Dungeons and Dragons Cartoon Stories: Phases series: Full Circle: Waxing Crescent

Rating: PG-13: Language, Violence, and other sensitive topics
Setting: Earth 1991

Characters & Ages: For now, let's say several… with many of the Young Ones being introduced in this chapter.

Summary: Eight years after returning from the Realm, the kids have a reunion beyond their dreams… or nightmares.

Spoiler: Basically, random episodes from the Animated D&D series, as well as the un-aired "Requiem" episode by Michael Reeves. Die-hard fans may not approve of what I do with Uni in this series, and for that I am sorry.

Disclaimer: Dungeons and Dragons is a trademark of TSR and the cartoon is a creation of many peoples, including Marvel Productions, TSR inc., Saban Entertainment, and Wizards of the Coast. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story any of them would have written had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Note: I'd like to avidly thank Merriana, who not only expressed remorse that the story didn't begin with Eric, but was adamant that certain couples should never be put together… yet was still willing to Beta it for me. Thank you, Marianna.

All my life's a circle
Sunrise and sundown
The moon flows through the nighttime
Till the daybreak comes around
All my life's a circle
But I can't tell you why
The seasons spinning round and round
The years keep rolling by

Where does the time fly? He shook his head and hung up the cell phone, smiling at a bittersweet memory. Continuing towards the sliding doors, the twenty-four year old ran a hand through longish blond hair and tried to mentally sort through his schedule.

A honking horn cut Hank off in the middle of his figuring. With a sigh, the man picked up the suitcase and headed for the loading area. As he slid into the car, he suddenly realized he'd forgotten to pick something up. With a sheepish grin, he held up a hand and flung himself from the car. "I forgot something, give me a sec?"

And before his companion could protest, the man was hurrying back towards the building. He reached the secured luggage area, however, he'd been in such a rush he'd forgotten his I.D. A suspicious guard called for backup and Hank groaned, knowing he was going to be late. God, how he hated airports.

With a frown, the driver of the car stepped out and headed to the security office. He merely glared at his partner, reminding himself that the man was on a very tight schedule with very little sleep. It didn't help. Hank had been making mistakes during this assignment and Dave wanted to know why... once and for all.

"Yo, Baker. What has got you spaced, man? I've never seen you so sloppy, in the field or out."

As backup arrived for the guard, Hank lay his head on the door, trying to pull himself together. Dave was right; he was a mess... and all because of the phone call he'd gotten last week. Straightening as he heard his partner talking to the guards, the blond shook his head and sighed once more. He needed a vacation... badly.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, just adding credence to Dave's complaints about his faulty reactions. He hadn't even heard the guy approaching. Hank turned his head to look at his friend and gave him a weak smile.

"What gives, Baker? You've been jumpy as a coon at a barbecue since you got that weird call on the flight out. You... Hey, is your wife sick?" Dave frowned and hit him in the arm, hard. "You shoulda told me, man! Guy with a sick wife can't concentrate on the job." His voice sounded angrier than his words.

Dave was right. He'd endangered his partner by not backing off when he'd gotten the call; he would put in for vacation as soon as he got back to the precinct. He couldn't see why he hadn't before... except this convention had unexpectedly been bumped up... except his wife had encouraged him to go and enjoy the Florida sunshine... except he'd needed time to sort out his thoughts before they made that final, irrevocable step towards a family.

The dark haired officer watched the play of emotions race across his partner's face. He'd hit it very close, if not dead on. There were family problems and Hank, ever mindful of his duty, hadn't said a word. Well, Dave wasn't going to let this string out any further. The man would get them all killed with his damned sense of duty.

"Go home. Take a vacation. I can work with that rookie a couple of weeks, no sweat."

Hank nodded, surprising his partner, who'd expected more of an argument. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I've been distracted. I... I could get someone seriously hurt this way."

There was that sense of duty again. Solemnly, Dave nodded, but his face broke into a slight smile for his long-time friend. "Hey, you didn't, though. The kid's alive and safe back with his dad. Case solved; another success for Lashley and Baker."

Instinctively, Hank corrected him, "Baker and Lashley." It was an old joke between the two investigators. Neither was a private-practice man yet, but, having been assigned almost exclusively to abductions, they were one step closer. They'd been lucky this last case was a simple Parental Abduction demonstration for a Law Enforcement convention, though, or a lot of problems could have been caused by Hank's preoccupation.

With a sigh, Hank accepted his wallet, which Dave belatedly offered, and filled out the paperwork, which the guard sullenly offered. He heard Dave's impatient sigh from the doorway as he finally received the hand-tooled leather case. It was half his size or more, long and not quite bulky, but not slim and easy to wield either. Turning, he noted the curiosity in his partner's eyes and sighed. "It's a bow." He didn't often tell anyone just what he carried with him; and those he did tell thought it was some weird sport fetish. They joked that while most people were on the golf range, Henry 'Hank' Baker was out playing Robin Hood.

Dave finally grinned and shrugged. He hadn't seen that case in awhile and had forgotten that his partner was an archery fan. "Well, Officer Hood, let's grab us a set of wheels and boogie on home." He slapped Hank on the back, ignoring the grimace at the teasing, and guided the man outside and into the still idling ford. It was fortunate they hadn't been ticketed or towed for leaving it there.

As they pulled out of the airport drive, the brunette glanced at the worried blond. "By the way, mind if I ask what's wrong with the wife? You said she was sick, right? Been a week, then, right?"

Hank sighed and shrugged one shoulder, trying to piece together his thoughts. "Sort of. She's not sick, but a friend of ours is having problems." He turned, and the other man quickly matched the serious look in his eyes. "A friend was raped almost six months ago and is pregnant. She's putting the baby up for adoption, and we were discussing adopting it, since we haven't been able to have our own children yet. But last week we started having second thoughts when asked to sign the paperwork."

