Flashes of memory.

Suddenly, I was transported back to my original childhood, the one I'd lived long before being reborn.

Really, that was just my abandonment stretched out over a period of hopeful, but dashed, maybes; yeah, that was the better word for it: my abandonment--it wasn't anything that could be called something as romantic as a childhood.

Both physically by my father and then emotionally by the shell of a woman he had jumped ship on, I hadn't been raised, I'd been left behind.

My mother had probably been a good woman at one time or another--and for what it was worth, she never outright abused me.

She tried to be a good mom, in the moments of lucidity or emotional overtaking, but she was addicted to acidic chemicals that the person she had trusted most had given her and it had rotted her own world out from under her feet.

The only difference between him and her was that he'd managed to hide the decay longer than she had; just long enough, in fact, to bring her down with him. And to make me.

Slowly, more images came in, as if my line of thought was being mined for some unknown advantage--or, at least, I couldn't really remember to whose advantage it might be anymore.

The black fog swirled and coalesced back into form, my form, but not the one this new world had given me.

It was my first body, but it was far younger than the one I left Earth behind with.

I knew this place I was in. Shadow filled the space, but not to the extreme that I'd remembered.

The furniture of my small room was about the only things kept clean in the apartment my mom had somehow managed to keep us in--for a while, at least.

Funny, my head still wasn't on right. Was I dreaming? That's what it felt like.

In fact, I'd had this dream more than once. So many times.

She had a spaced out look in her eyes. I always hated it, but it was better than the terrifying euphoria that would precede it. I always avoided her when she was like that.

That was what I had been doing, before this moment, I remembered: I'd been hiding, tucked away in one of the little safe spaces that I'd found for myself. I had a stuffed rabbit in my hand, one of the few toys I'd had to my name; I remembered it as a buttress against the pain and loneliness.

She never really tried to hide it; I could see the pill container, splashed open and its contents scattered over half scribbled job applications and acceptance essays that would never reasonably be read by anyone.

The round, white demons were nothing of pharmaceutical quality, not anymore--and I always wonder how she'd managed to keep getting them after my dad bailed.

I hadn't know at the time, but the drug hadn't even made it past clinical trials; how my father had gotten it into my mother's and his hands originally, I also had no idea.

The fact that the stuff that had any purity to it had quickly dried up, in the years following their addiction taking hold, didn't help anyone.

The track marks were clear on her arms.

The needle she'd used lay as discarded as the remaining pills; it half spilled out a droplet of distilled pain and poison in the silver moonlight. I felt myself cringe, even a kid knew that stabbing yourself wasn't normal.

Whatever high she was chasing, the drugs--originally meant to boost cognitive performance--just weren't doing it anymore.

It was almost funny: the fact that the body would become incredibly dependent on the concoction, that my mother had now taken to grinding up and pushing into her veins, wasn't actually the reason it had been shot down by the regulatory bodies.

It wasn't right, they said, to make man smarter than he needed to be. At least, that kind of power couldn't be in the hands of the average person.

It was probably how he'd sold her on it. My father I mean. They'd both been rebellious and spoiled, unaware of the real blessings they'd been born into. What better way to stick it to the authority than to take a pill that let them easily balance acing their classes and partying it up?

But the world didn't work like that. My life, which had been considerably less pampered than theirs, had taught me early that everything cheap came with a trade off. It was a lesson they could've used.

"Mom?" my small, hesitant voice asked.

She slowly looked up to me from where she sat in the rocking chair, a melancholy smile spread across her sagging lips.

It was sad: by this point, I knew how to time the stages she went through.

"It's okay, baby," she said.

Of course, none of what she'd done or how she'd put us into such a shitty situation really mattered to me back then.

I walked to her on legs that had only learned how a few years ago.

I really hoped she was sobering up enough to pick me up. I missed her arms so much.

Imagine my happiness when she actually did. It was the small things that gave a child joy, I reflected as she pulled me into her chest.

My arms wrapped around her and hers did the same to me.

No, I didn't hate her at all. Even on into adulthood, I never would.

With her being the only parent I would ever know, I was chasing my own sorta high. The worst and most corrosive kind of all, if you happened to get addicted to the wrong source: that of love.

And with that, we fell back into the regular routine now. Her thin fingers slipped into my messy and uncombed, carmine hair.

"I'm so sorry, sweety."

She'd always apologize.

"It's okay mom," I said and pulled her closer.

I'd always accept it too though.

