat. He was up quite early this morning, and I doubt he has had aught in the way of food since breakfast." Lothíriel turned a murderous look upon Eowyn. Elfhelm might have pitied her had he not been so relieved at escaping the look himself. "Is that possible?" Arwen asked. "Is there somewhere that Prince Elfwine could go where your men would not see?" "Perhaps," Elfhelm said slowly. He was now very certain that the tension in the room had little to do with Eomer and everything to do with the three women standing before him. "The streets were quite busy, my lady." "Or perhaps something else has happened," Lothíriel snapped, transferring her glare to Arwen, who took a discreet step backwards. "There is a simple way to end this," Eowyn said, pitching her voice to carry over the intensity of Lothíriel's glare. "We need only send forth a team to look for Elfwine." "An excellent idea," Elfhelm said quickly, sensing a chance for escape. He still knew very little about his king's condition, but his thirst for knowledge and assurance had waned in the face of a problem that he was certain he did not wish to investigate. Beyond that, the search for Elfwine could prove just as useful to the welfare of Rohan. "I will gather my men and—" "You will remain here," Eowyn interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing with something that could not be readily identified. "I will not have you upon the streets with your mind in an uproar over all the incidents down on the Pelennor." Elfhelm blinked. "Lady Eowyn, I assure you that my mind is clear." "So clear that you sent a gelding iron to the Houses of Healing?" Out of the corner of his eye, Elfhelm saw both Arwen and Lothíriel withdrawing from the conversation. He wished that he could do the same. "It was intended as a message," he said weakly. "In the days of Wormtongue, Eomer and I devised a means of—" "I have no wish to hear it," Eowyn said, interrupting once again. She moved to a table near Eomer's bed and picked up the gelding iron. "You may personally deliver this to your king when he wakes. I will take the Rohirrim and search for Elfwine." Elfhelm frowned and looked at the brand in Eowyn's hands. "Surely your healing talents would be of better use here. It would be a simple thing for me to—" "If I do not leave now, I may find cause to use this," Eowyn snapped, shoving the gelding iron into Elfhelm's hands. Elfhelm flushed and hastily dropped his eyes, wondering if the stifled laugh from Arwen's direction was his imagination. "Lady Eowyn, if you are intent upon going, I cannot stop you. But I do not believe it is within your rights to command my actions." There was a hiss of anger, and then Eowyn seized Elfhelm by the arm and pulled him into the hallway. "One of us must remain here," she said, lowering her voice. "And since I am more familiar with Minas Tirith than you, it stands to reason that I should look for Elfwine." Elfhelm's eyes narrowed. "Your reasoning is sound with but one exception: why must one of us remain here?" Eowyn said nothing for a long moment, studying Elfhelm intently, and then she sighed, seeming to come to a decision of sorts. "What I say now must not be repeated. I do not entrust you with this information lightly. Eomer is in good health given the circumstances, but he suffered a serious blow to his head upon the Pelennor. He does not remember who he is." "He does not remember?" Elfhelm echoed blankly. "What do you—" "Just what I said. He has no memory of Rohan, of Gondor, of himself, or of anything else. And when he woke earlier…" She paused and glanced back into the bed chambers where Lothíriel had returned to Eomer's side and Arwen lingered near an open window. "When he woke earlier," she continued, dropping her voice even more, "he decided to declare his love for the queen of Gondor. Lothíriel has taken exception to this, as well she might, but Queen Arwen is more amused than anything else. And because of this, it was decided that a third person be present to act as a mediator. I trust I can rely upon you in this matter?" Elfhelm stared at her for a long moment, taking in everything she had told him and making a fairly good guess at some of the things that were being left out. "The king's sleep is not natural, is it?" Never one to back away from a challenge, Eowyn met his gaze evenly and nodded. "You are correct. King Elessar has ensured that Eomer will sleep for some time." "And where is King Elessar? Surely he has taken more than a passing interest in this!" "At the moment, he is mixing a draught that might help. He will not be back for a while." "And he left you here as the mediator." "A task I am now delegating to you," Eowyn said, and judging from the gleam in her eyes, she was as anxious to escape as Elfhelm was. "So you would countermand the orders of your king?" Eowyn's eyes flashed. "I would go where I am most needed while you will remain here and suffer the consequences for sending Thendril to the Houses of Healing with a gelding iron!" Elfhelm winced, glanced down at the brand in his hands, and then decided to make one last effort. "But what of your brother? Are you prepared to leave him in another's hands?" There was a brief moment of hesitation in Eowyn's eyes, and Elfhelm thought he might have won. But then she looked back into the room at Lothíriel and Arwen, and the hesitation vanished. "If Faramir were here, I would not leave," she said quietly. "But he is gone, and I do not trust my temper. Were I to stay, I would do more harm than good." She flashed a quick smile at Elfhelm. "You are not the only one to be threatened by the gelding iron." "I am…comforted," Elfhelm said slowly. "Good," Eowyn said, her smile growing. "Then are we agreed?" Elfhelm sighed and nodded. "Were it anyone else, I would refuse. Béma lend you speed." "Thank you, Elfhelm," she said, already moving away. "If Eomer wakes, send for Elessar or one of the healers. And if you can convince Arwen to leave the room, I think Lothíriel will become better company." "I will certainly make the attempt." Eowyn's smile turned sympathetic, but she said nothing else and hurried down the hallway. Left with two angry queens and an unconscious king, Elfhelm decided he would have been better off staying on the Pelennor. Author's Notes: Gimli's claim that he is a "dwarf of many journeys" comes from a debate he had with Legolas and Aragorn. You can find it in the chapter "The Riders of Rohan" in the Two Towers, page 33 of the Ballantine paperback 50th anniversary edition. The bits of song that Legolas uses to blackmail Elladan are part of a rather strange song that the elves of Rivendell use to taunt Thorin's company in the chapter "A Short Rest" in The Hobbit, page 48 of the Ballantine paperback 50th anniversary edition.	dclm-gs1-007580000
Disclaimer: the rights and characters of 'The Princess Bride' and 'Rurouni Kenshin' don't belong to me, so please don't kill me. This idea came to me moments ago, after watching one of my favourite films, 'The Princess Bride', and imagining Kenshin as the legendary and incredibly sexy Westley. Please enjoy and R&R!! This is the new, edited Chapter One. The storyline itself is intact- I don't plan to mess with it at all throughout the twenty-five existing chapters. The things I'm changing are small things, such as certain descriptions, the way in which some things happen, and some character tweaking, too. For instance, in this chapter, Kenshin was originally faking being rubbish at fighting, and Kaoru had a 'turn your nose up' reaction to that. I've decided that just doesn't fit their characters, so now Kenshin is faking being a mediocre swordsman, but still with the grace and control a true fighter would be unable to hide, and Kaoru finds it hard to respect or like him because he doesn't seem to make any use of the freedom he has that she can't have herself. The characterisation is going to change a little throughout the story, I think: I want to aim more for a 'Kenshin and co as they are in the PB situations', rather than a mixture of characterisations from both RK and the PB. I hope these changes don't upset anyone- honestly, I want them to be a way of improving the story, building on what was there before, and a way of getting back into the story again myself so that continuing from chapter twenty-five isn't so difficult. Anyway, my added notes won't be this long in future- this is the initial introduction and explanation of the editing process. I'll probably put in little notes for any significant or important changes in subsequent chapters, but hey-ho- they'll be there for you guys. As always though, if you have questions, ask me them! I'll do my best to answer them helpfully. And, finally, I've decided to leave all the original author's notes- and replies to reviewers- intact and untouched. You guys have all given me so much support, and I look back on my reviews when I feel in need of encouragement, so I wouldn't take away my thanks for them. Okay, on with the new (and hopefully better) edition of: The Princess Bride: Kenshin Style Once upon a time, there lived a young girl named Kaoru. She worked on a farm near a dojo, where she used to go and visit every day to deliver vegetables for all the training fighters. Secretly, she would climb a certain giant old tree, which had a certain wide low branch, from which she could watch all the (rather ugly) young men going through their drills and exercises. You may wonder what use a young girl would have for a set of ugly trainee swordsmen, but she didn't watch them for their looks. You see, though she was but a poor and lowly peasant's daughter, when she went to bed each night, she dreamed, not of hoeing or weeding, as any ordinary girl should, but of wielding a real blade, and fighting duels. She never breathed this secret to a single soul, knowing that it was a well-nigh impossible dream that would only cause people to laugh at her. She didn't much like the thought of being laughed at. One day, Kaoru noticed a new trainee at the dojo. He was quite young, and had tanned skin and flame-bright hair. Kaoru watched him more than the others, as he was rather a curiosity: there was a quick fluidity to his movements that drew the eye, and suggested strength and control, yet he seemed only a beginner in his knowledge and moves, and a terribly slow learner. In fact, he never seemed to pick up any new moves at all. It was somewhat pitiable, Kaoru thought. Watching him, however, only made her wish all the harder that she could join the dojo, too: she was sure she could pick it up quickly if trained properly with the others. Indeed, from only watching the exercises being done, and mimicking them (with an old wooden practice sword she'd taken from the rubbish at the dojo) before she went to bed each night, she had already built up some basic skill for herself. The days went slowly for Kaoru, and she spent most of her time wishing she were anywhere but where she was. However, as her father grew older and tired and the work too much for him, they found the need for a new worker, and the curious red-haired stranger from the dojo took the job to work on the farm. As he left the sword school for his new home (a tiny room at the back of Kaoru's house), his fellow trainees had shrugged and bid careless goodbyes, telling him he was better off as a simple farm boy: he was too slow a learner, and would never be a warrior. The young man didn't mind their reaction. After all, on the farm, he would remain unnoticed by life and the world, and perhaps attain a peaceful existence. It helped that the farm-owner's daughter (whom he'd noticed watching the training grounds) was very pretty: and when he looked into her face for the first time on his first day at the farm, he couldn't help noticing, with a blink of surprise at first, that she would grow to be the most beautiful lady in the whole world. It was a bit of a miracle that no one else had noticed, really. But then, people didn't tend to keep an eye out in a tiny, poor village, for the most beautiful lady in the world. All Kaoru said when the young man looked at her with his deep violet eyes that first time was, "Go and water the seedlings in the south field, farm boy." He wanted to ask if she had any idea whether or not she'd ever fall in love with him- just for future reference, you know- but all he said was, "As you wish." As the days, weeks and months went by, things stayed pretty much the same. "Fetch me my pony, farm boy." If only you weren't such a slow learner at the dojo, you wouldn't be stuck on this farm like me. "As you wish." You deserve so much more than this life. "Mend this bucket, farm boy." Why don't you make better use of your life? "As you wish." I wish I could do more to help you. "Take this rice to the shop in town. And be quick about it, farm boy!" You have more freedom than I ever will, but you don't even try to use it. It's not fair! "As you wish." I wish you'd say just a single kind word to me, Kaoru… The farm boy's real name was Kenshin, but Kaoru always called him farm boy, because she thought he didn't deserve any better name. After all, she was stuck on her parents' farm, and she would grow up only to be married off to someone or other on another farm. Yet he, with the choice of where to go and what to do, chose to live on their farm! It made no sense to Kaoru, and she really couldn't respect him for the choice he'd made. She had no idea that every time she spoke to him, he was trying not to think about taking her into his arms, so she didn't mind ordering him around. He, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea that she didn't think too much of him. Instead of letting it get him down, he vowed that he would one day prove to be worthy of her, and set her free from the way of life that so obviously didn't make her happy. As time went by, people in town began to gossip about the two young farmers. Some people wondered why such a good-looking young man would stay on such a poor little farm, when most of the girls in town were madly in love with him- some of them with rich families. Some suspected an unseemly arrangement went on at the farm, and shook their heads in disapproval. All the young girls merely sighed and shed tears that, no matter what they tried, Kenshin paid no attention to them, and they cursed Kaoru for her beauty, which she was ever unconscious of. As word of Kenshin's amazing good looks spread, it came about that a rich widow land owner from a neighbouring area heard of the young man. Being rich and without a husband was really rather boring and tedious in those days, and boredom and tedium always put older people out of sorts, so, being a rather self-assured woman of middle age, she set off to meet the man she had heard so much about, and, if he was satisfactory, seduce him if she could. Kaoru was very surprised when she saw a grand carriage pull into the front pathway of the little farmhouse. She hurried to meet the visitors, and her parents came out as well at the arrival of such a wealthy guest. The woman who stepped out of the carriage wore a kimono of dazzling colours and beautiful patterns, and Kaoru wished she could wear such a beautiful outfit, just once. The woman looked around at the muddy ground and the small house, and a disdainful look came over her face, making her slight wrinkles stand out and giving her an unpleasant look. "I wish to inspect your produce, as I am thinking of finding a new supplier for my foodstuffs," she said haughtily. "Of course, my lady, I will bring some examples for you to see," stammered Kaoru's father, before shuffling off, leaving his wife and daughter to entertain their guest. They were about to show her in for some tea, when Kenshin, topless and sweaty from a morning of hard work, came round from the west plantation for a splash of water and some food. When the great lady saw him, tanned, lean and muscled like a young god, she gasped and stared with wide eyes. Kaoru, seeing her face, looked over at Kenshin, wondering why the woman reacted in such a way. Kenshin did have a good body, to be sure, and he did have deep, intense violet eyes, and the sweat on his body did make him look different somehow, but… As she looked, Kaoru felt a little trembling sensation tingle down her spine, and flutter suddenly in her chest. For the first time, she realised how she really felt about Kenshin. All this time when he had been working alongside her on the farm, she had thought of him only as an unmotivated waste and a 'farm boy'. And only now, when someone else had shown up on the scene, had she realised just how damn gorgeous and courteous Kenshin was: had always been, now that she thought about it. As she stood with wide blue eyes, the haughty woman swept past her, without so much as a glance, and grabbed Kenshin's hand. As they made introductions (well, Kenshin saying 'oro' and the woman introducing herself), Kaoru could have cried.	dclm-gs1-007590000
The Tolkien Conspiracy Note: All characters in this story regarding Middle Earth are the property of JRR Tolkien and not mine. There was no financial gain in the writing, thinking, or posting of this story, and it was for entertainment purposes only. Summary: A story about belief, and how even the biggest fairytale can become an even bigger reality for some. Chapter 1: The Wonders of Middle Earth My father used to read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings to myself and my sisters as we were going to bed at night. You could call him one of those Tolkien Purists. He adored the books. He knew everything about each of them. I think my sister and my first book was The Lord of the Rings picture book. I could read it all within a week, or so my father told me. He said I dragged that silly thing everywhere, like a lifeline of sorts, and by the time I was 8 I was already trying to read the books. I guess life is funny in that way. In a cruel sense of irony, as I like to think of it, after he died I never picked up those books again. Sure they sat there on my mantle, just as my father had kept them, and I'd often imagine opening one and being taken into it, where my father (who was really Lord Elrond) would take me back to Rivendell and I would get to jump on every bed within the House. Sure enough, these dreams never came true. My father was dead, and no matter how many times I peeled open that cover, I'd never get to jump on Elrond's beds. After a while the books became more decorations then stories. They sat there, staring at me with their ancient writing, as if telling me to open them in their own, subliminal way. I have ignored them so far. It has been 13 years since my father died, and I have no more time for stories of Hobbits and Elves, no matter how enjoyable they are. I became what my mother calls, "the spitting image of my father," and to her it seems that me being my father's daughter is not a terribly good thing. She complains I am obssessed, and after father died I always was. I reluctantly cause the phone conversations to end short in these cases where I cannot do anything else. My mother complains too much anyways. About my brother, about me, about my sisters....I'm not sure if anyone is safe from her wrath anymore. So, it was a little task to be sitting in my office the day when the news hit. I'm not good at dealing with the insane, and the gentleman who rushed in certainly was insane, but I tried my best, considering I'm only the Junior Reporter on duty and there are hundreds of others who would be glad to deal with what this man had to say. He was shouting at the top of his lungs and looking out my massive windows. I asked him what was wrong. "Wrong?!" He looked shocked, like the question I had asked him was not exactly what he was feeling. His long brown hair was shaking. "There is nothing wrong. All I can say is that I have seen the wonders of Middle Earth!" The man dropped like a rock into the chair in front of my desk and he sighed. He was a short gentleman, with a strange beard on his chin and small moustache over his lip. His hair was deep brown, like a chestnut colour and his eyes were the same. I nodded, trying to look interested. "I agree the movie was very good." The man again, looked shocked, shaking his head and laughing. I was now the confused one in the room. The man laughed harder and harder, and finally stopped, giving himself a chance to speak. "No you silly reporter." He said. "I have seen THE wonders of Middle Earth. And I'm not talking about the semi-accurate movies. I'm talking about THE Middle Earth." I could tell he was trying to make me feel inferior with all his over-emphasized "THE's", but I maintained composure anyways. "I think you've been reading the books too much. Good day." I went back to my article, glancing at the man who wasn't moving. He was again looking shocked. "Look sir, I have a very important story due within the hour and I have plenty of work to do. I can't deal with someone who claims to have walked through Middle Earth this morning so GOOD DAY." "M'am." He began again, rearranging his thoughts. "I apologize for the way I sound but I can assure you. I am of sound mind and am completely sober. Will you please just hear me out?" I stared at him for a moment, thinking his insanity to be passing off onto me, but finally I nodded and the man smiled. "Thank you. Now I begin at where I was taking my dog for a walk this morning through the park behind my house. Do you know Kensington Gardens?" I nodded, listening somewhat, using the selective hearing I inherited off my mother to pay somewhat attention to the gentleman. "I was just walking and suddenly something rings in my ears. I try to shake it off, but then I open my eyes and I'm surrounded in trees. Huge trees!" He moves his hands while he speaks. "Anyways, I kept walking, thinking it was just some trick of my eyes but in a second I had tripped and was looking up into the face of an elf." My head burst up, my eyes doing their little squinty thing that my father did when he was confused. The man laughed suddenly. "And then, I was back." "So you see a man with pointy ears and you expect me to what?" I asked, being extremely testy with the man. He laughed, like he had expected my response. "I'm sorry sir but this is a newspaper and a serious one at that. Good day." "That's the third time you've rushed me." He said. "I saw an ELF! Not a man with pointy ears as you so half wittingly put it." I glared at him. He just sat there. "I'm not leaving until you write it into a story." "What makes you think you can barge in MY office, tell me some insanely drunking story and make me publish it into an article?" I was now standing, almost yelling at him and I didn't know why. The man got to his feet as well. He looked very serious. "Look, Miss..." He looked for the name plate on my desk, not knowing I had thrown the damn thing out years ago. "Miss." He said, maintaining some of his composure. "I saw Middle Earth. I saw a ELF! People want to hear about this!" He kept babbling and I grabbed my phone, dialing the number for security. He kept talking. "Yes security, I need two, very large men up into the office of Delaney Marks." I slammed the phone back down and within a moment, two very large security guards came in and grabbed theman, who was still struggling. "I'll show you!" He screamed. "I'll show you it's true!" My door slammed and I was left alone. I slumped back into my seat and dropped my head into my hand. I played with the pen against the paper in front of my computer. The notes on the paper were of the recent fire in Pickadilly Station. I couldn't believe I was considering what this man was saying. Middle Earth? I thought my father was insane, but honestly, Middle Earth? Some people just see the movie too much I guess. I never saw it. I felt Peter Jackson's rendition of events would be far too elaborated that the movies would tell nothing of the original magic. I'm guessing it was right. My friend who read The Two Towers 9 times and was a devout Tolkien-ist came home and called me in a huff. I didn't make out much of what she said because it was riddled with curses, but I did get that there were elves at Helm's Deep and Faramir was 'evil'. But the man in my office looked to be sane, even though he was raving about seeing 'the wonders of Middle Earth.' I shook it off. Come on Lane, I thought with my pen moving on the paper beneath my hand. Middle Earth? You're kidding yourself. I looked up at the door and then back at the paper on my desk. The pen in my hand had been moving, but I hadn't been thinking. I saw what I had written. My black pen had spelled the words of my father's name. I am insane, I thought, tossing the paper into the basket on the opposite wall. Well? Is it worth continuing? Please R & R!	dclm-gs1-007600000
Reality 2 Vegas…was there anyplace like it? The lights, the energy, the women. The women. The drop dead, gorgeous women. And when you're on leave and in the midst of that energy, keeping company with one of those beautiful women, you could almost forget how you swallowed your pride and asked that cold son of a bitch who shared your name to salvage what was left of your career. Yeah…almost. McMurdo and exile versus Nellis and a chance at redemption. The Air Force wasn't big on disobeying orders, no matter what your reasons. Flying Pave Hawks at Nellis was an unbelievable opportunity, and if I'd had to sell a big fat slice of my soul for it, well, a deal's a deal. Only I wasn't in Nellis now. I'd been sent to Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, ordered to report to General O'Neill, and that was the sum total of my knowledge. And as with all military operations, big and small, there was a fuck up. My clearance hadn't come through by the time I arrived, and apparently you needed a shitload of clearance just to drive by the damn place and check out the curb appeal. Actually passing through the gate and getting a place to sleep was out of the question. But, hey, if I got to stay in a semi-nice hotel with room service and a mini bar on the Air Force's dime, who was I to bitch? There was snow on the ground here and a ball-freezing chill in the air. Oddly enough it didn't make me miss Nevada. I liked the snow and the quiet that came with it. And not for the first time I thought Antarctica and exile might not have been the worse thing that could've happened to me. But you make your bed—you sure as hell do. I checked into my room--no mini bar, cheap bastards—and called about my clearance. I was told it would run through by morning and make myself at home. I sprawled on the bed, watched a little TV, then decided to get a beer at the bar before sacking out. It was a nice bar, all polished wood and soft lights, and pretty much empty. Not one Vegas style woman to be seen anywhere. Philosophically, I ordered my beer and asked the guy next to me, "Hey, buddy, could you pass the peanuts?" Funny, how a little craving for salt will come back to bite you in the ass. The guy turned to look at me, if you can call a split second glance by disdainful blue eyes a look. "Not interested," he said brusquely. "And, quite frankly, a little perturbed they're starting out with you as first string. Is it the shirt?" He frowned and pulled at the material with thumb and forefinger. "It's not pink, you know. It was red, a nice Canadian patriotic red, but there was a slight laundry mishap…just so you're aware." He took a swallow of his own beer, snapped his fingers in emphasis and repeated, "Unavoidable bleach related incident. Not pink." I blinked. Looked at him, then the peanuts, and then back again. "Let's try this again. You're Canadian. Maybe there's a cultural chasm regarding peanuts I'm totally unaware of. I just want the peanuts, okay? So pass them down. And, yeah, sorry to break the news…your shirt is pink." This time he really looked at me…with impatience, annoyance, and more than a little weariness. "I'm certain you're very good at this ordinarily, although peanuts, really, that could use some work. And the hair, that's definitely an acquired taste, but it's been a long trip and I'm dead on my feet and simply not interested in selling out my country, this country, any country. Although if you were really serious, you would start with a blond…with breasts. The breasts are important. A brain would be nice too, but I suppose that might be asking a bit much on short notice." This time I got up, walked around him, got the peanuts and brought them back to my stool. I popped a few in my mouth, chewed, and turned my back on Mr. Pink Shirt. Futilely, as it turned out. "Really, you shouldn't take this personally. You'll never last in the business if you do." It was said with the most damn peculiar mix of sympathy, arrogance, and exasperation. Worse yet, I heard the son of a bitch get up and move over to sit on the stool right next to me. Reluctantly…very reluctantly, I turned enough to keep him in sight. Best to keep the loonies in view. "Seduction and spying is a somewhat difficult field I'm guessing," he went on condescendingly, words beginning to slur around the edges. "Rejection must be rampant. I mean, okay, you're not my type, but you're bound to be someone's type." Gee, that was nice to know. He waved his hand at the bartender for another beer and was beginning to think maybe that he'd been waving that hand pretty frequently. "Seriously, about this whole shirt issue. I was in Budapest once at a conference and they sent me a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette and when that didn't work then they sent in the guy. So, I'm a bit…just a tiny bit, mind you, worried here. Is it something besides the shirt? Am I less buff and manly than I once was?" He considered as he took another pull of the beer. "Or maybe I'm too buff. Well dressed, bulging muscles, a certain je ne sais quois." He shook his head. "That's it, isn't it? I guess I have no one to blame but myself." I looked him up and down. Rumpled shirt, stocky body with a slight softness at the middle, frazzled fine brown hair, a more-than-aggressive chin and a crooked non-stop mouth. "Yeah, buddy," I drawled, "that's exactly what it is. Us spies will know better next time. Scout's honor." That was my luck, wasn't it? To sit down beside some guy who was obviously stuck in some James Bond style fantasy—either drunk off his ass or crazy as a bed bug. He scowled instantly. "You must be new, because, trust me, I'm totally worth all this. I'm Dr. Rodney McKay—the Dr. Rodney McKay…Einstein's spiritual lovechild. What I don't know about astrophysics…what am I saying? There is nothing I don't know about astrophysics. I'm so goddamn brilliant I'm surprised they aren't parachuting naked blondes onto my balcony with bags of cash in each hand. In fact…." Face first onto the bar. I gave a sigh of sheer appreciation for the golden silence before the annoying finger of civic duty began to poke me in the ribs. "How many did he have?" I asked the bartender as a small pool of saliva began to form around the slackly snoring mouth. "Three," the bartender grinned. "Three?" I said nonplussed. "No one's that much of a lightweight." "Well, two and a half really." He dabbed at the drool with his bar rag. "He said he'd had a long trip. Hadn't slept in a while." Shrugging, he added, "Hell, maybe he's narcoleptic. Either way, have fun getting him back to his room." "What?" I demanded. "Oh no. I don't know the guy from Adam. No way I'm hauling his ass upstairs." "You talked to him last. He's your problem now." My answer to that was bull-fucking-shit. And that was still my answer when they closed up the bar and I was dragging Dr. Pinkenstein to the elevator. He participated some, legs moving stiffly…enough to let me think he might just be exhausted, but I wasn't really curious enough to try to ask him. He mumbled nonsensically once or twice before I finally got him to the room embossed on the keycard in his pocket. I propped him up, opened the door, dragged him in and dumped him on the bed. His eyes popped open then for a brief second, widened, then closed in resignation. "Rip my clothes off if you want. I won't tell you a thing." "Tell you what. You leave them on and I promise to tell you anything you want to know," I snorted as I dumped the keycard on the nightstand. "It's true what they say. No good deed goes unpunished," I muttered under my breath and then left Dr. Rodney McKay…the Dr. Rodney McKay…snoring on the bed and fully clothed in his pink shirt. I had nightmares all night about that damn pink shirt. The next morning I was at Cheyenne Mountain. General O'Neill wasn't ready for me yet, so I wandered the floors I had access to, which weren't many. After seeing what looked like a big black guy wearing sparkly gold eye shadow, I decided the brain was shutting down from lack of nutrition and I headed for the cafeteria. Picking up a tray, I got in line and frowned as I saw someone take the last cherry jello. "Hey," I said, "you mind if I take that? I can't eat the orange." Any further words died in my mouth as the guy turned to face me. Holy fuck. Dr. Pinkenstein. x x x x x She sure the hell looked like Miro…Miso? No, that wasn't right, either. Well, whatever her name, the Japanese woman currently sitting in the SGC infirmary was a dead ringer for the one with the same name…whatever that might be… that was currently working at the Antarctic outpost. The one I had left the day before after spending two days and sleepless nights trying to get that damn chair functioning. After Carson chickened out for the third time, I had called in Mito..damn, that wasn't right either… to help, only to receive word that I was to report to the SGC immediately. One quick trip on the Prometheus had brought me half way around the world to be beamed into Cheyenne Mountain and after a quick briefing by O'Neill, led to the infirmary where I had promptly proclaimed with a yawn, "Yeah, that looks like her. Now, where's my hotel room?" Normally, I would have been fascinated by the idea of interdimensional time travel, but at that moment, all I wanted to do was raid the mini bar and crash until morning when I could process the information with more than bleary eyes and a fuzzy head. Of course, there hadn't been a mini bar…cheap bastards…so I had headed down to the full-sized variety only to be accosted yet again by an undercover angel, this one not a midnight fantasy. I mean, he was attractive enough, for a guy. If I was interested in that sort of thing, which I wasn't. And although I was pretty sure he had been in my room (he had obviously slipped something in my beer to knock me out when he was reaching for the peanuts) I was also pretty damn sure he hadn't done anything to me seeing as I was fully dressed, zipped, and unviolated when I woke up. Either that or he was wholly unmemorable and I had trouble believing that. Not that I was thinking about how memorable he would have been, because I wasn't. Nor had I been thinking about him that morning in the shower. He just kept popping up…annoyingly so…when I was trying to remember the blonde I had turned down on that last trip to Zurich. In fact, when the guy behind me in line at the cafeteria asked for my jello, I had thought for a split second it was him again, before deciding whatever drug he had slipped me the night before was still playing fast and loose with my senses. But when his eyes rolled and he shook his head with a disbelieving, "You have got to be fucking kidding me," my own eyes widened in recognition. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed. "How did you get past security?" "I didn't 'get past' security, I was ordered here by General O'Neill." Taking in the uniform I furrowed my brow. "You're Air Force? Do they have any idea that you do what you do…I mean, what you were doing in that bar?" Another frustrated shake of his head and he walked over to a table with his tray. I followed after him as I realized what he must have been doing. "Oh, my God, you're a plant! An undercover agent looking for potentially loose-lipped members of the SGC. Aren't you?" "Look, McKay, was it? I have no idea what an SGC even is, much less how loose their lips might be." I leaned in across the table, eyes darting conspiratorially to make sure no one was listening in. "Then why were you hitting on me last night?" "As much as 'passing the peanuts' might apply to certain…anatomical short fallings on your part, that was not what I intended when I asked for them. It was purely a desire for salty snacks…once again, not yours…on my part that led to the request. Nothing, and I cannot stress this enough, nothing more." "I'm not gay," I blurted defensively. When eyebrows rose at my assertion I tried to clarify. "I mean, I didn't imagine you coming on to me out of any sort of underlying desire. So, obviously you were coming on to me." His grimace spoke volumes. "Yeah, all right, normally, I might be somewhat flattered by the fact that you obviously have a subconscious attraction to me. But if you hadn't notice, I'm an officer in the United States Air Force, in uniform and about to enjoy a military meal in a military chow hall. So I'd appreciate it if you would keep the accusations of flirting with a member of the same sex to yourself." Nodding perceptively I lowered my voice further. "Oh, right. I understand. Don't ask, don't tell. Got it." "No, apparently, you don't understand. You were a little intoxicated last night, so I can appreciate your confusion…" With a condescending shake of my head, I cut him off. Who did he think he was fooling? And here he was talking to me, the Rodney McKay, as if I were a slow preschooler trying to glue crayons up my nose. "I'm not drunk now and you're still hitting on me." "How am I hitting on you?" He practically spit the words across the table. "You're sitting with me aren't you?" "You sat down with me!" Now it was my turn to explain things in a manner his simpleton brain could comprehend. "Yes, because you invited me to." "Hey, buddy," I mimicked, "can I have that jello?" With a snort, I took a bite of the pot roast on my plate. "Might as well have invited me up to your dorm room to see your record collection." "I asked for the red jello because I have a citrus allergy and can't eat the orange." Nearly choking on the piece of meat I was chewing, I regarded the Air Force major across from me. "Are you serious?" When he nodded in the affirmative, I shook my own head. "You have food allergies?" "Yes, lots of people have food allergies." "Yeah, sure, scrawny little kids who live in bubbles maybe. Those that Darwin would consider a weak link in the evolutionary food chain." "I'm sorry if my less-than-superior genetic makeup offends your manly, pink-shirt wearing, latent-homosexual sensibilities." "I am not gay!" "So you've said." He took a bite of his potatoes with a patronizing shrug. "Repeatedly." Grasping my fork in a death grip, I challenged, "And who the hell ever heard of being allergic to citrus?" I looked him up and down, taking in the thin frame. "Although the resultant scurvy could account for the malnourished skeletal look you have going there." "I'm a delicate creature, McKay. I guess I'm just lucky you're such a beer-swilling brute that you passed out after a whole twenty ounces of Coors Light else you might have eaten me alive." Now it was his turn to give me the once over. "Along with anything else that wasn't bolted down." Glaring, I took the parfait glass of red gelatin and pointedly moved it out of his reach. "Guess that means there's no chance of me sharing dessert with you, then, is there?" Instead of being angry or hurt or irritated, he only seemed amused. And that was something I wasn't used to. No tears, no snarling back, no storming off in a huff threatening to send me to darkest Russia as punishment, just the slightest quirk of lips and a hedging, "We'll see." And as much as I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, I couldn't help but think I could get used to this guy. I was saved from having to decide which I was going to do at the moment by Samantha Carter walking in and scanning the cafeteria. Leaning forward I demanded quickly, "See the blonde that just walked in? Has she spotted me yet?" Hazel eyes narrowed warily. And who knew hazel could be such an expressive color? "Yeah, she's walking over this way." "Is my collar straight?" Shrugging my neck to shift my shirt, I didn't wait for an answer. "What does she look like? Happy? Excited? Aroused? Pissed?" "Constipated." What? At my confused face he elaborated. "Somewhere between pained and resigned to her fate." Before I could ask if I had food in my teeth, she was standing behind me. "Rodney, glad you could make it." Quickly sucking at my front teeth, I beamed up at her. "Sam, so good to see you again. I was hoping to run into you last night, even requested the room next to yours, but O'Neill told me about the infestation in the residential wing and the fumigation that was taking place." "Yeaaaah. It's been a real pain." "Must be hard having to save the galaxy without the luxury of a lab and the comforts you're used to. Of course, I do that on a daily basis now at my new assignment." "Yes, congratulations on your new position. I'm sure the penguins feel much better knowing you're there." It was really pathetic how she tried to cover her true feelings for me under all that sarcasm. But the passion was obvious in her eyes and if she could just get over her feelings of inadequacy around me, I thought we had a shot at something special between us. I mean, I never expected her to discuss the intricacies of wormhole physics while she was riding me like a Pochhammer-Chree wave anyway. Then again… Before I could completely imagine those possibilities, she stretched an arm across the table and shook hands with my lunch partner. "Major Sheppard, I'm Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter. It's nice to meet you. General O'Neill has been pulled away on other business, but he's asked me to brief you in his absence." "Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is John Sheppard?" All thoughts of what Sam could do to my 'infinite rod' disappeared as I learned that the man across from me was the one that was supposedly so vital to the Atlantis expedition. Both of them gave me bewildered looks, Sam since I had no clue who I was eating with and Sheppard because I obviously knew about him and he knew nothing about me. I studied him a little closer, looking for any sign of why someone would travel across a dimensional rift and back in time to make sure this man joined us on our mission. Physically leaning back from my scrutiny, he asked Sam, "Should I be worried that whatever it is that General O'Neill needs me to do involves him?" Sam opened her mouth as if to say something then closed it with a reassuring smile. "I should probably keep my opinion to myself. If you'll come with me I'll try to explain." And after a trip down to O'Neill's office, a quick security overview and signing of nondisclosure paperwork, Sam gave a very brief synopsis of the Stargate Program and summary of how Miko…that was her name!...had arrived a few days prior. "So, let me get this straight. This woman moved from an alternate reality into this one, then jumped back in time, then hitched a ride in a wormhole and traveled from another galaxy to get here to say I needed to go to Atlantis?" "I know it sounds outrageous," Sam consoled a very skeptical Sheppard, "but believe me, everything she's talked about doing, others have done, as well…just not all three at once." "The United States Air Force actual has time travel machines? What, a garage full of DeLoreans equipped with flux capacitors?" "The American cinema is going to rot the brains of every person on Earth, I swear." I shook my head in disgust. "No, she had a device that was built by the Ancients…they're the race of people that built the Stargates and Atlantis is what we believe to be their home city. Where is that thing, Sam?" She pulled out a box and handed it over and I opened it to reveal a smooth, flat, coin-shaped device that would fit easily in the palm of my hand. I started to pick it up to show him when he let out a worried, "No! Don't touch it!" "Why? I assure you it's perfectly safe to handle the Ancient's devices, especially if you don't have the ATA …" And I stopped in midsentence as something clicked in my head. "You can sense something about this, can't you?" He seemed reluctant to admit it and he looked between me and Sam before finally begrudging, "Yeah, I can. It feels…dangerous." Oh, dear God, he had the gene. And if he could sense it, could feel warning bells being given off from a piece of Ancient technology, then it had to be strong. Stronger than anyone else I had ever met, and I had met every person with an ATA gene that we knew about on this planet. Snapping my fingers excitedly, I ordered Sam, "Get me another device. Anything. Jackson's bound to have something squirreled away somewhere." Within minutes we had Sheppard activating equipment that had sat dormant for years. Hell, after a trip down to Jackson's lab, he had things glowing blue that we hadn't even known were Ancient. And each time he did it, each time he hesitantly placed a hand on a contraption and thought about turning it on, my smile grew. By the time we had run through every piece of Ancient technology we could locate on the base, I was bouncing on my toes. Clamping a hand on his arm, I was already dragging him down the hallway toward the gateroom. "Call the Prometheus, Sam; we're going back to Antarctica." "Whoa, hold on, McKay." He dug in his heels and I jerked to a stop. "I dodged that bullet once before. What is so important about going under the ice?" I smiled broadly, unable to contain my glee. "I have a chair you need to sit in." "A chair?" he asked dubiously. "Believe me, Major, you make this chair work and you can have every bowl of red jello I come across." x x x x x This guy. This annoying goddamn guy. I'd been on a spaceship, a spaceship…I mean, my God. No pilot alive could out-cool that shit. There were stars and the misty blue curve of the earth beneath us—I was Han Solo, Buck Rogers, Captain Kirk. I was flying in a way I never had before. Never had dreamed was really possible. The Prometheus made the shuttles look like tinker toys. It was…there were no words for what it was. Up to now though, it was the best moment of my life. But although I had no words (well, I had one. Cool—which had gotten me a roll of astrophysicist eyes), McKay had hundreds. Thousands. Ancients, drones, Ascension, the Pegasus galaxy, gene therapy…the latter, he explained condescendingly, was for the normal personnel. Mutant throwbacks wouldn't require it. This ATA gene was most likely linked to a low prehistoric brow, small brain, and tendency to eat one's own bodily vermin. "I thought you said humans were the second evolution of these Archaics…Ancients, whatever. The super-advanced guys?" I pointed out. "Wouldn't that make me a superior blast from the past?" "That's quite a conceited and utterly incorrect concept." He turned from the blue, white, and black view before us to glare at me. "Second evolution, coined by Dr. Daniel Jackson who has obviously lost brain cells from his ten or so expirations, is a misnomer. You've seen their technology. At best, we'd be a de-evolution. Or…." His eyes sharpened in consideration. "As I've hypothesized, a horny Ancient or two diddled whatever tool bearing monkey that was around at the time and here we are. A cross-breeding. Of course, if we knew exactly when they left and when they returned and why we're still here if they ascended. Wouldn't we have ascended with them if we were one evolving race? Or were we still the flea picking, grub eating, stick waving white trash relatives that they were too embarrassed to haul with them? Sure, we'll be back for you. Here's our forwarding address. Check's in the mail. Don't let the fuzzy dice hit you in the ass." He snorted and shook his head before brightening. "But they did leave us some truly amazing toys." "In other words, you don't have the gene, right?" I grinned, picking that pertinent fact out of all the morass of McKay ranting. A McRant if you will. They had McMuffins, why not McRants? Just substitute a Canadian astrophysicist for the Canadian bacon and you were set. When it came to him not having the gene, I'd suspected as much when I was the only person turning things a glowing blue back at Cheyenne Mountain. There was no way McKay wouldn't have tossed a few in if he could. Born show off. I was one, too, and it took one to know one. "I," he said with narrowed eyes and out-thrust chin, "am not included with the mutant throwbacks, no." Yeah, this guy…I had to say I'd never met anyone like him. Simultaneously smug, conceited, a shithead of unbelievable proportions, but…don't ask me how there was a but, I don't have a clue. There was one though. A 'but.' He was brilliant, sarcastic as hell, a complete dork around women, and he didn't let me get away with anything. Most people did. I had the occasional higher-up who hated my guts, but as a rule, I could charm anyone. To be more honest, manipulate anyone…especially female. Flash my cocky grin, bring up roller coasters for women (how fun and cute…and that little boy hair is just adorable) or beer, football, and flying with men (damn, he's cool. Babes, planes…he's Maverick without the Scientology.) It was pure survival instinct on my part…at least I hoped it was. I hoped it wasn't coldly intentional, that it was a result of more bases and schools than I could count. After all, the more you made them like you, the less likely they would leave you, right? For your mom to leave you, you have to be one helluva loser. Obviously changes needed to be made and work needed to be done. Simple math, even for a kid. So, I did the calculation and then I did the work. And I'd never stopped. A Texan Machiavelli or the remnants of a long gone kid doing his best to survive…whichever. I had my moments and they weren't all good. Rodney…shit, McKay…didn't fall for any of it. He couldn't care if I was a hotshot pilot, he didn't care I had several women in the cafeteria smiling and flirting with me at a distance. He didn't let me pull anything, didn't acknowledge my Joe Cool personality (probably thought charisma was just a hot actress on some TV show), and only listened to what I did say so he could immediately contradict it. He…. Damn it, that son of a bitch never did give me his jello. The last thing about McKay was, well, he was entertaining…especially to see in action. He was all over the bridge of the Prometheus…a goddamn spaceship, I was never getting over that, swear to God…shooting questions like bullets, correcting anyone and everyone who was trying to do their job. Their hunched shoulders and expressions of panic and annoyance were immediate the instant they saw him coming. It didn't slow him down a bit. At one point he crawled under a console and started ripping things out, worked for all of two minutes, came back out and said caustically to the crewmember and room at large, "Now you won't end up in the center of a sun at the end of your next hyperdrive jump. Enjoy." He was like the Energizer Bunny with the brain of Napoleon. Unflagging drive and the smarts to back it up—not to mention a dash of gleeful fascism. It was a good thing Canada was such a peaceful, civilized nation, because I had the feeling with McKay on their team, we could've easily ended up saying 'aboot' and saluting the Maple Leaf for the rest of our lives. Welcome to the Southern Canadian States, where Prime Minister McKay rules with an iron fist and impatiently snapping fingers. Which he was doing right now. Snap snap. "Are you listening to me, Major? I realize this isn't a bar and you're withering away from lack of alcohol and petrified legumes, but this is important information I'm giving you." I opened my mouth to give back as good as I'd got when I saw him. Her. It. At that point my mouth stayed open and my mind did a somersault then curdled a little. What the fuck? Seriously…what…the…fuck? I finally managed to get my mouth closed before any saliva escaped and said firmly if hoarsely, "If there are any anal probes on this ship, I want off. Now." McKay rolled his eyes. "Says the man who tried to pick…er…borrow my 'salty snacks' last night." Then his gaze caught up with mine. "Ohhh. That's just Fenrir. He's an Asgard. Only one of them, Loki, ever did any probing. You're virtue is safe, Major, have no fear." He folded arms and leaned against the bulkhead. "Curious really, why their black sheep would be up to such tricks. Maybe the Asgard, having no genitals, have no…ah, other area…either. Maybe he was simply curious. Maybe…." "Maybe he was studying to be a proctologist," I gritted. "I don't know and I don't care. It's an alien. A real live alien and it's naked." I didn't point at it…McKay said there were no probes aboard, but who really knew. No sense tempting fate. I did jerk my head in its direction though. "Naked." I looked away, looked back, looked away, and looked back again. "And smooth," I lowered my voice, more than a little disturbed. "It's all…smooth…down there. It's…holy shit. It's coming over here." No, not coming. It was there. Right in front of me, impossibly large eyes studying me, and it… he… smelled. Not bad and it wasn't strong at all, but he definitely didn't smell like a human. In fact, he sort of smelled like root beer. Yeah, definitely root beer. A root beer smelling alien, hopefully without a probe, and he was staring at me. Finally, the small mouth moved. "I'd heard you located another human with a genetic mutation, Dr. McKay. I'd assumed you meant the ATA gene. I was unaware your scientific community had mapped the human genome for catastrophic follicular aberrations." As McKay immediately gave an obnoxiously explosive, "Ha!" I ran a hand over my hair and scowled at the Asgard, "Hey, ET, at least I beat out a Ken doll for anatomical accessories. I've got a Disney song for you, pal. It's called the Bare Necessities. You should look into it." "Whoops. Sore topic. Moving on." McKay snagged my arm and urged me across the room, muttering under his breath, "The Asgard don't have sex…well, they don't breed. Maybe they have sex. Maybe instead of bumping uglies they're bumping smoothies, I don't know. Either way, they don't reproduce. They've long lost the ability, the fertility. Whatever. Now they clone." "Yeah, that's a shame, but it's no reason to pick on my hair." Women loved my hair, goddamnit. "Hell, they're bald. What do they have to be so smug about?" "Oh, pretty much everything really," he said with dark cheer. "They even imagine their brains are superior to mine. Can you believe it? An entire race utterly deluded, but we need their help on occasion, so what can you do? Just muster up a little genital schadenfreude and you'll feel much better. Now." He stopped and faced me, bouncing on his heels. "Seen enough. Ready for the big toys?" The thing was, I knew Rodney…McKay, I meant…McKay…oh fuck it. I knew Rodney could've just beamed us up and beamed us straight on to Antarctica. In fact, the Scotty-type member of the crew that did the beaming seemed confused when we didn't just go on. But Rodney had taken the time to show me around. He wouldn't give me his jello, by God, but he did give me a tour of the most amazing thing I'd seen in my life. He gave me time to wander the bridge, pointed things out (when he wasn't ripping them apart), and he'd let me….hell. He'd let me be a huge-ass tourist. No. A geek. He'd let me be a geek and just soak in what I'd dreamed of since I'd seen my first Star Wars movie. It was better than jello. "Yeah." I took another look around…still barely able to grasp that it was real. "I owe you, Rodney. So let's go sit in that chair of yours." "Rodney?" he snorted and lifted haughty eyebrows. "You deny you want my peanuts, but that's a bit familiar and not exactly respectful of my station. I'm…." "Dr. Rodney McKay. The Dr. Rodney McKay," I grinned. "I remember." One of my favorite movies when I was a teenager had been Ghostbusters. There'd been a scene where the con artist played by Bill Murray introduced himself as Dr. Peter Venkmen, his colleague as Dr. Raymond Stantz, and the most brilliant of the team, with more doctorates than he could carry, as plain Egon. Hey, if it worked for Bill Murray…. "So, just how cold is it down there…Rodney?" I asked innocently. He frowned and shot back caustically, "Enough that you'll soon be joining the ranks of the Asgard, so button up." Caustic, yes, but there was a glitter in his eyes that was almost pleased. I doubted he got back as good as he gave very often. That mouth would scare the hell out of your average geek underling. And the military weren't allowed to shoot him. The man probably didn't get a lot of dialogue going on in his life. He was all monologue, and that had to be kind of boring, especially for a man as smart as he claimed he was. It would also be a little lonely. Less than forty-five seconds later I found out how cold it was. Even inside where the conditions were supposed to be livable. It was one helluva change from Vegas and made the Colorado we'd just left look balmy. "Okay, Fuck the chair. Send me back. Preferably to Hawaii. Any beach with a luau will do." My teeth chattered and I zipped up the coat they'd given me on the Prometheus. "Ah, yes. I'm sure there's no citrus anywhere there." Face turning pink with the cold, McKay slapped gloved hands together. "All right, bubble boy, let's see what you can really do." We walked through the huge space. Although it looked as if it had been hollowed out of ice, there was the occasional metal arch inscribed with odd symbols. People were milling about, working on machinery or computers. No one gave us a second glance; although a few people bolted off the instant they saw us. One of them had a shock of brown hair, heavy curved eyebrows, and soulful blue eyes. He looked to be a bit pudgy under his heavy coat, but he could sprint with the best of them. "Oh, fine, Carson. Run away, you coward," McKay called after him. "Big baby," he muttered under his breath. "He blows up one Russian satellite and you can't get him near the chair now." "Russian satellite? You're shitting me, right? The one that dropped a flaming chunk that missed that cruise ship by less than fifty feet?" I said nonplussed. "Please. It was sixty-five feet and I'm sure great entertainment for Gopher and Captain Stubing." He nudged me back into motion and then there was the chair. It was metal and crystal and looked for all the world like Darth Vader's barcalounger. "So," I said slowly, "how did this thing have anything to do with blowing up a satellite?" "It links to everything in this Ancient outpost. Everything…if we could get it to work…including weapons systems. Just don't think about blowing things up and you'll be fine." He nudged again, then pushed when I didn't move fast enough to suit him. "Sit, make yourself at home, take a load off. Whatever. Just turn the damn thing on, would you?" he ordered impatiently. And I got it. To him, this was as amazing as the Prometheus was to me. Except I'd been on the Prometheus and McKay could only press his nose to the glass here. He didn't have the gene. I'd flown on a spaceship, but to Rodney his ship was sailing overhead while he was firmly and futilely stuck on the ground. That had to suck pretty badly for him. "Okay, okay. Sitting." I sat gingerly as I did my best to think about nothing, which would hopefully equal not destroying Russian satellites. As soon as I sat, the seat back reclined and the whole thing glowed to life. I shot a nervous look at McKay, trying to ascertain that all satellites were still safely in orbit. He didn't seem worried, in fact, he seemed rather pleased. "Good. Now, think about….think about where we are in the solar system. Think about Earth." I was going to. I had every intention of it. But I had one thought that slid into home first. Cold. I was still cold as hell. Abruptly the blue glow brightened. From the chair. The floor. The walls. The ceiling. The room beyond the doorway. Everything. The light shone through the ice with an intensity that had it cracking, melting and pouring to the floor in watery waves. Metal and crystal walls were revealed, mosaics, more machinery. There was massive hum as the entire outpost came to life and warm air drifted around us like a blanket. Rodney, bathed in blue light looked around, his mouth open, eyes unbelieving, before looking back at me. I grinned and then we both said it simultaneously. x x x x x I don't like people. I tolerated them, I put up with them, I endured them because, unfortunately, there are only twenty-four hours in a day, I only have two hands and two eyes, and eventually I run out of clean underwear and need to eat. But as a general rule, I don't like people. And actually, that's okay, because to be perfectly fair, people don't like me. Hard to believe, considering how I have all but devoted my life to finding ways to improve theirs, but it's true. For some reason they wanted their geniuses to be brilliant as well as charismatic, thought provoking while self-deprecating, outspoken and yet soft spoken. They wanted to place Albert Einstein, Gandhi, and Mother Teresa in a blender and create a scientist smart enough to save the world on principle alone and, while he's at it, give them all a hug. Well, sorry, I liked food and I didn't like hanging out with people with communicable diseases, so they would just have to settle for the I.Q. and skip the PDA and thank their lucky stars that I decided to use my powers for good instead of ruling the world from a secret lair in a dormant volcano. That's just the way it was, me domineering, them quaking, work getting done, progress being made. Until I met John Sheppard. For two and a half weeks, I had been working with the man. Actually working with him. Not me dictating and him groveling. Not me dazzling him with my intellectual prowess and him basking in my glory. Not him hiding and me dragging him by the scruff of the neck to cower before the equipment. But actually accomplishing what we set out to do on a daily basis. Oh sure, he'd been plenty dazzled by the Prometheus but that was to be expected from anyone who had argued as a child over who got to be Han and who had to be the Wookie. And as wary as he'd been about sitting in the chair, he did it, unlike some Scottish sheep huggers that shall remain nameless. I swear to God, he shoots down one satellite…one!.. and you'd think the world was coming to an end. I've been to Russia; the television reception sucked when the satellite was still in orbit, so it evidently wasn't doing much for them to begin with. Besides, it's not like there's anything worth watching from Western networks anyway. But Sheppard had sat in the chair, and aside from threatening the melt the polar ice caps, which I assured Elizabeth was very unlikely to happen in actuality…at least I was ninety percent sure it wasn't going to happen.. nothing cataclysmic had occurred. Nothing except that I found I actually enjoyed hanging out with him. I mean, I wasn't going to propose marriage or anything, but for the first time in years I found myself looking forward to working with someone as opposed to just wishing I could clone myself and do away with the minions. He was smart, in a borderline idiot savant sort of way. He was confident, in a 'my hair looks good doing an impersonation of a porcupine in heat' sort of way. And he was amusing in a 'no, seriously, my hair looks good like this' sort of way. He did what I asked, he didn't back down, and he didn't take shit from my staff, from the Marines, or from me. Especially from me. It was like he took great pleasure in pushing my buttons instead of avoiding them like most people did. And that was… unexpected… and ultimately refreshing. Carson, however, was on the verge of dropping on one knee and breaking out the prenup, which would have said I'll do anything you want as long as you keep Rodney from asking me to activate another piece of Ancient technology. Major John Sheppard was the answer to his prayers and dreams all in one. A uniform-clad savior with the genetic makeup to finally put his theories of an ATA gene therapy to the test. Carson didn't have to sit in the chair, or try to activate a device or even button up his coat in his lab for that matter since Sheppard had arrived. And he had collected enough blood from the Major that I was surprised the man wasn't collapsing from anemia in the lab. Just the day before, I had been looking for Sheppard to help with one of the consoles we had uncovered during his great defrosting episode. When I called for him on the radio, Carson answered instead. "It will be a bit longer before Major Sheppard can come help you, Rodney." "Why is that?" I demanded suspiciously. "And more importantly, why the hell are you answering for him?" "The Major is feeling a tad…woozy right now." Pushing the Czech guy with the ridiculously long name out of my way, I started toward the infirmary. "Godammit, Carson, did you break him? Because I told you if you kept tapping him like a maple tree, you were going to damage him." "I'm not a remote control car, McKay," Sheppard slurred across the airwaves, "He can't break me." "If anyone could, it would be Count Beckulla, the Scottish vampire," I countered. "If anything, the Major is on the verge of exhaustion, Rodney. He doesn't need to be working in the labs until the wee hours of the morning. And neither do you for that matter." "He's working the same hours I am, Carson and I'm not feeling 'woozy'." I rounded a corner as I formed air quotes and nearly collided with Grodin who turned and started trailing after me. "You did get lightheaded last night," the Major reminded me. "I did not." My chin rose, even if he couldn't see me. "I simply felt like putting my head down on the table in frustration." My defense obviously did little to convince our chief medical officer. "Did you skip dinner again?" "It may have slipped my mind." Frowning, I shoved the folder Peter had handed me back into his chest without even opening it. "Rodney, how many times do I have to remind you to eat? You know you're blood sugar drops dangerously low…" "Dangerous is such a dramatic word," I protested across the radio. Grodin, who was still matching me pace for pace as I made my way through the base, snorted. "You claimed you were defying death simply standing in line when I took the last muffin at breakfast last week." With narrowed eyes at the Brit, I inquired, "Aren't you supposed to be finishing up a report on the power consumptions of a fully operational base?" He pressed the folder back in my hands and I glowered harder. "Whoa, what do mean dangerous?" Sheppard cut in as I flipped the report open while I walked. "You mean he didn't tell you? Dr. McKay is hypoglycemic, Major." "No, he failed to mention that," Sheppard drawled meaningfully in my ear. "He tells everyone else." Grodin's mumble beside me earned him another glare. Carson's explanation had Sheppard asking, "So this hypoglycemia, that's bad?" "Well, it's not as serious as his heart condition…" "Carson, have you even heard of patient/doctor confidentiality?" Turning back to Grodin, I slammed the folder shut. "According to your calculations on page three, we'll be consuming enough energy to suck a white dwarf dry in fifty years. For some reason, I doubt that's the case." "I didn't extrapolate the power usage for fifty years; I only did it for five." "Rather short sighted of you, then. Redo it. And run the calcs by Simpson before you bring it back to me. I have more important things to do than read rough drafts." Peter gritted his teeth and grumbled, "It's not a linear relationship, Rodney." "Prove it." I pushed the folder back at him and walked through the infirmary door, leaving him hovering in the hall. "And you call me a bubble boy," Sheppard scoffed from where he sat a little glassy-eyed and propped up on a hospital bed with an ice pack on his neck. "Am I fainting in the middle of the day? No, I don't think so. When I do, then you have permission to ridicule. Until then, just lay there and practice focusing on moving objects." A technician walked past me and Sheppard took the offered cup. "I didn't faint," he growled. "I just stood up a little too fast after the last blood draw. And evidently the only reason you didn't is because you horded all the pudding at lunch." "I gave you the red jello, didn't I?" Reaching out, I snatched the cup from his hand before he could take a sip and tuned my anger on the technician. "What the fuck is this? I've heard of shirking work but sending patients straight to the reaper is taking that concept to the extreme, don't you think?" "Rodney, what's the problem?" At Carson's question, I stuck the paper cup irately under his nose. "Orange juice, Carson." Turning back to the tech I poked a finger in his chest. "You like having heat in here don't you? Then you might not want to kill off the damn thermostat." "Rodney, I'll handle this," Carson assured me then led the technician away for a lecture on patient's charts and allergy warnings. "Uh, thanks, McKay," Sheppard said sheepishly. "I guess I wasn't paying attention." "It's a wonder you made it to adulthood. Natural selection should have culled you from the herd years ago. But seeing as your hair defies the laws of physics, I shouldn't be surprised to see that the rest of you has defied the laws of nature." "I do have a problem with following the rules," he smirked. "You should read my personnel file." "I have." His face darkened at the news and I informed him simply. "I'm the lead scientist on this expedition, Sheppard. I attend the senior staff meetings. Did you think your service record wouldn't come up when we were discussing bringing you along on the trip through the worm hole?" "And what's the consensus?" "Me, personally, I couldn't care less. You could have been storing parts of door-to-door salesmen in your freezer to eat as a side dish to your Lean Cuisines; I would have simply proposed we muzzle you a la Hannibal Lecter and dollied you through the gate on a hand truck. That's how badly we need your ATA gene. Elizabeth and Carson feel pretty much the same way. Sumner is the only one that has any problem with it but O'Neill outranks him and Elizabeth out finesses him, so your transfer paperwork should be coming in sometime this week." "You can't be stationed at Nellis and on the far side of the galaxy at the same time, that's a little conspicuous. So you'll be officially transferred to McMurdo like most of the military on the expedition." With a grimace, he removed the ice pack and rolled his neck. "The Colonel isn't going to happy