Chapter 12: Days of Remembrance, Nights of Ecstasy

Chapter 12: Days of Remembrance, Nights of Ecstasy
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
Emmeline lay abed, rereading her favorite Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities appealed to her for it's bold depictions of such an era;the (ongoing)war of attrition upon the poor, as in all times, she had to admit. But Dickens' turn of phrase made it palatable and enjoyable without; she wept in sorrow with the Manettes, she laughed at Mr. Cruncher, admonishing his wife for "flopping herself down and praying...", against this dire action he set his son,("a grisley urchin of twelve"), to keep watch upon her:("You're going to flop, mother!--Halloa, father!")...
Following that, Em mused, might one conceivably refer to a church as a 'flop-house...?'Bloody Jerry, a Resurrection Man.
At last she marked the page and set down her book with regret...another work day. She sat up and endeavored to arise...thinking she felt 'rickety as a hackney coach and sleepy as laudanum...'indeed... Damnable Uncle Daryl again. She sighed, casting a squint at the new day. Well, she supposed he thought he was doing the right thing.
Like the Old Baily, did Daryl's actions enforce the old truism, "'Whatever is, is right', an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence that nothing that ever was, was wrong. "
However much she wished to lie abed with Dickens awhile, she forced herself upward and began her ablutions...recalling yesterday. She'd forgotten that it had been Nov. 2nd and the Day of the Dead. When she had returned from Crowley Place, she went with Rosa and Manuel from the mercado to Mission Dolores, bringing bread for the dead, pan de calaveras, and other items for the altars there, and again she thought of her heritage and the mystery surrounding.
It had been, indeed, a season of remembrance.
                                . . . .
Daryl woke rather later than Emmeline, and did not accompany her on this day. He took his coffee back to his study and endeavored to make sense of his business correspondence and bills to pay, orders to be delivered...he ran a hand across his forehead and grimaced at the over-bright day without.
He rose and let down the blue shades covering the bay windows, allowing but a scant space at the bottom open for illumination.
 Daryl put a hand over his eyes.
"Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!"
For the past, like Henry, was dead and never shall revive...
Sighing, he regarded the empty brandy glass from the night before.
Madness... He really must stick to opium and forget the cognac.
He'd enough headaches as it was...
He took his coffee to the armchair and sank down, putting his feet up on the ottoman. Well, this tangled web he'd woven had at last warped and woofed itself into a reasonably accurate rug of revelations, he supposed...  Perhaps his mission was coming to an end; he'd had his say, and 'worn his heart upon his sleeve', he'd brought Emmeline and Jack back together, and, hopefully, he'd set events upon a new and altogether different Timeline now.
 Although, his efforts to 'undo' the past had had some decidedly, if inadvertently, disasterous conclusions before now;still, he knew that in the worst case, he'd had nothing to lose--the verdict had been destruction, in every timeline he'd walked. He no longer pondered or worried over his decision then;sometimes, Fate played it's hand, however it would, despite the petty strivings of the pawns upon it's chessboard.
Still...did Shakespeare have the last word on that?--
 'It's divinity that shapes our ends', or was it Bitter Bierce: '(Destiny)--a tyrant's authority for crime, and fool's excuse for failure.'
Indeed. Bierce it is!
Fool he may be, Daryl granted, but at least he'd been a fool for love. He had loved Drake, his brother, of course, and Sarah, sweet Sarah, who was only the innocent victim in all this, and he'd labored like Hercules to change the outcome for them all. In the end, though, he had to admit to failure, at least for Drake and Sarah. Jack, though, he'd been able to deliver from fate's heaviest hand and the Massachusetts house and grounds would be inviolable and irrevocably a place of refuge and sanctuary for them all, any whom Jack wished to spare from the ravages without. The ravages of Time.
'"As if you could kill Time, without injuring eternity"', he pronounced at last, quoting Thoreau.
Daryl wondered about that.
He did well to wonder.
                              . . . .
Time, meanwhile, marched on, as was it's wont, despite the supplications and machinations of humankind. The autumn days grew shorter and the beauteous golden crowns of the ginko and other  deciduous trees eventually yielded their gilt to the wild winds and stripped them down to the barest of silhouettes.
Emmeline had begun to spend her time wisely and sparing not a minute; she knew she wouldn't be living much longer in the city and went to the druids' meets and helped prepare for the solstice to come. She'd  spoken with Connor and Bridget there and learned not much more from them regarding Sophie; she was an independent young wraith, here today, disappearing tomorrow...but Emmeline had also spoken with Ms.Greer at the library and asked if she would set the girl up with another tutor there, should she be called away with don Diego unexpectedly.