I think I actually felt responsible for absolving her of her pain. Maybe I just hoped she'd do the same to mine, but to do that would take more than words.

It didn't matter, really. That hadn't happened. I knew how this dream ended.

A strong knocking came at the door.

Yeah, I definitely knew the way this all went.

It all ended in more pain, really; no matter how badly people tried to fix things, some things could only be made worse by good intentions.

My mother began to sob; her hand tightened in my hair, not that she was hurting me or anything. "I'm going to stop. I promise. I'm done."

Yeah, that was easy to say when the pain of need was not wracking her dependence addled body.

Still, I felt that same hope swell in my chest. It didn't matter that my waking mind knew how it would turn out-- how things would change forever on even this very night.

The knock came again.

"I'm done, I promise," she said; she seemed completely oblivious to the noise coming from the small entryway of the one bedroom apartment.

"Okay, mom," I said and held her closer; my own tears began to run down my tiny cheeks.

It wasn't really okay.

The knock would only come once more, I remembered and then--

The sound of a door unlocking and turning open echoed out.

My mom, not completely gone from all but the immediate world around her, after all, looked up in concern at the noise.

"Just wait here, baby," she said.

I wouldn't.

My world chilled to a numb detachment as I let her guide me off her lap and onto the mostly-vacuumed carpet.

As she walked outside that bedroom door, I tried to hesitate to follow her, but, well, that just wasn't the memory--and this dream had never been merciful.

We entered into the living room together. I followed carefully behind her, a part of me knowing I never would again.

There was a stark contrast between my mother and the woman before her. One wore little more than a old t-shirt and underwear. The other was groomed and professional, though about the same age.

"Miss Knight?" the woman asked.

My tiny heart beat fast. Even my memory's body knew this couldn't be good.

But then... somehow, there was a change.

I blinked and time didn't quite flow the way it should've.

[Possession counter reduced to 5%.]

"Dad?" my mom said.

This wasn't the memory.

[Possession counter reduced to 1%.]

The official looking intruder was replaced with a man I had never known.

No one acted like the switch was at all odd.

My mother looked hesitant to greet him.

"Cassandra, I'm sorry about everything," he said.

"I'm just so--" he was cut off by my mother grabbing him and hugging him.

"I missed you so much, daddy," she said.

His arms slowly moved up to embrace his daughter back.

I'd never met my grandfather. I was pretty sure he'd passed away before I'd been old enough to meet him, but this man looked like a younger version of the few pictures I'd managed to find.

[Possession counter increased to 5%.]

"I missed you too," he said.

My mom pulled back somewhat; her face grew a bit more concerned.

"Does mom know--" she hesitated.

The man just let his hands move up to rest on her shoulders with reassurance. "She doesn't matter. I'm here to help my daughter."

I saw the hesitance. "I don't know if I can, dad."

He looked back at me for the first time, before returning his gaze to Cassandra. "Please. Try again. Your son needs a mother."

He paused. "And a family. He deserves a life, Cassandra."

His daughter still hesitated and she cast her eyes down in shame, as more tears began to fall from them. "I can't--"

He grabbed her by the chin and made her look at him. "Cassandra. No. You have to. We'll try again, okay?"

Their eyes met, neither was dry, and my mother glanced back to me.

She slowly nodded. "Okay."

My grandfather smiled with a hesitant, but relived expression, before slowly turning his gaze back to me.

He lowered himself to one knee and spoke to me in a tone I'd always dreamed of hearing, that which only a grandparent could give to a child. "Hey there, champ. I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

I knew that this wasn't right. Somewhere, deep down, I realized that this wasn't the dream.

[Possession counter decreased to 3%.]

Maybe, though... maybe that was okay.

[Possession counter increased to 30%.]

I gripped my rabbit up to my chest for strength.

And then, well, I went to meet my grandfather for the very first time.

[Possession counter increased to 50%.]

It was a much better dream.

(Scene switching to Viessa.)

Thunder rolled across the bog. Lightning crackled. For miles the hairs of all the swamp creatures, small and massive, were slowly lifted with static as the air became laden with residual energy.

Shadows began to creep out of the entrance to the dungeon. They grew into the forms of men and things that were much worse.

[Greater Lightning Ride]

An arc of power crashed from the sky onto the steps of the temple. Stone was cracked and sent flying in a radius of thirty feet around the epicenter of the blast.

The foul shades that had started to amass their mortal avatars were blasted into almost nothingness by the shockwaves, though some still clung to various scraps of wispy being.