with that." "Like I said, Sumner doesn't have a leg to stand on with his protests," I assured him. "Considering that Miko number two took the transdimensional express to make sure you do go to Atlantis, no one has much of a valid argument against you going. In fact, you're the only one that can say no at this point seeing as it's a strictly voluntary mission." "Not Colonel Sumner, Colonel Sheppard." When I furrowed my brow in confusion, he went on to explain. "My dad, Rodney. He used up his last silver bullet to arrange to have me stationed in Vegas instead of Antarctica. And now I'm requesting to be transferred here?" Swinging his legs off the bed, he shook his head. "This is pretty much going to blow the cease fire we've had for the past year." "Oh." What else could I say? Families…families pretty much sucked in my book. And evidently they weren't too high on the list of favorite things for Sheppard either. "Well, in all fairness, you won't actually be here but on a top secret, first of its kind mission to another galaxy. Of course, he won't be allowed to know that. But the fact remains…" "He isn't one to let facts get in the way of the official record." Standing, he put a hand on the bed to steady himself and changed the subject. "Now, do you still need me to look at that console?" "Yes. That is, if you feel up to it." He seemed to consider it for a few seconds then finally said. "You know, I'm not so sure I do. I think I'm going to head back to my quarters for a little while. I'll meet you in a couple of hours." "Sure," I granted weakly. Not that I knew him that well, but it was the first time I had seen Sheppard unsure of anything and the lack of his usual cockiness was admittedly a little unnerving. He simply nodded and headed toward the door somewhat unsteadily. "Major," I called after him and he stopped without turning around. "For what it's worth, I do prefer facts to official reports. And I think you did the right thing in Afghanistan." He still didn't turn but he seemed to straighten slightly. "I'll see you in a few hours, Rodney." And he was gone. When he finally did show up, he was back to his old self and I decided to let the whole transfer issue slide. Who needed to get all emotionally touchy feely about these things anyway? It just complicated matters and things were complicated enough without them what with the tech and the preparations and the other issues both personal and professional that I had to deal with. Sheppard's paperwork came in right under the gun. Not surprisingly, the United States Air Force runs their administrative department with the same harrowing precision as an air show fighter jet team… hold the formation until the last possible second then veer off into the clouds to avoid a collision. It was the day before we were to leave, all personnel were to report to the SGC having made their arrangements and said their goodbyes in what we all hoped was a temporary but had accepted as a potentially permanent deployment. The Major had disappeared as soon as the papers came in and, after a little investigating, I tracked him down outside, sitting on a patch of grass on the hillside above the Mountain, flipping a coin. He snatched it from the air when I walked up behind him. "Why don't you just go ahead and scale Pike's Peak next time? I think the climb would have been just as difficult." "We can see the parking lot from here, McKay. That hardly qualifies as arduous." "I'm not a field person," I huffed as I sat next to him. "Why do you think I chose theoretical physics as a profession? It's not like you think you're going to get a lot of chance to practice these sorts of things hands on when you're writing your dissertation." "You will tomorrow," he grinned. With a flick of eyebrows and a flash of smile, I concurred, "I know." "So, all ready for the big trip?" "I guess." With my less than animated response, his eyebrows rose. "Yeah, I can just feel the excitement coming off of you in waves." "I had to give my cat to my neighbor last night," I admitted morosely. "You have a cat?" he asked in genuine surprise. "Had a cat," I corrected. "And don't seem so shocked." "You just don't seem like the type of person that would have a pet, that's all." "So how exactly do you picture my life away from the labs, Major? Sitting alone in my apartment wearing a t-shirt and boxers, eating a meal of dry toast and beer in the dark?" He shrugged. "Pretty much, except now I picture a cat rubbing up against your ankle while you do it." "Really? That's really what you think my life is like?" "Hell, McKay, I honestly can't picture you away from the lab, period. The only time I haven't seen you in it is when you go replenish yourself on dessert foods and caffeine in the cafeteria. And seeing as I'm not sure how that's keeping you alive, it amazes me that you could keep anything else alive, either." "I managed to keep your sorry ass from going into anaphylactic shock, didn't I?" At my bristling tone he rolled his eyes. "Yes, you did. And I'm sorry if the Distinguished Service Medal didn't go through. Evidently my pull isn't what it used to be with the big wigs back in Washington." "It's because I'm Canadian, isn't it?" I grumbled in mock outrage. "Nationalist bastards." "Yeah, that must be it." Returning the grin he gave me I eyed the folder with his transfer papers meaningfully. "So, I heard your paperwork finally came through." "Leave it to the Air Force to wait until the last possible minute to tell you where you're going." "And are you going?" I tried to keep the anxiousness the coin in his hand brought out in me. Realizing why I was asking, he flicked the coin again, fisting it tightly when he caught it without even looking at it. "Believe it or not, I made up my mind to go the day I met you, McKay. I mean the day I actually met you and not the drunken crackpot who thought I was whoring myself for peanuts and classified information." "Believe me, it wasn't as far fetched a conclusion as you seem to think it was." "I'm starting to see that." Was that a compliment? I mean, I wasn't unfamiliar with being told I was a genius but his appraisal seemed to be more than just an assessment of my intellect. Caught off guard and fighting to cover how flustered I found myself, I flicked a hand toward his fist. "Then what's with the coin?" "Just trying to decide a few other things before I go. You know, every ending is a new beginning sort of stuff," he told me philosophically. "And are you debating the beginnings or the endings?" "Little of both," was his cryptic answer. "Evasive much?" He wobbled his head enigmatically. "Depends." "Well, then, I'll take that as my cue to leave you the hell alone." I stood and brushed at the dampness that had soaked into my pants from sitting on the grass then started down the hill back toward the base. "I'll see you at the gate tomorrow, McKay." And sure enough, he did. I watched him from the Control Room as he tentatively approached the gate while that kid Marine… Ford, I think… flopped into the event horizon as if it were a swimming pool, saw the slight wince as he scrunched his eyes closed against the trip through the wormhole, and stepped through himself. I was in the first wave of scientists that came in behind him, falling into step at his heels as he moved forward, gun in hand and the steps of a dormant city awoke with his footfalls. We both froze when it happened, shared a quick glance of wonder and amazement, the same way we had when he sat down in the control chair and the ice melted and the water started to flow. And just like that day, I could see he was thinking the same thing I it didn't stay cool for long and the water started flowing in Atlantis, as well. Only this time, it was an entire ocean's worth that was crashing in on us and threatening to drown us all if we didn't do something fast. The city was submerged, which was one of the most incredible things I had ever seen, as was the shield that was holding back the Atlantean sea…except for the fact that it was failing and the ZedPMs in the power bank were on their last leg. And suddenly all the wonders of the city- a hangar full of spaceships, the architecture and spires we could see in the distance, even the blue-lit steps and sliding doors fell to the backburner as we fought to connect the generators to the control stations and DHD so the city would respond. "Get Miko number two up here," I called across the radio, "and see if she can help us. Her expedition obviously survived this." She had refused to tell us anything about what had happened when we were back on Earth, claiming she feared impacting the expedition if she did. But she had promised to help us once we were on the other side of the gate if we would take her back with us. And now it was time for her to live up to her promise. Then something dawned on me. "And Sheppard, get him up here too. Maybe this was why it was so critical that he come along." "You mean it wasn't just for my sense of style and winning personality?" I rolled my eyes as Sheppard walked up behind me, oddly relieved that he was there. "Yes, we just needed someone to stand around and look pretty. John Sheppard, Atlantean spokesmodel." Crawling back under the console, I started connecting wires from the generator to the panel. "Where have you been, anyway?" "Checking out the ships with the Mikos." He flicked his eyebrows excitedly. Patting a hand on the floor for a pair of pliers, I asked him, "Do you think you can fly them?" He squatted and placed the tool in my hand. "Do you think it will come to that?" Yeah, I really thought it would. And that would suck on so many levels I didn't want to think about it. So, instead I told him, "Just stick close, okay?" The reasons why I wanted him to were something else I really didn't want to think about and seeing as I was neck deep in trying to keep us all from being neck deep in water, I really didn't have time to think about it either. "I was kind of thinking the same thing," he admitted with a frown. "Well, unless I can get these generators to connect up or you think the Miko twins can call forth Mothra to fly us to safety, it might be our only chance. " "Dr. McKay?" A wary feminine voice called above me. "Seeing as I'm the only one working around here, that's a pretty safe bet," I snapped but peering out to see a shy Asian face looking down at me, I amended quickly, "Oh, good, it's you. So tell me, how did I stop this in your reality when we came through the gate?" "Oh, no, Dr. McKay, I'm Miko number one." She pointed to the 'Hello My Name Is Miko 1' nametag she was wearing. If only Elizabeth had let me write one and two on their foreheads with indelible ink like I had wanted, I wouldn't have had these sorts of problems. The sorts of problems I didn't have time to deal with at the moment. "Well, then where's the other one?" "She's gone." "Gone?" I clambered out from under the control panel. "What do you mean gone? Where could she go?" "She went into the spaceship, the one with the strange console, and just disappeared." "Disappeared?" Sheppard asked in amazement. "The ship too?" "Yes. And then I found this next to where the craft had been parked." She opened the duffle bag she was carrying and pulled out a ZedPM. A ZedPM. She was holding a goddamn ZedPM in her hands. "You do realize what that is, don't you?" At my question she nodded her head vigorously. "And you do understand that we're all going to die without one of those, right?" Once again she gave me a wide-eyed nod. "Then what the fuck are you still doing standing here? Go install that damn thing!" People. I swear to God. No wonder I had no use for them. She scampered off at my order with me hot on her heels. And true to his word, Sheppard was right there beside me. Well, I considered as we jogged through the hallway of an alien city, thinking for the first time in several hours that we may just live after all, maybe I had a use for at least one. x x x x x "Miko, it is time to go." "One moment more," I requested of the man standing in the doorway as I read over the message I was leaving in the database. To my dear friends and colleagues of the Atlantis Expedition: It is my fervent hope that this message finds you all well and that my plan has worked as I had hoped it would. You must forgive me, Dr. Weir, for I went against the orders spelled out by Stargate Command. I can tell you, now that the time is past and the deed is done, that I was supposed to send you all to your deaths. In my reality, the quantum rift that allowed me to travel to your reality was caused by a malfunction of a time travel device that the Ancients had developed and left on Atlantis when they abandoned her ten thousand years ago. This occurred when Atlantis flooded and did not rise from the ocean when the expedition first entered the city. In my reality, Dr. Weir traveled back in time ten thousand years and met a very kind and wonderful man named Janus who helped her by activating a failsafe that allowed the city to rise when people returned and configured the ZPM bank so that there would be minimal power remaining in the city from a lone ZPM. However, for this to occur, Dr. Weir had to stay behind in stasis and awaken every three thousand years to adjust the ZPMs. Unfortunately, everyone else on that first attempt died. In my reality, we believed that Colonel John Sheppard was the pilot of the Gateship that transported Dr. Weir back in time. We also believe that since no one had any memory of Colonel Sheppard but only records that had yet to be affected by the rift, that he did not go through the gate, and without him there to pilot the Gateship, there was no way for Dr. Weir to travel back and ensure that the city rose. So, it was my mission to travel into your reality and make sure that Colonel Sheppard did in fact take part in the expedition. And in that, I am proud to say, I was successful. However, I could not stand by and watch everyone die again in your reality. When I originally crossed over through the quantum rift, I brought with me a ZPM to power the gate and allow me to travel between Atlantis and Earth. Fearing that a fully charged ZPM would alter what happened in your reality, I was directed to place the ZPM on a feedback loop so that it would eventually drain. I did as I was told. However, I must beg forgiveness as I did not travel back the two months before the expedition was to depart as I was supposed to in order to give it time to drain. Instead, as you know, I arrived a few weeks before the departure date. Therefore, the ZPM was only partially drained to a state similar to the one that was left behind for the expedition in my reality. This would mean there was no reason for Dr. Weir to travel back in time and attend to the ZPM bank and no reason for everyone else to die. However, I could not leave the Gateship capable of time travel with you as that could potentially change your history. So, I took it back to the time of the Ancients to make sure of two things; the time travel device that caused the rift was destroyed and the failsafe was activated to allow the city to rise. As I had hoped, both have now been accomplished. It has also allowed me to avoid the entropic cascade failure that was inevitable if I had remained in your time with my alternate self. Therefore, I beg your forgiveness in disobeying the orders given me, but I hope that you understand that I had only the best intentions and the well-being of the expedition in mind when I did so. As to Colonel Sheppard. I have thought long and hard as to why it was necessary for him to come on the expedition now that I have taken the need for his piloting skills out of the equation for the initial survival of the expedition. It is my deepest belief that his role goes well beyond that one simple act. Although I cannot remember exactly what he did on our expedition as the quantum rift had impacted our memories by the time I left, I cannot help but think it was significant seeing as he was a Colonel in my time and reality and only a Major at the time of the expedition here in yours. But I also firmly believe that his military skills are only a portion of his impact on the people of this mission, in particular Dr. McKay. This is why I left a personal 'note' for Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay in the Major's pocket while we were working on the Gateships prior to my departure. I hope I was not being too forward when I did that, but I felt it was important that they understand how things were in my reality prior to the rift and now that the rift has been repaired, I trust they have returned to the way they should be. Atlantis is an amazing city. Having seen it at its most brilliant here in the past, I can only say that you have much to look forward to in your exploration. I consider myself most fortunate to have had the opportunity to see it this way. And although I cannot tell you more, I must let Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka and all my other colleagues know that you have only just scratched the surface of what she is capable of accomplishing and I am most envious that I will not be there to share your excitement when you do. You will also have many hardships ahead of you but I have included the addresses of five planets that currently have known functioning ZPMs so that they may be of assistance to you in the time to come. And with this final farewell, I must depart Atlantis once again. This time I am returning to Earth with the Ancients and a new and exciting adventure. It has been my greatest honor and privilege to work with you all in both realities and please know that I will miss everyone but look forward to what is to come. Most respectfully yours, Miko Kusanagi "Miko, we really must be leaving now." Saving the message, I turned and smiled up at Janus who was standing with his hands on my shoulder. "I am ready." "I truly believe they will be fine," he offered with a small encouraging squeeze. "So do I," I agreed with a pat to his hand. "You did set the failsafe, correct?" "It is set. When they install the ZPM you left for them, the failsafe will activate and the city will begin the process of rising." "And the time travel technology has been destroyed?" Just in case there was a failure for some other reason, I needed to make sure the quantum rift wouldn't form in my original reality and my mission would be a success. At my question, he sighed gloomily. "Yes, per the Council's directions, I have destroyed all my work." Not all of it, I thought to myself as I fingered the smooth device I carried in the pocket of my robe. But I would let that be a surprise once we made it through to the other side of the gate back on Earth. He still had another Gateship to build once we arrived back there to allow the SG1 team to travel back and leave the fully charged ZPM that would eventually make its way back to Atlantis via the Daedalus and save us from the Wraith. Evidently I wasn't very good at covering my thoughts because he narrowed his eyes. "You know something you are not telling me." Trying my best to hide the emotions on my face I reminded him. "The others are waiting. As you said, we must go." "Very well, but I will get it out of you somehow. I am a very persistent man." "Soon," I promised as I slipped my hand comfortably into his. "I will hold you to your word." And this time the smile had a bit of mischief behind it. He dimmed the lights in his lab and we walked through the corridors to the gate room hand in hand. I was still amazed by how similar and yet how different the city looked here in the time when it was inhabited by its creators, like Ryugu when Ryo-Wo still held court. And never had I felt more like Princess Otohime than with Janus by my side. The gate activated as we entered the embarkation room and we fell into line with the others leaving for another galaxy. It was odd, to be leaving a city that had been my home for several years to return to the planet of my birth that would be as foreign as Atlantis had been when I first stepped foot through the gate all those years ago, ten thousand years in the future. With a final lingering look back, I stepped through the gate to the Earth of my past, to an unknown future and their intersection that was now my present. x x x x x From the moment I'd met Rodney McKay it had been a wild ride. Stargate Command. The Prometheus. The Ancient Antarctic stronghold. The Stargate to another galaxy. And all of it, in my mind, was so inextricably linked with a certain astrophysicist that they all went hand in hand. One simple 'pass the peanuts' and I almost die in another galaxy. I mean, I know it didn't happen that way. With or without Rodney passing out in a hotel bar, I'd had my orders. I still would've made it to the SGC. The flip of a coin, though, that was a different matter. I'd told Rodney I'd already made my decision about Pegasus before I started tossing the quarter, but that there were other decisions to be made too. One of those decisions got me punched in the nose. Maybe I deserved it, maybe I didn't, but either way, the pain of a busted nose is exquisite. It almost takes your mind off the fact you're sitting on your ass on the floor, having been knocked there by the head science geek while in front of several marines. It doesn't happen that way in movies. The hero doesn't come back from the literal brink of death, messy, nuclear death at that, only to be punched in the nose for his trouble. I guess Rodney didn't waste much time on watching movies…like I'd said, he was one wild ride. We'd almost died from moment one. The city's shields began to falter, flooding began, and I wasn't the only one to think we'd walked through the gate only to die. But then the city had risen…some sort of failsafe a fuzzy little Czech guy had said—'my own indomitable genius,' Rodney had contradicted. Either way, Sumner had wanted some options in case the city didn't stay afloat. We'd gone to Athos, gained Teyla with my charm and love of rollercoasters, lost Sumner through sheer shitty irony. Woke the Wraith…one of the many things the other Miko hadn't told us about. We'd seen planets and people that, in the end, were more like us than they were different from us. Unfortunately the most like us had turned out to be the Genii. For all I hated their guts, I recognized my own kind when I saw us in a mirror. I recognized myself. The scraps of their nuclear bombs had helped us take out one hive ship though. That was something. It hadn't been enough, but it had been something. Then the Daedalus had arrived right in the nick of time. And then, like in the best of all soap operas, we'd faked our own death. The city had been emptied of Wraith. Of some people, too. Gone. Food or dead. Ford was still in a coma from the earlier attack by the lone Wraith. Bates had been infected with the Wraith enzyme. Big and coolly angry before, now he was…something magnified. Colder. More full of rage. Bigger. Twisted. We'd lost a lot, but not as many or as much as anyone thought we would. We'd survived. Against every fucking odd, we'd survived. And I'd come back…just as I'd promised Rodney I would. I was good at making promises and mostly I kept them. This time…this time I'd known I'd just wrapped a lie in bright paper and shiny ribbon and called it something it most definitely was not: the truth. Yeah, I'd lied to him because at the time he'd needed it. And, damn it, I'd needed it too. I'd needed that lie so fucking badly. We'd come back from the Brotherhood planet…one of the five planets Miko Two had told us about in her message we'd found a few weeks earlier… and Rodney had been an unholy mess. At first, I hadn't been able to decide if he was more upset that I, not him, had solved the puzzle or that that Brotherhood chick had used him. "I thought she'd liked me," he'd said plaintively. Drunkenly…with his head in my lap. Alcohol, it's so clever at getting us to do and admit what we don't even want to admit to ourselves. We'd sat in that Ancient star viewing room, drinking and wondering how long we had to live, when Rodney had toppled over, the back of his head impacting my upper legs…luckily only my legs as he fell pretty damn hard. "I thought she liked me," he'd said, eyes confused, with short hair a mess and arms folded defensively across his chest. "I really thought she liked me. You said she liked me." It had been mournful, accusing, and woebegone beyond the imagining. In vino veritas, right? What Rodney would have never let slip from his lips sober had been pulled out reluctantly now. Another victim of Kavanagh's hooch goes down. I'd sighed and patted his chest lightly. "She did like you, Casanova," I'd told him. "She just liked duty more. Look at it from her point of view. If some hot thing came along and asked you to give up what you value you most, would you?" He'd glared at me with eyes bloodshot from fermented alien potatoes and then the glare faded. "Sometimes they're the same thing," he'd said simply. It had been almost like an echo, but not. As if he'd said this…no…as if he'd not said this before, but said something so close to being the same. And I'd thought of Miko…thousands of them in thousands of universes. Thousands of Johns and Rodneys too…doing/not doing. Saying/not saying. The coin toss going one way then another. How can you do the right thing, say the right words, be the right person, if someone doesn't give you a goddamn handbook to go with all those choices? How can you? Miko Two had tried, with that photo she had smuggled across time and space and slipped silently into my pocket before disappearing to the past to save us all, but even she had only known one thing for sure. And, timing, well, it can be everything. And as we'd seen, sometimes people were in the same places in the different dimensions and sometimes they weren't. I'd imagined I lived in lots of them and died in an equal amount. Miko had only known her world, and barely remembered bits of it at that. She didn't know ours. But I'd gotten a grip on it fast. It was dangerous and no insurance company in existence would hand out a policy here. I was military. I was here to protect the scientists, protect the geeks, protect that annoying one in particular that somehow I'd ended up spending all my time with. I was the wall between the Wraith and our people. Walls are torn down. Just torn the fuck down…all the time. It hadn't stopped me from repeating his words in my mind…sometimes they're the same thing. I'd leaned back and felt my bones melt a little. Long day, a moderate amount of alcohol, a helluva lot of regret, and a warm lap…McKay put off heat like a furnace…it wasn't conducive to a high degree of alertness. Just as I'd begun to doze, he'd shifted in my lap and wrapped a hand loosely around my wrist. "There's a reason that I didn't notice Alina at first," he'd offered quietly. "I'm a social moron, I know, but I'm not completely hopeless." That's when it had hit me. He'd been thinking, but just not about what I'd guessed. Not about being dumped for a ZPM or pulling in second on a puzzle. He'd been thinking what I'd been thinking since I'd found Miko's message. Hell, to be honest, what I'd been thinking before I'd found Miko's crumpled bit of paper. "No?" I'd tilted my head. His hand had been warm on my skin, his fingers textured with calluses. Acid, electrical burns, building fembots, those things leave their mark. "No." He'd wanted to be exasperated, I could tell. Wanted to snap his fingers, twirl that manic hand. But he hadn't. For all the typical McKay impatience, for once he'd been afraid of what he might hear. Rodney wasn't one for long bouts of internal reflection, to say the least. Then Chaya came along, and I'd done what I'd thought was best for everyone's sanity. It hadn't done any good, and I'd thought I'd seen that light bulb flare behind his eyes then. As he'd said…social moron, but not hopeless. At that point, we'd had two weeks until the Wraith arrived. Two. There was no way to fight them, at least not the kind of fight you'd walk away from. We'd probably end up evacuating everyone we could through the stargate…assuming we could find someplace to evacuate to. As I watched, my geeks would disappear through the event horizon, probably with Rodney bitching the whole way. I'd send every man I could through with them, but someone would have to bring up the rear. And the people who do that…the ones who make up the wall…yeah. He had asked, and there could only be one answer. One promise. One lie. Two weeks with me…just try to get him through the gate then, especially considering the message Miko had left. I'd known how much damage I could cause to Rodney. The Wraith were imminent, death with pale skin and soulless eyes, and yet it had been somehow possible for me to actually make things harder for him…should he survive. I hadn't been able to do that. Not to Rodney. Wouldn't. Couldn't. My lips had curved slightly and I'd run a thumb lightly along the line of that pugnacious jaw. I hadn't been able to see the bristle but I had felt the invisible prick of it against my skin. Rodney had changeable eyes. From a distance they almost looked hazel, but up close they were blue. Clear blue but for a single brown speck near the pupil of the left one. Usually they were dark with irritation and impatience, then they had been dark with something else. Hope. Fear. An almost belligerent vulnerability. And other things…better things…things meant only for me. I'd leaned forward until my forehead rested against his and closed my eyes. His free hand had come up to tightly cup the back of my neck, and we had stayed that way for minutes, maybe longer. His breath had been warm against my ear, soft and even until it had finally hitched slightly. "So…time for the big lie?" He had tried hard…he really had. And he'd almost pulled it off. It had been breezy and casual, cracking only the tiniest amount at the end. I had exhaled, opened my eyes and straightened. I'd slid my hand through his grip until I could link fingers, promising quietly, "After the Wraith. When we're safe. We'll do things that will have Zelenka crying for his mommy, we'll make the backseat of every jumper unsafe for human habitation, and I'll be all over your peanuts." Then I'd grinned. It hadn't been a false one. It had been utterly genuine and real, because it hadn't been for me. It had been for Rodney. He had smiled back…it was faint and crooked as always, but it was there. "You give great lie, Major. Don't let anyone tell you different." He closed his eyes, but his hand stayed firmly almost desperately wrapped around mine as he demanded obstinately, "And I want to see whatever the hell it was that Miko Two left you." But I hadn't shown it to him then for the same reasons I hadn't shown it to him when I first found it in my pocket after shooting my CO in the head. At that moment, I knew the universe was filled with monsters, real ones that could have stepped straight off the screen of a Wes Craven horror flick. And what I'd seen in the photo…what I'd seen the other John and Rodney had…well, as much as I might have wanted it, it was a luxury that we couldn't afford. It was always the horny teens in those slasher movies that were the first to buy the farm. And I wasn't going to fall prey to the same hormonal inattentiveness that took them out in the end. So, I'd kept the note to myself and Rodney in the dark and he would have stayed that way if Miko hadn't spilled the beans in her farewell to Pegasus message we had found in the abandoned lab several weeks before. Ever since then, he hadn't let up about the damn thing and I hadn't given in. I'd told him I'd never found a note, that it must have been destroyed in the laundry, that she must have slipped it into someone else's pocket…any lie I could come up with. So that by the time I had promised his drunken ass a happy ending, he was right…I really did give great lie. As it turned out, it hadn't been a lie. I'd made a promise, I'd kept it…was really looking forward to keeping it. Eagerly looking forward. In fact, if I weren't so exhausted, emotionally and physically, I would've been so eager, it would've been virtually pornographic. So why the hell was I sitting there on the floor, tasting blood on my upper lip, and having a pissed off Canadian cursing me? From his twitching foot, I thought he might be considering kicking me as well. "You son of a bitch. 'So long, Rodney'?" He bent and snarled in my face, "Yes, that's exactly the goodbye I'd been hoping for. So fucking long. Surprised you didn't text message it on your way out. OMGCUL8R. Asshole." And there came the foot. I caught the boot with one hand, it wasn't that serious an attempt, as I wiped blood from my upper lip with the other. "Okay, Dr. McKay. Someone obviously has been on the Air Force good speed for a little too long now. Let's see about getting Carson to give you something and bring you back down." Which wasn't true of course. Well, a little true. But after making sure the city was empty of Wraith, hiding the city under the camouflage of a shield and nuclear bomb, and doing a head count of his geeks, Rodney had probably mostly come down from his high. '…just speeding away, thought he was James Dean for a day.' I shook my head free of random song lyrics and thoughts and stood. Rodney knew exactly what he was doing. He'd thought I'd died. Hadn't known that the Daedalus had beamed me to safety. For nearly a minute I was the late great Major Sheppard, gone to Glory on a bomb Rodney had built with his own hands. God, he never would've forgotten that. And he was right. I admitted it. I was an asshole. I'd ran out with nothing more than a so long, because I'd known what he'd do if he recognized my intent in my eyes. He would've been after me in a hot second. It was the only thing I could've done, but that didn't mean it had been the right thing. Necessary, yeah, but not right. "Bring me down? Bring me down? Trust me, you've brought me down plenty already, Sheppard. Let me count the fucking ways." With that, I had his arm up behind him as I marched him hurriedly out of Control. Rules were still rules. Laws were still laws. It might change, but it hadn't yet, and Rodney's mouth didn't need speed to be out of control. I kept pushing, ignoring his attempts to dig in his heels, until we were in a transport. I thought us to the nearest transport station to Rodney's quarters. Rodney's because I didn't want anyone showing up looking for me at my quarters, not with what I had planned. I let go of his arm then and he leaned back against the wall, slid down to sit on the floor and dropped his head in his hands. "You son of a bitch," he said quietly, all the anger and venom gone. "You goddamn son of a bitch." I sat beside him. We were already at our destination, those things worked instantaneously, but that didn't matter. This was what mattered. "I know." I leaned my shoulder against his. "I know and I'm sorry, Rodney. Sorry as hell." "We watched it on the scanners, you know," he said with eerie calm. "I wondered which of those pixels of light was your disintegrated bits floating around. It was strange. I thought if I looked hard enough, I'd recognize it. This…this is the precise spot that John ceased to be. I don't know why it made a difference. It's not like I was going to have the opportunity to float a wreath out there for you, but…I just wanted to know. I wanted to know where you'd gone through the door. I wanted to pretend you were still hanging around on the other side of it. That I could knock and maybe you'd open up and come back through." He straightened and leaned his head back with a distinct clunk against the transporter wall. "I'm so high" He exhaled and rubbed his eyes. "No, not high. Down, six feet under and all used up." He looked at me, deep raccoon smears around his eyes. "I want to go to sleep. I want to forget this day ever happened. I want to see that goddamn note." He blinked as his words began to slur. "I want to forget you died. I want to forget…." His eyes rolled back, lids closed and his head hit my shoulder with the same clunk that it had the wall. And he was gone. Out. I leaned my head against his, buried my nose in hair that smelled of sweat and two days without a shower and I didn't mind one damn bit. I managed to get his unconscious body to his feet, although it wasn't easy. I wasn't precisely in the pink myself. I hoisted him over my shoulder and staggered to his room. The door opened and I blinked to the sight of Dr. Z belly flopped on Rodney's bed. His shirt was half pulled over his head. I could only see one ear, the ear stem of glasses and lank hanks of hair. His pants were around his knees and some Czech version of Spiderman underoos was proud and loud in white, blue and orange. And the snoring….it put the underoos in the shade. "Well," I cleared my throat and said conversationally. "Rodney, you stud." It was too bad he was out like a light and couldn't hear me, him or Zelenka. Someone did though. "Our quarters were destroyed," came the calm voice of Miko One. Our Miko. She smiled at me. I thought I'd earned a little extra fondness back in the days when I'd tackled Rodney before he could label her with a permanent marker…on Elizabeth's order, of course. Miko would've let him too. She thought Rodney hung the Sun and Moon. And she thought Zelenka had created them. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried tugging at Zelenka's shirt while a hand swatted at her and grumpy Czech curses filled the air…all while he still slept on. He and Rodney had helped to save our asses, and their bodies were paying the price now. Undeterred, Miko kept it up until she'd gently maneuvered him free. Smoothing his hair, she removed his glasses and laid them on the bedside table. "So, Radek said Dr. McKay would not mind sharing." There was a twinkle in her dark eyes. "They are so like little boys with their games." Games? Yeah, but less like little boys and more like ego driven, stubborn geeks from hell. I grinned at her, "I'm sure Dr. McKay won't mind one bit. Make yourself at home. Rodney can sleep it off at my place." "I'm sure we'll have new quarters as soon as Radek awakes. There are many empty rooms…." "No," I shook my head. "Let's stick to what we know. The scanners say there are no more Wraith in the city, but best to play it safe for a while. And if Rodney feels….cramped, he can bunk with me for a few weeks." A perfect excuse, perfect revenge, and a perfect way to overcome any last attempts at pissiness on Rodney's part. It was like a gift. I wasn't going to waste it. Ten minutes later we were in my quarters and Rodney was snoring on my bed. He gave Dr. Z a run for his money. Except for the underoos. He'd gone with boxers. Plain white boxers that he'd also taken a permanent marker to. Across the back of them in bright purple, it read: BITE MY EARTH ASS. Just like Rodney…even if he got sucked dry by the Wraith, his corpse would have the last word. "Sorry, Supergeek," I snorted, "I don't think that's where they planned on sucking out your life." Then I pulled his shirt off to discover there was a similar message written on the bare skin of his chest. FUCK YOU, CATFISH SHITHEAD. I laughed. I laughed until my chest hurt and my eyes were watering. Then I stripped off my own clothes and spooned with a drooling, snoring, graffiti-covered geek. I nuzzled behind his ear and the line of his jaw. The warmth of his skin against mine was indescribable. I'd never noticed anything like that before. I'd noticed breasts and full hips and when was I getting laid already? I'd done the work, but it was always marking time for the end game. With Rodney…there was no game. There was no looking ahead to the big moment, although I knew it would be fucking amazing, no pun intended. With Rodney, it was about every moment…being in every moment. This moment of warm skin, his chest moving up and down, his rattling snore, the smell of salt and old fear on his skin. It was a perfect moment. Just like all moments with him were. No matter how fucked up the situation, how annoying he was being or I was being or we were both being. Despite all those things, every moment was perfect, was what it was meant to be. Every moment was full of the details of life I'd never bothered to notice before. Every moment…. Even sleeping has its moments…ones of fear and terror and regret and dying in a Wraith ship, dying on a jumper with a bomb, watching someone you love die…. "John, wake the hell up." I opened my eyes to see bloodshot blue ones three inches from mine. A short space, but like the moments, a perfect one. I kissed him. With the remnants of nightmare, the debris of a life nearly as terrifying. I kissed him and tasted morning breath, old power bars, bad coffee, and Rodney. Through and through, all Rodney. There were moments and there were moments, and when he surged against me and kissed me back, I almost had a moment all over his leg. There was a painful nip to my bottom lip and he pulled back. "You lied," he said flatly. "I did." Might as well admit it…he knew it. He'd known it all along. But I hoped later, when I showed him Miko's note, showed him a photograph of our mirror reflections wearing mirrored silver rings, he'd understand why. "You're a shithead." His eyes narrowed, then he exhaled. "Goddamnit." This time, he was the one to close the distance between us to kiss me. It was…it was the silver rush of an event horizon, the gut punch of your first space flight, the soaring height of a mythological city, the flip of a coin tumbling through icy air—it was the biggest fucking rollercoaster in the world. A wild ride. One damn wild ride. I would never look at a bowl of peanuts in the same way again. x x x x x Reality 1 Redux Life has a way of catching you off guard. One day you're doing your post-doc under a government grant, the next you're assigned to the Pentagon to advise them on wormhole physics because they found a device that actually creates them. One day you're called in to save the Earth from the ill-conceived machinations of a reckless, although sexy, blonde Air Force officer, the next you're on a military cargo flight to Moscow. One day you're walking through the gate and discovering the most amazing city ever built in the universe, the next you're laying in a bunk of the Daedalus, gripping a pillow with burned and bandaged hands waiting to die. Miko had been gone over two days now. Back to the past to fix the rift that was eating its way through the fabric of our existence. It would overcome us soon, overwrite this reality with the one where Atlantis never rose and as best we could tell, the expedition didn't live. I couldn't help but wonder what that would be like when it happened. Would we feel what it was like to die? Would it be instantaneous, like a bubble popping? Or would it be gradual, like a ghostly fading? Would we be immediately transported to an afterlife…dead relatives beckoning, white light, fluttering cherubs and pearly gates… or would we just simply be gone? And if no one even remembered what happened, would it even matter? If a tree falls in the woods, if a reality ceases to exist in the vastness of space, if at first you don't succeed… blah, blah, blah. Philosophy and pep talks were completely useless at this point and the only thing that could help us was completely out of my control so sulking and bemoaning my fate seemed as good a course of action as any for the time being. Wrapping my arms tighter around my pillow I found myself staring yet again at the screen saver on my laptop. As amusing as Kitten Wars might have been, it just seemed…wrong. And it was more than just baby tabbies wielding light sabers that seemed askew. It was like there was something that should have been there that wasn't. Everything felt wrong, had felt that way ever since the glitches with the ZedPM had started. I found that I kept looking over my shoulder as if expecting someone to be there, kept feeling disappointed when I went back to my empty quarters, kept sleeping crammed against the goddamn wall. And if Miko didn't succeed… With a sigh I clenched my fist in the fabric of the pillowcase, wincing at the pain that shot through my hand at the action. Stupid injury. Stupid quantum rift. Stupid screen saver mocking me from across the room. I forced myself to close my eyes, turning my face into the pillow for good measure to completely block it from view…and nuzzled the warm flesh of a familiar neck. Flexing my fingers, I felt muscles ripple across his ribcage as John shifted and wrapped his arm around me with a sleepy exhalation of breath. I did the same, moving my hand back and along his shoulder blade in an almost desperately possessive move. His hold on me tightened as well as he mumbled in my hair, "Hands bothering you?" Opening my eyes enough to look at my undamaged appendages I asked, "What?" As if realizing what he said and that it had made no sense whatsoever, he yawned an apology. "Sorry, weird dreams." "Yeah," I agreed against his skin, the smell of him alone causing my words to thicken. "Thought I'd lost you." The dream itself was fading, leaving behind the lingering emotions as the details grew fainter by the second. "Never." It was as much hope as it was promise but after the news he'd received, I wasn't surprised. I'd been working in the lab earlier that day, trying to track down the cause of those ZedPM tweaks that had occurred for some unknown reason then just stopped as mysteriously as they had begun when he finally worked up the courage to tell me what had been bugging him for the past day. "So, you up for a trip back to Earth?" I had narrowed my eyes and studied him. No, I wasn't up for a trip back to Earth. The entire damn city could sink on a whim if the ZedPM decided to flare up again, and that was just on top of all the other issues that were simmering in the background. The anchoring field that kept the city from bobbing like a cork on the ocean was showing signs of weakening and the engineers had traced it back to faulty power transfer in the distribution hub. The biologists were worried about a decline in the number of Atlantean sea gulls that had been residing in the city since it rose. Normally that wouldn't have been a hot burner topic for me except for the fact that a nesting colony had set up in the distribution hub and were dive-bombing the engineers when they tried to repair the transfer. Ronon had had to pick Radek up by the scruff of his shirt when he had stormed the cafeteria at dinner time…covered in alien bird guano with tufts of hair pulled straight up by angry beaks… and tried to throttle Pyongg who had refused to move the birds as he had originally agreed to do in the morning staff meeting. No, now was not the time to be heading back to Earth, but there was something about the way he crossed his arms with a forced casualness and wouldn't quite meet my eyes that had me biting my tongue. "Elizabeth came to see me." He shifted awkwardly. "Something's happened…family stuff." With a sinking in my stomach I demanded, "Oh, God, Nana? Jeannie?" "No, no!" he reassured. "Not your family, my…family." And don't think I missed the way he stumbled over that last word. But the relief I felt had me sitting back on my stool. "Okay, first of all, never let Nana hear that you don't consider her your family else she'll lock herself in the bathroom and we'll never get her out because her security makes the Ancient systems look like twisty ties and hand-written 'keep out' signs. And second, seeing as I'm sitting here, you must be talking about your dad." His shrug was as uncomfortable as the grin he tried to force. "Guess I was wrong; ends up the bastard couldn't live forever." Looking around the lab, I noticed for the first time that we were alone. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd waited for everyone to clear out before he came in here. Standing, I wrapped arms around him, waiting until he did the same to me before continuing. It took a few seconds for him to accept the comfort, accept the fact that he wanted it, that he needed it, but finally he did and his fist tightened in the back of my shirt. "When's the funeral?" "They're waiting for word from me. Waiting to see if I can get leave from my deployment." He snorted against my shoulder. As far as anyone on Earth knew, he was stationed on a secret mission, probably assumed to be in the Middle East somewhere. Even his father never knew exactly where he was, just knew he wasn't where he thought John should be. Increasing my hold, I told him, "Have Elizabeth notify the SGC that we'll head out first thing in the morning." We went home and packed. Or I should say, I packed and John crammed every pair of socks we owned in a duffle bag before moving zombie-like to the next drawer and starting on the underwear. Looking over from where I was zipping up the garment bag with his dress blues and my suite, I frowned. "So exactly how many pairs of boxers are you planning on going through while we're there?" He blinked as if waking from a daze then started pulling them back out blankly and dropping them by wadded handfuls on the floor. "And since when do you unpack like I do?" Moving over to stand beside him I took both of his hands in mine before he could release another mass of cotton at his feet. "All right, stop, just stop. Maybe I should pack and you should go get us some dinner. Okay?" Taking a deep breath he nodded his head. "Yeah, okay." Exhaling forcefully, he looked down at the pair of boxers he held in his hand. They were mine, plain white except for BITE MY CANADIAN ASS printed across them in faded purple. One of several personal messages I had left for the Wraith during the siege of Atlantis and my underwear of choice on any mission that promised to be a particularly dangerous one. The quirk of lips that usually accompanied John seeing them was replaced this time with a frown. "I wish…" he started then just shook his head. Yeah. Sometimes I wished, too. Leave it to the death of another to remind you of your own looming mortality, of opportunities missed, choices made or not made, time lost. You don't always get a second chance. We had. When Elizabeth had traveled back in time, she gave all of us a second chance at finding the glories of Atlantis, and John and I a second chance at a first time. And I couldn't help but wonder about the choices John and I had made in the infinite number of multiverses that were out there. Did we or didn't we? Did we give in to the needs and wants and throw caution to the wind? Or did we do what we did here…what I did here. When John came back from that suicide run to the Hive ship, he would have lived up to his promise. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. But I had finally gotten my senses back from my drunken, albeit truthful, confession. The laws hadn't changed yet and I knew my limitations on keeping things undercover…pretty damn limited. I wouldn't risk losing him all together due to my carelessness. So I preempted any starts by passing the entire conversation off as drunken stress-induced ramblings and surely he didn't take me seriously, right? Taking the boxers from his hand I leaned in and kissed him. "It happened when it happened, that's all that matters. And I wouldn't change a thing." With a crinkle of my nose in disgust, I amended, "Except for the whole kissing Carson bit; that I would have skipped." When he gave me a small snort I patted his chest. "Now, go get us some food while I search for our wallets." He headed for the door then stopped. "Thanks for…you know… all this shit. It's not something you should have to deal with." Digging through the desk drawer with my right hand, I held up my left and waggled my ring finger at him. "If you deal, I deal. It's part of the contract." "I'm just saying, that if you're too busy to go…" "Stop right there. Don't let another idiotic word come out of your mouth. There is no way in hell you're going without me. I have no doubt that if left to your own devices you'd eat little and sleep less and, given your recently demonstrated packing skills, you'd do it all wearing nothing but boxers and tube socks. I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to admit that you need me and get over it." "I need you." There were very few times that John let raw emotions out. They were there, buried under sarcasm and cockiness and usually expressed through a touch or a smile or a worried frown. They were covertly portrayed through code names like Supergeek and the clink of our wedding rings was his own romantic version of Morse Code. And I understood every secret message. But this time, he wasn't hiding it in the least and it made my chest ache to see it. "You've got me," I assured simply. And he did. Let Atlantis sink. Let the sea gulls go extinct and the city wash up on the shores of the Mainland for all I cared. John needed me and that's all that mattered. He had me, from the moment that ice cave fell, from the moment the Daedalus beamed him back from the brink of certain death, hell, from the moment we walked through the gate and the city glowed to life he had me. And nothing would ever change that. He gave me a grateful smile, still standing in the doorway until I set him back to his task with a reminder. "Dinner." "Oh, right, dinner." And he was gone. That had been early in the evening. I had finished packing and we had eaten, eventually we turned down the lights and curled in bed together. And that's when I learned a lot about John's father and John's relationship with his father. Some of it told to me, but most of it inferred from the silence between the words. John's mother was actually his father's second wife. Wife number one was rarely mentioned…dead, deserted, or fed up, John never knew. But it had meant that his dad was closing in on forty when John was born. That was probably strike one against any chance of a close father/son relationship, a generational gap that was more like a chasm. The second strike was that John was his mother's son. Even though he could barely remember her, it was obvious that he hadn't inherited his easygoing way with people, his devil may care charm and his recklessness from by-the-books Colonel Hank Sheppard. Those had come from his mom and I had a feeling there were other similarities if he had had the chance to know her. No, he was a lot like his mom in all ways except one…John Sheppard didn't run away from his responsibilities. Even when he was given a way out. When John disobeyed orders and risked his life and precious military property to save those men in Afghanistan, his dad had offered to call in a favor and cushion the blow to John's career. Because in his father's mind, it was also a blow to his own spotless military record. Evidently mandatory retirement a decade prior hadn't sunk in just yet. But the offer had come with strings, strings John didn't want anything to do with. So he passed up the career-building position in Nevada and took his lumps in Antarctica. And thank God for that. It makes me shudder just to think that he might not have come on the expedition, that I might have never met him, never have known him. But the trade off for John was that he never spoke to his father again. Strike three; you're out of my life forever. But the game goes on. And John had more than proved he was capable of knocking them out of the park when life threw him a curve ball. Now, laying here in bed with him, I just considered myself lucky that he wanted me on his team, in his life, as his family. I snuggled in closer to him, no longer even able to remember the dream that had woken me a few minutes before. "Go back to sleep," I coaxed, trying to shake the disorienting feeling that was almost like déjà vu…it didn't feel so much like I had experienced it before so much as I had almost experienced it. "We've got a long day ahead of us." Airports and funeral homes and lawyers and insurance paperwork and the reality of a thousand other things that come to the surface when someone ends up six feet below it. He yawned again against my hair and completely out of left field warned me in a sleepy voice, "Don't touch that Ancient diagnostic doodah in your lab. Not safe." That last was little more than a mumble that trailed off into a snore. But that was John. Like I said, born and raised in left field, not to mention abandoned and now orphaned there. But he wasn't alone. As long as I was around I'd make sure of that. Coming to Atlantis and meeting John and the others, allowed me to put my sister's choices in perspective. Jeannie had chosen a family over science and it had taken me years to understand that. In fact, it had taken nearly dying with a group of people that had just months before been strangers to let me realize what family meant and why she might make that choice. But falling in love with John had helped me put my choices in perspective. I realized he had become the reason behind everything I did. Science was still my life, but John was my soul. And I suddenly didn't just understand family, I was part of one. On the far wall, I could just make out the outline of our family portrait, just see it shimmering ghostlike in the faint moonlight. A little over a week ago, I couldn't fathom why John would want such a thing, now I couldn't fathom why I hadn't wanted it. Closing my eyes again, I let out a drowsy snort against my human pillow at what a sentimental schmuck I had become. Well, I guess that's what comes of wearing a ring on your left hand and taking up residence in left field and being the support system for the one left behind. And in reality, I guess that's what family is all about. The End	dclm-gs1-007610000
Well, from all the votes I received, it looks like I'll be adding the next 2 saga onto this fic. Thanks to all those who voted. After the end of this story arc, there's 7 more characters that I plan on introducing to this fic. Only 3 of them are original characters. As for one more thing for you all to look forward to, this story saga is reaching its climax...finally (T_T). Now to keep myself from revealing spoilers, on with the fic. Well, I'm not quite sure how this happened so let's review. I entered the castle of Demitri Maximof, an acquaintance of my succubus companion, Morrigan Aensland. That alone should have made me put more thought into this. So far, I've fought hordes of vampire rejects, better known as zombies, and a psychotic vampire gardener who could control a greenhouse of killer plants. I've befriended and later fought (or defended against) a vampire who could control paper, some gargoyle statues and more vampires. By now, it's safe to say that I'm pretty sick of vampires and all the other phenomenal creatures. I would think that I'd be used to this by now. Not a chance in hell. This was a bit different. I was standing in the aisle in the balcony of an auditorium that was apparently abandoned, now full of applauding spectators anticipating a show of a lifetime. I thought back to a time when Riku was talking about a similar scenario. I flinched at the whisper that suddenly came from behind me and whirled around to face it. My eyes widened in shock at what I saw. An usher? It was an usher. A plain and ordinary usher standing there staring at me, confused and somewhat surprised at my reaction. It was obvious that I was more surprised to see him than he was to see me. "Uh, is everything alright sir?" he asked. I stared at him a little more before answering. "Yeah…Yeah, I'm fine." I assumed that he wanted me to 'return to my seat'. Quickly glancing around headed over and sat down in one of the empty chairs. I thought that I may as well watch this 'show of a lifetime' I had heard about while I figured out what to do next. Suddenly, the theatre was filled with music from the orchestra that also appeared in front of the stage. I soon watched with mild intrigue as three people entered the stage. There were two men wearing tailed tux coats and red vests and ties over tights. There was a woman wearing a grand dame's dress, though it was modified for mobility. It wasn't long before I realized what was happening. Not that I've got anything against ballet; I just wasn't expecting it when the guy said the show of a lifetime. I soon found myself relaxing as I watched them dance. It seemed so…so…mesmerizing. I jerked in my seat. I looked around frantically searching for the source of the whisper. To my dismay, this action earned me some unwanted attention. I didn't realize it at first, but some of the surrounding spectators were looking at me. I felt a tap on my shoulder and my attention snapped to where it was coming from. It was another usher. I stared at him in mild confusion, but my mind wasn't focused around him. He wasn't the source of my bewilderment. I was trying to figure out where that whisper had come from. It sounded so close, so clear. I looked back toward the stage and ran a hand through my hair. Given how my night's been so far, I was a bit jumpy. "Excuse me," I said getting up and moving past the usher. I could feel him watching me as I left the auditorium. I strolled casually down the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Strangely enough, I felt like I was forgetting something important. I felt a sense of urgency tugging at the back of my mind. I didn't see what the hurry was at the time. I just needed to walk around here and clear my head so I could enjoy the show more properly. "Can I help you with anything sir?" I jumped as I soon noticed the usher in front of me. Where did he come from? "No, I'm okay," I quickly replied and walked around him. Just like the previous usher from before, I could feel him watching me. I looked back and saw him still standing there watching me. I couldn't help but notice that his gaze was unusually intense. Did I do something wrong? I wondered. It was around this point that I realized that I was wandering around without a destination in mind. It was probably for the best since I was trying to clear my head. However, my mind began wandering instead. Since I was now thinking about it, I was feeling very torn for some reason. On the one hand, I really wanted to watch this 'show of a lifetime' that was going on, but on the other hand, I felt that there was something else that I needed to be doing; something important. Why can't I remember? I turned around to see that usher again. This time, there were a few other ushers with him. "Please return to the auditorium." I stared at them for a moment. It was plain and clear what their intention was. Without a word, I turned around. I sighed then broke into a sprint in the other direction. I knew they were chasing after me so I didn't look back. It was strange considering 'normal' ushers would have thrown me out. I was caught so off guard by the sudden whisper in my ear that I almost didn't notice the barricade of ushers in front me. I stopped before I ran into them. With the other ushers closing in behind me, I intended to fight. However, that didn't happen. I was suddenly blindsided and tackled onto the floor. Being up against a gang of ushers, I didn't really stand a chance. Before I knew it, I was thrown into the theatre, landing face first in the aisle. Sure it wasn't the best customer service that I experienced, but I've had worse. I thought it was weird that they threw me back into the theatre rather than out. I stood up and dusted myself off before noticing that the theatre was completely black. What happened to the show? I was pretty certain that this was the same theatre I left earlier and it wasn't too long ago. If the show had ended, then shouldn't people who were viewing the show be flooding out into the hall right now? I froze. Whose voice was that? Where was it coming from and what did it wanted me to remember? The voice was soft and feminine and I recognized it. However, I couldn't remember the name. I couldn't even recall her face. "What the hell is going on?" My attention snapped to the front. On the stage was that masked magician host again. "How the hell do you know my name?" I yelled to him. He didn't answer my question. "It's unfortunate that you missed the majority of the show," he said. "However, you are in time for the finale." He held out his hand and made a motion to rise. Just then, the spectators who were thought to be absent arose from their seats in unison. Acting as one, they all turned towards me. I was startled to see all of their eyes glowing white with dark rings around them; a stark contrast from the human like appearance they held earlier. They all began advancing towards me from all directions. I promptly turned around and bolted for the door which was now closed. I tried turning the knobs, but they wouldn't turn. I tried pushing and pulling the doors and ramming the doors but they wouldn't budge. "Tch, typical…" I grumbled. I then realized that I had wasted precious seconds trying this door and whirled around to see that the audience had completely surrounded me. I was trapped. I began making plans to escape as the mob drew closer. It looked like I was going to have to fight my way out. The man closest to me was on my left. The moment he grabbed my arm was when I responded with me yanking my arm from his grip and delivered a fierce left hook— -only to have my fist pass right through him. I pulled away after making a horrific realization. They could touch me, I couldn't touch them. Just then, I felt my arm being restrained by men and women on my right and then on my left. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get free. All of the remaining men and women of the audience in front of me reached out towards me. I felt all of their hands on me and then nothing. The world, their hands, the feeling of them grabbing me all disappeared. I only saw blackness. I felt my strength draining and I found myself caring less. So this is what feeling my life ending be like. It was that voice again. By this point I was feeling a little annoyed with it. Didn't it know that it didn't matter anymore? "It's not too late…." Apparently, it didn't. What did it mean that it wasn't too late? I felt powerless. I couldn't do anything. "All you have to do…is remember…" Remember what? That was very cryptic. What did she mean to remember everything? All I remember was watching the play before hearing her voice and everything going ape shit. Why was I there in the first place? I knew that there was another reason other than catching some play. I was there for a reason, for a person. I was there to save someone. I felt myself standing and placed my hand onto my forehead as I began to think very hard. I began to remember that I was in a castle looking for someone. I remember fighting various monsters; vampires all the way up onto this point. I wasn't alone. "I'm trying," I grumbled. I remembered that I was trying to rescue one of my closest friends, Jun. However, she wasn't the one who was whispering to me right now. I soon began having visions of someone. It started out as a silhouette, but then took the shape of a girl. She wore a long-sleeved shirt with a matching skirt and pair of long boots. There was a decorative belt around her waist and a cross outlined in pink, embroidered in the center of her dress. Her long green hair was unmistakable. "Daisuke…my name…remember my name…." The moment I saw her face was when it all finally came together. Suddenly, the darkness shattered as if it was made of glass and I was back in the auditorium again. The mob was no longer present and was replaced by glowing white orbs floating all throughout the theatre. Morrigan stood in front of me now. She raised her hand and all the glowing white orbs came swarming to her. The orbs soon became streams of light, flowing into her hand. Before I knew it, she had taken her normal form complete with the wings. She had gotten her power back. Morrigan said nothing in response. She only smirked at the man. She raised her hand and pointed at him as if she was pointing a gun at him. Suddenly, bats swarmed around her arm as if feasting on it, but I knew better. Suddenly, the bats dissolved and solidified, forming some kind of long barrel gun. "Bang," she said and a bolt of light shot from the weapon. The moment it struck the man, he dissolved into a blinding light which soon filled the room. I closed my eyes as we were engulfed in the light I opened my eyes to find a pair of green eyes staring into mine. It wasn't long before I realized that my head was in Morrigan's lap. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Yeah," I sighed. "What happened?" "You were attacked by a dream eater spirit," Morrigan explained. "You fell unconscious and were dragged into his world." "I see." That explained the weirdness of it all; the spectators, the ushers, my memory. I was glad that it was over. "I'm glad you had no trouble dealing with him." Morrigan smirked. "He was pretty weak," she said. "Probably due to all of the resistance you were putting up." It didn't change the fact that it was the most anticlimactic fight that we ever had since coming here. I sat up and looked at her. "Now how 'bout you," I said. "Are you okay from using that attack?" Morrigan smiled. "Yes. I was able to regain some of my powers from that. Even so, it would probably be safer if I didn't fly." It was then that I was reminded of the barrier. Right now, this barrier was limiting Morrigan's powers and if she used them recklessly, it would drain her and she'd possibly die….or well, that was my conclusion anyway. I didn't really know if that was the case, but it looked like that she wanted to be frugal with her powers for the time being. I stood up slowly to avoid feeling any vertigo. "We need to get moving," I said. "Jun might not have that much time left." Finding a way out of the theatre was much easier the second time around. We also hadn't encountered any vampires or zombies either. Still, I kept my guard up. It wasn't long before we found ourselves in another gallery. It was quiet and devoid of any other life so we could hear our footsteps tapping the grey marble floor. There were various sets of medieval armor standing against the wall with each of them holding a different two-handed weapon. I guessed he really liked collecting armor. I then resumed looking forward and that's when I saw it. I stopped. Morrigan looked at me curiously. No doubt she was wondering why I stopped walking. "What does that look like to you?" I asked, pointing ahead. I pointed to a pair of familiar looking metal doors. There was a button panel on the wall to the doors' left. Morrigan gave me an odd look before chuckling. "It looks like an elevator," she said. It was then and there that I felt relieved that I wasn't going crazy. After a night of fighting vampires, zombies, killer plants, statues, and ghosts, we finally found a quicker way to climb the castle. We would save a lot of time in reaching the top. And we'd be able to save Jun with time to spare. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. My hopes would be dashed in that moment. The elevator went ding, catching us both by surprise. The doors slid open and a lone figure walked out. I grimaced. It was Morrigan who spoke. The vampiric butler smirked as he began clapping. "Bravo human, bravo," he sneered. "I expected Morrigan to make it this far, but not you." "You bastard," I growled. "You lied to us." William shrugged. "I admit that," He replied. "Still though, you getting out of a room full of vampires without getting bitten even once is quite something." I took it that meant he was impressed. "However, I still cannot allow you to pass." William snapped his fingers. I braced myself for whatever happened next. Just then I heard a loud clang. Suddenly, the floor disappeared from beneath my feet and I was in a free fall. "Daisu—"was all that Morrigan could get out before the floor closed up above me. It all happened so fast that screaming didn't even occur to me, not that it would help any. These last few seconds would be my final moments. Considering what I went through, it was a pretty crappy way to die. The beginning of the end. Welp, read and review and until next time.	dclm-gs1-007620000
