MILLENNIUM 

"This Too Shall Pass"
by Tim Flanders (lathus@hotmail.com)

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DISCLAIMER:

I'll say this just to appease the legal drones at FOX.  Frank and the 
MillenniuM Group don't belong to me, (DUH...NO SH*T!!!) They belong to 
themselves (as much as any of us can) and CC, 1013, FOX.  I haven't made 
any money off this yet, but should the chance arise, I'll take every penny 
I can get.  I'll just change a name or two things first. I CAN DO THAT FOX,
AFTERALL, THIS IS STILL MY WORK!!!

If any of the legal-hounds at FOX want my blood or money, they won't get
it without a fight.  If YOU SUE ME, the only things you'll get is an enemy 
for life, and a foot UP YER ARSE!!!

  You can't have it all
  This is my empire of dirt
  I will not bow down
  I will make you hurt

I will gladly be a martyr to the cause.  I will fight the good fight. Come 
on FOX, are you willing to risk turning one man's religion into a crusade?
You've already started the avalanche, do you think you can stop it now?

Sorry, but all this legal bullsh*t pisses me off!!!

*That's probably one of the longest disclaimers written, eh!*  ;)
*Oh well, tell me what you think of this, and please visit my homepage,*
 - This is who we are.

And now, on with the show!

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"He will give His angels charge over you ... and by this, you will know 
that He is there." - Thelma Van Der Vien

"And the LORD shall separate him ... So that the generation to come of your 
children that shall rise up after you, and the stranger that shall come 
from a far land, will see the plagues and the sicknesses which the LORD 
hath laid upon it" - Deuteronomy 29:21-22

"Yet thus shall they be cut down, ... Though I have afflicted thee, I will
afflict thee no more." - Nahum 1:12

"Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached 
throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of
for a memorial of her." - Mark 14:9


				* * * * * * * *


Frank could do nothing.  He never heard Catherine leave.  The last thing he 
saw before sleep took him, was her hair.  With her face down-turned, buried
in his chest, the gentle rhythm of her breathing, Frank heard her steady
sighs and was content ... at least for one more night.
 
The moonlight played on her rich almond hair and changed it to a soft
shining rose.

Frank hoped this plague would pass over them, he prayed that it would leave
his family untouched.  Frank was not a religious man but he found himself
praying more often than usual lately, that this cup be taken from him.  All
the trials Frank had known and gone through in the past were nothing
compared to this.  Frank needed her, he needed his Catherine. The last
thing he remembered thinking was:  "Please God, let her be here when I wake
up."


				* * * * * * * *


But she was gone.

Frank woke hours before the sun would rise.  His back sore and his memory 
gnarled, he tried to rouse his brain out of the dim and distant haze of
sleep.  The first thing he realized was that her beautiful hair was gone.
Her weight against him was conspicuously absent.  He did not hear her
little sighs and could not feel her in the dark.

It struck Frank:

SHE'S GONE!

He went to the window and looked out, all he could see was the night. He
wanted to run, he wanted to scream her name.  He scrambled outside, hoping
she was out there, hoping that she couldn't sleep and was just outside
getting some fresh air.  He went outside and called her name softly into
the night.  But there was no sound, the wind held it's breath and even the
animals were silent.  It was a fitting memorial to her, in that second the
world had stopped for Frank.

The clouds pulled away from the moon, revealing a trail of footprints made
in the early dew leading into the nearby woods.  Frank ran to follow the
trail, ran to find his Catherine.

He stopped.

"Jordan," he thought, "I can't leave Jordan."

He remembered his promise to Catherine ... she didn't want him to see her
die.  She didn't want Jordan to know.
  
Catherine knew what she was doing when she made Frank give their child,
their only begotten daughter, the injection.  She knew the syringe held her
only hope of survival.  That night, Catherine died saving her family.  Her
only thought while she watched Frank inject her salvation into Jordan was:
"Don't wake her Frank, please don't wake Jordan.  Please, let her be a
little girl, at least for one more night Frank."

Catherine had made him promise not to leave Jordan.