The bolt of long-lasting electricity wavered and shook, until finally I stepped forward from it.

My robes hung like a clouded sky, trimmed with gold sunbeams. My eyes shone with crackling malice.

I had only one goal this night. The creatures of the abyss that stood before me would either answer what I asked or they would do worse than just be banished.

I turned my hellish gaze to them and gave them the one chance they had to keep me from rending their soulcores in the way only high-level sorcery could.

"Where is my son?" I spit the words with more hatred than I knew I could feel.

The few that had managed to recreate their legs from the foul darkness merely took a step towards me.

I raised my staff without hesitation.

One, in particular, its face all gaunt and twisted with fangs, began to taunt me. "You don't ask anyth--"

[Eviscerating Arc]

The white light flew and bounced between all of the monstrosities, but I took a special pleasure in making sure it lingered and tortured their leader first.

Soon, the arcing and jumping energy came back to me, once it had ripped the others from existence. One of the downsides of the spell was that it didn't discriminate between friend and foe, but I had methods to counteract any and all of my own tools.

[Absorb Magic]

The power flow of [Eviscerating Arc] streamed into the gem of my bent stave and dissipated harmlessly into my mana reserves, though they remained lesser than they had before I'd cast the attack.

The doors to the temple started to close as I approached them.

I felt my face grow even more perturbed.

It wasn't even a decent attempt.

[Force Wave]

The force damage flew from my hands, blurring the air as it did and growing to cover a towering width. The temple doors cracked back open and almost broke from the great architecture that they had been constructed against.

Once I'd woken up, I'd scryed the world for James. I couldn't find Castian due to his strange immunity to Personal magic, but I'd tracked my partner here.

The only problem was the link I'd established to track him had been severed by a touch that was all too demonic.

What had my foolish husband done?

"It's going to be okay," my mother said as she hugged me, before she stood back up. "I'll be back so soon."

My grandfather and his car waited behind us; the slick, black and wheelless machine made very little noise as its advanced engines idled.

"Take care of him," she told my grandfather.

Richard, who I had spent a lot of time with over the past week, put a gloved hand on my shoulder.

"I will, honey," he promised.

His grip was firm and strong. He was a rough, yet caring, man. Funnily enough, he was a veteran turned entrepreneur. It was something I felt a strange connection to, even though the reason for that was becoming all the more foggy.

My mother smiled back at us. She was cleaned up now, though the bags of withdrawal were showing heavy on her eyes.

I knew from experience that, in the coming days, she wouldn't be able to walk as easily as she did now.

"I love you both," she said and her eyes lingered on me. "So much. I'm coming back to you as soon as I can."

"Dad?" she hesitated.

"I've got him," the man promised. "Just take care of yourself, Cassandra. We're both so proud of you and we love you too."

She shook her head, but still glanced at me again at the mention.

"I know. It's not that," she said and met Richard's gaze. "Can you please talk to mom?"

My grandfather looked solemn again, just as he did every time his wife was mentioned in the context of his daughter.

My grandfather had introduced me to his wife; she was kind to me, loving, and everything you could hope a grandmother to be. However, she hardly talked to my mom.

She was barely conversational with her, though still mostly polite. It wasn't like she was a mother speaking to her daughter at all.

Still, I think it was mostly out of pain. A pain that I knew my grandfather wasn't entirely immune to either; he'd just been able to come back from his breaking point one time more than his wife, I guess.

"When you get better," I noticed that he didn't phrase the statement as if it was anything but a fact, "then you two will talk. I know she will. She misses her little girl."

My mother's beautiful and green eyes grew damp, but she didn't weep this time.

"I'm going to get better, dad," she said; her voice didn't crack, but there was the lacing of a hope that she perhaps didn't fully believe within her tone. "I am."

My grandfather's own eyes closed up somewhat, displaying the same sort of emotion, and he gave his old, kind smile. "You are."

She nodded and her hand dug deep into the handle of her travel suitcase. "Okay."

"I love you, baby," she told me, before slowly turning away.

"And you, dad," she added.

Her red hair sparkled in the sunlight as she walked down the clean, stone-cut path.

The grounds of the rehabilitation facility were beautiful. They were manicured and well taken care of in every way.

It was the best my grandfather's money could buy; he'd seemingly do anything for his daughter, even give her another in a series of countless chances. I could see in his eyes a reserved hope that might never truly die, no matter how many times it might be doused.

It resonated strongly with me. I'd always wanted her to change. Could this be it? Would she finally do it?

