SIDE C | PROLOGUE

Andrew Cress

April 23rd, 2032

Time broke everything; the blowing winds were born only to die hours later. A flower bloomed in the spring to live its short life before the frigid winter ended its existence. A lush field would in enough time become the arid desert that could only dream of holding a single flower.

Humans, too, expired with time, although they liked to believe that they were the exception. The rule of the universal extinction surely couldn't happen to the species with the most to lose, right? And why was that, really? Was it because they could understand their own morality—that by some divine gap in logic they could overcome it? As if by understanding our beginnings—which humans do not understand our morality any more seriously than any other species—somehow we could advance past our deaths and those of our loved ones. Like a fissure in the earth is forever a split in two—once the human spirit is divorced from the body it was forever separated. Forever removed from the game as the pieces that remain lose the parts of them that connected with those that died.

Human beings may have been able to recognize certain patterns that could help prevent obvious ends to their existence, but that did not mean that they were in any way prepared to do anything but jump head first into the fissure when it was their time—and almost all of the time they jumped in with no idea that it was the end. So much for being able to recognize those patterns.

There was one human that understood morality—both his own and of everything around him. There was a long time in the universe where he did not exist, His name was Friedrich Adata. He was the father and progenitor of the Radical-9 Incident. He was born with the unique ability to know everything that would happen in the universe during the course of his life and even thereafter. He set forth in motion the events that would ruin my life. He set forth in motion the events that made me the leader I am today. How can I hate the man I owe my growth to?

Easy. He killed my wife.

Andrew Cress knew that Friedrich Adata wasn't directly responsible for Lindsey's suicide three years ago, but it sure was as far back a cause could go, and it was an exercise in not blaming himself. If Friedrich never gave birth to Jack and set him on his goal to discover Radical-9. I never would have met Lindsey...but she wouldn't have killed herself. It was a dual sided coin that came back often to his mind. There was a lot of blame that came back to the actions that inspired the Radical-9 Incident, and those spun as far back as eighty years ago.

Time didn't just end existence. It would be naive to think that the end was anything but another beginning; a different beginning. Sometimes it even echoed the past. Sometimes those echoes don't seem so loud at first—or maybe they hid themselves under bigger echoes until their time to resonate comes—stronger and louder than the original caster.

Lindsey's suicide echoed through Andrew's dreams often. It wasn't until spring proper that a different sort of echo would drop on his doorstep. An echo to silence everything in his mind. Nothing could steer his gaze from the little yellow envelope that arrived that Friday morning. A part of him knew as soon as he held it that it held a powerful resonant force inside. He knew his life was now separated into two emotionally powerful times—the time before and after receiving that letter.

He felt the Radical-9 inside of his body begin to fluctuate like a magnet. It felt like he had been holding his own death sentence—an echo from long, long ago finally coming back up to the surface. In truth, because he knew how powerful the words inside the letter were going to be, he held off on opening it. It scared him. It really shouldn't have, he felt words by themselves really shouldn't be able to hold him over like this, but in reality he knew all too well the power of words alone.

Finally, taking himself in he took in a deep breath and opened the envelope. Slowly, time around him seemed to understand the weight of his action and his hand seemed stuck to the letter forever as he pulled it out. Just open it already. Just bite the bullet and take it out and end this terrible torture that you continue to put yourself through.

He held out the sheet in front of his face and quietly began to read.

"To the current President of the United States,".

~...~

"Hello? Yeah...Can you come to my office? I have an urgent matter I need to speak to you about...yes, the both of you. It concerns you both. No, you shouldn't need anything else. Okay, see you in a few." Andrew hung up the phone. A few hours had passed and he was sitting at his desk in the Deliverance's Presidential Office. The desk was a carved mahogany that was a gift from a few of his supporters. He was modest about receiving such a gift, but they insisted. They were each a pair of old souls who had been woodcarvers for a very long time.