A/N: As you can see, this flash fic is different than all the rest so far. Instead of a one shot, this is the first chapter to a new, probably relatively short ficlet. Unlike my other stories, this is not planned out. I have a general direction in which I want this tale to go, but I'm going to let the prompts inspire me and dictate just how long this ficlet will be. If you have questions, just ask; otherwise, I hope you have fun with this new tale. Enjoy! Shadows Have Offended Chapter One OCFF#3: A Midsummer Night's Dream It was one of the last days of summer, and they were alone. No interruptions, no third parties, no plans, just the two of them, and that was something to be cherished. She watched him from across the patio, lounging relaxed and carefree on a pool chair, a heavy book in one hand as his other rested underneath his head. He was reading, absorbed in someone else's life, someone else's troubles, and, while there was a part of her that did not want to disturb him, there was another, a more demanding urge inside of her, to wanted to go to him, crawl up in his lap, and curl up in his embrace like a content kitten that just licked the cream. Debating, she stood there, shifting bashfully from one foot to the other, twisting her towel in her hands but never once taking her gaze away from him. Making sure she didn't make a sound for she didn't want to disturb him, she waited, hoping for a sign as to what she should do, as to what he would want her to do. She knew she was being foolish. After all, he had never turned her away before, so why would he start now, but she also understood that sometimes a person needed their downtime, their personal, quiet time, and she didn't want to impose upon that, especially since their summer break would soon be over, and they would both be returning to the pressures and expectations of their everyday lives. But she should have known better. Almost as if he sensed her presence, he glanced up from his novel, saw her standing across the patio from him, and smiled. It was always like that. Whenever one of them entered the room, even if the other's back was turned, they could always sense each other lingering near by. They shared a unique sense of awareness for the other, and it made her feel as if they were connected on a deeper, more united level than other couples; it made her feel as if their relationship was special. Putting his book aside, he held out his right hand towards her, beckoning her to join him. "Come here," he whispered, his words both pleading and demanding in nature at the same time, and, of course, she could never deny him. With those two softly spoken words, her nerves disappeared only to be replaced with a sense of confidence. She returned his smile and made her way towards him, instinctively adding a saucy swing to her hips, an enticing roll to the most primitively erotic curve of her body. Once at his side, she allowed him to wrap his still extended arm around her waist, pulling her down to sit pertly in his lap. "So, what do you want to do today?" Avoiding his gaze, she tossed her beach towel away and crossed her legs, allowing the long stems to glide smoothly across each other, knowing his murky blue eyes were following each and every one of her form's languid movements. "Well, we're alone right?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing twice as he swallowed in rapid succession. "And it's been a while since it's been just you and me." "It has," he agreed, his voice saturated with pleasure and anticipation. She couldn't help it; she had to smile at his obvious enthusiasm. "So that's why I was hoping we could just stay here. You could read for a little while, and I could lay out, and, from there, we'll just see where the day take us." "Really," he questioned her suggestion. "That's what you really want to do?" Biting down on her lip to prevent herself from laughing, she had to admit that her boyfriend was too damn cute for his own good when he was disappointed and started to pout. It was just one of the reasons why she could never say no to him. Another was because she was hopelessly in love with the man holding her in his arms, and she knew he felt the same way towards her. Decisively, she stated, "yes, it is. Now, lean back," she instructed him, "so I can get comfortable." With a goofy grin on his face, he complied. Swinging one of her legs across his, she straddled him, lifting both of her arms above her head to tie up her long, blonde locks. Fascinated, she watched as his gaze lingered over her, drank her in, appreciated all the delicate, fine movements of her muscles as she fixed her hair and then dropped her hands to untie the strings of her bikini top. Unabashedly, she let the material fall down and flutter to the cement of the patio, baring her body almost completely to her boyfriend's greedy eyes. Finally and without elevating his orbs of cobalt blue away from her chest, he asked in a shaky, aroused voice, "what are you doing?" "I don't want tan lines," she responded as if the answer was obvious. "And what about your bottoms?" Oh, the man she loved was definitely mischievous and full of trouble, but two could play that game. "You need someplace to hold onto me so I don't fall off of you," she replied breezily, acting as if she didn't know what her words were doing to him, "and I can't have the print of your hand tanned onto my back, so we're going to have to compromise. I'm going to have to settle with not tanning in the nude, and you're going to have to hold me a little lower than you usually do." Innocently, she peered down at him, "is that okay?" "I think I can manage." Grinning at him appreciatively, she settled down, sprawling her tall form over his. Chests pressed intimately together, she nuzzled her face into his neck, placing several subtle, whispered kisses below his ear. Content she let her eyes drift shut as the sun overhead and her boyfriend's hand against her bikini clad, rounded derrière lulled her into a serene, tranquil rest. They both knew that he wouldn't be able to read for that much longer and that she would quickly get bored with laying out, but, before they gave in to the passion they felt for each other, they would enjoy the comfortable, quiet, sensual moment in each others arms. After all, summer would come to a close sooner rather than later, and neither of them knew when another opportunity like the one they found themselves taking advantage of that afternoon would come their way. With a start, Marissa found herself falling, being pushed out of the lounge chair and onto the harsh, unyielding concrete of the patio. Except, she hadn't been pushed; she had been kicked. Except, the lounge chair was instead a full sized bed, and, except, what was supposed to be a poolside patio was rather the scratchy material of her boyfriend's carpet. It had all been a dream. Suddenly depressed and unwilling to go back to the bed she had no desire to be in, the young woman quietly made her way out of the upstairs bedroom and crept down to the kitchen where she passed through the open terrace doors and went to stand outside. Being July, the evenings were warm enough that she wasn't chilled standing there exposed wearing only a light camisole and a pair of girl boxer shorts. Her hair, which had been pinned up before she went to bed, had come loose sometime during her sleep and was blowing gently with the light breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean. There were many bad, unpleasant things that had happened to her while living in Newport Beach, even at her tender age of eighteen, but California was still her home, the sea her steadying presence, and Marissa could not imagine leaving it, not even for her boyfriend. "Isn't it a little past your bedtime?" If it had been any other voice, the person behind her would have startled her, but not him. Turning around to face her moonlit companion, the blonde smiled in recognition. Those cobalt eyes always seemed to make her feel at ease, calm in her own skin. But she shouldn't feel that way. The man before her was not her boyfriend; he was not the childhood friend who had turned into her first love while they were in high school together. Instead, he was the brother of the man she was dating, the older, wiser, dangerously attractive brother she should not be having erotic dreams about at night. Finally answering him, she responded, "I had a dream, and, after I woke up, I couldn't sleep." "A nightmare?" Unwittingly, she blushed, averting her eyes from his piercing, questioning gaze and pivoting back around to look out over at the ocean below. "No," the young woman finally murmured. She could feel him moving behind her, could sense when he stopped and lifted his hands to rest them comfortingly against her shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?" And, just like that, he broke down every feeble, inadequate defense she had managed to build up between them over the years. In the fall, she would be going to school in San Francisco to study photography, Seth would be going to Rhode Island to attend Brown, his dream college, and Ryan would be going to Berkeley to study law, following in his adopted father's footsteps. Sighing, Marissa attempted to explain. "Things are just… they're complicated right now. Seth and I, we used to make so much sense, but now…" Her voice trailed off, because she wasn't sure how much she should reveal her boyfriend's best friend and brother, how much should remain private and personal between her and the man she was supposed to love. Seth didn't understand her dreams. He hated that she refused to follow him to the east coast, he hated the fact that she didn't want to be far from home, and sometimes it felt like the boy who had always been able to make her laugh, who had stood by her through some of the worst times in her life, didn't hear her anymore. He dismissed her art, refused to do things she liked, and made everything they shared together about him. But, on the other hand, he was still Seth; he was still the goofy, endearing guy who had meant more to her than anyone else ever had so far in her life. How did she move past that? Was it even possible? Breaking her free of her thoughts, Ryan turned her around in his arms and starred into her eyes for several long, assessing minutes. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and reassuring. "People change, Marissa. Sometimes it's hard to realize that they have, that we have, and, most of the time, it's even harder to accept the changes, but you have to. It's a natural part of life." Lifting a hand to cup her jaw, he brushed back a few strands of hair that were sticking to her lips. Leaning in, he placed a tender, reassuring kiss to the tip of her nose before breaking their connection and stepping away. "If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." And, just like that, he vanished almost as quickly as he had first appeared. Going back inside, she shut the French doors, closing off the midsummer night from behind her. With butterflies dancing in her stomach, she made her way back to bed, wondering if the fairies were at work again.	dclm-gs1-007630000
My hundredth fanfiction. I am so freaking excited right now, it's ridiculous... so I thought the theme of this oneshot was appropriate. Now, send me lots of reviews so you can be a part of my 100th fic celebration! "Lady Glinda, I laid a dress out for you. It's on your bed." The maid smiled but said, "You should hurry, we're already late." Glinda the Good Witch nodded. "Thank you, dearie," she said tiredly, running a hand over her blonde curls. As she walked toward her bed, she noticed a wand sitting on her desk. It was not the ornate one she normally carried (that one did not actually function. The only thing she had ever managed to accomplish with it was smacking herself upside the head). It was a simple, plain training wand. On a whim she picked it up. She felt a tingle shoot down her back. She looked down at the plain dress she was wearing, much more practical than the gowns she war in public. She thought of another time, years ago. She had only tried the spell once, and it hadn't worked then. She flicked the wand at herself, saying the word: "Ballgown" quietly enough so the maid wouldn't notice if she failed. But she didn't. The plain creme dress she had been wearing transformed itself into an elaborate pink dress with puffed sleeves and a wide skirt. That was when she started to laugh, so hard she almost cried. She had done it! What would Madame Morrible say to her now? Morrible, who had never believed in her. Morrible who had thought she would never be able to accomplish anything with her magic. But she had. She had made something plain into something beautiful. Achievement was never sweeter.	dclm-gs1-007640000
Musical Interlude This came from one of those suffle meme things over on LJ. 10 songs, 10 little fics. I picked Jason/Spinelli. I know, what a shock, right? xD Ugh, they seem to alternate between fluffy-scmoopy things and tragic things, so, yeah. None are really higher than K+, though. Boys aren't mine. Enjoy! Love Me Like The World Is Ending // Ben Lee They're trapped in the burning mess that was once 122 Harbor View Towers. It's going down in flames, smoke is filling every inch of the building and there are only two people still trapped within the inferno. Jason Morgan and Damian Spinelli. The elder is holding tight to his self proclaimed protégé. "I'll get you out of here." He coughs through the smoke filling his lungs. "Come on, Spinelli. You have to keep moving." Jason begs, shaking his younger comrade with everything he has. He brushes the younger's hair from his face and presses a soft kiss to ash covered lips and then throws Spinelli over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. "I'll get you out." He promises again, as he tries to kick out the door trapping them. It doesn't budge. Lie To Me // Stacy Wilde Spinelli can't believe he's doing this. The lies come more fluidly and naturally than he thought possible. And just like that he's lying. Lying to Jason, to Maxie, to everyone. Believe it or not, lying to Jason hurts more. He tells his master that he's trying to change the way he looks to impress Maximista and the elder believes him without hesitation. "I think that Maxie likes you for who you are and not how you look." Jason tells him, honestly. It's better this way. Spinelli makes himself think. He can't drag Stone Cold Down with him in the FBI hunt. Jason is needed here and the Jackal is not. It's better if he runs solo. Better for everyone involved if he just disappears. If it's like he'd never been in Port Charles. He raises a protest to Jason's comment and finds himself promptly cut off. "Look, we… we need to talk about something. Right now." Jason finally gets out, the words tense and desperate. Spinelli knows he's going to tell him about the plan to run together. And before Jason can say anything to jeopardize Spinelli's plan, the younger man is making up some excuse about a rendezvous with Maximista. More lies that come so easily. How Far We've Come // Matchbox 20 Can it really have been nearly three years since Stone Cold saved him from the clutches of Darth Alcazar? It certainly doesn't feel like it, Spinelli muses, lounging quite sleepily on the bed in Jason's room. Their room, really. They've been together for several months now, and living together is something they've long since mastered. Working together, living together, and now just taking that one step further. "You still awake?" Jason asks, falling into bed beside the younger man upon stripping down to his boxers. "Affirmative. Just musing on how far we've come since you locked me in a closet so long ago." Jason ducks his head with an awkward laugh. "That was a long time ago." "Indeed. I suppose we're even. I did drag you out of one, anyway." He muses, and grins like lightning when lips press softly against his own. I Wanna // The All American Rejects How did he miss this? He watches his young protégé with hawk eyes as he dances happily at the party. Spinelli keeps shooting him looks that Jason had been having trouble identifying up til just now. "Go." Maxie pesters him, for what is not the first time, and now he gets it. How did she see this? "Are you-?" "Yes, I'm sure. Now go." She demands, shoving him rather ungracefully towards Spinelli. His hand lands on Spinelli's shoulder, and the other man beams up at him when he realizes what's going on. "Wanna dance?" Jason asks awkwardly. And since when is he a nervous highschooler? What is this kid doing to him? "Most definitely, Stone Cold." Spinelli answers, and suddenly they're touching and moving and Jason hopes Spinelli knows that he's trapped now. Never going anywhere. Six Days // DJ Shadow Ft. Mos Def (Tokyo Drift) It takes six days for everything to come crashing down in the town of Port Charles. Sonny and Jason have been in negotiations for weeks now over how they're going to go about working together again, combining Zacchara and Corinthos-Morgan territories. The day after they finally seem to agree on anything, Jason gets the news. "Jason!" Maxie tells him. "Jason! Oh, God… You have to get to the hospital right now. Spinelli's been shot." And he does. He's broken nearly every traffic law ever made in order to get there, and he's nearly too late. It takes six hours for Spinelli to fade out of existence. Six hours of torture for Maxie and Jason, who can only watch on while the doctors try to keep him comfortable. Six hours in which Jason is planning revenge. "It was Sonny." Maxie tells him, in between hoarse sobs. "Sonny did this." "Okay." Jason agrees, and now he has a target in mind for that revenge. "Okay, don't worry. I'll make him pay." It takes six minutes to find Sonny on the docks and six seconds more to end him. How To Be Dead // Snow Patrol "Stone Cold?" Spinelli calls hesitantly from the door of the Penthouse. It's dark, and until Jason speaks, he'd been convinced the older man wasn't home. "Yeah?" Comes the reply from the man hidden in shadow on the sofa. Spinelli snakes in the door, crossing the room to sit beside his master, the lights still out. "I, ugh, that is… The Jackal thought about the confession you made to him. Concerning your feelings, and, ugh, I reciprocate them, as it were." Jason looks up in something between surprise and confusion. But the look on Spinelli's face tells him in sincerity that he means what he's said. "You're sure?" "Indeed I am." He answers, and his hand lands on Jason's. No Matter What // Stephen Gately & Ronan Keating Neither of them cares what is made of their relationship. It's new and vulnerable and fragile and they are both willing to ignore the insults and attacks made against them because they don't want to hide. Out of everyone, Sonny's been the worst, but that's hardly surprising. He's always hated Spinelli, so Jason giving him one more reason to do so was kind of an expected caveat. They've gotten to the point of restraining orders against him. But, neither Jason or Spinelli are concerned enough to stop their normal activities. It's only fair that they should be able to act like a couple when they're in public. Spinelli's always touching him, and Jason usually has an arm thrown over Spinelli's shoulder's if nothing else. Plus, they do have some people on their side. Robin and Patrick and Matt don't seem to care. Maxie, while still a little miffed at Jason for stealing Spinelli from her - through no intent of his own – is usually saying something about how cute they are. Such remarks never go over well with Jason, though. But no matter what, they're not letting anyone else affect their interactions in public because they're in love and no one is stopping them. Starfish & Coffee (Live) // Matt Nathanson Jason often comes home to Spinelli doing something strange or odd. This one takes the prize, though. "If you asked her what she had for breakfast, this is what she'd say… Starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam. Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine, and a side order of ham. And if you set your mind free, baby, maybe you'll understand. Starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam…" Spinelli is singing a purely ridiculous song. "What are you doing?" Jason asks, a wide smile on his face even as he questions the ostentatious music. It's also radiating from the stereo system, so clearly someone else is equally as unhinged. Spinelli jumps at his voice, having been intently lining up a shot on the pool table. "Oh! Stone Cold! There you are." The elder grabs his own pool cue and joins Spinelli at the game. "What are we listening to?" "It is a cover of a Prince song. Catchy, wouldn't you agree?" "It is… something. I'm not sure catchy is the word." Spinelli laughs and changes the track to a more well-known song by the same artist. "Better?" "Not really. It's stuck in my head." Jason responds, because the chorus is evidently now on permanent repeat in his head. Spinelli nods and changes the song back. "I feel your pain, as it were." One Night Love Affair // Bryan Adams Spinelli wakes up alone in Jason's bed. And then it hits him that this wasn't what he'd wanted out of last night's rather drunken and desperate endeavor. "Stone Cold?" He calls out, just in case this isn't what he thinks it is. No answer comes and he climbs out of bed, still naked and a little bit sticky. He pulls on his hurriedly discarded shorts and heads for the door, finding the penthouse deserted and quiet. "Stone Cold?" He repeats, and by now he's wandered downstairs. The lights are off, but there's a note tapes to the front door. Be back later. That's all it says, and Spinelli slides down the door to curl his arms around his knees. He resolves that if this is how Jason is going to handle the situation, like a one night stand kind of thing that doesn't matter at all, he'll do the same. Or… he'll try to anyway. The door tries to open behind him and he quickly scrambles out of the way, frantically wiping at tears that he hadn't known had fallen. "Spinelli?" Comes Jason's concerned voice. He has breakfast from Kelly's in one hand and his keys in the other. "What's wrong?" "I… nothing." He answers quickly. "You went out to get breakfast?" He asks, taking in the bags. "Cody called me about some trouble on the docks, I got the food on my way back." Jason explains. "I didn't think you'd be awake yet." He sets the bags down on the desk by the door and moves closer to Spinelli. "What's wrong?" He asks again. Spinelli is almost smiling now. "I… I thought that… Last night…" Jason cuts off such thoughts with a deep kiss. Never Gonna Leave Your Side // Daniel Beddingfield When Jason first sees Spinelli alive and okay and also slightly in trouble in LA, it feels as if a thousand pound weight has been lifted off his shoulders. That aforementioned trouble is dealt with quickly enough between himself, Sam, and - as much as he hates to include her - Agent Leeds. And, despite the fact that his actions are very much out of character, he pulls Spinelli into his arms. "you're never, ever doing anything like this again, got it?" He asks, and it is very much not a question. Surprisingly, Spinelli relaxes against his hold and nods against his chest. "Affirmative, Stone Cold." "Good." Jason says, and his arms reluctantly release his younger friend. "You're stuck with me." "I wouldn't have it any other way." Spinelli grins, and Jason can tell he's been missed as much as Jason's been missing him.	dclm-gs1-007650000
I own none of the characters of October Road After Eddie and Janet shared their dance, the D.J. put some music on and the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party really started. Eddie and Janet retreated from the dance floor when the music started and they spent the remainder of the evening going around the room, talking to their friends and family, catching up on each other's lives and thanking everyone for coming and celebrating with them. Around midnight, they happy couple decided to call it a night because they weren't as young as they used to be and frankly, they were exhausted. Before leaving, they gathered their children and their families together so they could properly thank them with hugs and kisses. "This was an amazing night. You guys went above and beyond. Mom and I just wanted a nice, quiet family dinner and this great party and trip down memory lane is what we got. I don't know how to thank you." Eddie told his family. "You guys have been married for twenty five years." Zach told him. "It deserved to be recognized with a big ass party." "I thought our wedding was wonderful, but it's nothing compared to tonight." Janet said tearfully. "Nice try mom. There is no way that this evening could have been better then your wedding was." Amber informed her. "You're wrong Amber. Yes, our wedding was wonderful but tonight, tonight was all about celebrating a love that started twenty some years ago and is stronger tonight then it was then. What makes this evening spectacular is that my children, the family that your father and I created with our love are here to celebrate with us." Eddie saw that Janet was getting all emotional and he decided to pull her out. "Come on babe. Let's go home." She nodded and hugged her family. "Will you guys all come over for breakfast in the morning?" The kids all nodded and with a final goodbye Eddie and Janet left, holding hands. Even though it was only a fifteen minute drive Janet dozed off as soon as the truck started moving and didn't waken again until Eddie was standing next to her, placing soft kisses all over her face. Her eyes fluttered open and the first thing she saw was the loving hazel eyes that she has looked into for the past twenty five years. Smiling, she reached out, pulled his face up to hers and kissed him. "Hmmm. I love you." She whispered when they broke apart. "I love you too darling. Come on; let's get you to bed sleepy head." Janet allowed Eddie to pull her out of the truck and led her into the house. Janet had bought a new nightgown for tonight so once they got to their bedroom Janet disappeared into the bathroom to change and freshen up. She let her hair down, applied a cherry flavor edible lotion all over because she knew how Eddie's tongue liked to travel around her body and cherry was his favorite. She slipped on the royal blue silk nightgown on, checked her reflection and stepped into her bedroom. "Eddie." She whispered to his form lying on the bed. "I thought that maybe you might want to do an up close and personal inspection of my new nightgown." When he didn't respond she moved closer to the bed and that's when she heard the snoring. "Oh sweetheart." She sat next to him on the bed and stared at the sleeping man beside her. As much as she wanted to have sex with her husband she couldn't possibly be mad at him for conking out on their anniversary. It had been a very long day and she got to take a quick nap on the way home but her desire to touch him didn't lessen. Reaching out she gently ran her fingers through his hair, down to his face, tracing every line and finally ending up on his bare chest. The instant she touched his chest Janet heard and felt his breathing pattern change and she knew he was awake. She lifted her eyes to Eddie's face and saw that his were still closed so she decided to play along. Leaning down, she took a hardened nipple in her mouth and sucked, smiling against his chest when she heard him gasp. While working on his nipple with her mouth, she reached out and caressed the other, rolling the hardened nub between her thumb and forefinger. "You better hurry up. My wife can come in at anytime." He mumbled "What I have planned for you will take a very long time." She purred as she began to kiss down his chest. "So if you're worried that your wife may catch us…" "Don't stop." He begged. "What about your wife?" She tapped his hips and he automatically lifted up and she pulled his boxers down. "Who cares? All I want is you." "Well if you're sure." "Oh yeah. I'm really sure. I want you." Taking a few steps forward, Janet was at the head of the bed and she kissed him. "What do you want Eddie?" She asked when she finally pulled away, breathless. "I want you to suck me baby. Please, suck me Janet." He begged. "I suppose that could be arranged. Scoot over." She demanded and he eagerly followed her instructions. With a smile, Janet lay on the bed with her head level with her husbands cock. First, she took it in her hand and stroked it nice and slow. When he began to squirm impatiently, she decided to quit torturing him and she took him in her mouth. "Oh God. Son of a bitch Janet. He groaned in pleasure and Janet increased her strokes. Without warning Eddie's fingers were traveling up her legs, between her thighs and he was shoving two fingers inside of her. She unconsciously, she lifted her leg up of the bed, bending it at the knee and resting it on the bed, giving him better access and now it was her turn to groan with desire. She continued to suck him until she felt the familiar bubbling in her stomach and had to pull away to she could shriek in pleasure and not bite him at the same time. Eddie sat up, pulled her nightgown over her head, tossed it somewhere and their lips crashed together in a passionate kiss. When they broke apart Eddie pushed Janet on her back but she wasn't having it. She wanted to be in control. She pushed Eddie off of her and onto his back. Before he could protest she was on top of him and sliding on to his erection. When Janet bent over so she could kiss him Eddie knew what had to be done. He placed his feet flat on the bed, bending his knees at the same time and he began to pump himself furiously into her while holding her flush to his chest until the both were shouting in orgasmic bliss. "Happy anniversary babe." Eddie whispered as they both snuggled up with each other. "It's after midnight. It's no longer our anniversary." Janet pointed out. "I'm still awake so in my mind it's out anniversary so Happy anniversary hon." "Happy anniversary cowboy. I love you." "I love you more." Janet giggled and decided not to argue with that. "By the way, you looked absolutely beautiful in your new nightgown." He whispered lovingly before he drifted off to sleep. Janet smiled in the darkness because she didn't think he even noticed it but it didn't surprise her. Eddie always noticed everything about her. Janet climbed out of bed early the next morning, showered and stared making breakfast, hours before Eddie woke up and by the time he managed to crawl out of bed and the kids and their kids arrived at their childhood home Janet had scrambled up a couple dozen eggs, fried a few pounds of bacon, whipped up a box of instant pancakes and toasted up a couple loaves of bread. As her family grew Janet learned to cook for an army and if anyone left the Latekka house hungry it was their own fault. After they all had full bellies they were relaxing in the living room when Emily and Jordan brought a wrapped gift in the room. "What is this?" Eddie asked suspiciously. "You guys us that amazing party. We don't need anything else." "It's from the kids. You can't say no to a gift from your grandchildren can you mom because if you did that would be just wrong." Natalie played the grandchildren card knowing her parents wouldn't say no to that. "Fine." Janet agreed. Knowing the rules Eddie handed Janet the gift and the card. Whenever they got a gift that was meant for both of them Janet always opened the card, handed it off to Eddie and then opened the gift. When Eddie finished reading the card that had their grandkids name on it he hadn't heard anything from Janet. When he looked over at her he saw her staring at some paper in her hands with tears rolling down her face. "Honey?" She handed him what was in her hand. "Oh my God." He whispered. The kids arranged and paid for a two week trip to Paris, France for them. "This is so thoughtful and wonderful but it's too much. It's way too much." "We didn't do it. Your grandchildren…" "Nice try Amber. Your mom and I know damn well your kids didn't buy this trip." "Technically no they didn't." Zach agreed. "The tickets are non refundable so if you don't take the trip none of us can get our money back and then talk about a waste of money." Collin added and Janet glared at him. Amber, Zach and Collin looked at their older sister because they new if any of them could convince their parents it was Natalie. "Mom, dad, you have both spent the last twenty five years spending everyday raising, taking care of us and our kids. You two deserve this trip, more than anyone. Mom we know that you have been dreaming of a romantic trip to Paris for years. Your first trip was a disaster and even though you tried to hide it, we all know how disappointed you were that it wasn't anything like you dreamed it would be." Eddie and Janet smiled sheepishly. "We talked about it and we have all been contributing to this trip since right after you guys got home. We actually paid it off last year. Please mommy, please daddy, take this trip. You have earned it." Janet knew that Natalie had many valid points but she wasn't ready to give up quite yet. "According to the plane ticket our flight is scheduled for tomorrow. That's not enough time for us to make arrangements. Your father and I have responsibilities." "Really mom?" Natalie asked. "You must be ready to give in if that's the best excuse you can come up with. We have planned this trip so we have known your departure date. Daddy, we are totally covered for the next couple weeks. I made sure of it and mom you watch our kids during the day. We have all arranged alternate care for them. Sure it won't be as good as Grammy's house but for two weeks it will work." Eddie and Janet looked at each other and without speaking they came to a mutual decision. "All right guys, first of all mom and I want you to know how grateful that your mom and I am to you for this extraordinary gift. Every day we are reminded what amazingly, wonderful children we