Would she do it for us?

When she'd gotten half way to the open glass doors, her head turned.

And I ran after and into her arms.

Maybe this wasn't just a better dream, but a better world altogether.

[Possession counter increased to 70%.]

I was starting to not remember the one before, but I wasn't sure I wanted to anymore.

My grandfather led me into the car after my final farewell with my mom. The driver was there let us in.

Once settled, I watched through the tinted glass, as my mother entered the building that promised a long awaited progress. At the same time, I felt the expensive vehicle lift off of the ground and enter the air in a smooth, comfortable motion.

"Son, she's going to be okay, you know that right?" he asked me.

I looked over to him and then looked to my feet. "Yeah."

There was a pause as my grandfather no doubt thought on how to approach the situation.

"You know," he finally said in a rising, and playful, tone. "I just realized: I haven't asked you this entire time when the last time you'd been taken out to ice cream was?"

My eyes looked up and got wide. "Never."

His own gaze lit up in kindness and he couldn't seem to help but smile. "Let's go then."

Richard depressed a button to his side and the clear clicking of a speaker snapped. "John, can you take us to that ice cream parlor you told me about?"

Another clicking could be heard as the driver reached out from the separated cab. "The one I took Jenny too, yeah?"

My grandfather glanced at me, as if asking a question. "That sound like the one?"

I could only shake my head in the affirmative. "Yeah."

"That's the one, John. Thank you," he pressed the intercom down again.

"No problem, sir," the driver replied back through the speakers before the car began to detour in mid-air.

The city stretched out in endless directions and along every axis of space. Grand and flourishing, this section of it was filled with greenery and crisp air.

Still, I felt a strange dazing out of my consciousness as I observed the almost too perfect view.

Images momentarily flashed in my thoughts of a dark underbelly. In my mind's eye, it became night and I watched an adult, strong hand connect with the face of a young man--one who was obviously only a little more than High School age.

The flash of mental sight shifted as the hand that had done the punching, which appeared to be my own, pulled a young teenager from a car. A part of me thought it was odd that I clearly favored one arm over the other, but I didn't think too much on it.

"Dad, stop!" she said and pulled against me.

I turned in a rush back to the girl who I was dragging behind me. "Don't you ever do this again!"

"You hurt him!" she screamed and pulled her hand away from mine; I felt that I could've stopped her, but didn't.

"Don't pretend you care!" I snapped; the words just crashed like thunder from my hammering chest.

"He's trash. You're not, unless you keep choosing to be. This is about your own personal, fucking rebellion," I instantly felt myself regretting my temper and choice of words; I somehow knew I'd never really spoken to the girl in this way.

"I just--" she started to crack up.

"Your mother has been crying all night," I felt myself wanting to comfort her, but I just couldn't right now; my voice did lower, however, "let's go."

"Okay," her own words had become meek and had lost their fight in the face of my capacity for both violence and aggression--something she had never seen from me before and that a part of me regretted showing. "I'm sorry, dad."

I reached out my hand and took hers, even though she hesitated to be treated like a child in this way. This part of the city was far too dangerous to let her get out of my sight again.

"Son?" I was shaken back into reality by my grandfather's voice.

My eyes were still looking outside the window to the clean streets that were in such stark contrast to the ones I had practically felt and smelled just a moment ago, in whatever that vision of the girl had been.

That girl was important to me. She'd called me dad.

My head hurt.

"Are you okay?" Richard asked.

I turned towards him and suddenly the pressure in my skull eased. I realized that we weren't in the car anymore.

The parlor was colder than the spring day outside, though I knew Calypso wasn't a warm planet to begin with.

I felt that strange feeling again, of my mind missing something. It was like I was developing situational gaps here and there, but just couldn't figure out why.

[Possession counter decreased to 65%.]

"Don't let it melt, son," my grandfather encouraged me.

My hand was already on the spoon; I could feel the cold metal. The first bite was creamy and coated my far from spoiled taste buds like nirvana.

"It's so good!" I raised a childlike cheer.

"I know!" my grandfather matched my happiness.

I dropped my spoon slowly and then took another bite.

I grew a bit more quiet as a few more somber thoughts entered my mind.

"What's wrong?" Richard deflated a bit as worry covered his face.

"I wish mom were here too," I said.

Richard nodded. "I know, but we'll take her as soon as she gets back."

He sighed a little. "I know you're a smart kid, son."

He smiled a bit mischievously. "You get that from your mother and she gets it from her pops."