Frank stayed, standing silent, following the tracks into the woods with his
eyes.  He turned and made his way back to the cabin.  That was when he
noticed the shimmer on the ground.  In the moonlight Frank could see blooms
of crimson on the ground and streaks of red on cabin's door-post.

Blood ... blood on the posts ... she had been the sacrificial lamb so that
their first born child could live.  Their new yellow house was now stained
... just as the first.  Frank grimaced and crumpled, any hope he had of
finding her had left him.  He was missing a piece of himself now.  Any hope
he had was gone ... vanished.  And with that hope, the world ceased.

Visions assaulted Frank ... a profusion of red struck him.  Terror ... pain
... then at its worst, a calm settled  A gentle tide of light immersed
Frank, covering the scene.

Above, the stars were unwinking ... constant.  Suns and worlds by the
millions.  Dizzying constellations, cold fire in every hue.  As he watched,
the sky washed from ebony to violet.  A meteor etched a brief, spectacular
arc and winked out ... so like Catherine.  The stars were as indifferent to
Frank's plight as they were to wars, revolutions, crucifixions, and
resurrections.

Frank stumbled against the door.  Sorrow and guilt filling everything he 
was.  His eyes were empty as he slouched back to Jordan, back to the one
thing he could believe in, back to the one thing that mattered.  Frank sat
and leaned against the wall, he looked at his daughter sleeping peacefully
on the ground.  Her hair and her sleeping sighs so much like her mother's.

Throughout the rest of the night, Frank's "gift" mercifully left him.  His
mind was as quiet as the outside world.  At least in his new yellow house,
he could find sanctuary ... not a place of peace or rest, but a place to
reflect.  The things that were held in these walls, were all he had left.

He looked out at the world ... unblinking, letting his loss weigh him down.
He stayed like that until the sun rose, but it held no warmth for him, no
light.  It held no purpose for him anymore.  It was simply a beginning, the
first of a procession of endless days without her.  What was the point of
trying to save a world, if there was no one to save it for?

Jordan woke, Frank saw this but did nothing.  He felt the tug and pull of
his daughter, and then heard her.  Heard her shrill little giggle, as she
climbed into his lap.  Her smile grew as she noticed her father's hair, but
Frank was far away.

He wanted to scream, wanted to tell his daughter to be silent, he wanted to
tell Jordan what kind of sacrifice her mother had made for them both.  He
wanted to shake her and hug her, to make sure she wouldn't leave him as
well.  But his body betrayed him, his arms refused to move.  His legs were
still, even his voice was muted.  All he could do was sit there, alone in
his mind.

Eventually shock gave way to rage.  He had already made the decision that
if he ever saw Peter Watts again, he would kill him.  He would leave the
Group and kill anyone that tried to stop him.

The Group had brought this ... this evil upon him.  They had killed 
Catherine.  If it wasn't for Them, she would still be here.  His family 
would still be whole.  Every evil could be traced back to MillenniuM.  The
lies, the deception, the unanswered questions.  Their ways were not his
ways, Frank had followed the Group in every endeavor.  He had been Their
loyal tool, going where They ordered, investigating every case They put
before him.  Never asking "why" until the last days.

"I should have asked sooner, I should have done more."  Frank thought.

The sun rose and took away the morning mist, destroying any trace of
Catherine there was.  The bloody sun in its heaven, the unblinking eye.  It
shone its light equally on the guilty and the just.  Frank admired that ... 
the indifference.  "The sun would remain," Frank thought, and that was 
good.

The arch of the sun peeked over the horizon.  Far away in the distance, 
Frank could just recognize the Seattle skyline.  Alone on his mountain, 
Frank watched the sun glint off those far-away towers.


				* * * * * * * *


Frank was just getting used to the sun, admiring its steady stare.  When
something appeared in his doorway, throwing a shadow on him, intruding 
into his world.  The silhouette stayed there, unmoving, peering at Frank.
The sun made its way through the stranger's long, straggly brown hair, 
casting snakes on the floor.  Then Frank heard his name being called.

"Mr. Black."

It wasn't a question.  Frank didn't even reach for the revolver lying next
to him, the one he had given Catherine the night before.  The thought of
protecting himself from this stranger never even entered his mind.
    