raised." "Duh." Amber said and everyone laughed. "Thank you all, thank you so very much." Janet whispered tearfully. "So does that mean that you're accepting your gift?" Collin asked. "Yes we are accepting your generous gift." "So you found our reasons convincing?" Zach inquired. "We did and I know that your mom really, really wants to go." Eddie answered and Janet agreed. "What about you dad? Do you want to go?" Natalie asked. "Yeah pumpkin I do." Eddie and Janet left the following day for the anniversary trip to Paris. This time all of their flights were on time and they arrived in Paris as scheduled. The hotel that they kids booked for them was beautiful. It was an old mansion which had been converted into a luxurious hotel that sat on a lake. Since they were staying in Paris for two weeks they spent lots of time in their room making love and many nights out in a canoe on the lake talking, laughing, and kissing under the stars. They went to all of the best restaurants with the exception of where they went the last time when they got food poisoning. They went to every tourist attraction that they could find. Eddie even relented and spent two days at The Louve with Janet. Art really isn't Eddie's cup of tea but because Janet wanted to go to the famous museum he went through every inch of the museum with a smile on his face. He would never deny his wife anything that she wanted, even if he hated every minute of it. Once Eddie and Janet returned home life continued to move on and change for the Latekka family. A month after her parent's got back from their trip Natalie gave birth to a healthy little girl named Olivia Edith Rowan. Janet begged her daughter to change Olivia's name but Natalie refused. She wanted Olivia to have part of her mother's name. Amber and Nate finally had a little girl, the little girl that Amber had been yearning for, a little girl that Amber named Courtney, a name that she had picked out when she was a little girl and Zach and Tammy completed their family with a son, Max. Meanwhile Collin completed college and then medical school. He ended up specializing in children with diabetes. Collin felt because he has had diabetes since he was two and he never remembered not having diabetes he would be able to relate to his patients. He was very good as his job and his patients adored him. Gay marriage never became legal but Jamie and Collin had a commitment ceremony and became life partners. Like any other couple they eventually wanted children. They considered adoption but the state was giving them a really hard time so Amber stepped up and offered to carry a baby for her brother since being pregnant was one of Amber's favorite things in the world. Collin and Jamie picked an egg donor, each man gave a sample and Amber was implanted with two embryos, hoping at least one would take. In fact not just one but both of the embryos took and Collin and Jamie were by Amber's side in the delivery room when she gave birth to their fraternal twin boys, Aiden Edward and Jaden James. As soon as they were born it was obvious that Collin was Aiden's father because Aiden was born with the same red hair as his father and Jaden had dark hair like his father. So the boys would know that both men were their father, regardless of their biology, Aiden was given Jamie's last name and Jaden was given Collin's last name but it was never an issue, Aiden and Jaden always knew that they were loved and adored by their dads. Janet continued to watch her grandchildren everyday until the twins were in school and when that happened her heart broke a little bit. She attempted to go back to work a Sully's but she realized that her heart wasn't in it anymore so she finally sold it. All of her children had their own careers and family and none of them had time to manage the bar so it left the family. She split the money from the sale among her nine grandchildren equally and put into the savings account that she and Eddie had started and continued to contribute to every month. Until Eddie retired she spent most of her time volunteering at the kids' schools. Eddie continued to work until he had a second mild heart attack and his doctors told him that he was done. Thankfully this heart attack was so mild that it did not require any surgery but it scared him enough not to argue with his physician when he was told to quit working. He loved his job but he loved his wife and family more. He knew that he wouldn't be around forever and neither was Janet and he didn't want to miss out on they time that they had left together. Retirement was wonderful for both Janet and Eddie. After so many years of getting up and going to work everyday it was a shock to their systems that they could lay around in bed all day, sleep in or hang around the house in their pajama's if that's what they wanted to do. Their lives were finally their own to do with what they wanted. Eddie took Janet fishing and he taught her how to golf, something as it turned out that she loved. Janet in the meantime got Eddie into gardening, a hobby she picked up and Eddie surprised himself by having a green thumb and she taught him how to cook more than grilling and boiling of hot dogs that he was great at but most of the time Eddie and Janet could be seen walking through Knights Ridge hand in hand just talking and being together. Eventually the couple sold their treasured home that had been the foundation of so many wonderful memories and they moved into a small two bedroom condo. Janet missed her big home but she had developed arthritis and keeping up on it got to be too much for her. The worst thing about selling the house for Janet was their new condo was too small to have everyone over at once for family dinners and holidays but the kids tried to help her out with that. They continued to have their weekly dinners but they alternated between Natalie, Amber, Zach and Collin's homes with Janet showing up early and doing most of the cooking. Holidays were the same. Dinner was held at one of the kids' homes after Pops and Grammy made their Christmas morning rounds to see all of the gifts that their grandchildren received for being such good children. Basically what it boiled down to was that if Eddie and Janet could be with their family then it was all good. Six months into their 48th wedded year together Janet was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure. Eddie was devastated and terrified for his wife but he remained strong and how could he not when Janet was being incredibly brave and strong enough for the both of them. At first her medication worked great and for that reason alone Eddie and Janet decided to keep her diagnosis to themselves. They didn't want to upset their children or grandchildren when there really was no reason to. For nine months Janet's medication worked fine but eventually it stopped working and when that happened her cardiologist told her she maybe only had a few months left. Eddie broke down in the doctor's office, the knowledge that his Janet was going to die was just too much for him to handle. The older he got the more death was a part of their lives and many nights, he prayed that he would go first because he knew he wouldn't be able to make it without her but obviously his prayers weren't answered. When they got home, Janet talked about the technicalities of her death like her funeral for example without shedding a tear but when they got into bed that night and Eddie wrapped his arms around her the damn broke and she cried until she fell into a restless sleep. That night and many nights thereafter, Eddie spent them lying awake and staring at the woman he loved more than anything. When the news of their mother's diagnosis reached Natalie, Amber, Zach and Collin they all felt as if their hearts were getting cruelly ripped out of their chests. Their mother was such a huge, important part of their lives and none of them could or wanted to imagine their lives without her in it but now, they had no choice but to start imagining. During her last few months of life Janet was constantly surrounded by her children, grandchildren and she made sure that each of them knew how much they meant to her. Eddie on the other hand, never left her side. He tried numerous times to have the "last" conversation, but Janet didn't want to have that conversation because she knew, how much he loved her and that's all that mattered in the end. He was terrified that if he left her, even for one minute that would be when she would be gone when he returned. Nighttime was the worst. He spent most nights lying awake listening to her breathe praying that she makes it through another night but sadly one night she didn't. When Eddie awoke that morning, after sleeping for maybe an hour, he rolled over and reached out for her and when his hand touched her she was cold. Even though he knew what it meant he shook her and called her name but she didn't respond. Sobbing he pulled her upper body into his lap and cradled her as he sobbed and stroked her hair until Natalie found them and took care of the heartbreaking details. Eddie never really recovered from Janet's death. When she died, she took his heart with her. He actually spent the night before her funeral at the funeral home holding her hand and talking to her. After he buried his beloved wife Eddie Latekka just went through the motions of living. He sold the condo because he couldn't stand living there without her and moved in with Amber since Jordan had moved out on his own and she had an extra room. If he wasn't lying in his room staring at the ceiling he was at the cemetery with his wife. Even though he had their kids and grandkids with him all of the time he had never felt more alone. The morning of what would had been her parent's fiftieth wedding anniversary Amber went to her father's room to check on him and found that he had passed away. Natalie, Amber, Zach and Collin assumed that their father died of a broken heart and he died on what would have been their fiftieth anniversary because he couldn't go through that day without her. He promised Janet fifty years and since she wasn't here he went to where she was to celebrate fifty wonderful years together. Natalie, Amber, Zach and Collin were heartbroken over the loss of their parents six months apart and as much as they were hurting they knew that their parents were once again together, as they were always meant to be. When Eddie and Janet left this earth they left a big hole in the hearts and lives of their family, a hole that could never be closed but more importantly they behind a legacy of true loved that will be carried on through generations. The End. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.	dclm-gs1-007660000
A/N: Hahaha, wow. Two chaps in two days. Fantastic! Thanks for all your awesome reviews and support! Ya'll rock! On the Run Again As Light sat up blinking bleary eyes, he couldn't help but think – just how many times was this guy going to show up at his motel room? At least this time the assassin brought coffee instead of a baseball bat, but still. The situation was too surreal. Well, no, it passed surreal a long time ago. Now it was just nerve-wracking. And where was L? A sinking feeling made itself known in the pit of Light's stomach. Three billion dollars . . . "Mornin' Asian guy! You want some coffee?" asked Tank, waving a cup towards Light. "Uh, no, not right now, thanks. Where's Ryuuzaki?" asked Light, his eyes darting around the room. Yes, all of L's things were missing. Although, Light's duffle bag still sat on the low dresser next to the TV. He could feel it – the panic – licking at the edges of his mind, but he kept it at bay. He needed his head about him. "Ruuu -? Ohhhh! You mean Spike? Uhhhhh, damn, Asian guy, I hate to break it to ya, but dude took off reaaaal early this morning. Just threw his shit in that nice ass car and dipped. I, uhh, hope it wasn't one of those one night stand kind of things. Awkward as hell. I've had my fair share of those, let me tell ya. Remember that one time I told you I tried college? Yeah, totally did the walk of shame. I still had whipped cream and crap all over me. But, not like, real crap or anything. That's more Greg's sty- . . .Umm, yeah. Sorry, I get chatty when I'm nervous. My mother always told me it would get me in trouble one day," shrugged Tank, who had set the coffee on the table and made himself at home sitting in one of the small chairs. "Right," said Light, his mind still stuck on the notion of L leaving him now, of all times. Something wasn't right, and his suspicions about Tank, planted by L, began rising ever higher as each second L wasn't there ticked by. Lawli wouldn't leave him. He just wouldn't. "So why are you here?" asked Light, and then, once he had caught on to what Tank said, added, "And what the hell are you nervous about?" Tank? Nervous? The thought did little to keep him calm, and Light had to take a small breath to focus himself. His mind was being pulled a hundred diferent ways, and they all led to the conclusion that L was in trouble – had to be in trouble - because L would never just leave. And if L was in trouble, then Light had to save him. Simple as that. Now he just needed to figure out how, and the first step to that was to keep Tank talking. He needed to know what was going on. Tank sighed, bringing Light back from his thoughts. Tank, crossing his arms behind his head, looked up at the ceiling. "Okay, well, first I thought that Spike kidnapped you, and I was all pissed off. But I kept remembering how close you two were, and I was like, nahh, Spike wouldn't hurt the Asian guy. So I figured I'd just check in on you two and make sure everything was gravy. But then I got a call from my real boss, and she said I had to bring you in for questioning – still don't know how she knew I knew you. Maybe she doesnt? Oh well, anyway, she said if anyone got in the way, I should get rid of 'em. And I thought that was kinda shitty, you know? I mean, damn, the only one who'd get in the way is Spike, and he's like your bff. That would be a totally fucked up thing for me to do to the guy who saved my life. So I figured I'd just, you know, knock the little man out or something, but then I get here and dude's, like, right in the middle of getting the hell outta dodge, so yeah, makes my job easier. Now I just gotta bring you to my boss, and that makes me nervous, because she's not as nice as I am – she's a bitch – and I like you! She does shitty things to people to make them talk! Not cool when it comes to my friends." Light took a moment to let everything Tank just said sink in. It was hard to keep up with the man while he talked without pause or breath. He frowned. There was no way in hell he was going to go with Tank. Not with L missing. Not when Tank had proven himself to have ulterior motives than merely being his friend. Real boss? What the hell was that all about? Who was this guy? "Why were you ordered to bring me in for questioning? And by who? Who's your real boss? And what makes you think I'd go with you?" asked Light, his eyes flashing to the door, calculating the chances of making it out without Tank catching him. He took another look at Tank's bulky frame. Yep, wasn't looking too good for the home team. Damn it. Maybe he could knock the assassin out? Tank hesitated, obviously searching for words. Light groaned internally, once again sweeping his eyes up and down Tank's bulky frame and calculating the chances of Light getting past him. There was no way in hell he was going to get out of this one, was there? Not unless some miracle happened, and with his track record, he seriously doubted there was any miracle forth coming. Tank sighed. "Man, fuck all this secrecy shit. Okay, look, I'm really part of the British secret service -" "MI-5?" interrupted Light, his eyes widening. What the fuck? What did MI-5 want with him? And Tank was really a government agent? What? "Yeah! How did you know? I thought you were foreign – oh, wait, your parents were in the service. Duh. I forgot about that." "How do you know about my parents?" asked Light, suspicions rising even further. What the hell was going on here? "Dude! One question at a time! Asian people are so curious! Geez! I know because Greg's my best friend, and because MI-5's been looking for Light Layfield for a loooong time. I just didn't put two and two together until my boss told me to bring you in, which was stupid of me. It's not like your name is John Smith or something. I don't know, man, apparently you have access to some shit that could possible blow up the world or something if evil people get it. Like I said, I don't know, I just do the grunt work and spy on old dick face, who's apparently the evil guy the blow up thingie was stolen from. Wait, that didn't sound right. But, well, I wouldn't put it past the nasty old geezer to have a blow up thingie hidden in his closet, but, ugh, I'll stop. Bad mental images." Light's head spun, and he leaned forward, staring at Tank intently. "Are you saying that you're an undercover MI-5 agent spying on Roger? And your boss thinks I have access to some sort of weapon that was stolen from Roger that could blow up the earth? So she wants you to bring me in to see if I know where the weapon is?" asked Light, trying to make sense of what Tank was saying, his confusion mounting. Tank grinned. "Yeah! That sums it up in a nutshell! I knew you'd get what I'm saying! You're Asian!" "But I don't know about any fucking weapon! I just want to go home!" yelled Light, his anger finally getting the best of him. However, his accidental admission shocked him into the realization that all he really wanted to do was go home. He didn't care about spies, or weapons, or Roger, or Death Notes, or his dead parents – he just wanted to go home. But first he had to find Lawli, because Light could never go home without L. There wouldn't be any point. The other man was his home. Tank raised his hands, looking guilty. "Woah, Asian guy! Don't shoot the messenger! I'm just telling you what's up! I mean, I don't know that you've got some crazy ass weapon exactly. I'm just guessing because she made it sound like serious business, and weapons that'll blow up the earth are serious business." "So what exactly am I supposed to have that she wants?" growled Light, clenching his fist. Tank shrugged. "Something that was stolen from old dick face?" "I don't have anything that was stolen from Roger. Everything I have is in that duffle bag by the TV. You're more than welcome to look through it," said Light, gesturing towards his duffle. "Damn I'm not good at this. I usually just go in and knock people out. I'm shit at trying to explain things. Look, man, I'm liking this about as much as you are. Hell, you're practically family considering your Greg's nephew, but orders are orders, and I've been in enough trouble with that bitch that I can't afford to get into any more," said Tank, a sad look on his face. "So that's it, then? You're just going to drag me to your boss to be, and I can only surmise from your ealier words, tortured for information on something that I don't even know about?" asked Light. Tank looked pained. "Asian guy -" "I don't make friends easily, Tank. I honestly felt like I had made one the day I met you. Obviously, I was wrong," said Light, looking away from the other man. Maybe if he got Tank to feel bad enough he'd let him go. Light had to stop himself from snorting. Ha. Like that would happen. He was so fucked. "Ahhh, shit," said Tank, standing up abruptly and pulling out a gun. Light threw himself over the side of the bed, his heart in his throat. Shit! Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Light squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bare to look at Tank pointing a fucking gun at him. He hated guns, and now it looked like - Light flinched hard at the sound, and it took him a second to realize that the pained whimper wasn't coming from him, as he would have expected, but from someone on the other side of the room. Light peeked over the edge of the bed, his eyes widening in shock. "Tank! What the hell did you just do?" yelled Light, stumbling to his feet and to the groaning man on the floor. "Here," said Tank, shoving a blood covered gun into Light's hands. Light barely kept himself from dropping it. "Tank -" "I'll be f-fine, A-asian guy. It's just a . . . shoulder wound. Take the gun, and r-run. Get out of the country if you c-can. I'll tell that bitch that -" cough "-you shot me and g-got away." "No one would believe that! And I just can't just leave you here!" shouted Light, at a loss. "Yes you can! B-b-but, we're e-even now, 'kay A-asain guy? D-don't let me find you again. Take my c-car! Go! R-run, Asian guy! They'll be here any m-minute! Go!" coughed Tank, pointing at the door. Light grabbed his duffle bag, and ran, taking one more horrified look at the man bleeding on the floor. He practically fell down the stairs to the ground floor, and it was only when he'd scrapped his toe on the rough concrete of the stairs did he realize he had forgotten his shoes, but it was only a passing thought and not important What mattered now was getting the hell out of there before whoever Tank mentioned was on the way arrived. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Tank's car, having recognized it from when he first rode in it with L, and he was beyond relieved to find the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition. He threw his duffle bag into the backseat and slammed the car door. He turned the key, half expecting the car to sputter, but it started just fine, and Light wasted no time in pealing out of the motel parking lot. Blueberries were God's gift to mankind. This loaded theory was confirmed somewhere around the second or third blueberry muffin that he'd eaten. He flicked the windshield wipers on once it became hard to see out. It was drizzling, but this was England. It was always either drizzling or all out pouring, but L paid no mind. He only thought about how nice it was to have this fifth – warm! - blueberry muffin in his hand. His toes wiggled appreciately against the peddle, making the car jump. He blinked, scolding himself for not paying enough attention to the road. He hoped Light liked the chips he'd picked out for him. Who knew the grocery store had so many different kinds of barbeque chips to choose from? As L pulled onto the street where the motel was, he narrowly avoided being side swiped by some lunatic that looked suspiciously like – wait. Was that? The car that had almost slammed into him screeched to a stop, and L found himself stopping his car too. Surely it wasn't - He was so shocked when Light jumped out of the other car that the blueberry muffin he had been eating fell from his slack jawed mouth. "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" screamed Light, as he ran to L's car, leaving the vehicle he had been driving running, car door wide open, in the middle of the road. The brunet jerked on the door handle repeatedly. "Goddamnit, Lawli! Open the fucking car!" L, not needing to be told twice, pressed the unlock button. Light threw the door open, tossing his duffle into the back, and himself into the passenger's seat. "Light? What -" started L, his eyes widening in concern once he realized that Light was covered in blood. "Just drive! Get us the fuck out of here!" yelled Light. L didn't need to be told twice, throwing the car into reverse, and screeching it around in the opposite direction of the motel. "What happened to you? Are you alright? Do you require medical attention?" asked L, trying to study the blood covered Light and the road at the same time. "Never mind what happened to me! What happened to you? Why the hell would you pack up your shit and leave me?" "Did you not see the note?" asked L, confused, and still more than a little concerned at the amount of blood that was covering his friend. "Wha- note?" "Is that you're blood?" "No! I didn't see a -" "I left it on the bathroom counter." "Why the hell would you leave it on the bathroom counter?" "Because that's where Light-kun usually goes first thing in the morning. And he's stays there for quite some time, grooming himself. I figured it would be a safe bet," said L, giving Light a pointed look. Light's mouth twitched, and L could tell that the other man was holding himself back from punching him. Good. Wouldn't go over well while L was trying to navigate the sudden, heavy traffic he'd found himself in. "Where the hell -" started Light, sounding more than agitated. "I went to pick up breakfast," said L, holding up a grocery bag filled with pasteries. "And I went ahead and packed the car. I knew by the time I returned, we would need to check out." L pointed to the clock on the dashboard. "See? It's almost 10. That's when we needed to check out." Light sighed explosively. "Goddamnit, L. What did you tell me last time I disappeared on you? You should have woken me up! Or taken me with you!" L bristled. "I tried to wake you up, but Light-kun is a heavy sleeper. I assumed I'd be back before you awoke." "Yeah, well look how well that plan turned out," said Light, pulling out a bloody gun from under his shirt and throwing it onto the floor board of the car. L raised an eyebrow. "So why is Light-kun covered in blood and carrying a gun?" "Huh, well, maybe you'd know if you had stuck around for the show!" "You're being difficult on purpose," pointed out L, who took a particular sharp curve going faster than he should. Light's head slammed against the window. "Seatbelt, Light-kun," murmurmed L. "Fuck you, Lawli," growled Light, rubbing at the side of his head. L didn't follow that particular insult up with a comeback, letting Light stew until he was ready to tell him what was going on. It didn't take long. "Fucking Tank burst into the room this morning," started Light. "Tank?" interrupted L, checking once again to see that the blood Light was covered in wasn't his own. "Yeah, Tank. You were right to be suspicious of him, but he's not after you. He's an undercover MI-5 agent. He was sent by his boss at MI-5 to retrieve me for interrogation. More like torture, according to Tank." L blinked. "That's -" "And then the bastard took out his own gun and shot himself!" exclaimed Light. "He's dead?" asked L, more than confused by what Light was telling him. "No, at least, I hope not. The way he was talking bout it, he'll be fine. He told me we're even now, which I suppose we are, but I figured we were when he didn't kill me at Whammy's, but I guess that doesn't matter now. He gave me the gun and his car and told me to get out of the country because MI-5 would be at the motel at any minute, and when they found him, they'd start looking for me." "What does MI-5 want with you?" asked L. He was obviously missing something. Did it have something to do with Light's biological parents? "Apparently I have access to a weapon that will blow up the world," said Light, deadpanned. L wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. He almost brought up the Death Note, but held his tongue. He knew how sensitive Light was to that subject. "I don't fucking know, okay? Tank didn't know either – that's just what he guessed. The only thing I know for sure is that MI-5 has apparently been looking for me for a "loooong time," - here Light threw up the universal quotation fingers - "because I apparently have something of Roger's that was stolen from him years ago. I can only assume by my parents – why else would MI-5 think I have it? - but Tank didn't come out and say it, and -" Light stopped. L shot him quick glances between watching the road and the asshole who was tailgating him. "And? . . . And what, Light?" asked L. Obviously Light had just come to some sort of realization, and L hated being in the dark about it. He made it a point not to be in the dark (figuratively and literally). Light slammed his fist down on the armrest. "That fucking piece of paper! That has to be it! Whatever's on that paper must somehow tell the location of the weapon. Or whatever the bloody thing is. Yeah, it makes sense. My biological father, who was in the MI-5, gave the paper to his brother, who gave it to me. And my mother, also in the MI-5, was the adopted daughter of Roger, so she was in the perfect position to steal whatever it was that she stole! And if that piece of paper wasn't important, then Greg wouldn't have hung on to it all these years. It makes sense!" "It does make sense. However, I still do not see where I come into play in this conspiracy," said L, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip. "Yeah, I haven't figured that part out yet either," admitted Light, leaning back into his seat. "Well, I suppose I'll have to reschedule our flight to Japan. We can't very well fly out of London next week if we must escape the country today," said L, biting around his thumb in thought. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Where are we going to go?" asked Light. "I'm thinking Germany," said L. "You remember Aiber, don't you?" asked L. Light nodded. "We're going to him?" "He has a safe house in Germany, and he's one of the only people I'd trust with our safety until we can get out of Europe. Obviously the government is looking for you, whether because you're a murder suspect or you supposedly have knowledge of a secret weapon that may or may not have the power to blow up the world. Either way, there'll be a manhunt for you now, so contracting Aiber to aid us, who is most certainly not involved in the government in any legal ways, is our best option. I would suggest flying to Japan today, but -" L pulled out the numbered paper. "There's a bank in Germany that we need to visit, which makes Aiber all the better choice," said L, handing the paper to Light. Light's eyes roamed the paper. "You figured it out?" "Between the second and third muffin. It's a very simple code. So simple that it took me quite a few hours to break it. I studied it for awhile after you had gone to bed, but I only figured it out this morning," said L. "So what is it?" asked Light, turning the paper around, as if expecting the answer to jump out at him. "It's -" "Coordinates! Latitude and longitude! And . . . wait, you said a bank? An account number? Ah, here!" Apparently it did jump out at him. L scowled. It had taken him ages, but he consoled himself with the fact that he figured it out first. One point to him. "Correct. Along with what I can only assume is a four digit personal pin number for identification purposes." "So we're going to Germany to check it out?" asked Light. "And we're staying with Aiber once we get there," finished L. Light sighed. "This is a huge mess." "Yes, Light-kun. It is." "So how are we going to get out of the country?" asked Light. "Europe works a little differently than Japan. We'll take the train. We won't need passports, but you still have yours on you, right?" asked L. "Yeah, it's in my duffle," confirmed Light. "Good. Then I only need Aiber to make one fake passport." "But how did you get – oh. Private plane. I forgot," said Light, rolling his eyes. "I'll introduce you to the pleasures of private air transport. You'll never be able to fly public again," promised L. "Sure, sure," agreed Light, putting his seat down. "I'm exhausted." "I'll wake you when we get to the station, if you care to sleep" said L, his eyes spending more time than necessary on Light's lithe form. "Feel free to change clothes at anytime, Light-kun." ". . .Ass." It was at this moment that L noticed in his review mirror that the man who had been tailgating them for several miles was aiming a gun out of his window. A/N: Ahh, the plot thickens - again. Squee! OMG! I had another "Ohhh shit that would be sooooo fucked up" moment. And it's bad. Like, anybody remember the last time I had that moment? I killed Light! BWAHAHAHA! OMG I'm so excited. I can't waaaaait. Actually, I have one really big OMG that's so fucked up moment, and then a minor one coming along laaater! Oh, wait, make that 1 big one, a minor one, then another big one! OHH WOW I'M SO EXCITED! Happy Holidays! I hope I'll have another one up before I leave (yay east tn!), but if I don't, I'll see ya'll later! Feel free to say something! XD Check out my new poll if you want (hahaha, i originally wrote pole!). It's not very interesting, but I wanted to look at something different when i clicked on my profile, lol. :D	dclm-gs1-007670000
