***ALEX***

"Well," I say, grinning lazily at Juliet. "What a workout."

She grins back, her body gleaming with sweat. "You can say that again, Alex."

"Well," I say, grinning lazily at Juliet. "What a workout."

"I don't wanna know how you did that," she says.

"Did what?"

"Repeated those words in the exact same tone and cadence." Juliet shakes her head as she hooks her bra back into place. "I swear to God, you're an alien."

I'd laugh, but I'm still trying to catch my breath. "Workout" doesn't really cover it, not when describing this heavy romp.

I sit up, feeling my wings draping limply behind me. I have a bit of trouble retracting them - Juliet scratched my back a few times, and the skin there is still tender. Call me kinky, though, but that was my favorite part.

"What's it like for you?" I ask, tugging my jeans up my legs.

"How it feels, you mean?" Kneeling in front of me, Juliet locks eyes with me. "See for yourself."

I gaze into the dark depths until I transport myself into her mind, into her thoughts. The demonic projection power, which normally activates itself so effortlessly only when I'm inflicting pain on some rotten egg who deserves it, works equally well with pleasure, it seems. She trembles all over again, sighing softly as the memory replays. Feeling what she felt proves bizarre to me - I'm seeing myself, but not from within myself. Experiencing her side of things, it's alien to my cishet male mind, but it's so wild at the same time. Next time we're, for lack of a better term, hooked up, I want to try and connect with her like this in the middle of the act.

But I'm still troubled by one thing. "It really hurt? I mean, for the first second or so?"

I pull out of her head to see her biting her lip to contain her laughter. "Have you ever had a penis inside you?"

"No."

"Well, now you know - nobody's perfect." She tosses me my shirt and puts on hers. "Relax. You've never made me feel anything but good." She reaches over to her jeans, but I grab her wrist and pull her close to me. "You're not ready for another round, are you?" she asks.

"No," I say. "I just...can I cuddle with you a little longer?"

She obliges my request, draping one leg over mine and wrapping her arms around my torso. It's a little funny, how she's wearing her shirt but not her pants, and I'm doing exactly the opposite. "Wanna make the moment last, huh?"

"I dunno," I say, kissing the top of her head as she kisses my chest. "For some reason, I like to make out after sex."

"Sounds like a silly little fetish."

"Nah, I just chalk it up to me picking the sweetest girl to lose my virginity to." I gently stroke her hair, which is still a bit slick with sweat.

"Says you." She playfully bites my nipple.

I say, in perfect deadpan mode, "Ow."

"And you say that like you lost your virginity just now," she reminds me.

I hum "Feels Like The First Time" until she stops pouting at me. Then I disentangle her arms from me so I can lay her on her front while I climb onto her back, cuddly as a teddy bear. A six-foot teddy bear whose hands find their way under her shirt, getting their chance to explore her body the way her hands did to mine in the hot tub.

I don't know how long we continue to lie there in silence, but every minute of it feels beautiful. I don't regret it, nor would I have it any other way. I believe the word you're looking for is "perfection." So much of it, in fact, we don't even need to say "I love you" afterwards. It's been said so many times over by our actions.

All right, sweet moment over. As much as I don't want to let her go, I have to. Because we have to get back inside the condo sooner rather than later. And before we do that, we have to get the rest of our clothes on.

Juliet goes out the door first, leaving a soft kiss on my lips on her way out. I take my sweet time folding my wings up and putting my shirt and hoodie on, then I follow her back inside.

Thompson's still talking to Elijah, but Elijah's not talking back. Gabe leans against the wall, pretending to snooze - the obvious fake snoring gives it away. Fionna sits around the corner from him, her head in her hands. When he senses my presence, he stretches his arms, yawns, and thinks, Congrats, guys. Both of you.

Juliet and I exchange glances. Uh...what are you talking about? she asks.

When people say "you stink of sex," Gabe says, they really mean, "you totally still have an O-face." He snickers to himself. Fionna looks up, the corners of her lips turning up for a moment, but then she turns away. Hey, don't worry, he says. I'm happy for you guys. Makes me feel like there's hope for me and my own sex life after all.

Uh...thanks, Juliet and I say simultaneously.

Don't mention it.