She'd congratulated herself on this, thinking it would allay suspicion regarding her upcoming absence whilst taking care of practical matters...
She also cast caution to the winds and attended any/all meetings with the Library Ladies;attending lectures from women's suffrage, to socialism, to family planning, freethinking and free love, (in favor of the former, not so sure about the latter...), and unionization of course.
She spent more time with Rosa and Manuel also, getting to know them better and learning new recetas from Rosa's vast repository of herbal knowledge and cookery. She found she'd more in common with them both than she had at first imagined...in fact they were becoming good friends and had given her intimations that they knew more about what was going on behind the scenes than they let on. Rosa, especially had become her close confidant...they spent many evenings together in either her or Emmelina's room, getting to know one another better...
Her ends were becoming well and truly tied-up, she mused. And she
thought about her bold move, and about Jack, daily. If she were to be quite honest, the thought of a permanent love tryst with Jack frightened her out of her wits! But then, they would meet Sundays in the mercado, and she regained her resolve to simply live in the moment and not borrow trouble.
As for Daryl...he'd noticed her new necklace and eyed it narrowly, but made no comment upon it.
After their initial lengthy disclosure, he had seemed to be making himself more scarce. The rascal...just when she'd wanted to continue on with their revelatory discussions, too. She needed to get some things sorted out and Daryl seemed to thwart her attempts to sort him. Bugger-all...
Well, she decided that she wasn't going to allow him to dissuade her from her chosen path. She would clasp her necklace in hand and close her eyes, thrilling to it's cold touch, and slowly warm it with her palm. She recalled reading something about the ancient Romans, how they kept a crystal ball mounted upon a stand to cool their hands upon...knowing the more esoteric properties assigned to crystal balls, however, Em wondered if that's all they were used for.
She regarded her necklace now, and smiled. She fancied, in her quieter moments, that the Herkimer had rather a slight voice, or hum to it. Indeed, it seemed a live thing, as many gemstones appeared to be. Certainly more alive than the likes of Director Dickman and the inhuman mechanical maenads at Pankhurst Public...
Thank the goddess, she was well out of there, indeed.
                                . . . .
Daryl leaned upon the sill and stared out the dormer window. The room was situated on the topmost floor, just under the attic.
It was his meditation room, and he'd been spending most of his time here when business or duty did not demand his presence elsewhere.
He knew he had to get hold of himself. The truth may set you free, but it can also drive you muy loco... It wasn't like him, truly, to have allowed himself to spin so out of control. But this mission he'd  taken upon himself was not an easy one.
He'd thought he'd had his demons subdued if not completely decimated. When he'd been a young man, after his...encounter, it had been all he could do not to go stark raving mad. The gypsy tribe had taken him in and restored him to health, but they couldn't take the knowledge of what he had seen, and felt--the sights, the sounds, the touch...from his memory.
He thought he had been an initiate prior to his experience, that he knew of things beyond the realms of the mundane, but...he'd been wrong.
Daryl rubbed his forehead then, and yawned. He'd cut out the cognac and the laudanum, and stayed awake nights instead of knocking himself out to sleep. Exhaustion would eventually overtake him sometime during the day, and he'd catch the odd wink or two. Not much.
Mostly, though, he stayed away from Emmeline. He knew his limits now, one benefit of maturity...and he had ventured beyond his comfort zone for her sake.But. No more...for awhile.
Back to the mat. He turned and sat upon his chosen zabuton, a cushion really, a drawback of maturity: his active life had left him with physical scars and pains as well as mental and emotional.
'It's not the year, it's the mileage' as the saying went, applied to Daryl, no longer a callow youth. Well, still callow in some ways. Certainly not young.
He endeavored constantly to keep up his practice. Little did he know that his room and diciplines echoed those of Jack's...down to the Japanese decor. It kept him centered, and for the most part, sane. Dicipline, and his gypsy family were to thank for that.   
Perhaps, he'd be ready to make an appearance come dinner time.                        
                        . . . .
