Fyn awoke under the sterile lights of a hospital room. His leg still hurt a bit, but aside from that he felt okay – at least physically. A lashran healing trance was a convenient thing, but it didn't help with matters concerning heart and soul.

The lifebearer took a deep breath as he stared up at the ceiling.

Sylair Holden was dead.

Fyn tried not to think about this, but he couldn't stop the memories. It was partly his fault that the lifebearer had died, he knew that. But that wasn't the worst thing. What really horrified him was the strange understanding he had for all the horrible things Sylair had done. They had had a lot in common – much more than he would have liked. All that desperate fighting of a keen mind to be respected, to be accepted for what he was... maybe Sylair had been insane from the beginning, but maybe his endeavor had driven him over the edge.

Fyn could be some day where Sylair had been. Maybe not tomorrow or next year, but in ten or a hundred years...

A knock on the door pulled the journalist out of his dark thoughts. It was a female doctor with a gentle face. Her tag read "Dr. Allen".

"How are you feeling, Mr. Sheldon?" the doctor asked as she checked the wound on his leg. "We'd like to keep you here for another day, but you seem to be healing very well. We just want to make sure there were no old scar tissues disrupted that could trouble you later."

"I'm feeling okay," Fyn answered. "But I'd like to know about Mr. Solir. Is he awake yet? And what about the man I shot? And the baby?"

Dr. Allen smiled. "Actually, they are all fine. Mr. Solir regained consciousness two hours ago, but he isn't allowed to get up yet. Mr. Vale Gordon survived surgery and fell into a healing trance. He's under heavy guard from the Alliance. And tiny as she might be, the baby is actually the healthiest. She's downstairs in our children's ward for the moment."

Fyn sighed in relief. "That's wonderful news. I guess the Alliance wants to talk to me as soon as possible?"

"Agent Warren and Agent Talbot are down the hall, talking with your family. If you promise to stay put, I'll send them in."

"I promise. But my family first. The agents can wait." Fyn propped himself up on his cushions. "Oh, and Doctor, there is something else: could you do another check-up on me while I'm here? I might have Lyzerol-C poisoning, and I want to be sure about any... permanent consequences."

Dr. Allen's friendly face went serious. "I'll tell my colleagues from the lifebearer health department. Don't worry, Mr. Sheldon, we'll get things cleared up for you. I'll send your visitors in now."

A few moments later, Sheldon, Cerise, Kalish, and Othric came in. Cerise and Kalish practically jumped on the bed to hug Fyn and wouldn't be moved under any circumstances. Although Sheldon and Othric both chose a more reserved small hug and kiss on the cheek, it was clear that they had been equally worried.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing Fyn said, addressing all of them. "I didn't want you to worry, and I didn't want you to be put in danger because of me. All I thought about was getting what I wanted, namely catching the one responsible for the whole thing." Then he looked up at Othric. "And I'm so sorry about Sylair. I should have found another way."

The sire shook his head. "It was self-defense, Fyn, and only the gods know what Sylair would have done if you hadn't stopped him. I hope he's at peace now."

"Please don't blame yourself, sweetheart," Cerise said, stroking his son's hair. "You saved us all from that madman and his hired killer."

The others nodded in agreement.

Fyn chose not to argue; he had to work that out on his own. "But there's still the baby," he changed the topic. "Othric, I think you and I are next of kin and responsible for her."

His sire nodded. "It seems so. Any ideas? We could find foster parents for her. There are a lot of childless lashran couples wishing for a baby."

"Don't you and Kalish want to raise her?" the journalist asked.

His best friend looked a bit uncomfortable. "Don't take this the wrong way, Fynnie, but Rick and I didn't want to settle down and start a family right away. I'm not feeling up to the responsibility of raising a child just yet."

"He's right." Othric sighed. "And I'm not sure how to feel about this child. Nobody can choose his/her own parents, but I'm afraid I'd try to make up to her everything I failed to do for Sylair. And that wouldn't be healthy."

"Well, I understand," Fyn answered, making a decision. He had no idea where it came from, but it seemed to be right thing to do. "I'll take her."

Everyone in the room looked at him in consternation.

"Fyn, are you sure? That's a huge responsibility," Sheldon reminded him. "And what about your boyfriend? I mean, even your father and I haven't met him yet, and you want to confront him with a child just after a few weeks?"

The lifebearer nodded. "Let Eondar be my problem. But I'm sure he'll be happy. You see, he lost a child before it had even been born, and he has two little nephews, so he knows how to handle little kids. I admit freely that I have no idea, but Sylair practically passed her down to me. I guess, in the end he wanted to make up to me what he had done."

"Sheldon, dear, I guess we are grandparents now," Cerise finally said, hugging his son again. "Fyn, I'm so proud of you. And we'll help you anytime, you hear me? So, what's our granddaughter's name?"

Fyn laughed. "She doesn't have one yet, dad. But what do you think of 'Anessa'?"

"That would be perfect!" Cerise beamed at him with a glint of tears in his eyes. Anessa had been the name of his mother. Fyn had never met her since she had died a long time ago, but Cerise had always told him what a wonderful woman, warm-hearted and strong-willed, she had been. It seemed to be the perfect name to welcome the baby into the family for good.

Finally, Fyn decided to grant the agents an audience as well. Cerise and Sheldon decided to go and meet Anessa, and Othric promised to take care of the paperwork. Since the little girl wasn't registered officially yet, it would be fairly easy to put Fyn's name on the birth certificate. That way, the girl would never know about her true father, just as Sylair had wanted.

Some things, Fyn had learned the hard way during the last few weeks, were better left in secret. The truth wasn't worth everything.

Celia and Talbot entered the hospital room a few moments later. The girl smiled in a way that could only be described as smug, and the man looked as grim as always, but somehow chagrined.

"So, what happens now?" Fyn asked. "Am I under arrest as well?"

"What? No, of course not," Talbot replied quickly. "We want to have your detailed record of the things that happened since you left the hospital the day before yesterday. And... we, that is, I want to apologize."

The lifebearer raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. Some severe mistakes happened in our agency. The agents who were supposed to watch you weren't at their posts, and I'll have their heads for this. And... I'm going to resign as well. Miss Warren will be taking over my position as Executive Officer for missions like these." Talbot cleared his throat. "I've wanted to take my leave for some time now, and I guess I've missed the opportunity. I'm still holding to my word, however: what you did wasn't your job, and it was insanely dangerous. But if we had given you the feeling that you could trust us, all of this wouldn't have happened."

"Seems like we agree for once," the lifebearer answered dryly. As angry as he had been with the man earlier, now it seemed almost silly. Having a knife held to your throat definitely shifted priorities.

Slowly and with his usual memory for details, Fyn started to tell Celia and Talbot about the things that had happened. Celia taped everything on her recorder and finally made some notes into her e-notepad.

"And there's another thing: I want to write an article about this," Fyn said. "Will I encounter any problems? I don't intend to make the Alliance look bad, and I'll certainly not be sharing some details, but at least a bit of the truth has to be made public. It's my job after all."

Celia smiled. "No problems – but I'd like to be the first one to read your article. I'm gonna miss the job at the "Times" a great deal."

"If you ever want to come back, just say the word." Fyn answered with a smile of his own.

To be continued...