The officer's eyes opened wide and he whistled low. "Man, can't be easy... poor woman. No wonder you're so out of it, man. And a baby is a big step... even for a friend. Think you'll actually go through with it, Baker?"

It clicked suddenly. Like the proverbial light bulb, the decision fell into place. In a rush, the anxiety left him; Hank felt more in control than he had for a week. "Yeah. We're going to go through with it." He grinned knowing it was the right thing for everyone.

With a nod, the dark-haired officer smiled widely, sensing his friend's relief. "Well, goody for you, man. Your friend'll be relieved. And I know the wifey-poo'll be ecstatic... you've been wanting kids forever." Dave pulled up to the curb to let Hank out of the car, leaning over to call, "Hey, congratulations, man... tell your wife I said so. And give my love to Diana, too."

"Uh huh..." Leaning her backside into the doorframe behind her, balancing on one foot as she repeatedly flexed and relaxed the other, Diana resembled a teenager more than an adult woman. True, her curves were all woman, and her style of dress was normally mature beyond her twenty-three years, but something about the pretty dark-skinned woman bespoke youth and vitality.

With a smile, Diana heard the front door open and nodded though the person on the other side of the phone conversation couldn't possibly see her. She listened for Hank's footsteps, the pain of missing him for a week slowly fading as he came closer. The woman wasn't even self-conscious that she was wearing her oldest sweat suit or that she had bare feet, despite how frumpy it seemed. She was too involved in anticipating her husband's arrival.

A strong arm circling about her waist made the woman sigh. She turned so her back leant against the man rather than the doorframe. Cheerily, enjoying the feel of him nuzzling her neck, Diana bid her friend goodbye and hung up the phone. Putting it on the counter, she turned and slid her arms around Hank's neck. "Hello, lover."

Hank murmured something into her neck, making her flesh tingle. Then, after bestowing a tiny kiss there, the blond man stepped back, smiling. His eyes were tired, his uniform rumpled, and he was the most beautiful sight she could think of. "Hi, love."

Happily, Diana ran a hand down his strong chest, flipping buttons open on the uniform. She met his tired laughter with a smile, but drew her hand away, knowing he'd want to relax before doing anything strenuous, even if it was making love to his wife. Instead, she reached for the phone to move it to its base.

"How was the demonstration, Hank? Catch the jerk?" Diana knew he didn't prefer to talk about his cases off working hours, but that never stopped him from at least telling her if they were solved or not, especially if it was a demonstration case. She moved to get him a soda from the fridge.

With a nod, the blond headed further into the kitchen and settled against the counter, accepting the offering. "Yeah. We caught her. The boy is safe and back home. How was your week?"

"Sheer glorious hell." Diana laughed and headed for the table, leaning over it to clear up the remnants of her memory book project. Shifting papers quickly into piles, she looked over at her husband. "The kids were whiny, the Betterman's dog grumpy, and the adults were sheer torment. But, the scrapbook is coming along."

The woman worked at a local gymnasium; she was a physical trainer for handicapped children. Occasionally she got an assistance dog or some other such therapy-pet in with her humans. It was demanding work but she loved it immensely.

The scrapbook was her release, aside from her normal exercise routines. She was putting together all information and pictures she could find about The Six, as they'd taken to calling themselves. She called it The Roller Coaster of Life, though most people outside of their group would never know the true reason for the name. Eventually, she hoped to present a finished copy to each of the group.

Hank smiled in sympathy. "How much more did you get done?" He pushed from the counter to look over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her progress.

"Half a year." Diana smiled. "It's not easy trying to find every scrap of information ever published you know. Especially with you getting citations of excellence and the others getting their own names plastered in random, sometimes obscure, magazines." She pulled out the draft book, still tucking away the loose bits, and handed it to him for review.

Watching the man glancing through her work, Diana couldn't believe just how things had turned out. Eight years ago, she'd never have believed she'd have a marriage, a coaching job, and a two-story house without a mortgage in only eight short years. The fact that her marriage was controversial didn't bother her, even if her parents privately had told her they only accepted her white husband for her sake. She loved Hank too much to give him up for anyone else's opinions, even her parents'.

What made everything so odd was the fact that it was Hank who was her husband. In the Realm, if confronted with the news she'd marry someone in her second year of college, she'd have guessed it'd be someone she hadn't yet met. She'd have sworn up and down that Hank would get together with Sheila. But things hadn't quite worked out that way, after all.

When the group had returned from the Realm, Sheila and Hank remained friends. They had dated a bit, but Hank had clearly not fallen in love with the petite redhead the way she'd fallen for him. They'd seemed to grow further apart over the first two years. When he graduated, the two had finally called it quits. Somehow, though, Hank had always found time to hang out with Diana... and that friendship had slowly grown over the months until, four years ago, they'd gotten married. Sheila had been Maid-of-Honor and had seemed genuinely glad for her friends, though Diana still wondered if her best friend hid a broken heart behind her welcoming smiles and soft laughter.

Drawing out of her thoughts, Diana accepted the printed pages back from Hank. "So? What do you think? I managed to get Sheila to confide about some article on Bobby he didn't want seen and had to rearrange the entire year to fit it in."

Hank nodded and slid his arm around her again, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It looks wonderful. Organizing it by year instead of by person really makes it seem like a family book, rather than a who's who book." He kissed her neck then backed away to finish his drink. Hank wasn't an overly demonstrative person, but Diana knew he loved her dearly and would respond to any overtures.

"Oh, did Sheila get a hold of you? She was calling everyone about a possible get-together. I offered Mom's camp for the two weeks."

Diana brushed past her husband with a smile as he confirmed that the call had arrived while he'd been in the airport. She had to stop herself from crowing when he went on to claim he was taking a sabbatical from the force and joining them. It was about time he took a break; he'd been a wreck off and on since the rape. That reminded her...