He sat opposite the grand windows that casted him from behind. Andrew joked that it were a major security risk as anybody could enter the garden and make an assassination attempt from behind. Truth be told, any serious assassination attempt would probably be foiled if attempted to simply.

The human mind can react faster than it believes it can. Any sort of noise out of the ordinary sends Andrew into panic mode with his telekinesis. Ever since the Radical-9 Incident he has had to use his powers defensively, and getting into a habit like that is a hard one to break. And yet, even with the chance of being killed by surprise were slim, he still had a lot of hesitations about keeping the window where it was. It was easy enough to guess that something so large would at the very least be a pain to clear if anything ever happened to it.

At the end of the day, he understood the source of his worries sat on his desk now—and what that would entail with this meeting that was to be. He placed the phone back onto its cradle and tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently. He never thought he'd be sitting here after all of this time. The days of Elysium felt like so long ago; much less the election.

Truth be told, he was scared. Scared of the will of the people that called him a false leader or a dictator in the wings. Everything and anything he heard came out over those tumultuous months that preceded the election. He doubted himself, but knew that he had to do something to fix what had once been broken. He had to do it for everyone who had died in the Radical-9 Incident.

He had to do it for Lindsey.

Thinking of her hurt his heart. In those troubled times so long ago he was able to push the thoughts away from his front mind because there were more important matters that needed to be focused on or else everyone would be dead. Time was a cruel mistress that always paid its dues. Sometimes, it came early and asked for extra. The hardest part about being in control is you were the one that paid the debts, and often it wasn't with your life that you paid. Always with other faces that you signed the proverbial check. It was the time where he couldn't backdate those thoughts anymore. They have been here at the front ever since the day that Jack died. In every dissenter that hurled insults his way or doubted his resolve he saw Lindsey in their eyes—the ghost of his wife's regrets and pains. I couldn't stand up there in front of everybody on that final election day. I couldn't stand against Avery. I'm sure he had pleasant ideas, but I had to do this to keep from feeling like I'm failing her memory.

It has been almost three full years since that day and it's been more than three years since Lindsey took her own life. And yet in the back of his eyes he saw himself waking up at The Continental Inn, the hurried energy of everybody packing to leave back on their trip to California. The rush back upstairs to check on Lindsey. Finding the door locked, the instant fear and panic that set in. The exact feeling of failure rising from my stomach to my chest and…

Andrew took in a deep breath and tried to pull his thoughts more forward. He knew Jake would have done a spectacular job talking on stage, but he felt a growing tension in the crowd that was unsatisfactory. Even if he had won over the majority there would not be a good enough outcome. That's when the magic happened—Jake improvised, and that was his greatest strength. He got on that stage and talked, but not of how great Andrew was as a candidate or how awful Matthew Avery would be—he told his own story, and poised a new option to the people before him.

"Why are we splitting ourselves into two halves over two perfectly capable gentlemen? Why don't we elect the both of them so that everybody gets the chance to speak their mind, and we work through this like a team? I learned the hard way what trying to solve everything alone gets you...nobody wants that. Nobody."

Andrew couldn't believe that he had never thought of it. They were so stuck in their old ways that they hadn't realized the possibilities were endless for their new system. Part of him was frustrated that he hadn't thought of it, but that was when he realized that he wasn't alone at the top of the totem pole—that it wasn't just up to him to spark the flames of rebirth. That relieved a lot of the weight that had been crushing his heart. Not all of it, but now was not the time for that. He didn't know when the time for all of the healing was supposed to happen—if it ever did. He knew that no matter what there was always going to be people depending on him.

He let loose a long sigh and blew a long breath out of his cheeks. It was such a simple childish motion it instantly brought him back to simpler times when he was a kid back in his home in Aurora. He remembered when he and his younger sister, Jen, tried to break the world record for the longest time for a held breath. The record at the time was something crazy like twenty minutes, but she was so sure that the next attempt was going to be the winning one. (Her longest was forty-five seconds, so no attempt was going to be the winning one, but that was beside the point.) Their mother loved watching them try to outdo one another. For a short time it made her believe that things could stay simple.

