The equipment is prepared, and Shane, Astarial, and Frederic enter the mindscape, within Martin watching as backup. This 'place' is utter, vast darkness, with a single silver path, line a line of thread, leading from nowhere off into nowhere. Standing and looking down at the path grimly is... Garret. The figure is tall, and lean, and dresed in a black jumpsuit splattered with gore. A gaping hole in his abdomen reveals what's left of his viscera, and a similar hole in his neck allows the whiteness of the cervical vertebrae to peep out admidst the wreckage of his throat. A flap of skin hangs loose from the right side of his head, revealing white bone, cracked like a porcelain plate, with pulpy grey showing through. His left eye is gone, and his right iris seems to have ruptured, making his eye look like a shattered mirror. Part of his nose is missing, and you can see the nasal septum. His hair is long and black, and flutters in a cloud around his head. He dosn't look up. His ruined eye is focused squarely on the path before him, and he places one foot in front of the other with grim determination. Nonetheless, his shoulders are slumped, and his face is weary. As you come closer, he speaks in an odd, ragged voice. You can see his throat work through the hole in his neck. "Get lost. You didn't fool me by pretending to be Rhiannon, and this isn't going to work either. Bugger off." "I didn't, and I'm not trying to fool anyone. I'm exactly who I appear to be, as I believe those with me are... Question us, if you wish to determine the truth of this assertion." Garret scowls, looking down at the path furiously. "I'm not playing your game, dammit. Haven't you tortured me enough? I would have thought that by now, you'd have thought of something more subtle and effective than pretending to be Astarial." "I'm afraid I can't leave quite yet. We have a nasty problem to deal with in the outside world concerning something you've done which caused a temporal anomaly. There are currently five alternate versions of you here, and the likelihood of more turning up. We need answers." Garret snorts. "Five of me. Right. You've tried, and it's not working. How many goddam times do I have to tell you, I'm *not* going to look up from the path. I'm *not* going to give up. I don't give a rat's ass whether you like it or not, you poota." Cutting straight to the point, Shane speaks. "Garret, do you want to come back? Because they're currently planning to heal you whether you want it or not." Astarial sends an irritated look at Shane. "He can't come back, not being dead yet. And finding out whether he wants to live or die - although" (aside to presumed-Garret's-primary) "there are a considerable number of people who would prefer the former, I do believe - is one of the reason's we're here. I'm here, at least. Assuming, of course, that you are who you appear to be. Would you be able to provide us with some proof that you *are*, in fact, the primary personality of Garret Corven?" He stops abruptly. "You want *me* to prove to *you* who *I* am?! You really *are* good at this. You've been going at me hammer and tongs since I got here. Don't you ever give up?" A large replication of the shape seen earlier on Frederic's palmtop materializes somewhere near Shane, and Frederic seems to focus out of it. Curiously, he's wearing a rather stylish black suit with a red ties, and...are those little red horns on his head? "Unfortunately, we have to try and guess what you did out there. So leaving is sorta difficult." Frederic looks at his cuff, then pulls the lapels of the suit's jacket, before running a hand through his hair... Yes, little red horns, long hair slicked back, the works... He sighs in mock-annoyance. "So am I that annoying I have to play the Devil's advocate on your path to redemption? And a *red* tie?" Garret opens his mouth to answer, when an identical voice calls out, "Don't bother, Garret. They really are who they say they are. I never try a failed ruse twice." Out of the void walks...Garret. This one is dressed in jeans, a t-shit, and a heavy black coat. Unlike the Garret on the path, this one is unharmed, and even has both eyes. He stops, floating just off the path opposite Garret. "You really shouldn't be here, you know. This is between us." "Then they really are..." says the Garret on the path, and stops. "I'm...sorry. He pretended to be Rhiannon earlier...he almost got me to lose the path." Is it so important? where does it lead? "And a good job it would have been if you had," says the other Garret bitterly. "why are you DOING this to us, Garret? Forty-one years, and all we've looked forward to is rest, and now it's finally here, and what do you do? You HANG ON!" The mauled Garret starts walking again, all of you