"Hey, Hank?" She glanced back into the kitchen, wondering at her sudden nervousness and correctly putting it down to anxiety over her question. "Did... did you get to think about it?"

He nodded and stepped forward, running a hand through his hair in his habitual sign of heightened emotion. "Yeah. I... I want to go through with it, Diana. I want to adopt Sheila's baby... Have... have you thought about it?" the last had been added as a hesitant after-thought, as if Hank were afraid he was pressuring Diana into something.

For an answer, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him soundly, letting her fingers finish what they'd started earlier.

With a gentle smile, Sheila hung up the phone. She had recognized her best friend's ending distraction; Hank must have gotten home. The petite redhead couldn't help the surge of happiness she felt for Diana.

True, Hank had been her first love, just as he'd been Diana's final one. When they'd first returned from the Realm, everything had been emotionally confusing, once more going back to three years younger but with all the wisdom and knowledge of their time in that place intact. Sheila had been so confused and overwhelmed that she'd distanced herself instantly from Hank, trying to fit in to what seemed to be expected of her by those who hadn't been there. When she'd finally figured things out it was too late; Hank had grown further away from her, closer to Diana. In the end, at the wedding, Sheila had come to the realization that she wasn't heartbroken. Her love had stemmed from reliance and hero-worship, and it had settled into deep friendship... but nothing more.

Shaking herself, Sheila flipped through the address book before her. She glanced over crossed and re-crossed entries of addresses and phone numbers, which had continually changed over the last five months. Finally, she found the first clear one and sighed, a soft, almost eager, smile once again lighting her face. Lifting the phone, the pretty redhead began dialing the long distance number. As she listened to the voice on the other side put her on hold, Sheila found herself wandering back to that terrifying night five months ago.

She hadn't been feeling well for a time, tired and listless. Any kind of food made her nauseous, too. Added to the fact that she was jumpy and weepy from the... incident... a month previously, and Sheila was a wreck.

She'd never have even considered it in other circumstances, never in a million years believed herself capable of such thoughts. But one lonely night, in the creeping, stifling darkness, Sheila went out walking. True, taking a midnight stroll was nothing so bad. Sheila, however, had taken her stroll down the middle of the passing lane of the interstate.

If asked, she'd have told people she didn't know why she'd done such a stupid thing. Maybe it was because she felt certain no one would hit her, even going sixty miles an hour or more. Perhaps it was because death held no true fear for her; she'd often faced it in the Realm. Most likely, though, it was because she had believed the world, especially her friends, would be better off without the burden of meek little Sheila O'Neil. The young woman felt that the grief of her death would pass and the others would feel relief after the initial shock wore off. After all, what place did she have in the world? What good was she? Hell, even in the Realm, all she could do was turn invisible and watch her friends fight the real battles. That night, something had sunk her lower than any other time... including the night she had been... attacked.

She drove her car up the entrance ramp, parked on the shoulder, crossed over the median to the city-bound lanes, and started calmly walking.

If it had been a little earlier, she'd have been caught in a rush of people going home from the bars. If she'd gone a little later, Saturday morning work traffic would have met her. For some strange twist of fate, Sheila had unwittingly picked that brief hour when the busiest road in the area was deathly quiet.

Only one car traversed its inky pavement. She had heard the car, naturally, but didn't move out of the way. Rather, dressed hauntingly in her long, pale blue nightgown, the twenty-one year old continued her slow wandering, like an eerie phantom from a haunting folk legend.

Seeing her, the driver skidded his Mazarati, swerving to avoid the seemingly unfazed woman. Crossing the grassy median, feeling the undercarriage scrape over cement borders, he managed to get the fancy, expensive foreign car to stop... before it could hit the thick metal guard rails that lined the speedway.

Something in Sheila clicked through her haze of despair. She hadn't wanted to hurt anyone else. A need, as primal to the caring woman as breathing, urged her to check on the unfortunate driver. Sheila turned her steps towards the idling sports car.

"What the hell do you think you're doing lady?!" The man had only taken a moment to collect himself before sliding from his low-slung vehicle to shout at the woman. "You could have been killed! I could have been killed! You... you could have seriously damaged my father's car!" He moved towards her determinedly as he ranted, something in his words catching the redhead's attention.

The dark-haired twenty-three year old did an amazing double-take, almost comical in his expression and mannerisms. "What the hell? Sheila?" He turned his angry stride to a sprint, catching her just as she fell into a dead faint.

The sound of someone picking up the receiver pulled Sheila out of her memories, and the warmth was genuine for the friend who'd helped her through her very darkest of moments.

"Ah, hello, Sunshine of my Existence." Eric couldn't help smiling at the voice on the other side. She never failed to call him every day, as he'd requested, even though he was in a new city every two or three days.

"Sunshine of your... Eric! You know, as well as I do, that you're just teasing me."

He smiled wider at the delight he heard in her voice. Sheila knew his flirting was meant to keep her cheerful, and she took it for such; it was his way of saying that she certainly was *not* a burden on her friends... especially him. He always made time for her call, even if he had to break during a board meeting to do so. To refuse even one... well, he couldn't stand the thought of what might happen to one of the few people in the entire world he cared about. He could even be in the middle of open-heart surgery, or such, and he'd make sure to take her call.

"So, how's Sheila?" He laughed as she launched into an eager and very descriptive narrative of her life since they'd last spoken. Trust Sheila to turn twenty-four hours into a novel. He didn't mind, though. Eric Montgomery had no pressing appointments scheduled at the moment. In fact, he'd been on the way to the hotel when his secretary had transferred the call to his private phone. Besides, her daily calls made him feel somehow special.

When the bubbly woman paused for breath, Eric jumped in with another question. "Still doing your counseling?" He could well remember that day only five months ago.