He missed Jen. She was everything he wasn't: detail-oriented, blunt, strong. He hasn't seen her as much since taking office, but those memories come flooding back instantly as the sound of the door opening pulled him out of his memories. In came the two people he needed to see in a time like this—Jake Carroway and Matthew Avery. Needed to see. Not wanted to see. The fact that they were all together meant only bad things were to come. The people he wanted to see were mostly dead. Lindsey...Gavin...Jay...but he had to set those thoughts aside.

He had to, for now it was time for business, and these were his partners. They were the remaining two of their authority trifecta. I knew Jake wanted to right his wrongs just as much as I did, so it was more than fitting that the crowd resonated with his speech. It helped of course that I seconded his nomination.

Andrew was worried that people wouldn't trust Jake as they had himself—or doubt the fairness of their leadership when one side outnumbered the other, but thankfully no word against Jake's nomination was ever challenged. His story grabbed at people's hearts the way the rest of theirs could not. Of course, he wasn't naive to believe that such talk didn't exist. He was sure that it fluttered in some of the minds of the public. It was a natural assumption to make, however he hasn't heard of it reaching the surface—which usually meant people only let it go so far as a thought.

"You wanted us?" Jake walked closer to the desk and rested an arm on his waist. His white hair made him look much older. It wasn't all that aged his face—ever since he was elected he has been up all hours of the night to impress the people that voted for him. It definitely helped his image in being the youngest out of the three of them—unless you really got to know him you didn't see the innocence that sometimes filled his face. He didn't let it show often because Andrew felt innocence wasn't a feeling Jake felt often, but that was up to him to decide.

And who am I to decide that, anyway?

"What a way to compose yourself in a professional environment," Matt strode in right beside Jake. "Not even a hello Me. Avery, how are you doing today? I swear that you folk aren't all that attributed to pleasantries."

Andrew knew that when he agreed to the three leader system that there would be conflict and argument down the road, so in some fashion he had been prepared for it, but he wasn't prepared for just how good Matt was at his job. He was calculating to the point where Andrew had rarely seen him out in public for any reason other than the civic duty—leisure was only a figment of the imagination. Although, to balance the scale—Matt was terrible at reading a room and conducting any sort of social skills. There was one thing, above all else that Andrew appreciated about him—the guy was vocal of his father's failings. In some ways that trait they all shared—and even bonded together. Unfortunately, the times they saw eye to eye were like a rainbow; fleeting and certainly a spectacle to behold, but only usually seen after a tough bout of rain.

"I'm sorry." Andrew said and let his hands fall to a rest on his desk. "I wish I could be calling you here now to share good news."

Matt grinned a sly look. "Good news is like an accurate weather forecast. Nice if you get it, but you never plan for it."

"That is...not untrue," Jake said.

"You can let me have that one," Matt said, turning slightly to Jake. "I'm not wholly inhuman. I can have witty banter now and then."

"Well, now that you used up yours for the week," Jake began.

Andrew held up a hand for the both of them. "The business remains as important."

Jake looked to Andrew and nodded quickly. "Yes, what is it?"

He took in a deep breath and counted in his mind just how many seconds it bought him. "I've received communications from England." The look on the both of their faces was about what he had expected.

"What kind of communication?" Matt asked.

"And...who from?" Jake added. "It's been so long...why now?"

Andrew bowed his head, trying to pick his words carefully, but when the right ones wouldn't come he opened the drawer on his desk and took out the tiny yellow envelope. It was such a small thing but carried large footsteps. He was sure that they both felt the weight that it carried as both their eyes were drawn to it immediately.

"Take a look at it yourselves and tell me what you think...before I continue on with my piece."

Confused, Jake took the envelope in his hands and took out the letter inside and read:

To the current President of the United States,

I would like to congratulate you and your allies on your recent and not-so-recent independence from our great kingdom. I will not front and say I am ecstatic that I've lost control of America, but I will not be so naive to believe that in the later years I had much control over former President Avery.