moving to stay even. "Fuck off. I have a responsibility-" "Oh, Christ in a handbasket. Here we go again. My frigging DUTY this. My damn RESPONSIBILITY that. Goddamn it Garret, you'd take fucking responsibility for starving children in africa if you could!" The unharmed Garret throws his hands upward in exasperation. "Here's a news flash for you, Garret, are you listening? WE ARE DEAD. Kaput. Finito. Persona non grata, all that happy horseshit. The material world is NOT OUR DAMN RESPONSIBILITY ANYMORE!" "Get lost," spits mauled Garret from behind clenched teeth. "What happens is our fault." Unharmed Garret runs his hands through his hair. "We were *dying*. We didn't *know* the gateway would rip open like that. It's not like we *meant* for it to open that wide, just enough to get that goddam Vachon bitch!" "But it did!" mauled Garret shouts back at him, not looking up. "It did, and it's our fault! And you goddamn well *know* she isn't dead! She's right where she's been all this time: right in the damn center of the time-storm, happy as a clam! I WILL not just LEAVE her there!" "If this is about revenge, than why don't you just admit it, Garret? Why don't you just admit you want to gut her, rather than hide behind your precious DUTY?! And don't tell me you don't give a damn, I know better. You wanted to go home to Rhiannon, didn't you? That's what we were thinking, when we died, wasn't it? Hating her because she was going to kill us and we weren't going to see Rhiannon again? Huh? Isn't that it?" "Shut up. Just shut up." Frederic shakes his head. "Don't fret over the harlot. Lady May has sworn she'll have her." Normal Garret looks at you suspiciously. "Is she going to make it hard on her? Peel her skin off, burn out her eyes, that sort of thing?" His expression changes to one of horrid eagerness. Those still aware of the external universe hear Martin speak. "Astarial, can you hear me? Find out what the time effect he used before his death was. And see if you can get him to tell you who he thinks you are." Subvocalising, so that Martin can hear him but only the most perceptive of those gathered between can: <> (insert the other Garret turning up) <> "I don't know. From what the others're saying, it sounds like the thread leads into the shadowlands." <> "I don't know, let's sort things out in here first. Decide if we _want_ to drag it back here." The conversation continues. "See this path? If I let go of it, I cease to exist," says Mauled Garret. "Which is fine by me," says normal Garret. "Yes, I noticed this path." ::wrinkles brow in thought:: "What is it? Where are you going? And where are you coming from, might I ask?" "I'm dead. The path is the way out of here and back to the living world." He grits his teeth. "I don't suppose you've ever heard the legend of Orpheus? The principle is the same. There are always rules." "Well, no, actually I haven't. But I see the idea." "You really shouldn't be here, you know. This is between us," the unharmed Garret says. "Blame the failures of my upbringing. But I think we have as much right to be in this part of Garret's mind as you do, if you are what I think you are." "You have no idea what I am. And this isn't our mind, this is the place where mind and soul meet. This is a between place, between life and death. We *would* be nicely dead now, but he (gestures at mauled Garret) refuses to go on. It would be nice if you could talk some sense into him." "Oh, that is who you are, then. You're his dark aspect.", Astarial says, distaste clearly showing in his voice. "Why don't you push off back to the deep subconscious and let us deal with these important matters, there's a good archetype." (from this point he studiously avoids looking at or addressing the intact Garret) "Blow me, elfboy." snaps the normal Garret. "I've got a hell of a lot more right to be here than you do. Piss me off and I'll evict you, this place is just as much mine as it is his." "How would you like to be -", Astarial snaps, before remembering that he's ignoring this one. The mauled Garret stops. "So what if you decide to throw them out...and I fight you?" he asks. The other Garret grins. "If you think you can fight me and still concentrate on the path, be my guest. I'm pleased as punch to go down with the ship. What about you?" Garret's shoulders slump in defeat. "On the other hand, perhaps we could keep him occupied while you do what you must, no? Actually, would you mind if we asked you a few questions about this, ah, time-storm? It seems to be the thing that is bringing together all these alternate Garrets out there, and so forth... What effect did you attempt that created it? If we can figure out what happened, we might be able to extract her from it in the process of unweaving it, and