I grin at Gabe, as does Juliet. Man, there are times when I really wish I could live in Hell like he used to. Largely because demons in general are more accepting of others and their differences than angels (my friends notwithstanding, of course.) But in this case, it'd be easier to talk about sex with demons because, in Hell, slut-shaming (for either gender) isn't a thing like it is for some in Heaven.

And then I'm brought back to the present, to a more pressing issue for everyone. Something that's not so personal for me, and yet, it kind of is. "For the last time," Thompson says, sounding peeved, "how did you cross over to this universe?"

Stretching his legs languidly, Elijah says, "You act like I have some kind of secret entrance to the Third 'Verse you're talking about. Well, I do, but it's nothing special." He tugs his arms against the dark energy still binding him to the chair. Thank God for that. "If you've ever been into the Terminal," he says, "maybe you should try some of the other doors. They don't just connect this universe to Prime, you know."

"That's very helpful," Thompson says, "except for one infinitesimal detail. Two, actually. First, you're a hybrid - an artificial hybrid, but a hybrid and a Breaker nonetheless. Second, you've now died twice - that we know of."

Elijah blinks slowly at Thompson. "Like y'all don't have a dedicated dossier with my name on it." Thompson's about to continue, but Elijah briefly interrupts him. "You're right, though. I've died a grand total of two times. Both of which were in Prime, and yet, I've found myself in the Third 'Verse too. That's where this current body of mine originated."

Thompson cracks his knuckles, then steeples his fingers. "So...by any chance, would you have seen these people during your Third 'Verse travels?" He sticks his hand in his pocket and comes up with a pair of photos - actual printed photos, not images on a cell phone screen. (Because he's an old guy, I guess. Considering that scrivs are supposed to age hella slowly, he's probably old enough to remember when daguerreotypes were the next big thing.) One of these photos has Steve Walker in it. The other is of Marian Troy.

"I know I killed this four-eyed toad once," Elijah says, pointing to Steve's picture like he wants to rub a grubby fingerprint on his glossily printed face. "Don't recall having to do it a second time."

"You didn't," I say, stepping in against my better judgment. "Forget about Steve, though - he just died again too recently. I doubt they've had much time to get him settled in Third. But what about her?" I ask, holding out my hand for Marian's photo. Thompson hands it to me, and I thrust it into Elijah's face.

"I may be slightly nearsighted with age," Elijah says, "but not that much."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Annie come into the room from downstairs. She hangs back for a moment before clearing her throat and asking Thompson to join her for a quick word. "You can handle him for a while, yeah?" he asks me as he follows Annie downstairs.

"I...I think so."

"And if you can't," Gabe says, appearing by my side as I loom over Elijah, "we'll help you out. Hell, on our side and his, we're all balanced out on deaths."

Nonplussed, Elijah asks, "What do you mean?"

Gabe grins at him. "You've died twice - not enough times, I think - and Fionna and I died once each."

Fionna stands up and nods fiercely at him. I sense that she's deliberately not looking at me, and that if she were, she'd give me an even stronger death glare. Or, worse, a look of resigned sadness, knowing that she can't have what I just gave Juliet. Again. Whatever she's feeling, it's breaking my heart. So I channel that hurt and direct it at Elijah, pinning him to his seat with a steel grip on his wrist.

"I thought it was my job to speak of the number of times I've died like they were notches in my barrel," Elijah spits at us.

"Your only job is to one day be consigned to oblivion," Fionna says.

"Trust me," Juliet chimes in from somewhere behind me, "that day won't come soon enough."

"I know," Elijah says. "I wanna end it all too. But, for whatever reason, this goddamn multiverse just ain't built that way."

"That's God's way of saying you don't deserve to go out on your own terms," Gabe says.

I can't help but do a double take. "Who are you and what have you done with my devout atheist brother?"

"Whoever said I couldn't rediscover religion?" Gabe asks. "Crazier shit's happened."

"You mean, like the multiple 'verses of death?" Elijah asks.

"I hate to say it," Gabe mutters, "but he's right."

Elijah tries to raise his arms, and against my better judgment, I let go of him. What? It's not like he can move his arms any more than three inches, not with dark bands still holding him down. "And did all y'all ever wonder what the purpose of these 'verses is?"