"But," he cleared his throat. "You know your mom needs some help right now. It's our job to be there for her."

"I know," I said, not wanting to seem too much like a selfish kid; I already really wanted him to keep thinking highly of me.

Richard looked knowing at that, like the practiced father he was.

"I know, you know!" he said encouragingly.

It made me laugh. My grandfather, much like my grandmother, was everything I ever wanted him to be. He clearly loved kids.

Suddenly, thinking back on his encouragement, it felt like my mom was going to be just fine, after all.

He chuckled to himself too. "So, let me ask you a different question?"

"Yeah?" I asked, curious as to what this man with all the answers might want to know from a kid like me.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Well, that was easy. I didn't even have to think twice. How could he not tell?

"I wanna be a soldier!”

[Possession counter increased to 80%.]

She came back.

And everything was different.

We were finally a family.

It was the kind of thing that I don't think I could've turned away from, even if I had tried. And, slowly, I began to completely forget even the remnants of the worlds before.

"Come on, Jere, we're going to be late," the eighteen-year old said.

Alex was beautiful. In any world or reality, if she existed, I knew I would find her. And, more importantly, if it took me too long, then she would find me.

Her dark brunette hair was braided perfectly in partial rows that crossed her visage like a crown. She had a tube of makeup in her hand.

I came closer to her and our lips met, before she'd get the chance to apply the lipstick. "Alright."

I was in love, I already knew that much. "Just let me slip on this stupid gown."

"It's not dumb," she commented.

I raised an arm in defeat, I was already walking away. My hand grabbed the cap and gown from the kitchen island when I passed it by.

"She's right, you know," mom said from where she texted and leaned against the cabinetry.

"I know, mom," I said and started to climb the stairs to my room.

I threw the academic regalia on my neatly tucked bed.

My room was spick-span; something my grandfather had stressed heavily as I grew up in his house. We'd eventually moved out, but the old-habit stuck.

I peeled my shirt from my body, lithe and muscled from all different kinds of sports. No scars though.

Scars? My ears started to ring. What a weird thought.

I shook my head and finished stripping down. I had a better outfit picked out to go under the robe; well, mom and Alex did, anyway.

I approached my dresser and grabbed the clean-looking shirt off of its matching pants. My eyes wandered to the many pictures that covered the top of the piece of furniture.

It was all there: me and Alex at prom, me and Blake on the field all dirty and exhausted but proud, me and mom when she'd gotten her degree--I was so proud of her for going back to school. It was my life.

The ringing grew worse.

"You really think it went this perfect, huh?" the voice instantly caught my attention.

"Blake?" I asked and shot my eyes up to the mirror that sat atop the dresser.

My eyes grew wide as they caught the side of a figure, but when I blinked it was gone.

[Possession counter decreased to 75%.]

My heart pounded and the ringing grew worse.

I put a hand on my head and made my way to my bedroom door; my shirt was only half-buttoned and I didn't have any pants on.

"Mom?" I called through the cracked door.

"Yeah, honey?" she called back, probably busy with something.

"Did Blake stop by?" I asked.

"No, honey, I don't think so!" she replied back. "Aren't you meeting him at the school?"

My eyes lingered on the ground for a minute. Yeah, I didn't think so either.

"Thanks! I'll be down in a minute," I said.

I started to close the door when a spotless and well-maintained hand crept around the wood.

"Hey, handsome," Alex said.

The ringing slowed down.

"We've got to go, soon," I said and smiled.

"Don't get any ideas," she guided me to let the door crack a little more and let her hands fall on my waist. "Not right now, anyway."

She slowly leaned in for a kiss and her voice drew quieter. "You need to hurry up."

I felt a shiver run down my spine the moment before our lips were close enough to feel.

I felt a finger touch mine right before they did.

Her eyes were playful as she pulled back.

"Lipstick," she said.

I looked incredulous, for a moment, but then glanced at the perfect looking color that sat on her mouth.

"Yeah, lipstick," I acquiesced; I felt the fire she had so easily lit in me twist and burn.

She smiled at me. So damn sexy and more than smart enough to know how to wrap me around her finger--far smarter than me.

"Let's go, handsome," she instructed. "Before Cassandra realizes I snuck up here."

She looked over her shoulder before she swayed away, knowing full well what she was doing and where my eyes were going. "I'm waiting. Hurry up."

I sighed as she descended the stairs. "Alright, beautiful."

That girl was going to be the death of me, eventually.