He'd been driving home from the office, half-asleep because he had stayed hours after the board meeting to tie up the loose ends of the deal. Suddenly, on a barren stretch of interstate, a ghost appeared, sending him instinctively heading for the shelter of the shoulder... across the median. When he'd gotten out of his dad's car and recognized Sheila O'Neil as the gliding night stalker, he'd been furious. Then she'd passed out in his arms and he'd had no choice but to drive her to the nearest hospital.

Eric had told the night staff who he was and that Sheila was his girlfriend, a bald-faced lie but it had worked to get him the information he needed; they had said they recognized her as the woman who'd been brutally raped near the mall a month before. The news had shocked Eric to the core. He'd double-checked with them to be certain it really had been Sheila, and they'd confirmed with her medical records.

Then the results of the tests they'd run had come in and the night nurse claimed that Sheila was pregnant. Recalling that her birthday, something she inexplicably dreaded every year, was the next day, Eric came to a slow understanding. Sheila had not been insanely sleep walking... she'd been trying to suicide.

Using every trick he'd ever learned while in the Realm, and while working for his dad since, the young business executive had confronted her in the cubicle of the emergency room. He was gruff and demanding, getting the entire story from her while ruthlessly ignoring her tears. Then, he reacted as if she were a junior partner he had to deal with but had no right to terminate; he'd declared that if she refused to take care of herself, he'd do it for her.

That had startled both of them, really, but Eric pridefully refused to back down from his ultimatum. He had basically ordered her into rape counseling, as well as to inform The Six about the rape... or he would; although he hadn't made her confide her suicide attempt to the others. She had cried, God how that still ripped at his heart, but finally gave in to him. Then, he had made a final demand; he wanted her to call him every day, no matter what, and talk to him.

As Sheila's voice trailed off again, Eric shook off the dark memory. "Have Hank and Diana decided what they're doing yet?" He had been the one to suggest asking Diana's help in placing the infant for adoption once it was born. Sheila, still raw from her depression, hadn't wanted to bother her best friend. She had given in to him, as she did for pretty much anything the last five months.

"No, but it's only been a week since they asked to rethink it, and Hank was out of town. I... I..." the voice fell silent, then slowly spoke, choking back a sob. "Eric, what if they don't want the baby after all? What'll I do?"

Eric felt his heart wrench at the misery in his friend's voice. He'd never been very good at these wisdom or emotion things; that was Hank. Sometimes he caught himself wondering why Hank had ever let her go. For now, however, he, Eric, was the one she was turning to, and that sure beat the solution she'd come up with for her problems.

"Calm down, Sunshine." He absently used his teasing nickname for her. "If they can't take the baby, trust me, I'll find the best home that money can scout up." It was a natural habit to involve his fortune in any problem, and he found himself having to remember to add reassurances in case she misunderstood. "I'll use detectives and social workers and anyone we can think of to investigate whichever family steps forward. This baby will have the best parents in the world, Sheila."

She took a deep breath and appeared to be trying to smile. "All... all right, Eric... God! How did I ever get a friend like you? I don't deserve..."

He cut her off, "No!" The car was pulling up to the hotel, and Eric knew he'd soon be surrounded by people, making this conversation all the more difficult for him. "Sheila, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't deserve *you*. I was such a jerk as a kid, and you still hang out with me. You give me a reason to spend this money I'm accumulating... I have no one else who wants that job. And you know me, spending money is lifeblood to Eric Montgomery." Her giggle had relief washing over him. He slid from the limousine, nodding briefly to the driver, and headed into the huge lobby. "Get it straight, Sunshine. You... are... important... to... me." Having stressed every word, Eric hoped this time that he'd managed to make her understand.

He'd been in counseling with her as often as he was in town, which was very rarely just now, and had been told that she needed her importance reaffirmed regularly. He had been instructed to make her know how valuable and loved she was, how she wasn't a burden. And, he'd been informed that eventually, if told enough, she should pull out of this depressive slump... though it might be a few months after the birth due to a condition called postpartum depression, which they thought might set in on the young woman.

Ignoring the valet who came towards him, Eric headed into the private elevator to arrive shortly at his penthouse suite, no business accommodations for the only son of Richard Montgomery. Inside, he pulled out the still mostly packed suitcase and lay it on the bed, ear still pressed to his cell phone. "Hey, Sheila... did the others agree to that reunion I suggested?" He'd be back in town that night and wanted to see the others in the brief vacation he'd allotted himself. It'd been years since they'd managed to actually come together as a group.

"Yes." Sheila sounded like she was smiling once more. "Or, most have. I didn't call Presto... uh... Andrew yet, but the others agreed. Well, except Hank, but he was going to check with the precinct and Diana first. Diana even volunteered her mother's house out at the camp so there won't be interruptions. And..."

Eric listened to her babbling with half an ear, throwing his toiletry items into the suitcase. Looking around one last time, he was certain there was nothing forgotten. With a vague "Uh huh," the brunette closed his bag and headed for the elevator, gesturing the porter on duty to get the case for him. If he hurried, he could actually switch to an earlier flight, with a bit of money and influence naturally.

Finally, Sheila fell silent and Eric threw in a hurried question. "Want me to call the clown?"

"Eric Montgomery!" She actually sounded angry, which made the man grin. "Andrew is not a clown; he's your best friend! I can't believe..." and she was off again, not that Eric minded.

Once inside the limousine, which had of course been pulled around for him, he settled back and waited for her tirade to die down. At the silence on the other side, he started to speak, but was interrupted suddenly by a quiet, "Please call him? I know he'd love to hear from you." Eric only had enough time to agree before Sheila hung up the phone. With a chuckle, he dialed the long familiar number.

With a sigh, Andrew Preston hung up the phone and let his mind wander in a daydream. It would be good to see the old gang once more. He hadn't had a real vacation, or reunion, in the five years since graduation. University kept him overly busy it seemed. Of course, he also had his family to keep him occupied.