Nonetheless, I hope this letter finds you in a time of well reconstruction. Of course, I'd known about the events that had taken place with the individual known as Jack Adata days after it had happened, but I assumed that the times immediately thereafter would involve mourning and recovery.

So now three years later brings me to the point of this letter. I do not wish for this to drag on with unnecessary information, so we shall get down to business. I am extending an offer for a joint meeting between our two powers. I understand that this request comes with certain risks and hesitations. I do not expect you yourself to take this meeting. You're a new leader of a nation, and surely the people you lead would fear for your life...I am sure you can find suitable representatives to send in your stead—perhaps the fine gentlemen you pretend share your power? The date of our meeting shall be May 1st. I look forward to further relations between our two powers.

I expect that this meeting shall be successful for all involved, however, if for any reason you decide not to keep the appointed time I will be forced to consider it a direct insult to both myself and my great kingdom. I will be forced to take back what I had lost, and I do not believe that you would like the results. Nor do I believe—no matter how powerful you may think yourself—that even you would survive the first wave of our prowess.

Humans are known to do funny things when they are stressed, I understand this. So it isn't impossible that you may act out of your own best interest due to some preconceived notions or prejudices you may have. I trust you will not do this, Mr. Cress. You have a lot of people to live for, and I am sure you do not want anymore to end up like your late wife.

Sincerely,

S.V.

Jake slowly brought the letter down and it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He met Andrew's green eyes, "Are you freaking kidding me? It sounds like a threat. Show up or we fuck you up."

"Language," Matt crossed his arms.

Jake gave him a dirty look in response and showed him his favorite finger.

"Let me see it, for god's sakes," Matt snatched the letter in his hands and read with a startling voracity. By the time he finished he slammed it back down onto the desk.

"Now you see the rub we're in," Andrew said, tightening his grip against the edge of the desk. "It's plain to see that we're not without observation to the Queen herself. There's quite a bit of strategy to this letter, too. She's feeling us out. Seeing if she can use us before steamrolling and building anew."

"After throwing out my family name, of course," Matt tensed his fists. "Fuck her."

"Language," Jake said.

Matt side-eyed him and relaxed. "It's so kind of her to think of us as your ambassadors. It just goes to show how little she actually really knows," a wiry smile crossed his face.

"I don't think she cares,' Andrew said. "Look right here, where she writes the fine gentlemen that you pretend share your power. I think it's bait more than anything to see if we'll be provoked."

"Well, what's our plan?" Matt asked. "I'm not to keen on being the delivery boy for gift baskets with little red bows on them."

"No matter what we cannot let anything happen to the orb," Jake said.

"I wasn't suggesting we hand it over, either," Matt added. "I just don't think we can bend ourselves over to their whim."

"No, I don't think we submit," Andrew said. "It would defeat the purpose of our society. The Deliverance is meant to be free. However, I think it would be the end of us if we ignored the threat in this letter. Which is why I think that the two of you should make this meeting."

"Both of us?" Jake asked.

"I'm going to have to ask your reasoning," Matt raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms once more.

Together there Andrew felt an energy he hadn't felt between the three of them together. With the Queen at the forefront of the conversation it was almost like they were as they should have been.

"And you'll have your answer," Andrew raised his hands in return. "We're definitely sending at least someone, that isn't something we can budge on."

"Agreed," Matt said. "I still fail to see why we need to send two."

"Let me pose you with a hypothetical scenario," Andrew said, straightening in his seat. 'Say we sent just one person over. What is stopping them from being taken prisoner—or worse—killed on the point of entry?"

"Nothing would stop them from taking two people prisoner," Jake pointed out.

"Or killing two people," Matt added.

"This is true, but it would definitely be harder. You have twice the work to do. And we've already ruled out that we can't send nobody, because I fully believe that she will follow through on her threat, and I think we should just think simply—two heads are better than one."