Emmeline returned to Nob Hill House, as she now referred to it, rather late, or perhaps it only seemed so, having become dark now so very early. The solstice was nearing, indeed! She had ventured after work, to the druids' house and helped put the final touches upon the preparations there for the festivities. The old gingerbread early-Victorian house looked fine; bedecked like a matriarch fetched up in her best ballgown...there were fir and juniper boughs,draped as though a high tide had delivered suddenly,Cthulhu-like,a green mask upon nearly every surface,  entwined with ribbon and holly blushing with color, candles were placed everywhere that didn't run off quickly enough, the chandelier had been polished and gleamed 'til it fair screamed, crystal prisms depended from every window, and seasonal smells of baking spicebreads and gingersnaps wafted deliciously throughout.
As Manuel and Emmeline left for home afterwards, they took some of the leftover greenery with them to decorate Daryls' place. He hadn't been about, so she decided to take it upon herself to do so, having not had the chance to discuss it with him. She couldn't imagine that he would have any reason to object to a bit of seasonal spirit flung about...she would keep it all very tasteful and sparse.
After helping Rosa in the kitchen awhile and taking notes in her receta notebook, Em went to work greening the house. Rosa rounded up some candles and ribbon for her, and she and Emmelina then began winding it about the balustrade and tying it with red ribbon,amid winks, and setting candles about surrounded by reflecting tinted glass balls and sprigs of holly, and greening up the mantlepiece but only slightly! with juniper, rosemary and fir, a glass ball here and there, holly and mistletoe.
Viola! Not bad, for an old bachelor's residence, thought Em. Cheerful, but not at all fussy.
'The pumpkin spice bread smells wonderful, Rosa!'Em remarked, and Rosa smiled and headed into the kitchen to retrieve it, greatly relieved that this bread contained the last of the cursed calabasas to be cooked up, finally!
                            . . . .
'Well!'A seldom-heard voice of late then resounded; and Emmeline,on tiptoe, felt she'd been caught in the act of lighting a holly trimmed candle, which also blushed with berries, and looked over her shoulder to see Daryl gazing about His Parlor, now appearing as though elves had gotten to it in his absence. Solstice Elves.
She shook out the match, which burned her fingers with a reminder of what she'd been about, and she put them in her mouth,her fingers,not the matches, which would have been nasty indeed. Lowering herself to the floor, she wondered what Daryl would make of All This. In His Parlor.
Daryl's gaze went from her corner candle to the bannister, and up the stairs and back, as he wandered into the parlor, and walked over to the mantle, blushing guiltily with its' holly berries amongst the greenery. 'Ah, yes. The Solstice soon.' He turned, hands clasped behind him and nodded. 'Aye, elvish work, this, certainly...'
Em relaxed then. 'It's just a little decoration...to mark the solstice, yes, and Midwinter...' she began, uncertain. They hadn't spoken much since the altercation in the garden.
'Midwinter...so soon...'Daryl sounded wistful, his gaze rather fogged with a faraway look.
'Yes! Time has certainly flown lately!'Emmeline attempted safe small talk. 'The shorter days, no doubt...' Goodness, couldn't she finish a scentence? She felt herself blushing. Was she guilty of greening the parlor, then? Suppose she was...surely the punishment would be more pumpkin for dinner...
Daryl smiled at last, regarding the seasonal changes about. 'Spice bread?' he inquired at last, gazing up with a hopeful sniff. Em nodded. He held forth his arm, then. 'Accompany me to table, Miss Page?'
Emmelina smiled and nodded, taking his arm, and her pumpkin bread punishment.
                                  . . . .
After a hearty meal of kale with mushrooms, mushroom, garlic and potato pie,apple, celery, walnut and currant salad with mandarin slices, and the aforementioned pumpkin spice bread, Daryl and Emmeline left Rosa and Manuel to finish their repast and tidy up.  One thing Em couldn't fault Daryl for, he usually sat together with his employees at table, or included them in most
of their gatherings, unlike many in the neighboring Nob Hill abodes.
They adjourned to the parlor, Em taking her new mandolin with her, as Daryl stirred up the fire and lighted the remaining candles.
He sat beside Em and perused the evening paper as she noodled about; either one making the odd comment occasionally--Daryl's were punctuated with snorts of derision usually, concerning some local political antics, while Emmeline's were exasperated exclamations of woe regarding her poor,sore,stiff, unyielding left wrist, or slow-growing right nails which she used as picks.
In short, things seemed to be back to what passed for normal at Nob Hill House; Em had left off with the Casa Cabron' since Daryl had opened up to her more. She tolerated him now with an easy wariness, rather like a pet snake which just might decide to return to it's jungle habits and attack from nowhere at any moment, but would otherwise curl up and appear nearly immobile for the most part.