With a start, he felt as if something menacing was watching him. He reached for a nonexistent hat instinctively, a habit he'd never given up, despite the years out of the Realm. To cover his slip, Andrew ran his hand through his auburn hair, turning to stare right into the disapproving eyes of the Dean.

"Uh... sir?" The only good thing he could think of at the moment was that his voice didn't crack. Of course, it hadn't for years, but Andrew was still self-conscious enough to expect it. The only people he really felt comfortable around, in fact, were his family and The Six. "Uh... how may I help you, sir?"

"Your students have been waiting in the hall while you've chatted on the phone, Mr. Preston."

The disapproval in the man's tone was quite apparent and it made the twenty-one year old assistant professor gulp, Adam's apple bobbing. He nodded and hurried past the solid man without a word, opening the door to his annoyed fellow students. The main instructor was out sick that day and already Andrew had messed up by accepting a personal call between classes. This put his own head on the line.

It hadn't been easy to get the University to accept him at the age of sixteen. He'd graduated, but the administration staff tested him twice through and asked more questions than any other student had dreamed of answering. Finally, he'd been allowed, but on the condition that they would watch to make sure he worked like a real student, not acted like some kid on a free ride. Andrew had worked hard, too, trying to get a degree in education while doubling in theology and anthropology. And this semester he'd been allowed to become assistant professor to one of the masters, all the while being saddled with a thesis paper he had little time to work on. All of that hard work and struggle, however, could be over in the blink of an eye if the staff thought he was taking advantage.

Ignoring the Dean, knowing the best defense was to show his capability, Andrew launched into the day's lecture. He fell into the rhythm quickly and was genuinely unaware when the man left the room. Instead, he was enjoying imparting his hard-won knowledge to the eager minds of the freshmen.

As the class wound on, and he got lost in the question and answer session at the end, the personal call from his best friend, Eric, was nearly forgotten. He'd been surprised and pleased to hear from the globetrotting business executive. It was always so hard to figure out where the man would be, that when he'd offered a chance for them to get together for a couple of weeks, Andrew had jumped at it.

Watching the students file out, some still muttering about learning from a baby-faced guy with no style in clothes, the auburn-haired man shrugged and picked up his book bag. He flipped open his Star Trek-type cell phone and started dialing with only his thumb. Putting it against his ear, he listened for the tell-a-tale click that signaled he'd gotten connected. As he waited, Andrew nodded absently to the different people in the halls, students and staff alike.

At the sound of a teenaged voice on the line, he couldn't help but smile. "Hey. I've gotta go to the library to work on the thesis. What's for dinner?" Wincing as it sounded he didn't care about anything else, the man stepped up to his battered old Pinto.

With a laugh, Andrew shook his head and teased, "You and your pizza! You'll turn into a pizza, girl! Is your sister home?"

The voice of the seventeen-year-old was merry as she claimed "Nope." Then she launched into an enthusiastic tale about some goofy boy at school. Finally, she asked, "How late? She'll wanna know, Presto."

Andrew rolled his eyes. Only members of The Six, which didn't actually consist of only six members, and James Whittaker, the pain in the butt who lived next door, still called him by that adolescent nickname. He'd managed to get past it upon graduating High School. "Sixish?"

"You asking me? How am I to know when you come in before you do?" The girl was indignant; the adult could just imagine the flash of annoyance in her odd-colored eyes. "If you want to know the future, ask someone else. I do not do prophecies... only mind reading."

He broke into joyful laughter, fumbling his car open and ditching the pack in the back seat. Sliding in, managing to fasten the belt with one hand, Andrew started the car and chugged off campus grounds into the afternoon traffic of the city. He always delighted in these brief conversations with his wife's foster sister. The girl was a wonderful mix of eager sweetness and defiant pride; oh, he didn't envy the man who finally captured that free spirit.

"Okay... I'll be home at six, on the dot. But not a second sooner, and tell your sister to cook something. Have pizza another night." He listened to her wheedle, but grinned and inserted, "Nope... something else. And we're going on a reunion vacation to Diana's camp for two weeks. More about that at dinner. See you later, Uni." Then he hung up the phone and began to whistle off tune as he took the exit ramp towards the municipal library.

With a snort, Uni replaced the princess phone in its stand. She shrugged, not really in the mood for pizza anyway, and headed for the kitchen, wondering if she could sway her foster sister into something remotely edible. The woman had an uncanny knack for trying the oddest recipes, and the teen just didn't feel up to guessing what was in her dinner... not that it was ever truly horrendous.

A knock on the door made her jump and the pretty redhead whirled around, hand flying to her chest in an age-old indication of her fright. On the other side stood the boy she'd been telling Presto about. He was cute, if a little on the dim side, but a major jerk... the stereotypical jock in fact. Shaking her head, sighing softly to herself, Uni doubled back and opened the screen door.

Leaning on the doorframe, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, not letting him over the threshold, per house rules, thank goodness. "Hey... what do you want, Whittaker?" She hadn't told Presto that the boy who'd been hitting on her was their hated next door neighbor.

"Just wanna go out with you, Unity. You gotta say 'yes' sometime. C'mon. You're a cheerleader, right, so you gotta go out with me." The boy grinned as if he'd said the most welcome thing in the world. He was so smug it was annoying... and smug in a way far different from Eric Montgomery.

"Oh, I get it now." She nodded as if she was as much a bubble head as his usual girlfriends, mentally storing away the tidbit that he still thought her a cheerleader. "And then I have to sleep with you during homecoming." She watched in disgust as his face lit up in lustful anticipation. God how these typical immature High Schoolers disgusted her.

Uni slipped backwards into the house and slammed the door in his face for an answer. As it was a screen door, it ripped horribly. Great, now Presto is going to make me pay for that. It added to her annoyance with the jerk on the porch, who merely looked at her blankly instead of taking the hint.