"And it would be bad news bears if all three of us went," Jake said.

Andrew grinned for the first time that day, "Of course. Hence why I believe the two of you should be the ones to go. I'm sure she's expecting me to lead the charge after calling you two pretenders. "

"We're not pretenders," Matt said.

"Of course not. You're stubborn as fuck but you're every bit as important as any of us," Andrew said, and the comment almost made him smile. "That's why I think you should go. Be the heroes that the people chose you to be."

Jake's face darkened. "So...that's why you're insistent on staying behind."

The look in Andrew's face was immediate. He looked like if he had a response, but chose to hold it back. It was of no consequence, as Jake could read the look from a mile away. "You think you don't deserve to be called a hero. And you think that going along on the trip is reserved for heroes, so a + b..."

Andrew sat back in his chair, "Nothing that complicated...I just am paranoid about the orb." His eyes shifted up and to the left as he said it. The tell of an incomplete truth. "Besides, if my...time comes at least I won't start an international conflict."

Andrew was speaking about the fate of those infected with the Radical-9 Virus. In almost every single case the life of an infected ended with the explosion of the host due to the chemical reaction inside of the body. There were cases were the reaction didn't happen with. Jay was one of them, but then there was also the case of John—his son—and Jack Adata. Their deaths almost caused an explosion that would have leveled half of the country in seconds, but at the last second John was able to contain the raw energy until their life force solidified as one solid crystal orb. This was the weapon Andrew protected with all of his efforts. If anything ever happened to it...the end of the world would surely come.

"Don't talk like that," Jake said. "We'll go and find out exactly what this all means. Who knows, maybe it won't be as bad as it sounds."

"And maybe she'll offer us handy tips on how to rule a nation—bow to our whim even," Matt said.

Jake sighed. "We don't even have a full month to prepare for this whole shit show."

Andrew shook his head, "No, time unfortunately is not on our side. I don't want you two to feel forced into anything. I know I implied it before, but you do have a choice in the matter. If you don't want to go I will in your stead, but I think that the both of you are perfect for the job."

The two of them looked at Andrew in silence for what seemed like forever. "Andy," Jake said. "Do you remember when we first met ten years ago? We were sitting out in the bleachers at one of Jen's soccer games. You probably thought I looked like I was on death row already—" He waved his hand up and down toward himself, "...what with the hair and chapped looking skin. Truth is, I was dying, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it to see a bright and shiny 2024 much less 2032 after that. Since the Radical-9 Incident I'm dedicating however much time I have left to fixing as much bad shit that's still here in the world. Right now England's posing itself as a big threat—so I'm going to do whatever I can to neutralize any threat possible. I am in this."

Matt shook his head, "I'm still averse to consider myself a contributor to the Radical-9 Incident, nor do I have personal experience with the things that you each have experienced because of it, but you have been partners for the last three years. Pains in my sides, but I realize that no matter how much or how little experience one has—a job like this cannot be handled alone. I volunteer to personally visit this queen and remind her of the strength of the Avery name."

Andrew looked at them both with a wistful look in his eye, "You two truly are heroes. You're going to do excellent work."

"Oh shut it Cress," Jake hand-waves him off, "You'll have all the heroic action here getting to run the ship solo."

Andrew shakes his head, "As if. Matt would have my head on a silver platter if I didn't consult him on anything."

"Damn straight" he bellowed out a hearty laugh.

"If anything comes up call me and we can handle it from there. Nothing about this trip changes your positions. The people will know that, too."

"Well, I think that this matter is officially set in stone," Jake said. "What day do we ship out?"

Andrew relaxed in his chair and tapped his fingers against the desk. "You'll be flying out. Turns out some of the folks we picked up last month were ex pilots before the shutdown in '13."

"Really?" Jake asked. This fact took them both by surprise, but Jake was the first to vocalize it. "You've been keeping secrets from us?"