I walked back into my room, leaving the door just a little cracked. All good things that Alex promised aside, my eyes lingered heavily on the picture of me and Blake, before I again began to dress.

"Fucking weird," I muttered to myself.

[You've fallen under the effect of the Soothe spell.]

But sometimes things were, I guess, or maybe that was just me.

Grandpa picked us all up. He was driving today; apparently he'd left John and the black suburban back at the house.

"It's a big day for you two," he said; his hands were firmly on the wheel of the smaller, less showy car--the fact that I knew it was only one of many reduced the effect of it being a humbler vehicle, however. "Hope you're excited."

"Definitely," Alex said.

I got an elbow to the side when I didn't reply.

"Yeah, for sure," I said and then looked at my girlfriend for mercy.

"Big day," I added.

Grandpa raised an eyebrow, but I just couldn't get my mind completely off of what had happened earlier.

[Possession counter decreased to 70%.]

"Well, Alex you have all the big colleges nipping at your heels, right?" he moved the conversation on as he switched air-lanes. "You still stuck on WMAU?"

"Well, they're giving me the best benefits, and I don't really have a reason not to go," she said.

I knew that last part was aimed at me. Alex didn't exactly come from money. She'd worked hard to get to the top of the class; she was too good for me and had dragged me along to the top with her. Despite appearances, that girl could study as well as she could rock a dress--and she made me hit the books right along with her.

But I didn't want to go to WMAU. She wouldn't say anything about it. Not in front of my family, but she was sad about that. I knew she was. She wanted me to stay with her.

"You've done really well for yourself," Richard replied. "There's always an internship waiting for you over the summer at the company."

"I'd love that," Alex replied instantly. "It would look so good on my resume."

Richard chuckled. "Well, knowing you, I don't think anyone is going to end up rejecting the accolades you'll build over these next few years, but if they do I'm not above bringing out a little nepotism to get you started in your field."

Alex laughed back.

"I'll try not to need you to grease the wheels too much," she promised.

"Bah, what use is being old and knowing people if you can't use it for the young people around you?" he commented. "Gotta get something out of these cracking knees and the robo-heart."

"Stop, daddy, you've got so many years left in you," my mom interjected from the passenger seat.

"Oh, I'm too stubborn to go yet," he agreed. "Not before I get to see our boy put on the uniform."

He glanced back at me. "Though I do still wish you'd go the officer route."

"It's not for me," I said. "I don't even know what I'd want to major in yet. I just don't really want to be stuck on a ship, commanding through a stream of HUD footage."

"I guess it was different in my day," Richard gave in a little. "We captains and young lieutenants led from the front."

"I think they still do, sometimes, but it's just moving more towards small teams of enlisted guys," I replied. "I guess they figure the educated ones just don't need to be there."

"Bullshit if you ask me," he replied.

"Dad!" mom scolded him.

"My bad, honey," he said and laughed.

"I'm sorry, young lady," he apologized to Alex.

"It's fine!" Alex said and laughed. "You can say whatever you want."

"To hell he can, what would mom say?" Cassandra asked her dad.

It was sort of true; grandma refused to let people cuss in front of guests and anyone below the age of around thirty--who she considered all kids. Grandpa's wife and mom had made up a few years ago and were now closer than could be; turned out it really was just the drugs that had driven them apart.

"Well, look at that," Grandpa said and changed the subject, "we're here."

The car didn't immediately dip from the air. The lines that led to the massive school were absolutely packed.

"I don't think we're getting out of the car for a while, grandpa," I commented after glancing out of the window.

"Oh, well, too late to go back to scolding me, isn't it?" he remarked with a bit of humor.

"I guess," Cassandra commented.

"I am your father, you know?" he told her. "When did you and your mother start teaming up on me? And she's not even here."

I smiled and just listened, enjoying the sounds of the people I cared about bickering and joking, and the feeling of my hand sitting in Alex's own--as it had been for the entire ride, as it always was.

[Possession counter increased to 90%.]

"You're fucking up, Jeremiah," the same voice from before suddenly cut in.

Then I saw it: the face, but more clear and lingering this time. It was Blake's, my best friend, but it was mangled and cut up with what looked like imbedded rocks and metal.

My blood ran cold.

The face was that of a dead man and it just frowned. "Keep your eyes open, soldier."

Then it was gone again.

I felt Alex's hand tighten in mine.

"Everything okay, Jere?" she leaned in and whispered.

"I--" I hesitated. "Yeah."

I turned my head back and gave her a weak smile. "Everything's fine."