With a shrug, the graduating senior turned her back on the oaf and headed towards the kitchen once more, deciding to let her foster sister find him on the porch. She should have told Presto about the creep's advances, instead of describing his stupidity in school as if she'd been fond of him. But that was apparently her curse; after she was done being annoyed, she couldn't help but look on the funny side of every encounter, no matter who it was with.

Opening the fridge, the teen canvassed what was available for dinner preparations. There wasn't much, actually. That meant they had to shop... or order out. Maybe she could order Chinese without annoying her guardian? He liked foreign food. Happily, Uni reached for the phone, preparing to make good on her decision, when she heard a quiet voice from the front of the house.

"What on Earth is this? James Whittaker Junior, you better have a very good reason for ripping out my screen door."

The voice was calm, as it always was, and instantly Uni felt bad for distressing her foster sister. She headed for the front of the house to try to make peace, but the boy's words merely caused her to become indignant once more.

"Oh, Hiya Ms. Preston. Unity and me were flirting around and got a bit rough, if you get my meaning, heh heh." The leer in his voice, and his choice of innuendo, made it sound like Uni had practically been ripping his clothes off out there! The last vestiges of her amusement fled and she sprinted out to confront the teen, ignoring the willowy redhead next to him.

"Why you disgusting, baboon-faced... Orc!" She flung herself at the boy, hands curled into hard fists. After a couple of quick jabs, she took him off guard by letting fly a kick right to his most favorite area. As he hit the ground, she became quickly aware of the disapproval from the woman, her satisfaction draining away as quickly as the anger had risen previously.

Knowing better than to try to protest, Uni turned around and headed upstairs, shame making her face flame brighter than her hair. She was fully aware of the soothing voice of her foster sister as the young woman tended the Whittaker boy's ego and injuries. Sometimes life just wasn't fair! And she hadn't even gotten to mention that they were finally going to see the rest of The Six on a real vacation. She sighed and shut the bedroom door, making a mental note to tell Varla later about the no pizza order from Presto.

Kneeling next to the injured teenager, 'Valeria' Varla Preston ran gentle hands over the boy. She didn't come near his pelvis, however, knowing just how precarious her word would be against his if he chose to say she'd molested him on the porch. After all, she was considered a bit... fruity... in the neighborhood, and Jimmy Whittaker was the son of a well-liked citizen, even if the family was comprised of arrogant jerks, right down to their stuck up poodle. Flipping her long red hair over her slender shoulder, the medical student continued to speak soft, soothing words to the angry, hurt child.

Of course, sixteen was hardly a child, nor was it much younger than her own twenty-two years, but Varla couldn't help seeing him as the same little boy who'd terrorized them for the last seven years. This was the child who'd harassed her husband, then boyfriend, daily at school, and had hit on her sister, Uni, every chance he got. Naturally he had grown up, but it still seemed like he was the obnoxious ten-year-old she'd met when she'd first arrived on Eric's doorstep... seven long years ago.

That had been a terrifying time for her. In the Realm utter chaos reigned as small pockets of evil rose up to try to fill the void left when Venger had renounced his evil ways. Orcs and other foul beasts had over-run any hamlet or town they could pillage, and Varla's had been no exception. The crops, so long hidden by her forced illusions, were genuinely destroyed, the wells fouled, as waves of disaster overtook the tiny village.

With no where else to turn to, Varla had run. She'd taken to hiding from any signs of habitations, living off the land as best she could or using her illusions to disguise herself so she might beg for much needed food. It was many months before she'd fallen ill and unconscious near a winter-sleeping valley.

Upon waking, she noticed that there was a small unicorn standing mournfully looking at her. She'd had no real time to get to know Uni, the faithful companion to the Children of Power, but somehow she recognized the little foal right away. It turned out later that Varla had stumbled onto the remnants of the Valley of the Unicorns, another place ravaged by the evil uprising; Uni, in fact, had been the only survivor there.

The two had thrown their lot in together and began a journey to find either of the good mages who had once ruled the Realm. It hadn't taken too long, which was fortunate since Varla was still weak from her illness. Upon meeting with the now good Venger, she had learned that there was a place for her and the unicorn in another world... a world of chaos, but not such as they found in the Realm. He went on to say that Uni would fit in better as a human, but she could merely be turned into a regular horse if she preferred. After a short discussion, somehow Varla understanding most of what Uni tried to relay, they decided to take his offer and leave the world they'd both known since birth. After all, their families and friends were gone; there was nothing left for them.

That was when he'd opened a portal and sent them through. The pair had been shaken and confused and wet... having landed in a decorative pond on a vast estate. It had wondrously turned out to belong to one of the Children of Power: Eric Montgomery, the Cavalier. He had helped them that day and within a few more days had convinced another of The Six, Presto, to take them in... his father didn't like having young girls in the house.

Reuniting with Presto had been beyond her wildest dreams, and Varla jumped at the chance to go with him. She'd even joined him in school, getting tutoring at night, until they graduated the same year from High School; they hadn't been in the same classes, but that hadn't bothered either of them.

In order to help the newly transformed Uni fit in, she had been kept out of school that first year, learning privately with Presto and Varla. Then, when she was thirteen, by human standards, they'd let her test to go to school. Somehow, despite poor marks in history, the former unicorn leaped ahead, back into her own 'age group'. Presto had thought it best to have her enrolled in a private school so there were less students to distract her and more one-on-one attention from the teachers. Eric had agreed and paid the tuition, and continued to pay Varla's college tuition, as well. The only drawback was that Jimmy Whittaker had also transferred into that private school, the same year as Uni had.

Sitting back on her heels, Varla nodded to the teenager. "You'll be fine, James. Please go home and rest; do not strain yourself." She stood and turned to look at the ripped screen and sighed. Uni had probably let loose her temper and destroyed it by flinging the boy through it or something equally obnoxious. She'd have to talk to her about that... again. The sound of Jimmy skulking off allowed her to relax, and she slipped inside and up the stairs.

