He was standing in a seedy tavern, and for a moment he could almost feel the stale smoke wafting through the air and clinging to his skin.  Bright red and blue lights, in bars lined around the top of the walls, cast a sickening fake glow on everything… the pool tables, the jukebox, the skin of everyone in the room… he could barely make out their shapes, and for some reason he knew he should be looking for someone.  Instinctively he strained his ears to listen.  Above the dull buzz of the crowd and the tinny redneck music, he heard a plaintive voice.

     “Daddy…”

     A voice so warm and familiar to his heart, but yet foreign to his ears… he turned and almost tripped over a huge purple teddy bear that stood nearly to his knees.  As he picked it up, he noticed another toy, than another… a whole trail of them leading down a dismal, narrow hallway.  He followed it for what seemed like miles, taking unreasonable turns and offshoots, wandering up inclines and climbing rickety ladders that led to doors that wouldn’t open or down to gaping chasms of bottomless holes, all the while that voice surrounding him and flooding his senses.  Finally he reached a cramped, smelly room with a low ceiling and threadbare carpet… a thatch of unruly blonde curls stood out among the clutter and mess.  A pair of round, gleaming blue eyes met his, and he knew her right away.

     “Baby…”, he whispered, not knowing what else to call her.  He wanted to say more, but he was startled by the other people in the room, who seemed to come from nowhere.  Some of the faces he barely recognized – guys who had worked with him before, years ago – but of course he recognized his own brother among them, although now he looked younger.  He realized at that moment that he felt a bit different himself, and wondered if he was younger too, and for some reason the whole idea of it didn’t surprise or confuse him at all.

     “Cas!  You made it!”, his brother said, and it was then that he saw him, really saw him, and noticed that his waist, arms and feet were bound to a chair with bungee cords.  His face was serene, cool, but the nervous beads of sweat on his forehead and cheeks betrayed him.

     “What the ****… what’re you doing here?”, he heard himself say, looking wildly around, but in fact his head was still… it was the room that was spinning in front of him, and for a moment his feet seemed to leave the ground.  His little girl, curled up in the corner, stared through him and silently begged for acknowledgement.  As the room settled down, he saw that her arms and legs were also confined. 

     “Daddy… what’s that bright thing?  Why is it moving?”.

     A hot flash rushed past his toes, but he didn’t jump.  Another one, hissing and spitting like a furious cobra, lurched in the opposite direction… two lit fuses, running at the same time.  His eyes adjusted to the darkness and focused on the wires… bombs!  They’re strapped with ****ing bombs!  The other men watched passively as each spark traveled along its path… one towards Pollux, the other towards his little girl.  He tried to scream for help, scream for one of them to wake up and save the day, but not one of them even seemed to notice what was happening.

     "Cas… be a man.  Be the big hero…”, his brother whispered, gazing steadily at him from behind smudged glasses.  On the other end of the room, his daughter, the child whom he knew in a blinding flash of recognition was also the daughter of his Sinclaire, was now hiding her face in her arms, sobbing in fear.   He tried to stamp out both at once, but he couldn’t reach either one… his arms were glued to his sides and his feet felt like lead.  He just wasn’t quick enough.  He showed up a moment too late.  No… NO!!!  His arms finally found life and swung forward, scrambling for the spark that lurched towards his little girl, and in a brief moment of odd lucidity, he noticed how the golden strands of her hair reflected glints of the spark’s light.  I can save her… I can… Pollux will understand… As he reached out to snuff the spark with his bare hands, he heard his brother’s terrified scream behind him, cut short by a muffled explosion and a warm wetness splattered on his neck and hair.

     “Hey… HEY!  Calm down… chill… chill…”.   He’s still alive..

     Castor’s eyes were open, but he was staring through his brother, unable to focus.  For several seconds his heart raced so violently that he wanted to vomit.  The sensation of Pollux’s hands gripping his shoulders grounded him, and he began to breathe more steadily.  Realizing it was all a dream, he impulsively laughed… softly at first until his lungs gained strength, then loud and strong, as if to prove to himself that he was back in touch with reality.

     “I was dreaming… I fell asleep.  Can you believe that ****?  After all that went down… I fell asleep.”.

     His brother said nothing, but stared at him with wide eyes, a little afraid.  “You were having one hell of a nightmare… do I wanna know what it was about?”.

     “Bro… I saved your life, right?  That night, in the bar?  I saved you, right?”.

     His younger brother looked down sheepishly, a lopsided smile playing across his face that was at odds with the tense, rising anxiety in his voice.  “Yeah… I wouldn’t be here otherwise, but I don’t like to talk about it… you know that, Cas.  You promised we wouldn’t talk about it.”.

     “I just… yeah, I know… I’m sorry… yeah, we won’t talk about it.”.

     They were still in the helicopter, and the rest of the flight was spent in silent reflection, save for the erratic clacking of his brother’s fingers on a laptop keyboard.  Castor leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, but this time he wouldn’t drift off.  It wasn’t until his fingers began to grow numb that he realized his arms were still wrapped tightly across his chest, and he rubbed them absentmindedly as he stared out the window.  As he allowed his mind to wrap around the possible scenarios that were unraveling back in Dublin, he had a sudden recollection that nearly threw him out of his seat.

     “The bracelet!”.  He twisted around to face his brother, who was absorbed in his work.  “You made the bracelet the way I told you to… with the microphone?”.

     Without looking up from the laptop, he grinned.  “The one from the wine charm?  Of course.”.

     “Was she wearing it?”.

     “Looking into it.”, he muttered.  After a moment, he spoke up.  “You know, it’s a little spooky how we think along the same wavelength, don’t you think?”.

     Castor said nothing, but stared out the window again.  He tried to imagine every last detail of her… the smell of her skin, her ****y spirited eyes, her soft hands… would she have worn the bracelet?  He tried to recall if he saw it on her when they left her behind, but when he closed his eyes all he could see was her limp, bleeding arm.  The memory made his stomach churn with pain and guilt all over again.

     “I have a signal.”.  Castor turned to see his brother’s face aglow from the greenish display of the laptop.  He was completely absorbed and didn’t notice the emotion in his eyes.  “Hard to say if it’s her… or if it’s one of those goons who came after her.  But somebody back there has the bracelet.”.

     “You can track the signal?”.

     “I can’t hear anything, but we have a connection.  We should be able to trace it.”.  After a few seconds, he looked up from the screen, his face emotionless.  “They’re going to take her to a hospital.  You know that, don’t you?”.

     Castor nodded, covering his mouth subconsciously… the rage was boiling in him again.  It seldom happened, but when it did, he recognized it at the first pulse and sought in vain to control it.  “We have to go back… we find someplace to light and wait it out.  They aren’t going to take her far… they can’t.”.  Pollux was silent.  He knew his brother intended for the return to be the final chapter.  He wouldn’t leave again without tying up loose ends.  Without another word, Castor flipped open his phone and began dialing.  As  he carried on his conversation, faint melodic tapping surrounded the helicopter… slow and hesitant at first, then gaining strength.  Chunks of white flew past the windows and were reflected in the side lights of the chassis… a hailstorm.  The pilot, who had kept to himself during the whole flight, glanced over his shoulder at both of them.

     “We have to land.  This is gonna get worse.”.