Andrew grinned, "Just the one. I tasked them on my own payroll to get a working flight ready unrelated to our current situation the past few weeks. I can confirm they've had several successful test flights. You boys will be riding first class the week before. We cannot trust extremely long distance, so we're having you land in Plymouth on April 30th where you'll take a connecting flight right up to London. What happens after that...I'm afraid I don't have those answers."

"Well, thank you. I understand your reasons even though you don't want to say. You're going to be doing a good job here. We'll keep you updated on everything that happens," Jake said.

Andrew held a moment, and nodded slowly.

"Well if that's all, I'm going to formally adjourn this meeting. Any objections?" Matt asked. He cracked his knuckles, and after none were had he stood up from his chair and looked at them each kindly. "Gentlemen," he nodded his head and turned from them, and left the room.

Jake crossed his right leg over his left and set an elbow down onto the table, "Ughhhh, if there was anyone I could avoid sitting on a plane alone with it would be him."

"It won't be so bad," Andrew said, smiling a small look. "Maybe he's a flight-sleeper."

"I doubt it. He'll probably lecture me on sitting etiquette."

Andrew laughed, "And now you found the real reason why I'm staying."

Jake laughed too, but it carried a sad undertone because he could tell Andrew's carried a sad sort of symphony. "You are doing a good job, Andy. Don't forget that. Everyone would be proud of you. And I know that, because I've been feeling that same guilt."

Andrew nodded slowly, "Yes...I don't intend to sell short the feelings you carry. I just...I didn't feel too comfortable showing that side to Matt. Not the right kind of atmosphere to have I think."

"That feeling will lessen. I promise," Jake extended a hand out to Andrew's shoulder across the desk. "And the mornings won't be so rough."

Andrew smiled small, "Yes, I do believe they will in time. Thank you for understanding." He looked down to the desk, "Why don't you go see how Jen is doing? I'm sure she'd love to hear the news sooner than later."

"Why don't we go together? She's always telling me how much she misses you."

The smile disappeared. "I'm...I'm not ready yet."

Of course Andy missed her. He missed everyone in his family that formed together during the old days, but seeing them now only brought back painful memories of when they were whole. It was like a vase shattering and taking the time to piece it together by hand—all the cuts involved with handling all the sharp edges only to find you were missing large gaping holes—holes you knew would never be there again.

It was easy for the challenges of the world before them to seem so simple when they were all together. It really did seem like nothing could stand in their way—no matter how difficult the actual situation was. Each of them contributed to a unified whole.

It was easy enough to get lost in his work here because it didn't take much to convince him that it was important work...but he would be lying if he said that it didn't feel...all too staggering. He didn't want to let everybody else down. He didn't want to let his family down. That thought was the scariest and most haunting of them all.

Well, almost the most haunting.

His thoughts traveled to less dark tidings. He thought of Jen, and how much he did miss speaking with her. She still worked in forensic science down in the city—so it was no secret that she was just as busy as he was. Establishing a new nation and unifying people who haven't been unified in quite some time has had the unfortunate side effect of reintroducing crime to an attempting-civilized society. Last that he had heard was that she was up to her neck training some new apprentices so that she wouldn't need to be so involved with every single case.

He's seen them around once or twice in town. It's easy to pick them out because they tend to keep their bright orange vests on—Andrew had mistaken one of them—Sullivan Waters—as a traffic guard.

He tried to smile about the memory, but all too easily it slips into the inciting incident to her taking on the assistants in the first place. Sometime about a month ago she had to take leave from a case because of a reaction she had to a body. The victim was pushed off of the roof of a diner nearby, but not before they were riddled with bullet holes and...from what the papers described it wasn't anything close to pretty.

Andrew understood the aversion, but from what she had said in her phone calls to him was that for the slightest of seconds it was as if she saw Jack's face imprinted on the victim's own.