"Uni..." Varla glanced into the bedroom, noting the shamefaced teen on the bed. She sighed and sank down next to her, stroking the girl's glorious red hair. "You have to control yourself. He was offensive, yes, but you were violent. After seven years, I would hope you could stop acting like a wild horse and act like a young lady."

"Varla, I..." the girl looked into the woman's serious gray eyes and sighed, bowing her head once more. "I'll try... but he makes me so angry. Especially when he says such disgusting things."

With a gentle smile, Varla petted the girl's hair and nodded. "He is very offensive. You must be better than he is, though. Don't answer the door if you see him; simply stare through him as if he isn't there, then turn your back. All right?"

The teen merely sighed and nodded dejectedly. Her normal sense of humor quickly took hold though and she raised laughing maroon eyes to her foster sister. "Presto doesn't want pizza tonight and there's not much to experiment with. Want Chinese?" She bounced off the canopied bed and threw a grin at Varla as she rushed into the hall for a phone. "Oh, and he's coming home around six with some news about us seeing the others finally." The grin she flashed was pure delight.

Varla's heart lurched. See the others? After eight years? How would they react to her? Or to Uni's new human form for that matter? The woman stood and followed her husband's ward from the room, letting the teen order food as she worried over the news. Would they be as happy as Eric and Presto had been to see the pair? Of course they will, Varla reassured herself then headed down to try to repair the front door.

As she stepped onto the porch with the toolbox Presto kept but rarely used, she sighed and shook her head. It would take some fixing to straighten the bent frame and repair that screen. It dangled from two sides, looking as if someone had peeled it back for some odd reason. The redhead squatted and opened the box, wondering just which tool was going to help her fix the problem before six o'clock.

A voice startled her out of her reverie and the medical student whirled around, gray eyes widening. There, coming up the walkway, was a black-haired teen with bright blue eyes and a cheery smile. A large sheepdog loped at her side. "Name's Terri. Need help?"

Terri smiled at the exotic-looking redhead and knelt on the porch to check out the screen door. Freddie, her old dog, flopped into the neatly trimmed grass, tongue lolling from his energetic jog. The sheepdog was getting entirely too old to be prancing around, but he didn't seem to believe either her or the vet when they told him. As long as he seemed to be happy, the sixteen-year-old was content to let him enjoy his old age in his own way.

"Well, looks like a pretty even mess. You got lucky; the screen only pulled away from its fastenings. If we can find the clips, we can get it back together in no time." She smiled at the woman and wondered about that far-away look in her gray eyes.

"Really? Oh, that's good. I wanted to have it fixed before... Andrew... got home from the library." The woman smiled at her, then suddenly her eyes seemed to focus and she tilted her head. "I'm... Valeria Preston. Thank you... Terri, wasn't it?"

With an almost absent nod, the dark-haired teen agreed readily. "Yup, Terri Parker." She glanced over the screen once more and turned a friendly grin to Valeria. "We can bend this back easily with a hammer and a cloth, to protect the paint from chips." And, suiting actions to words, she dug into the open toolbox and pulled out an old, stained rag and a hammer. She quickly went to work, chatting about this and that.

It didn't take long to finish the job, find the clips, and reattach the screen to the door. When finished, Terri stood and dusted her hands on her jeans. "So, new in town, Valeria?" She turned once more to the pretty woman, catching a glimpse of an equally pretty red-haired teen talking on a phone in the hallway.

"No." Valeria smiled back. "We've been here about seven years now. I guess none of us have really crossed your path before, though. My sister, Unity, goes to school at the academy... she's about to graduate."

Terri nodded. "I'm a public school girl, myself." Nonchalantly flipping her wrist up, the girl checked her sports watch and grinned wider. "Sorry to cut this short, but I've got a date. Hey," she gave the woman a wave as she started jogging for the road once more, Freddie falling in beside her eagerly, "I'll catch you and Unity some other time, okay? See ya around!" And she was off.

As she headed around the corner, on her way to her best friend's house, the teen couldn't help but chuckle at the last hour she'd spent. She wasn't normally the Good Samaritan type, though she'd never leave someone stuck if she thought she could help. Something about the willowy young woman had drawn her in, though, and she was glad of it. It was nice to meet someone so friendly, and with a sister apparently her own age, so close by. Since the girl went to a private academy, she probably hadn't heard anything derogatory and wouldn't mind befriending the energetic brunette.

Ever since returning from the Realm, Terri had been considered an outcast. No one actually realized that she'd even been gone, but somehow they'd sensed the change in the eight-year-old girl. She'd missed her friends from the Realm terribly, especially Bobby, and had become morose and distant that first day. Upon unexpectedly meeting with Bobby at the end of school, Terri's mood had altered drastically, but so did her reactions to those around her. She began hanging with the older boy and his teenaged friends. This made them think she was stuck up or something, and so she slowly lost any deep contacts with her own age group.

Now, eight years later, she was a junior in High School, a starter on the varsity track team, and pretty popular in a stand-offish kind of way. People always greeted her, but no one really offered to invite her to parties or asked her on dates. Well, no one except her best friend.

They were close, but not romantic, having dated off-and-on throughout school. Neither, in fact, had a steady, but somehow it didn't feel right making their friendship anything more. Both were content to merely go out on occasion and retain their freedom from serious ties. Terri felt she preferred it that way.

Turning up the drive to the O'Neil house, Terri waved to the pretty blonde woman washing the windows. She stopped jogging, Freddie again flopping in a tired pant, and finished approaching at a walk. "Hey, Mrs. O'Neil... is Bobby home?"

Inside the house, Bobby heard his friend's voice and grinned widely. He tossed the magazine he'd been perusing onto the sofa, jumping to his feet to head outside. "Hey, Terr," he called as he trotted down the steps to join the two females.