Just as I promised, here is my finished Easter special. This is a lot later in the day than I was planning on posting this, but I changed the plot like three times before settling on this. I hope you like it. And, I obviously do not own Sonny With a Chance. Figure It Out Sonny, Zora, Grady, Nico, and Tawni briskly walked to the Commissary to get to lunch. "I still think we should have changed before we came here," Tawni whined from the back of the group, struggling to keep up because of her heels. "And risk missing out on the one day of the year Brenda actually orders in and serves edible food? Forget it!" Grady called out over his shoulder from the front of their group with Nico keeping pace next to him. The five young comedians burst through the Commissary doors, drawing attention to them immediately. The cast of Mackenzie Falls started laughing instantly when they caught a look at what Sonny and her friends were wearing. "Is it still worth it?" Tawni hissed at the boys. It was the day before Easter and the kids from So Random were all dressed up as bunnies, complete with tall bunny ears attached to a white headband, cotton tails, and makeup that made them look like human versions of rabbits. Nico and Grady sniffed the air and smelled the heavenly aroma of turkey and mashed potatoes. They looked at each other, practically drooling, and turned to Tawni. "Yep," they replied before running to get in line for food. "I beg to disagree!" Tawni said. She raised her hand to wipe off the makeup but Sonny caught her hand. "No! You can't! We won't have time to redo it later!" Sonny protested while Tawni struggled against her grip. Tawni slapped Sonny's hands away before walking off in a huff to get in line. Her pink heels clicked angrily across the floor while she ripped the rabbit ears off her head. Zora and Sonny followed behind her. Zora walked by almost looking proud to be sporting bunny accessories. Sonny cringed and hid her face when they passed by Mackenzie Falls' table, in hopes of being spared the snide remarks. Chad Dylan Cooper suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path. Luck was obviously not on her side that day. "What's with the getup?" Chad asked smirking. Sonny took off her ears and sighed. "This is for a sketch we're doing. It's for an Easter special." Chad glanced over at the rest of Sonny's friends before chuckling to himself. "Let me guess, this was your sketch idea." Sonny furrowed her eyebrows and nodded. "Yes, how did you know that?" Chad pointed to where the rest of So Random was seated at a table. They were eating but in general, they looked unhappy. "The four disgruntled rabbits were a tipoff. You're the only one that seems totally thrilled to be wearing this." "Well… they're just a little unhappy that we have to keep all this makeup and stuff on until 4:00 when the show starts. Our makeup artist Tiffany could only do it this morning, so we have to be really careful to not ruin it in the next four hours. Plus, it is not an easy feat to sit on these tails," Sonny clarified. Chad faked a yawn and Sonny frowned, crossing her arms. "You asked," Sonny said, completely annoyed. "It just seems kind of silly to dress as a bunch of little creatures that hop and leave kids candy in April," Chad said, smirking. Sonny glared at him. "For your information, So Random is just as sophisticated as your overrated drama show is, Chad," Sonny said with conviction as she set her bunny ears back into place on her head. She turned to leave. Chad snickered. "First off, I never said we were more sophisticated than you, and second, nice tail." Sonny whipped back around and stared him down. "Oh, like I haven't heard that one a million times today. And by the way, it was implied. And don't you have anything better to do with your time than harass me?" "Well the only times you ever really listen to me without thinking I'm trying to sabotage you are when I'm harassing you so, no. I really don't have anything better to do," Chad said, crossing his arms indifferently. "I still don't see how those two points relate. I mean, can you blame me for never trusting you?" "No, that's why I'm not complaining. I'm just talking to you." "No… You're insulting me," Sonny reminded him slowly. "Hey, it's not my fault it's the only way I can talk to you." He shrugged. "But why do you need to talk to me?" Sonny demanded. "Figure it out," Chad said grinning before he winked and walked away. Sonny was left standing in the middle of the room wearing a confused expression for several seconds. She finally made herself move forward to So Random's table and sat down, still visibly confused and slightly irritated. "Someone's upset," Zora commented before forking in an unappetizing-looking combination of turkey, potatoes, green beans, and part of a bread roll. "Yeah, who turned your foot into a keychain?" Grady asked, snickering at his own joke. "Oh, hahaha," Sonny said sarcastically. "What else? That three-named jerk-throb is bugging me again. He never makes any sense when I talk to him." "Hmm… well could him bugging you have anything to do with the fact that we're dressed as a bunch of oversized rabbits?" Tawni asked sarcastically. Sonny ignored the jab and reached for the closest thing on Zora's plate. Zora was the only one who let people take food off her plate since she did the same thing to them; Zora knew how to take what she dished out. "I will figure out what he was talking about. Eventually…" Sonny brought the food to her lips and took a fairly big bite. "No, Sonny, don't, that's a…" Zora warned, but was stopped when Sonny took a bite. She sighed. "lemon…" Sonny puckered her lips before she had to spit out the sour lemon pieces into a napkin. She tried to scrape the sour residue off her tongue with her top teeth. Tawni cackled at the sight, and Nico and Grady tried, unsuccessfully to suppress their laughter as well. "It'th not funny," Sonny said with a lisp, because her tongue was sticking out. "Yeth it ith," Tawni mimicked before laughing again. At this point, the whole Tawni thing didn't bother her anymore. The way Tawni would go from being a sweet friend to the ice queen towards Sonny was nothing more than her day to day routine. You got used to it. Sonny brought her tongue back into her mouth, only to stick it back out when she tasted the leftover lemon juice on her lips. "Ugh… I hate lemons!" Sonny finally said once the tart flavor was out of her mouth completely. "I'll bet you do now," Nico said. Sonny turned around, out of habit, and saw Chad staring at her, smiling. Apparently, he had also witnessed that. Sonny groaned quietly and sank down farther in her chair. "Yup… I really hate lemons now…" Sonny ran from her dressing room, trying to get to the stage before they started the show. The direction she came from had her running past the stand of excited audience members. She was about to run by them, onto the stage, and through the curtain, but something she saw stopped her. Sonny whirled around to find that her eyes were not lying to her. Chad Dylan Cooper was openly sitting in the audience in the front row. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. Chad gestured around him. "Well, right now, I am sitting and waiting to watch the show." "You cannot be here." Sonny stubbornly crossed her arms and tried to make her glare menacing. It was hard to do though since she had black bunny whiskers drawn on her face, taking away from the seriousness of her statement. "No one's ever stopped me before." "Listen, you have got to…" Sonny paused as his statement sank in. She frowned. "You've been in the audience before?!" "A couple of times, yeah," Chad said. "But why?" "Sonny, we need you! Now!" Tawni suddenly appeared, pulling on Sonny's arm to drag her to the stage. Sonny dug her heels in so she could hear Chad's answer. "Why?" she repeated. Chad chuckled under his breath before he leaned closer to her. "Figure it out, Sonny." Sonny looked at Chad looking half shocked and half annoyed, while Tawni managed to lead Sonny up onto the stage and behind the curtain before the show could start without them. Even later… "That was a great show," Sonny said happily to Tawni while they walked back to their dressing room. "I do make an awfully cute bunny," Tawni said. "I just can't wait to get in to our dressing room, take off this makeup, and-" Sonny opened the door to their room and gasped. She angrily stormed into the room and stood in front of Chad, seated on her couch. "What are you doing here?!" Tawni quietly walked into the room, grabbed her purse and two other bags, and crept back out of the room, unnoticed. Chad stood up and smiled calmly at Sonny. "I've just been waiting for you to get back so I could talk to you." "Why do you want to talk to me? Since when do you ever want to?" Sonny asked, sounding less angry and more desperate. "I don't know. I just felt like talking to you." He shrugged. Sonny stepped closer to him, putting them a foot apart from each other. "But why? I thought you hated me." "I don't hate you." "Okay, but you've got to give me some answers. You've never been normal to me before so-" Chad put a single finger to her lips, silencing her. "Stop." He moved his finger and leaned down to give her a kiss. When they pulled away, Sonny was left speechless and wide-eyed. Chad took advantage of her silence to speak again. "Okay, so I don't want to just hang out with you. Tonight, if you'd like, I want to take you out on a date to the premiere of 17 Again," he said grinning. Sonny felt herself nodding yes. "I'll pick you up at eight o'clock at your house. I kind of need your address though…" "Uh, right," she said, numbly. Sonny looked around and grabbed a piece of pink stationary that Tawni left lying around and a pen. She scribbled her address down, her hand shaking slightly. She hoped he would be able to read it. Sonny handed the paper to him. "Sure…" Sonny paused for a few seconds. She blinked several times and looked up at him. "You… like me…" She spoke slowly and cautiously, testing out how the words sounded. Chad kissed her lightly, taking her by surprise yet again. He smiled. "You figured it out." Sonny touched her lips, dazed. "Goodbye, Sonny." He winked at her and walked out of the room. Sonny waited for twenty seconds until she was completely sure Chad was out of earshot. "Yes!" she yelled out jumping up and down. Once Chad and Sonny's date was over, Chad took her home and walked her to the door, lingering afterwards. "So, I'm guessing that after all those pictures the press got, there'll be tons of rumors tomorrow that we're dating," Sonny said, rocking back and forth on her the heels of her shoes. "They probably will," Chad agreed. "And what should we tell people? About the rumors I mean." "We could tell them they're true. If you want to," Chad added. "Okay…" Sonny couldn't help but smile widely. "Goodnight." Chad turned to leave. He turned back around. "Yes?" Sonny boldly walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. She smiled timidly. "I had a good time. Thanks." "You're welcome." As soon as Chad was out of sight, she ran into her house, hopped up onto their couch and started jumping on it, hyped up from the night. Her mother, Connie entered the room when she heard all the commotion. "What's going on? What are you doing?" Sonny paused in her jumping and smiled, showing off all her teeth. "I'm dating Chad Dylan Cooper!" Did you like it? I sure hope so. And this is definitely just a one-shot since I have too many different stories going on at the same time. Besides, I'm already turning one of my other one-shots into a chapter story and doing a follow-up on my other one-shot, so this is definitely just a one-shot. Just wanted to clear that up. Okay so, tell me what you thought in a review. I love feedback. Thanks for reading! Happy Easter!	dclm-gs1-007680000
Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. If I did, I imagine quite a few things would be different in Kenshin's world. Tomoe waited silently as the doctor did his work. She was seated by the fireside, her calm face betraying none of the emotions that raged within as she watched the elderly man tend to the red-haired figure that lay before her. She watched anxiously as he cleaned, sewed and bandaged his wounds, checking his pulse and administering medicine at regular intervals. At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor rose and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'll be honest with you." he said finally. "When you brought me here, he was in a pretty bad shape. Multiple lacerations, a fractured collarbone, some rather nasty bruises, poison in his bloodstream..." "Then..." Tomoe raised her head, her eyes widened with worry. "He'll be all right." the old man added in a gentler tone. "His injuries are many, but none of them are life-threatening. He has a remarkably strong constitution. But it begs the question: how did he end up in such a state? What happened?" There was a hint of suspicion in his voice as he stared at the dried blood on Tomoe's clothes. Tomoe was at a loss for words. The doctor must have heard the rumours. What if he had realised the identity of the red-haired man? What if he- "Forgive me." he said, as if he had guessed her thoughts. "It is none of my buisness. You have nothing to fear from me. It would be pointless for me to save someone's life if I were to condemn them to death immediately afterwards." He handed her a small bag. "Give him a spoonful of this medicine every six hours. And his bandages should be changed once a day." Tomoe accepted the medicine gratefully and paid him his fee. As he prepared to leave, she called out to the small figure that lay in the shadowy corner of the cottage. "Enishi!" The boy stirred from his sleep and, seeing her, sat up attentively. "Please escort Dr. Hiroshi back to his clinic." Enishi remained seated, unwilling to leave his sister's side. "Please don't trouble." said the doctor. "I can make it back on my own." "The snowfall is heavy." answered Tomoe. "Please, Enishi..." Didn't he understand? She needed to be alone, alone with him... Enishi glanced between her and the sleeping figure with a scowl. Reluctantly, he rose up and followed the doctor to the door. "Make sure you're wrapped up warmly." As the shoji slid shut behind her, she once again turned her attention to the unconscious figure. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. His smooth, round face was marred only by a diagonal scar on his left cheek. Kenshin Himura. The man she loved. The man she had betrayed. Then, for the first time since that terrible incident, Tomoe allowed herself to cry. She broke down, trembling uncontrollably, tears rolling down her cheeks and on to her blood-stained kimono. It was all her fault. She knew, she could have prevented this, but she didn't... she betrayed him, even after she forgave him, after he had sworn to protect her happiness... The scene remained as vivid as though it were happening before her very eyes. She doubted that she would ever forget the memories, no matter how much she wanted to. Waking up in an abandoned hut, confused, hearing sounds of battle, opening the door to see Kenshin blind and deaf, locked in mortal combat, beaten into the ground... Remembering Kiyosato, not wanting her second love to follow his fate, rushing forward with the tantō in her hand, ready to die for him... And she had almost succeeded. She remembered feeling the body of the ninja stiffen as she plunged the knife into his back, remembered seeing the tip of Kenshin's blade as it sliced through his body, missing her by mere inches, raining blood on her for the second time. She remembered standing there, paralysed with shock, as her lover fell upon the reddening snow. Hearing Enishi's cry as he ran towards them, intending to finish him off. Remembered pulling herself together just in time to stop him... And then they had helped him home, together; three damaged people. Now he was sleeping beside her, grievously wounded in heart and body. He was alive, and so was she. Fate had spared them both, but that did not give her much comfort. Now that she was assured of his life, she felt no further desire to prolong her own. Her life was worthless. She had failed to avenge Kiyosato, and she had failed in protecting Kenshin. She was unworthy of him, a vile, fickle, treacherous creature. She felt ashamed for every moment she spent by his side, and would have liked nothing better than to rid him of her unworthy presence. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not till she had seen to it that he had risen above the pathetic state her actions had left him in... His voice was faint, barely a whisper, but it was enough to pull her out of her musings. "Tomoe... no..." Immediately, she moved closer on her hands and knees. His face was agitated, his breathing uneasy. He was having a nightmare. Tomoe laid a hand on his feverish brow. Another closed around his hand under the blankets, trying to comfort him. Then his eyes snapped open, and all of sudden Tomoe found herself enveloped in a crushing hug. "Tomoe..." he muttered hoarsely, tightening his embrace. "I saw.. I had a dream... swords, and explosions..." Gasping for breath, she slowly wrapped her arms around her husband, trying to soothe him, all thoughts of suicide forgotten. "Shh... It's only a dream.." "But I killed you!" he yelled despondently. "I saw it... my sword cutting through you..." He loosened his embrace and pulled away to look at her. "I failed to protect you..." "No, you didn't." She said firmly. I'm the one who failed. She gently caressed the scar on his cheek. Kiyosato's last mark... "All is well now, my love." "Tomoe..." he said, in a gentle voice. "I love you." She could not suppress her guilt at these words. "I love you too.. anata." He leaned in and kissed her fiercely, and repeated the words that had changed her life only a day before. "Tomoe.. I will protect your happiness." Then she looked into his eyes, and she saw the depth of the pain, and regret, and love reflected in those violet orbs, and she knew then that whether she deserved it or not, she would never leave his side ever again. They embraced once more, lost in each other's warmth. "Together.." continued Kenshin. "till death do us part." "No." answered Tomoe, smiling on his shoulder. "Forever." January 15, 1865, Today, Katsura-san came to meet us. The war is on again. Kenshin does not have to be a Hitokiri any more, thank God, but his skills are still needed by the Ishin Shishi. He has agreed to lend Katsura his sword again as soon as he has recovered. His decision pains me, but I understand him better than anyone; he must finish what he started, or else everything he has done will be in vain. Once upon a time, I hated this man and risked everything to bring about his death. But now I love him more dearly than anything else, and as his wife, I will remain by his side no matter what. I will help him fight through these dark times, and afterwards I will help him atone for his actions for the remainder of our lives. This is my own atonement. It will not be easy. There will be more threats, many more dangers in the future. But for now, we are together. Author's note: Hmm, it came out a tad sappier than I'd intended... Well, on to the explanations: As silly as it sounds, I'm a guy who likes happy endings. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased when I watched the ending of Samurai X: Trust and Betrayal and read the Remembrance arc in the manga(not to say they weren't great). In my opinion, Kenshin and Tomoe deserved a better fate, though obviously it wouldn't have been as good story-wise. After seeing the nearly-dead state of the Tomoe community here on FF, along with the scarcity of K/T AU fics, I decided to join up and write a few of my own. So you could say fics like these were the main reason for me to become a writer, and that I've been waiting to write this fic ever since I started writing. This fic is actually the alternate version of the first chapter of a multi-part fic that I'd been thinking of writing since December. The latter fic(told from Kenshin's POV rather than Tomoe's) is something I'm holding off writing till later this year because of its size and complexity, and the fact that I'm awkward at writing romance. And now the interesting part. Even in AU fics such as this one I try to be as realistic as possible within the context of the fictional universe I'm dabbling in. So to explain how Tomoe was saved, I steered clear of implausible or supernatural reasons. She doesn't miraculously survive being slashed through the torso, nor is she resurrected afterwards. Rather, she is never slashed in the first place. All I did was to recreate the death scene(manga version) in my head and apply plain logic to it: since Tatsumi(the final ninja) had his back to the hut while fighting Kenshin, Tomoe uses common sense and charges him from the back instead of strangely deciding to run around him and attack him from the front(which is what put her in the path of Kenshin's sword). Since her body wasn't shielding him, Kenshin takes an extra blow(hence the broken collarbone), but overall it seemed more logical to me than even the canon version. If you read all the way down here, a double thanks to you. Please review. PS: Now that I've got this fic out of my system, I'm afraid I have little choice but to put all my fanfics on the backburner for the time being. You see, my end-of-semester exams are just around the corner and thanks to an atrocious performance last semester I have to work twice as hard this time round. I'm especially sorry towards all those who've been waiting for an update to 'The Birth of a Swordheart'. If it's any consolation, I plan on adding a major story arc in June.	dclm-gs1-007690000
Thank you reviewers for your reviews, it means a lot, and provides needed encouragement to continue. Enjoy!!! 8 ¾ Months Later... "Come on Colt, let's go already!!" shouted Rocky from down the stairs. "I'm coming, I'm coming!!" Colt stuffed the last items on his bed into his duffel bag, and rushed down the stairs. "Finally, Let's go." The Douglass boys were once again on their way to their Grandpa's cabin for a summer of ninja training. This summer however was going to be different then every other summer that they had been there. The difference would be in the form of a new member. A week before, the boys mother had had a weird look on her face when Rocky Colt, and TumTum walked through the door from school. "What's up mom, is anything wrong?" Asked Rocky. "No, everything is fine." When their father came home from work however, their mother took their father into his study which was only done on occasions that they wanted to speak about something serious, and they didn't want to be overheard by the kids. When they came out, Mr. Sam Douglass called his children together. "Mom has an announcement to make" said Mr. Douglass. "Well, gosh this is hard" said Jessica Douglass, "I don't know if you know or not, but you guys have two cousins in Japan." "WHAT!!?" exclaimed the three ninjas, their jaws dropping in unison, this was quite unexpected. "Yes" said there mother, "I had a brother. It's a long story, but I'll try to shorten it. I had an older brother who married, and had two children, a girl, and a boy. The girl whose name was Sara was older, and the boy, Zack was younger. My brother was much older than me, and Sara is now twenty-two, and Jake is eighteen. "The reason that you probably never heard of them, as I see from how surprised you are, is because we try to avoid bringing them up when grandpa is around, and I just can't stand bringing them up because of the tragedy that happened. Talking about them just reminds us of the tragedy. "Around fourteen years ago, their father was killed." Jessica signed, and her eyes started watering. "He was a ninja like my father, and you guys" she smiled when she said that, "but he had a secret. When he finished training by my father, he went to Japan to study history, which was always his favorite subject. He mainly wanted to know about the rich history of ninjas. Anyway, and this is where I'm not sure exactly what happened, but it seems that he found out about a secret ancient ninja chamber that held valuable artifacts from ancient ninjas. Somehow, some bad people found out about his knowledge of this chamber, and they tried to get it out of him, but when he wouldn't tell them, they..." Jessica paused as tears trickled down from her eyes. Rocky ran to the bathroom, and got some tissues for her. "Thanks Rocky" Jessica said mustering a small smile,"this is so hard, he was such a great older brother. Jessica dried her eyes, and continued. "Anyway, they killed him, I'm not going to go into details because it is too gruesome, but he didn't die a pleasant death. "After their father's death, they came back to America with their mother to stay with Grandpa. The group that killed my brother thought that my sister-in-law may know something about the chamber, and so one night, while grandpa was away, they came to his cabin, and confronted her. She of course had no idea about the chamber, but they didn't believe her, so whomever it was that went down to the cabin, killed her. Thank Heavens they didn't kill Jake and Sara, I guess that they figured there was no use in even questioning the children. It could also be they were in a rush all together since they seemed to have been afraid of Grandpa. Many People were afraid of my father when he was younger, so maybe they didn't want to get caught by him. "After that, Jake and Sara really moved in with us until a sister-in-law of my brother decided to take them in, and as I was having babies of my own, it worked out that she should take them. They went to Grandpa for the summers however. Some time later, they moved to Japan so their aunt that had taken them in could be with her boyfriend. When Sara turned eighteen, they moved out of their aunt's house, and have been living in Japan by themselves ever since. "The reason why I'm telling you this now is because today, I just got a call from Jake, and he and Sara would like to come spend the summer with us. They want to get to know us - their family - better, and Sara also has to be in the US for business. Sara will be staying at a friend of hers because her main reason for coming is on business, and this friend is closer to where she has to be. Jake will be staying with you boys at Grandpa." Everyone started talking at once. "Is he a ninja?" "Did grandpa train him at all?" "What type of guy is he?" "Does he like Jelly Beans?" Mr. Douglass held up his hand for silence. "We don't know much about him either, you'll just have to ask him when he comes in a week." That all happened a week ago. Now, they were going to the airport to pick up Jake, and Sara. Mr. Douglass had gone to the airport straight from work, and the rest of the family would go with Grandpa. After picking up Jake, Mrs. Douglass, and Sara would go home with Mr. Douglass, while the rest went straight to Grandpa's cabin. Sara would, after staying for dinner with Mr. And Mrs. Douglass, be picked up by her friend that she would be staying by. As Rocky and Colt got outside, they were greeted by Grandpa in his Hawaiian tee shirt waving at them to get into the old convertible next to TumTum who was munching on jelly beans in the back seat. "What took you guys so long?" asked TumTum as they raced to the car to join him. "Colt was taking too much time" said Rocky throwing his duffel bag into the trunk. "No I wasn't!!!" said Colt giving his duffel bag to his bother to put into the car. Mrs. Douglass locked the house door behind the boys, and then followed them into the car. Grandpa turned the ignition, and drove out of the driveway. They got to the airport on time, and piled out of the car. "There's dad!!" shouted TumTum rushing over. Mr. Douglass was on his cell phone, talking with a very serious look on his face. Seeing his family rushing over, he motioned for them to wait for him to finish the call. "All right Gary, so try to keep tabs on him. We need many more agents on this case as well, it's probably the most important, and hardest. All right, I gotta go, bye. Mr. Douglass hung up his phone, and turned towards his family. "Remember around nine months ago I told you that Snyder had escaped from jail?"said Mr. Douglass addressing grandpa, "He hasn't been spotted for nine months, but now it seems that he has returned to his old ways. Some of my agents spotted him supervising the unloading of boxes somewhere after being alerted by police who said pedestrians had called in saying men in black costumes with masks were unloading boxes. My agents just saw them get into a truck and drive away, but couldn't follow after their tires were shot out by Snyder's men. That's just one, he has been spotted two other times this week." Mr. Douglass shook his head and said "I don't think it is smart to let the boys stay with you this summer Mori, Snyder will want his revenge." "NO!!!" Shouted the three ninjas making many people in the airport turn their head towards them to see what caused the noise. Grandpa laughed. "You still aren't convinced I can protect them?" "It's not that Mori, it's that they will be more protected by someone, like me that has a gun. Remember, on the ship, non of you would have gotten off if I hadn't showed up with my gun, Snyder was going to shoot you all even if you were the better ninja." "If anything, I would say you need extra protection besides for a gun Sam, you need a ninja, because otherwise you may not get a chance to use your gun. I however will have Jake with me, and you know he has a gun, and knows how to use it, in fact I hear he helped you FBI guys a little in Japan." Mr. Douglass looked a little more relieved at this. "But Sam" continued Grandpa, "I seriously think that you and Jessica should join us this summer." Mr. Douglass laughed, "I have a job Mori, and I can't travel back and forth everyday. Besides, Snyder isn't going to start with me, he knows I'm too good for him to take down, and he would get into more trouble then he can handle with the government." Grandpa shook his head. "You shouldn't be so overconfident Sam" He glanced at Colt who smiled. "Look who's coming!" said Mrs. Douglass interrupting the verbal dispute. Grandpa, Mr. Douglass, and the boys all turned toward where she was pointing. Walking towards them was a boy and a girl. Each wheeling one suitcase behind them, and carrying a carry on bag. The boy was tall, probably around six feet, and he walked with the posture of one that worked out quite a lot. He had brown hair, and well tanned skin. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The girl was a little shorter, with blond hair and dark brown eyes. "How's it going grandpa?" asked Jake, giving Grandpa a hug, "long time no see." He then went over to Mrs. Douglass, and gave her a quick hug, and then shook Mr. Douglass' hand. "It's been a long time since I saw all of you in person. Sara followed her younger brother in giving Grandpa and Mrs. Douglass hugs, and shaking Mr. Douglass' hand. Jake then turned to the boys. "The last time I saw any of you was when Samuel was still a baby. You all are so old now, I missed basically the beginning of your lives." He said taking off his glasses to reveal dark brown eyes that matched his sisters. "It's not Samuel anymore, it's Rocky" said Rocky smiling, "and it's nice to finally meet you too." "Yeah, it's my ninja name, and Jeffrey's is colt, and Michael's is TumTum." "Yeah mines the coolest" said TumTum, "Bet you can't figure out why it's TumTum. It's because I love eating." Jake laughed. "I know that you love eating, and that you guys started training with Grandpa, after all, I do speak to your parents once in a while, but I didn't know that you already got your ninja names." "Hey, didn't didn't you also train by grandpa?" said Rocky, "What's your ninja name?" Jake smiled, "I remember that day well, Grandpa called me 影 Kage." "What does that mean?" asked TumTum taking out his jelly bean bag and popping a handful into his mouth. "It is the Japanese word for a shadow" interjected Grandpa, and the reason that I chose this name for Jake is because he can be so silent when he wants to be, like when he is sneaking up on someone that it seems that he is as quiet as a shadow." Colt looked at Jake's huge build and shook his head. "I can't believe that such a big guy can be as quiet as a shadow when moving, I think that Rocky would have been much more appropriate, look at those muscles." "While Kage may be very strong, his ability to move quietly far outweighs that quality because of many reasons, but the main one being that if one can sneak up on his enemy, no matter how strong his enemy is, the one sneaking up has the advantage of being prepared, and can take down the strongest man in the world as long as he knows a little about fighting." Mr. Douglass' cell phone rang. He excused himself, and went to answer it. When he returned, he had a worried look on his face. "I'd better get going" he said, "Jake, do me a favor, and keep an eye on the kids with Mori, I'll feel a lot better having two watching them then one." "No problem, you can count on Grandpa, and I." With that, Mr. Douglass drove off with Mrs. Douglass, and Sara. "Well," said Grandpa, "I think it's time we started heading towards the cabin ourselves. Rocky, Colt, help Kage with his bag." and with that he headed towards his car. "Hey Grandpa, you still have the same car you had for the past fifteen years, or longer." Grandpa laughed, "And why should I get a different one when this one is perfect?" Kage chuckled and hopped over the door into the front seat, " I'm glad you still have this car, it's a great car." Rocky, and Colt jumped over the door into the back seat. "Wait you guys!!" said TumTum climbing into the car behind them. Grandpa turned the ignition, and drove off towards his cabin. Next chapter is coming. I expect to have a lot more action in my story, but these chapters are needed to lead up to that. Once again thanks a lot for the review, you have no idea how much it means to me to get feedback from my readers, it is a great encouragement to continue writing. KEEP UP THE REVIEWS!!! Thanks.	dclm-gs1-007700000