Forgetting myself I leaned in for a kiss.

She didn't put a finger on my lips this time; rather, she just leaned back away from me and glanced her eyes back to the front seat.

Where, of course, my mom was looking back at me and Richard was doing his best to look like he didn't notice.

"You two having fun back there?" she asked.

"Eh, sorry, mom," I replied.

She grunted and turned around.

I laughed a little, but my heart wasn't all the way in it.

Cassandra's hand squeezed mine again.

"Whatever it is, we'll talk later," she promised in a quieter voice. "I still want you. No matter what."

She must think this was about school and me enlisting.

How could I tell her what I'd seen? She'd think I'd lost it. Hell, I already did.

The clapping resounded. That was my girl, and her own woman all her own. Alex had nailed the speech.

We were shuffled onto the stage one after another. One diploma then the next, an assembly line of pride and first achievement.

Eighteen years for this. This was the piece of paper that acted as a fast pass onto the walks of life.

It was all kind of anticlimactic, was what I was thinking as I waited for the dean of the school to hand me my own.

Blake went before me, alphabetical line and all, but I was more than happy just to see that he was actually okay.

[You have fallen under the effects of the Soothe spell.]

A part of me was beginning to think this whole thing hallucination thing might've just been stress.

Yeah, maybe.

I wasn't all that sentimental of a person, then again, when I finally reached the front and I looked out to the crowd. Well, seeing my mom and grandpa out there was more than an emotional moment.

Something about the whole thing just made me realize that I was lucky to have them there.

[Possession counter reduced to 85%.]

Maybe in some other twisted, alternative reality they might not have been.

[Possession counter reduced to 80%.]

Damn, that was a dark thought.

I smiled and thanked the dean, before I could hold up the line.

Just like that, my moment was over and it was on to the next guy or gal's.

Still, I did some feel some satisfaction. And, mostly, I couldn't get over just being glad my family was here--even if grandma hadn't been able to make it on account of some business with the company.

I met them at the bottom of the stage. Mom was the first to embrace me, not letting herself be shown up on this day.

Alex came next and, with the ceremony and her big speech as Valedictorian over, she finally gave me that kiss I'd been waiting for, though it was little more than a peck--as to not make a scene in public.

My grandfather surprised me by pulling me into a strong, masculine embrace. He wasn't all that much of a hugger.

"I'm proud of you, son," he said. "For everything."

"Hope I'm not interrupting, pal!" Blake made himself known and swept me into an equally as rare hug.

We'd been inseparable since we were kids. I guess he was owed at least one.

He'd brought someone else along with him too though.

Dressed in the blues of the Fleet Command, he came to me and held his palm out. I took it proudly.

"I've already congratulated Blake here," he said. "I just wanted to say good job on your big day and the win last Friday night."

"Thank you, sergeant," I said; he didn't have to put on a show anymore, I'd already signed the dotted line and me and Blake both would be out of our small town before next week was over--I guess he just genuinely liked us.

But, as I stared at his square jaw, his face began to change. To warp and grow bloody.

"You're fucking up, Jeremiah. Come the fuck on, corporeal," the second, older Blake that was now beginning to take over the sergeant's face said. "Get your damn head on straight. You just gonna forget how this turns out, or you gonna let this fucking dream change that too?

"What are you--" I tried to pull back from the recruiter's hand, but I couldn't.

Blake's angry, zombified eyes just looked right into my soul. "I didn't die for you to go like this, brother. You're going to fucking remember even if it kills me again."

"Let go!" I screamed and pulled back. "Blake, what the hell is going on?"

"What? Are you okay?" the 'real' Blake said from beside me.

"Babe?" Alex asked with a raising voice of concern.

"Son, is something happening right now?" my grandfather put his hand on my shoulder.

"Honey..." my mother took a step towards me.

But my eyes remained locked on the now dead man, in the service blues, standing right in front me.

"You're better than this, Jeremiah," the different Blake said.

Some of the rage in the shredded face faded.

"I'm sorry for what I'm about to do," he apologized. "I'm really just you, so I know this is going to hurt."

His face started to double and then triple. Reality started to shatter. Time, sounds, words. None of it was right.

One minute I was in the high school auditorium and the next...

My shoulder was being dug into by a log. I could see the recruit in front of me and I shuffle-ran to avoid either slowing down or stepping on his feet.

"Come on, brother," Blake said in a familiar voice from behind me, but it was the younger and not the dead one. "Not much further."