That part...was familiar to Andrew. Sometimes—very briefly, but still all the same—he's seen the ghost of Jack in other people. He was sure it wasn't actually Jack's ghost, but it was enough of a sight to give him a stir and more than a fair few awkward looks. She didn't say, and probably wouldn't unless they had a few drinks in them, but he was sure she was having a poor time sleeping because of dreams surrounding the Radical-9 Incident.

That too, Andrew could relate.

Sarah was living back in New York. She found that she had a powerful voice in writing. It surprised her as much as it had the others—as she almost seemed to pride herself on her visual art skills to the point that she'd self-deprecate her writing abilities. Shortly after the incident started to die down she had decided to dedicate an entire book to the heroes of the Radical-9 Incident so that they would never be forgotten, and that eventually became the official record for The Deliverance. Of course, writing a history book after so shortly learning your own skills in writing was something she took into consideration. The idea was shopped around for an editor to clean up some of the more rookie mistakes. Jokes from Jen were made that Andrew should be the one to do so—but those lasted about as long as the laughter.

Eventually, they did find someone who had done editing work previously before the government had laid her job to waste. Her name was Marie Yenette. She was a few years older than Andrew—definitely an intimidating force if he had to work with her critiquing and editing his work, but Sarah seemed to blossom under the pressure.

Andrew handled manner of payment—even though currency was still a topic they needed to iron out, a deal was struck for business space. Since Sarah was intending to move back to the upstate region of New York, the two would work together in the remnants of a local writing center that used to help students back when the schools were open in this area. She figured it'd be easier to work in person before heading back to return to her mother. After reading the finished work—it really is a marvel, and Andrew can feel the pride in the words that Sarah felt about being a part of the change in the world—the love she felt in belonging, even if the situations that inspired so were...well, what they were.

Iris decided to stay against the wishes of her parents. They were adamant about her continuing her education, but she used the tried and true argument "I'm eighteen you can't control me." Of course, she wasn't when she had told them that, but considering there wasn't much that her parents could realistically do, she remained in the area—helping Sarah out and helping her de-stress when the work got tough. She found herself at a loss of motivation throughout the Radical-9 Incident, and the heartbreak of losing Gavin broke something in the perfect way inside her. She was driven to create a new force of good for our new society. "Sunrise" was a new foundation headed by the girl herself meant to be a safe space for anybody for any reason to come together and find new friends—like she had. In the past three years Andrew has heard the name Sunrise more and more often on the general public's tongue.

He saw the building itself the first time after its first week after opening. How it looked then compared to how it looked now was...well, it was like night and day. People stop in for all sorts of reasons and they all leave with some portion of their day improved. Some people stay more long term—people who have a lot of issues they need support or therapy for. Iris's new group had managed to attract a lot of the mental health professionals in the area who remained and they've made quite a name for themselves.

Andrew had told himself numerous times that he really ought to stop in to relieve himself of his load...but then that was exactly where the self doubt came in. What message would that send? That he was looking to better himself, right? That he had nothing to be ashamed of—that everyone struggled...but these were different times. If he went in, he would be admitting that he needed help—that he wasn't the rock that they at this point in time needed. And on and on did his mind continue to justify not stepping through those doors. He knew if things got to the point where he felt massive depressive pangs or troublesome thoughts gave way to physical action he'd have to go in no matter what.

But yet, more important things kept coming up, and now he sat here on the precipice of a watershed moment—this letter from the queen was certainly no small event to take lightly.

And from the letter his mind went to Jake. He's had plenty of his own demons to confront. And sure enough Andrew has seen quite a positive change in him over the past three years. He smiled more. He jokes more. Andrew saw a lot of the person that he wanted to be in him. The person he used to be...and the person he would be again.

Jake nodded, and tapped once on the desk, "She'd love to see you. At least once when I'm gone, okay?" Andrew nodded, and Jake stood up, and like Matt, left.

Time was the ultimate determinator. With it everything lived or died. With it everything smiled or frowned. With it...you lived or you loved.

It was just a matter of time…just a matter of…