Divine Intervention "O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer Our spirits by Thine advent here; Disperse the gloomy clouds of night And death's dark shadows put to flight" December 25, 1945 Standing at the edge of the jagged cliff, the crisp morning wind whipping her hair from its tight bun, Minerva McGonagall closed her eyes and cocked her head to meet the wind head on. Her cheeks pinked from the frosty chill, she opened her eyes, gazing out at the white-capped waves crashing against the rocks below and gasped when the somber hues of evening gave way to the brilliant sun cresting on the horizon. "It never ceases to be amazing, does it?" Sucking in her breath, Minerva spun around, losing her balance when his voice interrupted her morning ritual. "Wh-who are you?" she rasped, managing to find purchase when a strong, warm hand clasped her arm. When she looked up, her eyes met a warm, brown gaze, slightly crinkled with age, surrounded by fluffy, white hair and capped with a smile that instantly brought a curve to her lips. "Who I am is of no consequence to you, my dear. It is who I represent that matters," he chirped, watching her. "Let's just say I am the ghost of Christmas present, and I have come to give you a little direction." "Direction? But I—" "Tut, tut," he replied, thrusting his finger in front of her mouth. Raising her eyebrows in disbelief, Minerva frowned and crossed her arms. "Just give me a moment and all will be clear. There are greater things at work here, and He just felt that those involved needed just a tiny shove in the right direction." His smile widened, and he chuckled at her quizzical look. "I see you have no idea what I am talking about. I am sure you know why—or should I say, who—is responsible for the survival of wizarding kind and the end of the war? Someone you were rather fond of, I thought." "You are talking about Albus," she whispered when he leaned away from her. "Indeed, I am. And he needs you." Turning away, she let out a lengthy breath. "He will never need me the way I long for him." "Oh, but that is where you are wrong, my dear. But you will have to go to him to figure out how wrong you are. There is no other way." Slowly, Minerva twisted around to look at him, and he beamed at her. "What do you mean, he needs me?" Reaching out, the little man took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Do not question it, just go to him, and you will have your answer," he countered and faded from sight. In the stillness before dawn, Albus Dumbledore lay motionless on the hospital bed. Little by little, he gathered the strength to face another day. Opening his eyes, he squinted as pale light poured in through the window. He was drained: magically, physically, and emotionally. He should be elated, but all he seemed able to feel was a sense of loss. Gellert, his friend so many years ago, had been taken alive; however, he was no longer the carefree boy Albus had known. In addition, so many others had lost their lives. Slipping from the corner of his eye, a silent tear traveled to his pillow while a gentle breeze announced the soundless opening of the door. His eyes shifted to the woman framed there, and he felt his spirit lift slightly. Raising his hand in a nonchalant gesture, he rubbed his cheek to erase the evidence of his melancholy, but couldn't find the energy to smile at his visitor. Their eyes settled on one another, never straying. Giving him an encouraging smile, she entered the room stiffly, as if she was unsure she should be there. Her raven hair was gathered softly behind her head, and a resolve settled over her as he watched her approach. "This is an unexpected visit, Miss McGonagall," he croaked, finding speech difficult and draining even after months of recuperation. "I needed to see you, Albus." "And so, you have seen me, have you not?" "They say you won't see anyone. Why?" "Surely you have felt the need on more than one occasion to simply be alone." Reaching out, she slipped her warm hand around his, squeezing tight. "Albus, you need to confide in some one. Tell me, you can confide in me." Tugging his hand from hers, he shifted to face the wall. "Minerva… Go away," he whispered, shutting his eyes tight. The silence that followed filled the room. After a moment, Minerva released a long breath, and her short, clipped strides crossed the room. The breeze of the door flowed over him again, quickly pursued by the soft scent of lavender and stillness. That was the first of many visits from Minerva. She always came in the same way, at the same time; one could literally set a pocket-watch by her arrival. For the first seven days, Albus greeted Minerva the same, and it always ended with her leaving the room without another word and him feeling worse than he had before she came. However, he soon realized another conundrum; the date never changed. One morning, he woke when a merry matron entered his room. Frowning, Albus asked, "What is the date today?" "Why, it's Christmas! Surely you haven't forgotten! I didn't think you had anything wrong with your head," replied the plump nurse as she waved her wand, and his pillow fluffed instantly. "Though your demeanor could use a little pick-me-up." She leered at him, shoving him back into the pillow just a bit too roughly with another flick of her wand. "I see nothing wrong with my demeanor. I have been the most docile of patients," Albus snapped, indignant. "Well, that statement would be correct if that was what I was referring to." Resting her hands on her hips as she stood over him, she blew a chestnut curl out of her face. Albus crossed his arms and peered at her nametag. "Then what in blazes are you referring to, Nurse… Sprig?" "Every time she comes to see you. Even though she thinks you don't need her, even though she feels like you will never see her… even though she believes your feelings aren't the same, she comes anyway, and you treat her that way—" "Wait! What? How—" His eyebrows rose into his hairline, and the pitch of his voice rose before he stopped to compose himself. "How do you know she comes to see me every day?" Chuckling, her hazel eyes danced with mirth. "You will find that there is not much I do not know. Let's just say I have it on good authority that you should cut the lady a little slack. After all, she came when she was asked… when she did not truly have to. And you don't have to look very hard to see where her heart lies. The question is, how long is it going to take you to realize what is right in front of you?" "My dear lady, normally I find puzzles intriguing. However, I find this roundabout information of yours rather annoying." "Don't worry; you have plenty of time to get it right." She smirked. "What does that mean?" he demanded. A lilting laugh met his bark when the nurse faded from his sight. "Wait! Don't go; what do you mean?" he asked the empty room. At that moment, the soft wind from the door hit him once more, announcing Minerva's presence. She hesitated at the door, and he frowned. Even when she had been his student, she had been vibrant and headstrong. This hesitation was so unlike her. The words of Nurse Sprig echoed in his head: Even though she thinks you don't need her, she comes anyway. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them once more, he gazed at Minerva and gave her a small smile. "This is an unexpected surprise, Miss McGonagall. Won't you please come in, have a seat," he announced, gesturing toward the chair next to the bed. Striding stiffly into the room, Minerva approached the bed, ringing a handkerchief in her hands. "I needed to see you, Albus," she croaked. "And so, you are here. What is troubling you, my dear?" He noted her hands and the fact that she remained standing. "Is everything all right?" Clenching her hands to steady their movement, Minerva perched on the edge of the seat. "Oh, Albus, it has nothing to do with me. I was concerned. They say you won't see anyone. Why?" "Surely you have felt the need on more than one occasion to simply be alone. I am afraid I haven't quite felt myself lately." Reaching out, she slipped her warm hand around his, squeezing tight. "Albus, if you need to confide in someone, you can confide in me." A knot rose in his throat and something stirred in his chest when he looked at her hand enveloping his. Roughly, he cleared his throat. "I don't want to burden you with my demons, Minerva. But I am glad you came today. Thank you." Nodding, Minerva rose from her seat and withdrew her hand from his. "You're welcome," she murmured and quietly left the room. Albus stared after her for a long time. Her presence seemed to linger along with the scent of her perfume. Lavender would always remind him of her. The following morning, Nurse Sprig was back. Albus woke to her joyful humming of Jingle Bells. "I don't suppose a patient needing sleep is part of your regimen, is it?" She beamed at him. "Not when the patient is wallowing in self-pity and being a lay-a-bed, afraid to face the world again." "For your information, I am ill. Why else would I be cooped up in a hospital, for Merlin's sake?" Raising her eyebrow, she pursed her lips. "Because, dear fellow, the hospital gives you a buffer from the questions and obligations you constantly burden yourself with out there. You needed time to recuperate, but you have been here long enough. By the way, that was a much better start yesterday." Swishing her hand, his pillow fluffed when he leaned forward. "You mean with Minerva, right?" He looked up at her like he had caught a prize. "Time will tell, time will tell," she responded as his magazines straightened themselves, and a new water pitcher popped onto the bedside table. "Oh, what is today?" "Why, it's Christmas, of course. You haven't forgotten, have you? I didn't think there was anything wrong with your head!" she exclaimed, hands on hips. "Christmas again?" "Yes, it's Christmas. It comes every year, does it not? Though they say that time seems to pass more quickly with age, so I guess your proclamation would be correct." She bestowed him with a large smile, and he scowled back. "No, no. I mean it is the same Christmas it was yesterday… and the day before… and last week!" he retorted. "My, my, we are feisty this morning. I just hope you have as much life in you when your visitor arrives," she replied tartly and faded from sight. "No—wait—come back, I didn't mean—" he stopped abruptly, realizing she wouldn't be back. At that moment, his door opened, the draft lifting the tendrils of his long, auburn hair. His gaze fell once more on Minerva's, and his heart sped up. His cheeks were flushed slightly from his heightened emotion, but his lips curved up in greeting for the first time since this day had started. "Minerva! Come in, my dear," he called, ignoring her anxious stance. She moved into the room hesitantly. A gentle smile graced her lips as she watched him sit up straighter in the bed. "Oh, Albus, I needed to see you." Raising his eyebrows in question, he asked, "Is everything all right?" "They say you won't see anyone. Why?" "I must confess, Minerva, I needed to be alone. But I am glad you are here with me now." "You are?" Her eyes looked bright. Smiling back at her, he nodded. "Oh, yes, my dear, why wouldn't I be? You always were my favorite student." He looked back at her with something akin to reverence, then frowned when she looked away. Clasping her hand, he tugged gently, causing her to look back at him, and her eyes filled with tears. "Something is wrong! Please, won't you sit down and tell me what it is?" "I'm sorry, Albus, I thought… I need to go," she whispered, turning toward the door, the soles of her shoes clattering rapidly across the floor. "No, Minerva, wait!" But his words reverberated against the closed door, and once more, the lavender-filled breeze hit him in the face. Suddenly, his head jerked up as Nurse Sprig's words hit home: Even though she believes your feelings aren't the same… Sucking in his breath, Albus covered his face with his hands. I have been a fool! "You could say that again," Nurse Sprig replied sharply, and Albus looked up. "You! You're the one who started this whole problem to begin with!" Albus pointed at her, rising up in the bed. "Now, now, let's not go around pointing fingers when you know you are the reason we are all here." "A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject… though I might say this one is leaning toward lunatic," she mumbled under her breath. "What did you say?" Albus leaned toward her, his anger rising more at the situation than at her. Raising her gaze to his, Nurse Sprig jabbed her finger at his chest. "Look, I think you have been here, feeling sorry for yourself, long enough. One would think that you would be overjoyed now that the war has ended and you can get back to life. Now, where is the Albus Dumbledore we all know? And don't you dare tell me he was lost in the battle of wills with a madman!" Sighing, Albus studied the blanket. "I don't know if I can find him again; so much has changed, happened. I'm not sure where to start," he whispered, looking up at her slowly, tears threatening to spill. Reaching out, she covered his heart and added, "How about right here? Everything… everyone you need will come to you today. Just follow your heart, and you will find the way." "Um, I'm sorry. I don't know your first name…" A smile slowly covered her face. "It's Holly." Laughing for the first time in months, Albus grinned broadly. "Thank you, Holly. I owe you a great deal." "Oh, don't be silly. I am just the messenger." She beamed at him. "Besides, it isn't often I get to be Eros," she quipped and faded from sight. Before Albus could ponder Holly's strange departure, the door swung open. Minerva stood there a moment as if weighing whether she should enter. "Minerva, my dear! Happy Christmas! I am so delighted to see you," Albus declared with joy. "Won't you come in?" A smile crept over her face, and she looked a bit baffled when she sat down next to him. "Albus, I needed to see you. So many have said you won't see anyone, but you look like yourself to me." She raised a quizzical eyebrow. Chuckling, Albus grasped her hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Minerva, it's true, all of it. I haven't quite been myself since dueling Grindelwald, and I have needed to be alone, but I am almost ready to face the world once more." "Almost ready? Why only almost?" "Because there is someone I need first, someone who knows me better than anyone else. Someone who has been there for me, and someone I have realized I care a great deal about," he told her seriously. Dull pain entered her eyes, and she lowered her head. "I see. I am very happy for you, Albus." She swallowed. "May I ask who…?" Reaching out, he lifted her face with his finger. "Why, Minerva, don't you know?" He inquired, staring at her. Her gaze shifted over his face, studying him. His eyes twinkled, and he caressed her cheek lightly, pulling her closer. Suddenly, she sucked in her breath. "B-but I…" Leaning in, he claimed her lips when she paused and slipped his hand up around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss. Feeling her resistance collapse, he pulled her onto the bed. There, her arms encircled him, giving into his ardor fully. "Oh, Albus, how I love you," she breathed when they finally emerged from their kiss. "I have been very worried about you." Sighing, he pulled her closer. "So have I. And I am sorry—" "Sorry? For what?" She leaned back to look at him. "A great many things, but we will discuss that later. For now, I am simply glad that you are here and that you love me in return." He smiled, leaning up for another kiss. Beaming back, she bent once more to receive his kiss. From the doorway, two familiar forms watched the happy couple. "Finally!" Holly exclaimed, crossing her arms. "I couldn't agree with you more, my dear," the little man concurred, chuckling. "Now, I believe we have a date with destiny." He held out his arm. "Oh, you're right. Why, thank you!" She smiled, taking his offered arm, and they faded from sight. End (Or is it just the beginning?) =o) A/N: This story was written for my dear friend, MMADfan, for the Charming Roots Christmas Exchange, 2009. The beginning quote is from the Christmas carol: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. Happy New Year, MMADfan! **My heartfelt thanks goes out to ladyinthecloak and Sempra for their awesome beta work. You ladies rock!	dclm-gs1-007710000
It was cold that morning, but it's always cold in December in Ohio. Now it was downright freezing as the tiny blonde scuttled across the floor, questioning why she didn't slip on her robe and slippers when she snuck quietly out of the room to make the coffee. She felt like she was freezing to death, her toes about to be bit off by winter's sharp teeth, but she couldn't walk too fast. Walk slowly and maybe freeze to death, or speed up and spill hot liquid on herself? It was a dilemma, and one she quickly forgot about as she entered the room, set the two mugs down on the end table, and practically dove under the covers. "Oh my god, you're freezing. Get away," came a very unamused voice from the body lying next to her. She smiled for a second before taking a sip of her coffee, which consisted more of milk and sugar than anything else. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure at the feeling of the hot liquid working its way through her system, warming her from the inside out. She had never been much of a coffee drinker until she moved in with Rachel ten years ago, and now she was hooked on the stuff like crack. "You always say the sweetest things to me. How did I get so lucky?" she asked, and just to be a pain, pressed her ice cold goes up against a warm calf. The body lying next to hers almost jumped out of the bed. The brunette sat up, eyes burning, and trained her annoyed gaze on her wife. Quinn smiled. Her mother always said she was an instigator. Her sister had locked her in their bedroom closet just to put an end to the torment too many times to count, to prove this to be true. "You might want to be nice to me today," Rachel informed her, and laid her head back down on the pillow. She valued her sleep almost as much as she valued life itself, and being woken up in such an awful way was not a good way to start the day. When her mind could function properly she would have to come up with some clever way to get her wife back for this. "My dad still doesn't like you. If he thinks we're fighting, dinner tonight is going to be hell for you." Large green eyes widened further in fear. "Right, good point," she said, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "We've been together for twelve years, how does he still not like me?" Her only reply was silence, which did not surprise her one bit. She threw the covers, the saviors from the cold, away from her body, and shivered at the sudden change in temperature on her skin. "I better get ready. I have that stupid speech I have to give tonight." She got out of bed and went to the closet, pulling out various dry clean only outfits still safe in the sheaths of plastic. "It's not stupid," her wife's voice now had a very familiar bite to it. The blonde's habit of trying to make important things seem small and insignificant was a sore spot in their marriage that she always seemed to step on. "You're being honored for doing...that one thing that one time." The brunette tried to remember, but it was still too early for higher levels of cognitive thought. And why did she smell coffee, but wasn't offered any? Life could be so cruel. "Exactly. It's not that big of a deal. I don't know why I have to do this if not even my wife can remember what I did," she said, figuratively poking the sleeping bear. She tried to sound defensive and like she was making a really good point, but the smile that was on her face could be heard in her tone, and she hated that she wasn't better at covering that up. She was an instigator. This is just what they do. "I know what it is, it's just too early for me to remember," she said, and snuggled deeper into the covers sheltering her from the cold. "Don't you have a busy schedule today? Or did you cancel all of your appointments so you could stay home and pick on your wife like a petulant child?" Quinn rolled her eyes as she finally decided on an outfit, and laid it over the back of the vanity chair. She decided it was time to make peace. She didn't want to leave the house with her wife irritated with her. That would lead to nothing but bad things. She grabbed the untouched cup of coffee, one teaspoon of sugar and only a touch of soy milk, and walked over to the left side of the bed (house left, not stage left), and sat down next to the body almost lost amongst the ridiculous amount of blankets. Three comforters and two throws seemed like a lot, but since their heating had gone out last night it was just enough to keep them warm. The cold wasn't stopping them from continuing their normal routine. This action occurs every morning, and the ritual they've unconsciously created usually goes differently. Normally when the not very tall, but still taller than her wife, blonde sits on the edge of the bed, the other woman rolls over onto her back, and sits up just enough to drink her coffee without spilling or choking. Then the two spend the next thirty minutes talking about nothing in particular. But this was not a normal morning. Rachel didn't move from her comfy spot when she felt the mattress next to her depress. She laid there, silently defiant, and justifiably agitated, and ignored her wife. "Here, baby," the blonde said, and set the mug down on the nightstand as a peace offering. She waited for signs of a reaction, and when she received none she let out a small sigh. A quick glance at the clock told her if she didn't get ready and leave the house soon she would be late for her first appointment, which would leave her rushing to complete the rest of her tasks on the long list. She groaned internally and let out another sigh. She really didn't want to leave things on a bad note, but it looked like it would have to be that way. She went about getting ready. She downed the rest of warm liquid from her own mug before brushing her teeth, gagging the whole time at the contradicting tastes of French vanilla flavoring and toothpaste. She put on the warmest clothes she could find, and carefully applied her makeup. Applying eyeliner while tired and severely under caffeinated could prove to be dangerous. She did all of this in silence, all the while stealing glances at the lump on the bed. Her wife still hadn't moved. From the lack of snoring she obviously hadn't drifted back to sleep, but she also hadn't accepted the peace offering. She hadn't been that much of an ass that morning, had she? Their entire relationship she had been playful, in her words, sarcastic in the words of her significant other. Either way, this was nothing new. With her hair and makeup now done it was time to leave. She anxiously picked at her wedding ring with her thumb, a nervous habit she acquired a couple years ago when their marriage hit a rough patch, and she wasn't sure if the relationship would last. Just thinking about those dark days made her want to take the other woman in her arms and spend the rest of the day apologizing. But instead, she walked over to the bed again, pulled back the covers just enough to reveal dark hair with a severe case of bed-head. She leaned down, and left a gentle kiss on her wife's cheek, right where her dimple would be if she were smiling. "Your coffee is getting cold, sweetheart," she said, and walked over to the dresser to retrieve her purse and car keys. She took one last look at the bed, and an uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach when she saw that her wife still had yet to move. She finally accepted the fact that somewhere, hidden deep within her playful banter and harmless joking, she had royally fucked up. She headed for the door, sulking like an unhappy child, and dreading the day she was about to have once she left the confines on her home, her sanctuary. "Babe, drive safe. It's supposed to snow again today," she heard, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. It wasn't much, but enough to make the guilt go away. Hopefully her offering and parting words would be enough to keep the peace. The last thing she needed this turning into was an all out Cold War. Those always started out so innocent. A simple prank here, and payback for it there, but they always ended exactly the same: Quinn taking it too far and sleeping on the couch for about a week. "Are you still coming to the award ceremony tonight?" she couldn't help but ask, and she cringed as soon as the words came out. She needed their morning conversation about nothing in particular just as much as she needed the caffeine now flowing through her veins. However, that question could be misinterpreted, and the consequences of it were not favorable for her if it was. She held her breath, her body tense with anticipation as she waited for her wife to respond. "No, I thought I'd just lie in bed all day and watch television while my favorite wife is honored for being the most successful child psychiatrist this city has ever seen." Sarcasm with a hint of annoyance, it was the best thing she could have heard at that moment. She was so relieved to hear the sound that she didn't pay much attention to the words. That is until her brain took a moment to process them, and what Rachel said made her smirk. "Favorite wife?" she asked, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. "What do you mean favorite wife? I'm your only wife." One hand went to her hip, while the other remained on the doorknob. It was cold as ice, but starting to warm under her grip. She had to keep holding on. It was the only thing stopping her from crawling back into bed and following through with their morning routine. If that happened she would never make it to any of her appointments. "Wouldn't you like to know?" the brunette said, her voice sounded light and playful. That tone was rare for this time of the morning, and it made leaving the house that much harder for now all Quinn wanted to do was stand here and keep saying things so she could keep hearing that sound in response. Why did her work have to be recognized publicly? Sure, she rehabilitated abused, traumatized, and sometimes even suicidal children, and the majority of them went on to live fully functional lives, but why couldn't they just mail her the award with a nice letter of congratulations? "Well, as long as I'm the prettiest I guess I'm ok with that," she replied, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She glanced at the clock, and tried really hard to forget what she just saw. If she left now she would only be five minutes late. As long as the meeting with her boss didn't run too long she would make it on time to the salon. "I didn't say 'prettiest' I said 'favorite', there's a difference," Rachel threw back, and Quinn could not stop herself from laughing. All of the tension and anxiety that was building released in that moment. She could leave the house at ease now knowing that things were back to normal, and she didn't have to worry about being put out on the couch. Bill was going to be pissed because he hated tardiness, but she could just blame that on being nervous about tonight, which if she were being completely honest, was not a total lie. "From now on your prettiest wife can come over and make your coffee," she said, and opened the door. The cold air that rushed into the room felt like a punch to the face, and she let out a huge sigh. Why oh why did she have to leave the house this early? "I need to leave, sweetheart. Hurry and drink your coffee before it gets cold." She barely registered the reply before she was out the door. Her wife was killing her with cuteness that morning. Any more of it and she wouldn't be leaving the house, which was only a problem because her father-in-law didn't like her enough as it was without her skipping the benefit he had promised to be at. Sometimes life could be so cruel.	dclm-gs1-007720000
Three weeks later Jack stretched his arms over his head, deeply inhaling the fresh beach air. It felt good to be able move freely. The first two weeks after his injury had been murder. Every time he'd bent he'd felt a burning pain in his side. Now, though not completely healed, it felt much better. Dr. Frasier had cleared him for active duty two days ago, although she did advise Hammond to make the next mission for SG-1 an easy one just to be sure. Good old General Hammond had given them the task of being one of the two military teams present on P3R-407, a research colony of about fifteen scientists and home to a native population of about five hundred. This population of five hundred people were the rescued underground slaves from the icy planet whose leaders had kidnapped SG-1 and stamped them new personalities. Jonah, while still regaining his memories as Jack, had promised Administrator Calder he was going to find a lovely little planet where the beaches went on for miles for the hidden slaves to inhabit, and this planet was it. The Tok'ra had helped them find this island paradise. They had hauled a stargate to the center of the island, which was actually a huge land mass that encircled the entire planet's equator. There were no poisonous plants or animals. The clear blue, fresh water sea was only fifty feet deep at its deepest point around the entire globe. No sharks or whales inhabited the water, and the coral reefs offered beautiful destinations for snorkeling. The yearlong plant life cycle and abundant fresh water gave the researchers the chance to experiment with different growing methods. The civilians on the planet had named it Jonera Torlin in honor of Jonah, Thera, Tor, and Carlin who had rescued them. Jack simply called the planet JT, while the rest of the SGC called it Jonera and its people Jonerians. Brenna had been appointed as leader of the new planet. The people were provided with materials to start their new lives. With the knowledge they had gained from their previous employment, they soon had houses built with plumping, electrical, and telephone systems. Hammond suggested a trade network. The new citizens of the planet could help the research scientists plant and harvest the fields of food, and in turn could keep all but the minimal amount needed for scientific research. The SGC would provide all the seeds and tools necessary. Whatever food the Jonerians didn't want to keep could be offered back to the SGC in return for items they might want or need. Daniel, with Brenna's help, had developed a sort of mail order catalogue. They included clothes, furniture, equipment, books, and much more, with trading equivalencies. This helped to ensure that all trades were fair and equal. The Jonerians enjoyed being outdoors in the sunshine and warmth. Some didn't want to work in the fields and instead spent their time wondering along the beaches and through the jungle. Others were hired as research assistants to the scientists. And all loved SG-1. They had even built a cabin on the beach for the team after overhearing Jack talk about his home in Minnesota. Jack was looking forward to this mission. Hammond reserved Jonera for teams that needed rest. While the threat of a Goa'uld invasion was still present, it was less likely than other planets. With over twenty-two teams running through the SGC, Hammond usually placed at least one team on Jonera at all times, just like the alpha site colony. During this mission, SG-1 was going to spend three weeks on the planet along with SG-18. Hammond tried to limit each team to a three-week max to avoid hostility amongst the teams. Three weeks on Jonera was like getting a paid in full vacation to Hawaii. They had flipped a coin for night watch and SG-18 lost. That meant from 6a-6p SG-1 was on guard, and from 6p-6a SG18 was on duty. Jack smiled and plopped into his beach chair, the time was 6:05pm and he was officially off duty. Daniel had scampered off around noon with Kegan to investigate some rocks deeper inland, Teal'c had been summoned to assist another Jonerian in learning how to fight a Jaffa, and Carter had said something about going swimming. Jack decided the only thing he was missing was a nice cold beer. Perhaps he'd better teach these Jonerians a thing or two about brewing. He felt a shadow fall across his form. He cracked an eye open and nearly lost his breath. Carter stood next to his chair holding out a stack of papers. But that wasn't what surprised him. His 2IC was scantily clad string bikini. Jack's mind wasn't processing the scene before him very well. Maybe this was a dream. He shook his head and sat up straighter. "I thought you were going swimming?" Jack asked his voice a litter higher than usual. "I was, but then I remembered these forms. They really need signed today, sir." She all but thrust them into his hands. "I need you're initials here, here, and here," the captain indicated each line. Jack grabbed the pen and quickly signed them, JON, standing for Jack O'Neill. He slid the papers back into Carters waiting hands. "Thank you, sir," she said walking back to the cabin. Jack shook his head again. Was it just him or did Carter's voice have a bit of suggestive undertone to it? He leaned back into his chair and tried to not imagine her in the bikini unsuccessfully. It was definitely not standard issue! A few moments later, the shadow fell across him again. What now? He wondered, opening an eye. Carter stood above him again, only this time she had a bottle of sun block. She smiled innocently, but her voice was pure evil. "Would you mind?" she asked smiling, handing him the bottle. Nervously, Jack accepted. What was she trying to do? What had gotten into her? This wasn't the way Carter usually acted. In fact, recently she had been avoiding personal contact with him, distancing herself. It was the reason he'd gotten the tattoo in the first place. In an unrealistic spur of the minute idea, he thought that just by some chance if he got the tattoo somehow he'd be able to keep Samantha Grace Carter his forever. But she wasn't his, and probably never would be. She was too good for an old broken down man like him. He could feel her slipping further and further away and it was killing him. Which was why at this moment he was completely baffled. What was going on? Jack opened the bottle and slowly poured on the cool white liquid. He gently started rubbing it in a circular motion over Sam's back, fully expecting her to recoil at his touch. Instead, she seemed eager for each caress and unconsciously he molded his hands to fit the contour of her back. She let out a sigh of pleasure. This is so wrong, Jack told himself. But his hands continued to explore Carter's back, the application of sun block turning more into a massage with each passing moment. "A little lower, if you will sir," Carter's voice directed. "I want to make sure I'm covered." Jack chuckled. She should have thought about making sure she was covered when she bought the revealing bikini. He moved his hands further down her back. Jack was almost at the top of her bikini bottoms when he froze. "Sir? What's wrong do I need to turn a bit?" Sam maneuvered her hips so that her right hip was more easily accessible. Jack gulped. "Yeah, that'll do," he muttered. What was she trying to do, kill him for cry'n out loud!? At least Carter's little stunt with her hips had allowed him a better vantage point for what had caught his attention. It had looked like a small bruise, very light in color, and almost invisible. But now, up closer Jack instantly knew that wasn't the case. There on her right hip was a small half inch by half-inch tattoo, with three letters: JON. Jack couldn't breathe and he didn't dare hope. There were a million reasons why she could have those letters on her side. Maybe they were some sort of chemical on the periodic table, or the key to some unknown code. It could be a password she didn't want to forget. Her ex-fiancé's name was Jonas, perhaps she'd started to his name engraved but stopped before the last two letters could be finished. Yeah that was it. Jack's hands were shaking. None of his thoughts were actually plausible reasons for Carter to have that tattoo on her side. Another thought entered his mind. No that couldn't be it. He'd already lost her. She would be his friend, but nothing more. Hadn't she made that clear over the past few months? By now, Sam had turned over and was sitting upright in the beach chair. She could see the wheels in Jack's mind spinning, trying to process his rapidly firing thoughts. She placed a gentle hand her CO's shoulder. "Colonel?" No response. Maybe this whole idea had been wrong. Sam tried again, "Jack?" This time he answered her, his eyes dark and his voice husky with emotion. "You saw the tattoo." It wasn't a question, more like an accusation. She nodded in confirmation. "And you understood what it meant?" he asked in awe. "Not at first, it was that last day I spent at your house. I went looking for something to read," Sam said guiltily. Jack's eyes lit up as he guessed what had happened. "You saw the book." "I kinda signed it," she admitted, "that's when I realized what it meant." "You signed my book?!" Jack acted as though she had stolen his most valued possession. Sam was hurt. "I can give you a new one if you didn't want it signed." "Aww, no that's okay, makes it worth more money." He joked and that's when she realized he had been teasing her all along. She reached up and head slapped him. "Hey! That's battering your commanding officer!" he yelped taking a step back. "It was done in self defense." She retorted defiantly, sitting back down on the chair. Jack sat down on her right, rubbing the back of his head. The colonel went back to their previous conversation. "But why would you…you?" he pointed down at her hip. "To remind me," she said as if that answered the whole question. "Of what?" he asked at a loss. "That you love me. No matter what separates us, we will always be with each other. We may not be together now, but eventually. These tattoos are our promise to each other that one day there will be no regulations for us." "So it's sort of like a promise ring?" Jack asked a smile on his lips. "Exactly," Sam answered. Jack stood up. "Don't go anywhere," he commanded. Sam watched as he ran into the cabin and emerged again moments later wearing swim trunks. "It's a great day for snorkeling, don't you think?" He asked with a wink. "Yeah sure you bet ya," she replied with a grin, joining him at the water's edge. "You know you got that tattoo on the wrong side. Mine's on the left," he commented as they walked out into the ocean. "I figured mine would be better situated on the right." Carter replied her face turning a bit red. Jack stared. "OH!" he exclaimed as her meaning sank in. "That way they could be together when…" he choked as Carter's hand pushed him under the water. "Oh you are so going to pay for that one!" he called at her retreating form as she ran further out to sea. "That's what I was hoping for!" Sam called over her shoulder as she dove under the waves. Jack was grinning like an idiot. Retirement for him might not be as far off as Carter thought it was, because from where he was standing right now life was pretty sweet.	dclm-gs1-007730000

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