"Mr. Black, I have news of your wife."

Frank started.  "Who was this person?  How dare this man claim to know his
Catherine?"  The questions surfaced in Frank's mind.  A faint rage building
behind his beaten demeanor.  Frank arduously made it to his feet.  Placing
his daughter behind him, Frank stood and forced himself to confront this
man.

The stranger waited outside the cabin as Frank made his way to the door.
The sun still had an ominous tone.

"Who are you?"

"Just someone trying to help."

Of all the answers Frank was ready for ... he had never expected this one.
The thought that there was someone around who wanted to help, just for the
sake of helping, was too convenient a story.  Frank didn't believe in
coincidences and had learned long ago that people rarely helped others,
without having something else in mind.  

"How do you know my wife?"

"She staggered into my camp last night."  The man pointed a finger off
into the distance behind him.  "I'm just back that way about a fourth-mile.
She was delirious and fevered, almost walked right into my fire.  There was
nothing to be done, Mr. Black, she died."

The stranger told of Catherine's ordeal without discrimination.  What
little there was to tell, he told with a clinical indifference.  He did not
try to cover what had happened to Catherine with flowery pleasantries.  He
told Frank of her anguish, the massive blood-loss, her pained experience,
and eventual death.

Frank inwardly thanked the man for telling him this.  At least he knew the
truth now.  But Frank was breaking on the outside.

"What do you want?"  Frank demanded through clenched teeth.

The man was unmoved, "She wanted me to give this to you."

The man reached in his front pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of 
paper.  There was blood on the edges of it, the man offered no explanation
for it.  The stranger handed the paper to Frank.  With a shaky hand, Frank
took the battered little gift.  He was overcome with a sense of grief.  He
saw Catherine huddled into a ball, she was in pain and wanted release ... 
but she wanted her family more.  This paper was her last anchor to this 
world, she had clutched this treasure in her last moments ... she had died 
holding this to her heart.  Frank road the wave of pain to its end and
finally unfolded the paper ... it was a picture of the three of them.  A
happy moment in time, captured last spring when the world was still a good
place.

Frank didn't remember taking the picture.  He saw the ocean behind them in
the photo and didn't remember that either ... he couldn't remember the last
time he had seen the ocean, and that scared him.  At that moment, it was
the most important thing in the world to know when that picture was taken,
to remember the little details.  He suddenly couldn't remember if he had
ever known this, and it frightened and angered him that he couldn't.

Frank looked into the stranger's eyes and stumbled.  The man's eye's were
... for a second Frank almost thought they were translucent, clear even.  
Frank blinked and looked again, they were only gray.  A dim, gun-metal
sheen ... caressing everything they looked upon.  Frank felt this caress
and broke.

"Whhh--ho are you?"  Frank asked with a tremble in his voice and tears
behind his eyes.

"Someone who cares."

And Frank Black wept.

He fell to his knees and wept for all that he had lost.  For his wife he 
would never see again, for his little girl who would never have her mother 
again, for a life he would never get back.

After a time, the stranger spoke:

"Mr. Black ... there is more to do."

Frank looked up at the man, his eyes burning and red.

"I have to go see her."

"I know."  The stranger said matter-of-factly.

Frank would never have trusted his daughter to a stranger, but this man he 
trusted.

"I'd never ask this if it wasn't absolutely necessary, but would y..."

"Go Mr. Black.  Go see your wife."

"You -- you'll stay?"

"For a time."  The man nodded.

"Th-thank you.  Th-thi..."

"Go Mr. Black, be with your wife."


				* * * * * * * *


Frank followed the trail that the man had shown him.  He was told 
Catherine's body would be waiting at the end of the path.  Frank made his
way to the end trail and saw his Catherine, bound in a white sheet and laid
on a cleared patch of earth.  There was no evidence that this was ever a
campsite:  no sign of a fire, no sign of tent pegs or sleeping bag ... 
nothing to prove a man had used this place as a camp the night before.  The
only thing there was, was Catherine.  On top of her body, lay her wedding
ring, and a bracelet Frank had given her when Jordan was born.  Frank
didn't lift the shroud.  He knew it was her.