Em reached out for her teacup and sipped, nibbling upon the moist, be-nutmegged pumpkin bread as well. She decided to pause in her torturing the mandolin and shook her wrist out.
'So...the greenery came from the druids' house; it's looking rather grand. They will be hosting the festivities for the Solstice celebration,' Em began.
'Ummmm?' Daryl, head buried in newspaper, managed an inquiring hum.
'Yes.' Good grief, was he even listening? 'I do plan to attend this year. It should be quite the gathering!'
'Um.'
Em sighed. 'Will you be attending, as well, don Diego?'
Newspapers shook. 'Eh? What's that?' A forehead poked over the paper's edge, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye. 'Ah, the solstice, you say?'
'Yes,'Em poured them more tea. 'Are you coming, to the druids' celebration then?'
'Ah.'Daryl frowned. 'You're going, you say?'
Good grief. Men. 'Yes, Diego. On the solstice. It is to be such an occasion! And, they're hosting a Midwinter's Ball!'Emmeline dared a brazen smile. Take that.
'A ball! Indeed?' Daryl folded his paper, took up his cup and sat back crossing his long legs before him.
'Oh, Diego! Surely you've heard of their Annual Solstice Ball? Even in Pankhurst we knew of its' fame as a lodestone for druids this time of year!'
'Oooh...I suppose,' he remarked, casually, sipping tea. 'Not much of a social butterfly, myself...' Daryl didn't wish to be a part of the Nob Hill society set. He was friends with Connor and Bridget, but time didn't permit him much...leisure sport. 'Manuel may take you, of course...'
Emmeline toyed with her Herkimer, which she sometimes wore with her lute-player cameo, sometimes alone, but since Jack had bestowed it upon her, with a promise, she wore it always, near her heart. 'There is...something else...'she began.
Daryl looked up. Set down his tea.
Em cleared her throat. 'I, we...that is, I should like to attend the ball this year, the Solstice Ball, with Jack.' She looked at Daryl, trying to catch his eye.
He gazed at her hard. 'Indeed.' A flat statement.
'Yes.'
Daryl exhaled softly, looked down. Well, this was what he'd wanted wasn't it? The two of them together? That had been The Plan. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Yes. He'd given her the information she needed, well, most of it...damn. Now she'd called his hand. Well, was it to be a bluff, or would Daryl deliver?
His gaze narrowed. His glance went to the kitchen where the muted sounds of Rosa and Manuel cleaning up, talking and laughing occasionally, tea towels snapping and the odd yelps, could be discerned.
'In my study, I think...' he rose and gestured Emmeline to proceed.
He'd never had much luck as a gambler. Something he might have done well to consider in depth, as he blew the candles out and followed.
                               . . . .
He turned on the lights from just inside the doorway, and the cool blue globes that functioned as lamps therein illumined the study with an altogether different glow than the cheery amber of the candles in the parlor. Cooler.Impartial. A neutral zone.
'Do have a seat...' He fussed around abit, running a hand through his hair, grown rather lengthy of late, and sat finally at his desk whilst Em took the armchair facing the windows, now showing indigo deepening into the black of night.
 Alright. So the Time Is Now.
-He'd taken Em from Mexico, disrupted that timeline (he hoped),
-Delivered her back to California, yet not in Jack's lap,
-Keeping her from Jack, would guarantee she would want Jack,
-Daryl had kidnapped/abducted her. She hated that. And him.
All was in place.
May as well dive right in...
'There are accounts, you know, of large mummies found, quite nearby, really, discovered in caves, from the Sierra into portions of Nevada, with long reddish hair who measured up to 11 feet in length.' Which may or may not have anything to do with what Daryl wished to impart, but it was a skating about the perimeter maneuver which would enable him to tip toe, skates and all, back to the Matter At Hand.
'Truly?' Em enquired, wondering how this had anything to do with the Solstice Ball, but she had to admit it was a fascinating, if rather unseemly newsbit. One had to have a strong stomach for after-dinner conversation at Casa Conundrum.
'Ah, yes...' Daryl toyed with his teacup, wishing to fill it to the brim with cognac. And laudanum. He cleared his throat.
'Jack, you say...you wish to attend the ball with him, then.'
Safe topic. Comparitively.
Lord, the man was twitchy tonight! Em endeavored to keep up. 'Yes, Daryl...we have been meeting, as I believe you know.'