The senior was good-looking in a stocky, athletic sense. His blond hair was sun-streaked, the back too long for the new ninety's look, and his clothes were the same familiar jeans and polo shirt style he'd favored since the early eighty's. In fact, if Bobby hadn't been so popular in school, he could have been a serious outcast for what the other teens considered his old-fashioned tastes.

He didn't care. Bobby O'Neil was a pretty earthy sort, despite a quick temper he was still learning to control. He befriended everyone, favored only *The Six*, and made himself available for the oddest problems. People liked the blue-eyed teen, and he liked people. For the entire year, in fact, the other seniors at the public High School had been repeatedly pushing him to accept invitations to their graduation parties: invitations he'd steadily, but merrily refused.

"So, have you heard the news?" He grabbed the brunette's arm and led her around the side of the house to talk a bit more privately. The dog, he noted, was willing to simply keep his mom company. "Sheila's been asking everyone to get together day after tomorrow at Diana's place by the lake."

"Yeah, she's managed to get everyone to agree, I think. Cool, huh? We'll finally actually be together as a group again... all seven of us." He stretched, T-shirt hitching over his muscled stomach as he pulled his arms up and back. Letting himself relax once more, the seventeen-year-old tilted his head at the mischief in Terri's eyes. "What?"

She grinned at him and shrugged one shoulder. "Seven? Bobby, you know Presto's married, even if no one was invited to the wedding. So there'll be at least eight, unless he doesn't bring her. And we have no clue if Eric's seeing anyone." The girl crossed her arms, waiting for his inevitable come-back.

He didn't disappoint. "So, we hog tie Eric's date and throw her in the car with Presto's wife and tell the woman to get the girl to the closest insane asylum for dating such a wacko." They laughed in perfect camaraderie, Bobby leading his long-time best friend through the backdoor and into the kitchen.

After the pair was seated and feasting on the cookies Mrs. O'Neil customarily baked for them as an afternoon snack, Bobby glanced at Terri's happy face. "So," he grinned in his normal sunny manner, "meet any cute guys recently?" It was his way of testing to see if the girl wanted to get closer than they had been willing so far.

Bobby dropped the cookie in shock, eyes widening in his broad face. "Wha...?" He blinked, frowning as he caught the sudden smirk on Terri's features, and shook his head, letting himself sag in the chair. "Damn, Terr, do you know how turned on you were getting me?" He flashed his grin to let her know he was merely teasing.

The brunette looked smug as she retrieved his cookie for him. "Yeah, I could tell, you pig. Think I'd share them with you if I was gay?"

He shook his head and accepted the cookie, taking a healthy bite of the peanut butter confection. "Nah. You aren't that nice to me. So, what're your girlfriends like?" He shot her a grin and swiped a cookie from her plate to much laughing protest.

"Pretty and red-haired. One's a married woman; the other's her sister... about our age but goes to private school. They live next to Jimmy. Isn't that around where Presto lives?" Terri stole a cookie in return.

Standing, Bobby shrugged and headed for the fridge. "I think so. I haven't been to Presto's in years, and I never go near Jimmy if I can help it." He bent over, looking in the fridge for something more appealing than milk. Finding some orange juice, he stood once more and turned, drinking a healthy swig straight from the carton. "How'd you meet these girls?"

Terri rolled her eyes. "Bobby, that's disgusting. Get a glass. I helped Valeria fix her porch door. Someone had broken the screen out."

With a grin, Bobby finished off the juice and tossed the container in the sink for washing and recycling. He swaggered over to the teenager at the table, placed a hand on the chair and one in front of her, and leaned over. "Hey, at least I'm not making you drink after me." His leering face was inches from her causing him to miss the hand aiming for his midsection... until it connected, of course, and sent him staggering back. "I shoulda never taught you to fight," he wheezed.

"Serves you right, freak." But Terri was laughing as she pushed from her chair. She patted his cheek as she passed by, ignoring his pretense of pain.

Bobby followed her and shrugged, his habitual grin back in place. He rarely did anything except smile around Terri, though there had been that time five months ago when Sheila had confided that she'd been raped a month previously. He'd gone ballistic, they told him, but he couldn't remember anything after she'd hung up the phone. All he knew was that he'd come around in the hospital with his hands bandaged and his father quietly telling him that he'd be expected to fix the damage to the hallway. Bobby hadn't argued. He merely asked to get a part-time job at the local precinct and paid for fixing the walls and furniture. Hank had been a really steadying influence on him as he'd dealt with the anger and hurt over Sheila.

Tagging along behind Terri at that moment, however, thoughts of cold January nights in the drafty file room at the police station, and tiring spring days helping to repair his destruction, were far from the teen's mind. Also far from his mind was the horror and anger caused by the attack to his beloved sister; he'd learn how to deal with that by accompanying her to rape counseling a few times when she'd asked him to. However, what wasn't far from his mind was the curiosity over the fate of Sheila's unborn child.

"Yo, Terr, think Hank and Diana will take the baby after all?" He kept smiling, but mentally kicked himself as he realized his voice sounded worried. Heck, he shouldn't be so over-protective. His sister was dealing well with the situation and even claimed that a special friend was helping her with everything, though she hadn't told anyone who it was; he privately thought it was Diana, as the girls had been best friends since the early days in the Realm.

Terri's voice called back in amusement, "How should I know? Hank should be back in town; why don't you call him and find out?"

"Yeah." Bobby turned and headed for the hallway, grabbing the wall phone. As he dialed the number, the teen couldn't help grinning at the idea that he'd soon be seeing all of his friends back together again, after seven or eight long years. Hearing the sleepy voice on the other side, Bobby grinned wider. "Hey, Hank, how's it going?"

To Be Continued in Chapter Two: Full Moon

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