I roll my eyes. "There's a purpose? I thought all that bullshit was just that - bullshit."

"Nice try," Elijah snickers. "You don't pull off the casual disregard of religion nearly as well as your brother. Maybe 'cause you're an angel?"

"So sayeth you, Daddy," I growl.

Elijah leans forward, his nostrils dilating, Voldemort-like, as his face gets close to me. "An angel...who reeks of sex."

I eyeball Gabe. I thought you said-

I wasn't kidding, Gabe thinks. He can't really smell it on you - if I can't, no one can. But he must have good Mentalist skills, and he's just expressing his findings in the most vulgar way possible.

That must be it, Fionna says. So it's true he's got no telepathy? I'll test that. She scratches her temple while staring daggers at Elijah and yelling in her head, Birkhoff the Jerkoff called - he wants his hair and beard back!

I snicker, remembering Gabe's chosen nickname for Nikita's favorite hacker. "What's so funny?" Elijah asks. "I was serious about the sex thing."

"Here's the thing," I say. "You can't say 'sex' seriously. I-It's impossible!" I cover my mouth to try and muffle my continued laughter.

"I think you'll find I can," Elijah says with all the confidence in the world. Every time he says the words, he tilts his head in a different direction, but keeps his creepily non-expressive look fixed in place. "'Sex.' 'Sex. 'Ssssssss...'" With that hiss, he finally loses it, dissolving into a fit of laughter to rival the one I've had just now. He's even pounding the arms of the chair - about the most his arms have been able to do since he was tied down. I wonder, is that dark rope cutting off his circulation or anything? And if so, who cares?

When Elijah's finally gotten the giggles out of his system, I clear my throat and say, "Back on topic. The purposes of the three 'verses - what are they?"

"You mean you don't know?" Elijah asks, looking flabbergasted. "You inherited my eyes, but not my brains? You vain little bastards."

"We've barely been here long enough to figure anything like that out," Fionna says.

"Especially me," Gabe says. "I'm a total newbie around here."

"And I'm not supposed to be here," I say.

"Neither am I," says Juliet. "And yet..."

Elijah scoffs. "You think I don't know that? You haven't had the chance to have your life brutally, viciously cut short yet."

"And we'd all prefer he avoid that," Gabe says pointedly. "Which is part of why you're being restrained. Excuse my passive voice."

Elijah leans back, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "Kids. Are you paying attention? I'm only gonna say this once. Prime - life. Second - time. Third - dreams."

"That's...totally not vague at all," I say.

"In that case, I'll just have to put it in terms y'all can understand," Elijah grumbles. "Now...do you remember the time when you dreamed of banging your girl in a San Francisco hotel room?"

Wait, he was in there? For real? "Yeah, and you barged in with your bloody Delta squad to break it up," I say, projecting as much bravado as I can. "Though I'd be more inclined to call them 'Delta Bravos.'"

It takes Elijah a second to run through the NATO alphabet joke in his head. "Haha, you're a comedy genius," he mutters. "But didn't you ever wonder why I showed up in that dream? And at least one other afterwards?"

"I tried not to think about it," I say.

"Same," says Fionna. She looks at me at last, if only for a second. In her eyes, I see her smiling.

"Hmm. Well, being in the Third 'Verse, I was able to contact a certain well-placed, scholarly source who could clarify things for me." Elijah leans to one side for a second, pointing his head towards the stairs - from the bottom of which we still hear Thompson and Annie talking in hushed tones, while Harlan's voice joins them, louder and more excited.

"Not Thompson," Juliet says. "Is it?"

"No, someone a little more deceased," Elijah says. "The woman from that picture of his. The pretty one with the shortish hair. I'd like to say she was my type, but I believe she still carried a torch for the man she left behind in this here 'verse."

"You mean Marian?" I ask.

Elijah snaps his fingers. "That's her name. Marian Troy. Ever since she died, she's been learning some of the mysteries of the multiverse. Including a little phenomenon that's, officially, only known in the Third." He blows a stray lock of hair out of his face - it's been getting in his eye for a while, but he can't just brush it away with his hands. "They call it 'soul sharing,' and it's only been known to happen when someone witnesses the death of another, someone with whom they shared some level of personal connection. They share each other's dreams."