then de - hold her for you to deal with." Mauled Garret stops. "I..." "Go on, tell them. *I* sure as hell don't care, as long as you've stuck us in the middle of literal nowhere, you might as well tell some stories." Unharmed Garret sits down on the path and crosses his legs, looking surly. Mauled Garret continues as if he hasn't heard. "My...my gift of prophecy resurfaced shortly after I left here...I started having dreams of the future for the first time since I was thirteen-" "BO-RING!" interjects the unharmed Garret. "You see, elfboy" he continues, looking at Astarial, "the truth is that we saw two possible futures for that fiasco in the park. You do know about that, don't you? I'm sure a clever little fairy like yourself can figure out some way to look into the past if you don't." Astarial listens to all of this fairly calmly despite the odd noticeable - to the perceptive - twitch that *might* be taken to indicate a desire to maim the unharmed Garret. "Anyway, we saw two possible futures. In one, we died. In the other, we manage to capture Elaine, the woman we were following, and find out what Voormas was planning. We took a chance, and we lost." Mauled Garret continues,"After Elaine shot me, I started casting out for something, anything, that might save me. And I discovered that time in the park...was weak. Like tissue paper. All it needed was a push, and it would rip." "But we couldn't do that," cuts in the other Garret, "We didn't have the skill. But we knew Vachon didn't either. So when she blew our head off (sideways look at MG), we grapped space time and twisted it like taffy." Mauled Garret shakes his head. "It was stupid, but we were dying...in pain...desperate." "And now we're stuck here, while Vachon's safe and sound inside the rift, where no-one can touch her!" Growls normal Garret. "Well, now. That also is a matter for dispute. After all, collapsing the rift would... ah, no, that might be rather unfortunate. Or perhaps -. Well, let's just say there are a number of possibilities." (to MG) "But in any case, it's rather clear that the rift is still linked to you. It seems likely that one of the most important steps in handling it will be reviving you, somehow..." Astarial consults Martin again, subvocalising:: <> Meanwhile, Sparrow makes his way to a pay phone, dials, and waits for someone on the end to pick up. At last, he speaks. "Hello? Is this Wolves Glen Pub?" A voice replies. "Aye, this is Wolves Glen Pub, Padriac speaking, what can I do for ye?" "My name is Sparrow, and I'm a friend of Gegi's. I'm afraid we've just received some rather distressing news. It's about Garret Corven." "Some distressin' news? Lass or boyo, Garret's right here." "He's what?" Sparrow blinks in surprise. "He looks a wee bit different, but he's here. 'Course he doesn't 'member many o' us, but that's not the first case o' amnesia in the pub.... What's the news?" "I - Garret was here in New Orleans tailing a member of a dangerous Euthanatos faction when he was attacked, by them, we assume. He's been presumed dead. They couldn't find a body, but they've had some of their best mages searching for his spirit and finding nothing... you say he's there? But can't remember anything?" There's a long pause on Paddy's end... "Garret... dead? There are a few Garrets here, from different time lines." "Different time lines?" "If ye can find neither his body, nor his spirit... Then we mourn his passing and move on." "That's the official posistion, yes..." "Anythin' else?" Clearly confused and frustrated by the way this phone call is going, he says, "Is Rowan Silverhair there? May I speak to her?" At the table, Gegi frets to herself. "Different timelines? Different universes? And who knows more about different universes than me? I should be there, I should help him, but I can't go back, the time isn't right, something awful will happen if I go back there now..." She pauses. "But I know someone who -can- go back. And she'd do it, for Garret..." A pause, and then a beautiful female voice comes through. "Aye? Who's this?" He lets out a breath, relieved. "Rowan? Hi. This is Joseph Sparrow. I'm in New Orleans with Gegi and a friend of Garret's. I'm sorry to have to deliver news this way, but I didn't want her to have to tell you herself... Garret means a lot to her. And to you too, I know. I never met him, but I know he was a good man." Sparrow briefly relates the story of Garret's death and of Max's dream. "There is a possibility that when he was attacked, he threw his consciousness out of his body and became trapped in the Umbra. She asked me to tell you. She thought maybe you would have a way of finding him. She says that she used the gift he gave Rhiannon to search for him once when they were lost in the rift..."