Chew on that, uncle.
Daryl heaved a forceful sigh and gave in. He stood and took his teacup to the walnut bar. Just...a tad, for medicinal use. He tipped the decanter. 'Em?' he inquired, not looking up.
'No, Daryl, thank you.'
He set the cup upon his desk and strode about the room, touching a prism here and there, raising a shade, gazing out into the darkness. 'The parlor looks...lovely.' He looked at her then. 'Thank you.'
Em nodded. 'Da nada. Rosa assisted.'
'You and Rosa have become amigas, si?' He deigned to sip his brandy.
'Yes. I shall miss her when I leave.' There. Let him figure that one out. It shouldn't be hard, Daryl...
He seemed to freeze for a moment. Then took a rather large sip from his teacup. He grimaced, set the cup upon his desk, and nodded, finally. 'I see. When?' He stared down at his desktop.
'After the ball, I think.' Em's heart was beating madly as if trying to flee. 'I've, been tying up loose ends these past few weeks, with the library, and my tutoring there...'
Daryl nodded again. He scratched his hair, looking so like Jack, for a moment, it seemed as though he'd superimposed himself upon the scene. Em's hand went to her Herkimer.
Daryl noticed the gesture. 'He gave you that?'He nodded toward her.
'For my birthday, yes. It's a Herkimer diamond, with my birthstones...'
'I know Herkimers.' He advanced then, sat at the windowseat and looked intently at her necklace. 'A fine stone. Jack knows his gemstones...' He only hoped Jack knew the true value of Emmeline.
'Why are we here, Daryl? Why did you take me from the gypsy camp that night?' Em pleaded quietly. 'What was, is, this all about?'
He looked at her then, his grey eyes steely. He gazed away. Went to his desk and retrieved the teacup...refilled it. He began to pace...
'Those...particular mummies, the Tall Ones, as the Indians referred to them, may not have had anything to do with...your father, Emmelina, the man you saw in the cauldron, and in your dream...but perhaps they did...at some time.' He drank.  'However, I do know of the man you now know as your father.' Touche'. Emmelina wasn't the only one dropping newsbombs tonight.
'Yes?' Em was on the edge of her seat. At last!
Daryl was staring out at the night sky. 'Emmelina...the place in your dream, your recurring dream, you say...you know it well?'
'Oh, yes, quite well,'Em looked down, remembering. 'It's a complete world...the smell of the sea, the salt air, the cries of birds, the sound of waterfalls and fountains...the whole feeling of...a sort of oasis, or sanctuary! Yes, that's it, a safe place. And I feel I'm home at last, among those who know and understand me,such as I have never found here...' Em surprised herself with her revelations. But, it was all true.
Daryl sighed, sat again on the window seat and faced Em.
'I have been there as well.'
Emmeline looked up at him. Said nothing. Waited.
'I know, it's hard for you to believe...but it is a real place, a real world. It's just, beyond our own. It...it exists in a different frequency. That's why you have only been able to access it in a dream state.' His eyes searched hers for understanding.
'But, you're saying that it is just a dream...' Em frowned.
'No, Em, I'm saying it is real. That, in dreams, one may access that place. But not only in dreams.' Daryl took his teacup once more, forced himself to pace it.
Em shook her head slowly...she wanted answers, but she seemed to always leave Daryl's study with more questions than anything else. Just now she was so confused, her thoughts faltered, tripped and at last gave up and flopped down defeated.
'Is Jack meeting you there, then--at the ball?' Daryl was off on another tack.
'Ah, he is, he could be, yes...we hadn't planned that far as yet...' Em endeavored to rally. 'Yes, that would be best, I believe. He can journey here with the Pankhurst druids, they are all well acquainted with one another.'
'So. Well then.' Daryl sipped abit of his 'tea'... 'You must have a ball gown...' Emmeline began to wave the suggestion aside, 'No, no--I insist! Let me do this one thing for you, filla, please...' Daryl cast a quick grey glance her way, 'Madame Yvanna was once a ballerina in old St. Petersburg; she knows of fine fashion and excellent tailors here in the city. She would find it utterly entertaining to take you about for a fitting. I shall speak with her when I head into the shop on the morrow.'
Well, this was all very fine of Uncle Daryl. 'Thank you, Daryl...I hardly know what to say!' Em didn't. Her brain had been pummelled into jelly by Daryl's twists and turns and odd bits and flotsam of ideas and revelations.