Frank spent the rest of the day digging his wife's grave.  When he was 
done, "Good-bye, I love you" was all he said, he turned and walked away
from her without looking back.  He would return to his mountain, to his
Catherine, in time.  But not soon ... Catherine would understand.  It 
wasn't a beautiful funeral, but at least she was at peace.

Frank cried the whole walk back to the cabin.

Frank returned to Jordan ten minutes before nightfall.  She was asleep, and
the man was gone.  Frank lifted his daughter from her bed.

"Jordan ... Jordan, where did the man go?"

Jordan rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"David? ... He went down the mountain."

Frank was angry, his face became tight.

"He just left you here?!"

"He told me you went to see mommy.  That she had to away and you were
saying "I love you" to here.  David said mommy was gone, but that it was
goodnight, not good-bye.  He told me to go to bed, that you'd be here in a
few minutes.  David asked me to tell you something."

Frank's anger was leaving him.

"What did he say, Jordan?"

"He said, 'Don't hate them. it won't help.  In time, this too shall pass.'
... what's it mean daddy?"

Frank tried to smile, but only managed a nervous tick.

"It means things will get better Sweetheart."

Jordan looked up at her father with wanting eyes.

"Mommy's not coming back, is she?"

"No Jordan, mommy's gone ... but not forever."

"Then we'll see her again?"

"Yes."

Jordan smiled and yawned.  Frank saw this and smiled, for the first time in
a long time.  Frank laid his daughter in her bed and kissed her.

"Go to bed Jordan, I'll be here when you wake up."

Jordan pulled the covers tight and closed her eyes.

"Daddy? ... I don't like it here anymore, I want to leave."

Frank slowly made his way down to the floor, his muscles ached and his 
bones were weary.  He propped his back against the cabin wall and sighed.

"Me too Honey, ... we'll go home tomorrow."

"Good.  Daddy ... I miss mommy."

"So do I Jordan."

Frank turned his head away from his daughter, as a tear etched a path down
the side of Frank's lined face.  When Frank heard his daughter's tiny
snores, he allowed his own eyes to close ... and he slept.


				* * * * * * * *


The next day, Frank put together his belongings and left his mountain.  He
returned to the city and to their first yellow house.  He went about the
painful task of collecting Catherine's and Jordan's possessions.  The ones
he would want for the trip that was to come.

He packed away what few possessions he could, taking only what was needed
and leaving the rest.  In time he would return to this place, but not soon.
There were too many stains to try to wash away all at once.  He would let 
the rain and the cold Seattle nights cover what they could, then Frank 
would return to clean what was left.  But not for a long while.

Then Frank went to his second yellow house, that place of purgatory and
waiting.  The house he had never called a home ...  just a place he went,
when he had no place else to go.  He ate here, he worked here, he slept 
here, ... but he did not live here.  This place was only meant to hold him 
for a time.  He had never made it a home, he hadn't excepted to be gone for
so long.  This was his Waiting Place.  This yellow house had kept him apart
from his family for the past year.  This was the house that had never known
Catherine.

Frank parked his car and carried Jordan up the few steps.  She had been
sleeping since they left the mountains.  He shifted Jordan from one arm to
the other, she made only the slightest objection to this.  Frank unlocked
the door and shuffled his way inside.  He glanced over at his answering-
machine, out of habit, and noticed the blinking '24' waiting for him.  He
walked passed the machine, and with one smooth motion ... turned it off.
Frank had purposely left his pager back at the cabin, he was thankful for
that now.

He put Jordan on the couch, she almost immediately tipped onto her side,
curled into a ball, and went to sleep.  Frank covered her with his jacket
and let her lie.  He wrinkled his brow and frowned, Jordan hadn't been 
responsive for the last day.  He wondered what she was feeling inside.  Had
she felt her mother's pain with her "gift" as he had?  Were the "bad men"
still running through her dreams?  Were the monkeys still screaming at the
blood-red sky?  From the look of things, it would be a long time before she
talked.