"Sounds like a whole bunch of New Age..." My voice trails off. Not only because I realize I sound like Luca, who used that same term to describe his initial reaction to the idea of souls crossing over to the Second 'Verse. But also because, as much as I hate to say it, Elijah's on to something. He did show up in at least two dreams I shared with Fionna. And I saw him die too...oh God.

"Believe me," says Elijah, "I wouldn't have wanted to share dream space with you. Granted, you have creative dreams - I envy your ability to subconsciously control the weather. But I was raised to live in the real world and to place no importance on silly nighttime fantasies."

I narrow my eyes. "That explains a lot."

"And you, on the other hand, were raised to believe in your dreams, weren't you?" Elijah continues.

"What's wrong with that?" Gabe asks. "Besides you not being so lucky as a kid."

"It means you're never gonna be adequately prepared to live in this world," Elijah growls. "By which I mean Prime, of course. Not this one. Maybe if you were to die-"

"God forbid," Fionna butts in.

"Maybe if you were to die," Elijah repeats, "you'd have plenty of time in Second to learn how to adult." He stresses the first syllable, the way I've only ever heard the word being said by actual adults. Especially British ones, or the more famous Alex than me who hosts my favorite game show. "That's what the kids say nowadays, right?"

Barely willing to admit to myself that I'm remotely intrigued, I ask, "What are you talking about? Being dead doesn't make you live forever."

"Forever? No. But scrivs aren't the only ones who live longer than they should. Everyone who belongs in this 'verse does." He points to Gabe and Fionna, respectively. "So, you two are gonna find yourselves perpetually seventeen for a while, physically and mentally speaking."

"I'm not seventeen till next month," Fionna points out.

"Close enough," Elijah says. "I'll give you two...gee, I dunno, maybe ten years before you can pass for eighteen? Fifteen till you won't get carded at the bar. It's so strange that even with the slower aging, the drinking age around here is still twenty-one."

I use one of his favorite tactics against him - scoffing. "Right. The Second 'Verse affords all its denizens a post-mortem fountain of youth."

"I don't buy this," Gabe says. "You were in the Second 'Verse for almost twenty years, and you sure as hell look your age." He pauses, scratching his head. "Wait...what's your age again?"

"I died the first time at twenty-nine," Elijah says, "and that was way back in '03, so officially, I'm forty-seven. I should still look thirty-six at most, I'd think - those are my random calculations running through my head." He chuckles darkly. "You ask me, the reason I didn't age so well is 'cause Alpha's advanced bio class stripped me of my good genes - along with my blood and sperm, but those are renewable resources." He glances around shiftily. "I think. I'm sure about the former, but as for the latter, I've had neither reason nor opportunity to put it to the test."

"You sure the real reason why you're aging has nothing to do with the fact that you've killed..." I run through the numbers in my head. "Four people?"

"Eight," Elijah corrects me. "I spent seventeen years eating to live, stealing to eat, and occasionally killing to steal in Second before coming back here to exact my revenge."

"Whatever," Juliet says.

"Yeah," Fionna chimes in. "Just lead us to your Horcruxes and we're good to go."

"What the hell is a...never mind." Elijah shakes his head. "It's even more disgusting than it sounds, I bet."

Well, it's only understandable that he's been out of touch with pop culture beyond the grimdark days of the Nineties. Being dead isn't much of an excuse, but being turned into a straight-up villain version of Deadpool kind of is.

I take Fionna aside for a telepathic sidebar. I think I might have learned that term from the season and a half of The Good Wife Gabe and I watched with Mom before we got bored with it. You saw him in our dreams too, right?

Once, yeah, she says. You said there was a second time? Don't tell me - that was the one where you flew your Mustang over the bridge and crashed it?

Behind us, Elijah laughs for a couple of seconds. See what I mean by creative dreaming? Hate to admit it, boy, but I've been meaning to tell you since then...you've got big brass ones. Hint, hint: y'all should take that as a compliment.

Juliet's eyes widen as she listens to us all.