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He smiled a fleeting grim sortof smile, and went to Emmeline and lay a hand upon her shoulder. Patted it. Then went out.
Em supposed their meeting was at an end then.
                          . . . .
Daryl went into his meditation chamber, closed the door. He strode to the small window and gazed out from on high, hands in pockets. Atop the Hill, atop the house, it was quite a fine view...a whole miniature holiday scene, dotted with lights about the town, down to the bay far below...yes, Daryl thought, he had wanted this, it had been his grand plan;but Emmelina had orchestrated it at last, or perhaps he would have dragged the 'plan' out for months to come.
He knew why. May aswell admit it...Emmelina was so like...Her.
Yes, Daryl knew of Em's 'sanctuary'--a perfect name for it, as it had been Daryl's also. Knew it well. It was where,in part, for many years, he'd done the Night Shift.
He bit the inside of his cheek, shook his head, and went to a low table, taking out a long handled, thin pipe with a round small bowl on the end, matches, and a small wooden box. He sat cross-legged, Indian style, upon a cushion against the window which functioned as a small windowseat there, opened the box,
and took out a wicked long hat pin and a small, black, knobby ball. Poking this with the pin, he lit it with a match, warmed it, inhaled the blue smoke, put it into the pipe bowl, and drew deeply, closing his eyes.
Exhaling softly, he relit the bowl and drew the smoke in, held it long and exhaled slowly...oh, blessed relief...he had to admit that the physical pain was lessened, and his thoughts were not so tortured now...and was that such a crime?
His pains weren't all physical. Gods, how he missed Her...how long had it been? If only he could go to Her...but it was never up to him, was it...? He never knew when he would be transported to Her side...he'd go to sleep at night...and suddenly he'd be sitting in the desert, under the stars...and somehow able to read the book before him, written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, the ebony, the cobalt, the gold glyphs seemed like live things, and he could understand it all, and it was about to reveal
...something, something he'd longed to know, what he'd been seeking his whole life long...and he would look up, and suddenly, there She was, sitting across from him. She looked troubled, compassionate, always; but why wasn't She as happy as he-- Oh, see how amazing all this was! This book, these signs, what all this could mean! He was beside himself with joy to be here,  at long last! Just a few more pages, another moment...and he would know...
~ You must return. ~ it was She.
 ~ You have been out too long.~
~You are cold. You must go back in...~
No, no! It cannot be, don't you see? I'm nearly, it's just...here...
And, invariably, he would awake, cold, at home in his bed. And alone.
Always alone...even when, if he had company...
Daryl had never lacked for female companionship, if, when he wanted. But he never went seeking. They always 'found' him, hunted, seduced him. And it was always well and good, and fun for awhile. But they weren't Her. And it never lasted long.
Nothing, no one, could ever compare, to Her.
Daryl drew his long legs up and hugged them to himself, leaned his head upon his knees and gazed into the darkness. He looked young then, and vulnerable. Perhaps that was how he had appeared to Them, on those nights when They would come for him...it was on such a night, that She came to him, and made it all bearable.
Gods! She had changed him forever then...
He closed his eyes, remembering when...suddenly, he had found himself inside an immaculate sort of lounge...the words 'In Flight Lounge' came to his mind, though he couldn't imagine why. Obviously a room of this size couldn't fit inside a plane, and certainly no private spacecraft, not even the so-called orbiting hotels, even by  2076 standards.
It was colorless, or cream colored, and there seemed to be others milling about nearby, other people, but they weren't important, he had hardly noticed them. But Her, here She was, at last! She, who had come for him! He remembered now, he'd been in a car, and someone had asked him, what was it now? If he was the Timekeeper...? What had that meant? Someone had produced a deck of cards, a Tarot deck...and then such smoke...it seemed like smoke had begun to roil about him obscuring all...then--he found himself here. The In Flight Lounge. With Her...
And they were dancing together, arms about one another, circling slowly...gazing into each other's eyes...he held Her, so close, but oh, She knew how to become ever closer... They actually melted, then, into one another, as they danced, they danced an eternal dance of infinite harmony until they became one another and their physical barriers faded til they shared the same essence of being, and he knew Her and She, him, like no one else,no, no one ever could! It was the ultimate ecstasy! Nothing like it on earth! Only She; She knew him, became him, they shared each other's innermost being, thoughts, feelings, they became as One. Only She could ever complete him, make him whole...forever, only Her...
His Anara...
                           . . . .