"They haven't told us how far we're going," I said back; I had no desire to quit, but Blake also had no way of knowing the distance we were going.

"Yep," he said, "that's why it's not much further."

"They can't just kill us," someone called out from behind Blake.

"I don't know," I replied. "Kinda agreed they could when we raised our right hands."

"Not in training, asshole," Blake quipped back.

"Be too expensive," I agreed.

"When you get so cynical, boy scout?" Blake asked.

It was a good question.

Where had that come from? Something told me I should've been a lot more chipper right now. That this version of me, in my own personal timeline, was a lot happier of a person.

Wait. Timeline?

[Possession counter decreased to 40%.]

Oh, fuck, it was starting to come back to me. This was just a memory wasn't it?

"Now you're getting it, soldier," the voice behind me changed and I almost dropped the log, when I saw that Blake's face was back to being the more horrifying of the two.

"What the fuck," I said.

"We're not done yet, my man," he said. "I'm not letting this thing spin you any more tales to rope you into being all happy and drugged up in your own head. That ain't you."

"Let's go," he said, before I could reply. "It's trying to keep me from getting you where you need to be. But you're remembering now so I should be able to hack it."

Reality changed again.

"Shit went the way it did, for better or for worse," the voice echoed as the world changed.

I was back home.

Alex was screaming. Why was she screaming?

The tv played in the background. I heard it then: the news report. A planet in the outer ring had been all but wiped of life. Rebellion had broken out.

Oh, yeah, I remembered: she was mad about the war.

Before long, as the timeline shifted some more, we were holding each other close. She was sobbing into my arms.

The conversation was blurry and a little non-linear, like something was fighting to keep me from hearing it, but I got the gist eventually.

She was leaving. She couldn't just see me off to die.

I looked over her shoulder as the words sank in. There was Blake again, standing like the gaunt of a watchful revenant he was.

"Yeah, buddy, she left and we deployed to a pointless war," he said. "Sorry, I was afraid you were gonna get stuck in a newlywed fantasy next."

"But it doesn't really get much better from here," he said. "Not for a while."

Again we moved forward across my personal history.

Smoke. Fire. A shout.

I knew I wanted to scream for a medic, but he'd gone up in the blast too--I remembered that now.

I rushed to Blake. I all but threw my rifle to the side.

"It's going to be okay, pal," I said.

I realized it then. This was the Blake I had been seeing all along. The version of him that had died in my arms.

I pulled the tourniquet from my battle belt. Only to quickly realize, to my horror, that my best friend didn't really have enough of either leg left to apply it to.

His eyes were dimming.

Mine were running.

I tried to steep the bright red bleeding with my hands, but it just... wouldn't... stop.

He shuddered and it was then that I heard his last words.

"I love you, brother," he said.

He grew still.

"Blake," I said.

"Blake," I repeated.

Shells continued to land all around us.

I just continued to sob over my only real friend's chest.

The battle raged.

My heart broke.

I should've kept moving, but I couldn't will my legs to leave him.

It didn't take long for the next shell to hit and for my world to go bright.

I didn't know how much time passed before I'd woken up. I think I vaguely remembered an airlift and a med crew ferrying me into the upper atmosphere. Still not sure about that one though.

The first solid memory I had was opening my eyes to a familiar face.

"Alex," I tried to say, but it only came out as a gurgle before I started to choke violently.

Her hands found my chest. "Calm, down, baby, it's okay."

My eyes searched in panic over my body. I could see the long tube that was pushed into my throat, but the rest was covered by a grey sheet.

I met my former lover's gaze in fear and in a desperate search for an answer.

"It's okay, I promise," she said and leaned closer. "Please calm down."

I couldn't.

Toes. I felt them. Calves, they were sore--so they still worked. Knees, check. I could slightly adjust my torso, so I wasn't paralyzed there either. I didn't feel any gaping intestinal wounds.

My right arm was fine. I could feel the fingers moving.

My right arm. Of the two, I could only feel my right arm.

I felt horror overtake me and I tried to fight my way off the table.

Straps held me down. I started to make any noise I could to get Alex's attention. I was practically screaming through the tube.

"Jere, please," she begged as she stood back and away.

My heartrate was spiking. I could hear the beeping.

"Get help," I heard Alex say to someone standing behind her.

Where the fuck was Blake?

[Possession counter decreased to 20%.]

I saw the nurses enter the room.

[Possession counter decreased to 10%.]

Then it all went numb as I felt something all but violently rip me from the memory.