"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

- Charles Dickens

Ripples broke the smooth water surface as the pebble skipped thrice along it. At the end of the its journey, the stone plopped into the sea, the final ripple wider than any before. From within his hand, Clay materialized a second pebble, once again sending it skipping across the water. Tim, Stella and Sister approached the lone teen on the pier. The wispy girl in white looked on in amazement; Stella with concern; Tim with sombreness.

Tim said, “You look like you're enjoying yourself.”

Clay closed his palm and reopened them, and another pebble appeared. “Not much to do here,” he sighed without facing them. He still wore his grey shirt and cargo pants from the day before, complete with his bloodstains and dirt patches from his fight with Brother and encounter with Adam.

“That's a neat trick,” Tim noted the magically appearing stones. “How'd you do that?”

“No idea,” he replied, twirling his fingers. “One day, just...poof. Guess it's true what they say about being able to manipulate your own dream. But I can only do simple things though. Rocks. Sticks. Stuff like that.”

“Brother...” Stella began, but Tim paused her with a raise of his hand.

“Days. You said a few days.”

“Yeah, I did. Just like you, kid, to notice things like that,” Clay sighed in resignation, finally turning to the group. “I've been here for three days. Jumping from one dreamscape to another, being chased by The Father. Sometimes there's a break between the running like right now. But they're starting to get fewer and farther between.”

“Impossible. It's only been a few hours in the real world!” Stella stepped forward and hugged her brother, her eyes glistening with held-back tears. “You're coming back. We're going to bring you back.”

He returned the hug but slowly pulled apart. He looked over her shoulder to Sister and asked, “You're Sister, aren't you? I sort of figured some things out in the past few days. Time doesn't go straight here,” he paused as he tried to get the impossible words out, “I'm stuck here, aren't I?”

The girl in white nodded back, “I'm sorry.”

Clay nodded dejectedly. A part of him had held hope, though the realist inside him knew chances were slim to none.

Stella grabbed her brother by the hand, “No! We're bringing you back. I won't let you stay here,” she turned to Tim pleadingly, “Think of something. Have...have some clever deduction or come up with a plan! Like you always do!”

However, Tim could only look to his feet in shame. His reply equal in emotions as the atmosphere, if not more. “There's nothing I can do.”

She charged at him, pouncing on him by the shoulders, sinking her nails into his skin. “THEN WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR!?” she yelled while shaking Tim in desperation, her composure finally broken.

Tim dared not look her in the eyes, instead, staring off towards Sister at the side, who looked on sadly, though not with pity.

Clay said, “He's here for what I know,” their eyes met. And Clay smiled at his best friend, showing his understanding of the situation and forgiveness. “He needs to know what I did to The Brother.”

Sister asked, “Is The Brother dead?”

A small smile formed at the corner of his lips as he replied, “Yeah. Haven't seen him once since I came here. That's pretty much the silver lining here. He's dead. But The Father somehow seems to be...taking on his victims,” he turned to Tim, “It's the name. Their real names. I think the name brings them to our world. Makes them real. It's this place, I think. The realm between worlds. As long they are here, they can't die.”

Realizing her situation, Sister exclaimed, “That's why we can't remember our names and part of our pasts. It's like a... like an anchor. To keep us in the dream world,” still with questions, she asked Clay, “But how did you kill him then?”

“Emotions,” Tim replied in his stead. “That's how your powers works, right? You overwhelm our emotions. My father's rage with fear. Clay's confidence with anxiety. And my clarity with your...”

“Lust,” Sister said, not denying the deduction. “Yeah. But I never thought it would-”

“It would actually work the other way around?” Tim cut in, feeling the fire of his deductive reasoning being lit. “I know. That's cause until this whole Sin business, and me, everyone's been isolated or otherwise...” he glanced over in Clay's direction as a nod to the latter's current condition. “Incapacitated. It's a struggle over emotions. It may be corny but, the one with the strongest will power wins.”

Stella, dumbfounded by the casualness of the conversation, demanded, “What about Clay?” Clay stepped towards his sister, who continued to protest, “We have to get him out! We have to-”

She was suppressed by Clay's gentle hug. He kissed her forehead tenderly. “I'm not going Stella. I know my real bodies beaten to shit, so I'm not waking up any time soon,” he stroke her golden hair as the girl broke out in tears, dropping to their knees and crying into his chest. “Like you said, it's only been a few hours for you, yet three days for me. And I can't run from The Father forever. The only reason I survived this long was cause I needed to tell Tim what I knew. I'm out of juice now, and I don't see a way out for me this time.”

“No...” her muffled cries stung him.

“I'm sorry Stell,” he held her close, comforting her in his embrace. A blanket of dark fog rolled up the horizon, slowly cutting away the light like a rising curtain in the sky. Looking to Tim, he said to his best friend, “We're running out of time. Kid, keep her safe.”

Tim knew it was a promise that was easier said than done. But it was one he intended to keep. Their eyes crossed intently, as if all of Clay's pride and confident were to be passed on through their gaze. “I promise.”

Clay smiled back, “Good! If you break that promise, I'll personally come kill you, kid,” he helped Stella to her feet as the girl tried to control her sobbing, to little success. Reading Clay's intention, Tim helped separate the siblings, taking Stella in his arms. To his sister, Clay asked, “Tell mom and dad, 'thanks for everything'. And I love them. And I love you. All of you.”

Speaking through sobs and choking tears, she managed a pained, “I love you too,” the horizon fog had cross a quarter of the sky, covering half the water in darkness.

He turned his attention to Sister. “Sorry, I know this is the first time we've met but, could you do me a favour,” he smiled cheekily, “I think a smart and pretty girl like you already know what it is though.”

“Yeah,” Sister replied. She floated over, her dress extending to the ground as she did, covering her feet in the process. “I'll make it painless.”

“Thanks,” he turned back to his friend and sister who were both slowly vanishing before his eyes, the fog darkened the ocean and crossed over them, covering them in shadows. He smiled at them, and right before they awoken from the dream, Tim could have sworn that the smile was that of a man who had found peace, who had lived a life with pride and no regrets, despite the short time alive. “And goodbye.”

Sister kissed Clay, and the light of the world extinguished before them.

XXX

5:02 a.m

6 days earlier

Even though he was awake, Tim could only stare blankly at the ceiling. Shrouded by darkness, he laid on the examination bed of the empty doctors' office. His body ached and every fibre of muscle screamed for him to stay still and go back to sleep. He could barely make out the shadowy figure sitting behind the desk, watching him lie motionless on the bed. He knew who it was and felt no fear. However, hesitation overwhelmed him from acting, and he continued to maintain his position.

The desk clock ticked away the seconds, and he counted the minutes that passed. In silence, the two of them stayed in the room, until Stella finally said, “He's gone,” her tone void of emotion. “Brother's dead. Cardiac arrest,” he could hear her gulping saliva to find the words to continue. “What do we do now?”

He wondered what was the point. What had they accomplished in the week that lead up to that moment in time. Joshua was gone. Clay was gone. Everything they had retrieved from Vashmir Commons' house had been taken as evidence by the police. He had killed Adam Pearlman and Stella killed Joseph Camein. They had blood on their hands with nothing to show for their efforts.

Himself, Stella, Oliver Hardy, and Sister. They were the last remaining players in his dwindling circle of allies. Julliane Smith had become a wall between them and the Vashmir evidences. The Father continued to hound his heels in dreams.

Steeling himself, Tim explained, “We get the diary and photo album back from police. See if there's a clue there to The Father's real name,” he listened to Stella's steady breathing and the rhythmic beat of his own heart. “And then we kill him. End this thing, once and for all. Make it worth while.”