Frank went into his bedroom and filled two suitcases with as many things as
he could fit in them.  He stowed the suitcases in his car and went back
into the house.  Frank stood in front of his computer and debated whether
to turn in on or not.  In the end, he did.  He flipped the rocker-switch on
and listened to the motor start up.  He heard a rattle from behind the
computer, he felt around back behind the unit and noticed two screws were
loose.  The Group wanted their hardware back and had evidently come and
reclaimed their property.  This barely surprised Frank at all.  If they
wanted it, let them have it ... one less thing.  After the computer was
done booting-up, the first thing he noticed was that the ouroborus icon was
gone.  He dialed up Catherine's parents number and left them a message.  He
wanted to tell them face-to-face what had happened, not let some machine do
it.  He only left the barest message, tell them that he and Jordan would be
visiting them in a few days.  Frank gave no reason why they were coming, or
why Catherine wasn't.  Frank told them he loved them, and would see them
soon.  No reason to destroy their lives yet, they would have the rest of
their lives to mourn their daughter's death and blame him for it.

Frank reluctantly clicked in his e-mail icon.  13 new massages:  two from
Seattle PD, one from a criminology department in Texas whom he had helped 
with a case recently, one from his brother, and nine from Peter Watts.
Frank deleted all of them, then ripped the computer's power cord out of the
wall.  He watched the image on the monitor roll and flash brilliantly, then
plunged itself into muted darkness.  Frank sat staring at the obsidian 
image of himself, reflected in the black glass of the screen.  He noticed a
hollowed and gaunt man staring back at him.  Frank closed his eyes to get 
away from the man.  Frank knew who that was, that pitiful creature of
sorrow and grief, and he wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
Frank bowed his head and held his face in his hands, and cried again for 
his loss.

Then he felt two hands, small and delicate, place themselves on his leg.

"Don't cry daddy."  Came a small and sweet voice.

Frank looked down and saw his daughter.  She was trying to smile up at him,
her eyes were big and full of tears.  Frank could tell she wanted to cry,
but she held back the tears, her lips trembling.  At that moment, he saw
Catherine in his little girl.  Everything that was good and right,
everything he remembered, was there before him.  Frank picked his daughter
up and held her.  And they stayed that way for a time, in silence.


				* * * * * * * *


It was late, the loading was finished and Jordan was in the back-seat 
asleep.  Frank was pulling out of his driveway, when Watts drove up behind
him, blocking Frank's exit.  Frank looked in his rear-view mirror and saw
Watts almost running towards him.  Frank got out of his car and stopped
Peter with a word.

"WATTS!"

Peter froze, he had never heard such anger in Frank's voice before.

"Frank, I've been trying to reach you for three d.."

Frank found new rage and rounded on Peter.

"Leave! ... I don't want you here ... leave before something bad happens!"

"Frank, will you please listen!"

Frank could feel his face twitch with every word Watts spoke.

"NO! ... get out of here!  MillenniuM killed Catherine ...  I'm done with
you!"

Peter straightened himself and spoke sternly, but also with fear.

"Frank, other people have died from this too ... we just want to know 
what's been happening with you."

Frank could taste blood in the back of his mouth.  If he had had his gun,
Watts would be lying dead on the ground by now.  Frank roared something
incomprehensible and bolted towards Watts.  He sent his fist streaking at
Peter's nose.  The fist connected to Peters face with a sickening crunch.  
Teeth and knuckles resonated off each other in a symphony of pain.  Peter 
ended up sprawled on the ground, blowing bloody snot onto Frank's lawn.  
Frank stood shaking, as if he could barely contain his body from going 
after Watts again.

Frank lowered his brow and rumbled his words to Peter like a dark-storm on 
the horizon.

"Don't try to follow me Watts ... stay away from us!   Pray we don't meet 
again!"

Frank went over to Peter's car and flicked it in neutral.  He watched as 
the vehicle rolled out of his driveway and into the empty street.  Frank 
left Watts on the ground and walked back to his Jeep.  He threw the car in 
gear and drove away from the man he hated most.

Frank let his anger subside as he drove through the darkening streets of 
Seattle.  With the last rays of the sun fading behind him, long shadows 
moved across the land, pointing Frank toward his goal.

Frank and Jordan went east, into the night.


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 THE END

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