Gabe looks between me and Elijah, his mouth open. I-I thought you couldn't-

Things changed when I died the second time, Elijah thinks. I finally got one of my lost powers back. He switches back to speaking out loud. "Call me crazy, but I do believe that's a sign I'm getting closer to my much-needed redemption."

"You're right about one thing," Gabe says. "We're calling you crazy."

"As you very well should," Elijah says, "'cause, unfortunately, it's true. But you'll see how right I am when you two realize you're not gonna stop dreaming of each other."

"How would you know?" Fionna asks. "You didn't gain the ability to look into the future, did you?"

"No," Elijah says. "Just what Marian told me. She said that the only way to break a soul-share pair is for the one who witnessed the death to quote-unquote 'let go' of the dead one." He cocks his head at me. "And you've not been following the little brain in your cock and balls and fucking the zombie girl's brains out lately, have you, boy? Something tells me if you work off your tension, it'll help break your little soul share."

I can't even look at Fionna. Or Juliet. Or anyone, really. I don't even want to look at Elijah, but I force myself to do so. "Why don't you stay out of my sex life? Dad."

"Did you get anything out of him?" Thompson asks, coming back upstairs.

Gabe shrugs. "Something about dreams and time and dreamtime. It made no sense to us."

Elijah glares at him. You lying, slippery snake. Why try to bluff him?

It's called a joke, Gabe retorts. You should try it sometime.

Annie rejoins us as well and says, "Well, we made contact with my mom. She's on her way here now, and she's been wanting to talk to this guy for a while."

"Don't tell me," Elijah mutters. "She still wants to have me deliver some kind of keynote speech to the UN?"

"Not so much the UN as the president," Thompson says. "Together, you'll prove to him that there's a way into the Third 'Verse for him and all his friends."

"Oh, and I suppose y'all want my help to trap them there?" Elijah snorts. "Remind me, why should I care again?"

"What do you mean, 'trap them?'" I ask, my curiosity piqued once more.

Elijah laughs his head off again. "Oh yeah, you kids don't know how it works yet, 'cause I never told you...there's a reason why the Third 'Verse is all about dreams." He pulls his knees up to his chest in a rough approximation of the fetal position. "You know how they say your Second 'Verse bodies are kept in tanks until your Prime bodies die? In the Third, you're kept in the tank the whole time, and everything you see is an elaborate dream-world projection of sorts." He glances over to the TV for a second. "Escape isn't easy, but it's possible, as y'all can plainly see. And Marian and I were far from the first to get out of Third. I believe someone else escaped sometime not so long before my first death and served as a consultant on a big blockbuster movie that was all the rage for a while at the turn of the century."

"The Matrix," I breathe. "You're saying the Third 'Verse is-"

"Give the boy a cookie," Elijah says, turning his palm up and gesturing to me. "I saw the movie once. Just once, but it has a way of sticking with you. Sure, they got a few details wrong. Checking out of the program ain't quite so easy as taking a red pill - they did that in the movie for purely symbolic reasons. But..." His voice trails off. "Now, when can I get out of this damn chair? My ass has fallen asleep, and I need to see a man about a dog."

Thompson turns to Annie, who nods once, then undoes Elijah's dark bindings and helps him to his feet. He refuses to let her escort him downstairs to the bathroom, nor does he need it - a few minutes later, he's back here with us, clearly in no mood to escape.

"There's no good way to break away," Elijah says, tilting his head at me. "Where would I go? What would I do? Right now, the best I can do is put Holly away, lest I just get bored."

"Three minutes on the shitter helped you come up with that?" Fionna asks.

"They say it worked wonders for Martin Luther and his Ninety-Five Theses," Elijah says. "As a demon, I bet you wouldn't know about that."

Downstairs, there's a knock on the door. "I'll get it!" Harlan calls up. Annie races down to meet him, and I walk over to the top of the stairs, peering down so I can see what happens.

They open the door, revealing Marian on the step outside. Their only response is to start crying, both hugging her at once. She holds her kids close, stroking their hair. "I missed you too," she whispers.

See, Elijah? I think. This is what I'm fighting for. Not 'cause I've got nothing to do, but 'cause I've got something everyone needs and deserves - family.

Don't try and make me change my mind, Elijah thinks, gnashing his teeth.