Time is timeless in the heavens and Sera's life had become a day to day string
of tasks and events, conversations and reports. All disconnected from herself, all apart from her true thoughts and heart. She'd begin each day the same, a regularly scheduled time in the simulation chamber where she'd jog for miles. She could bear no scenery that reminded her of human life, so she ran in the silence of darkness, pushing until her body imitated the powerful physical qualities of strain and exhaustion; thus emptying her of the need to think…to hurt.

Her work was good, intense and fulfilling, but she had as much comfort working as resting, sleeping as walking the halls or grounds. It was all the same, minute to minute, day to day. There were no bright lights or full passions, no fearful thumps in her chest, no softness of the air. No happiness, no sadness. She was numb; nearly dead, but alive with pain she'd come to accept as her state of being. And she realized the intensity of losing a loved one, the emptiness, the ache. She never again looked through her window to see how Terry was doing as she'd done all of her life before knowing him. She could not comprehend her life without him, or his without her. Did he find a new love? Did he ever marry or take the lecture tour? Was he safe, healthy, happy? The answer to these questions could only press harder at the heart she was trying to shield…agony. Being without him was agony…blessed, painful and exquisite agony.

There was much excitement around her that day, many prime Guardians participating in an especially interesting and important case, but she paid no mind, focused on her own Charges, even as shouts or cries of fear rippled through the room. They're like a bunch of blokes watching a bloody footie game, she thought with a growing tear in her eye, Terry's playful voice in her head. Whatever was transpiring had come to a head as she signed off and left for her chamber. Her day's work was complete and no one owned her time to allow tears to fall…no one.

"A moment Sera?"

Sera's eyes widened. "Madam Miriam! Good afternoon, of course, how may I help you?"

The Committee speaker said nothing but led Sera to the upper levels, to the place where Archangels of high standing reside and to her own graceful apartment. Together they sat in a lovely room furnished with elegant pieces imitating the valuable antiques Sera had seen while living on earth. Miriam casually lit a cigarette that smelled of lavender and sweet mint, the smoke stream drifting up as she smiled kindly. She kicked off her gilded sandals and curled her feet beneath her gown comfortably. "So, tell me Sera, how are you doing?"

"Me?" she blinked. "Very well, ma'am."

"No, no Sera. No appropriate answers, no perfect responses. This is not a test; simply a question."

"There is no need for concern; I am doing my job, doing it well."

"Sera," a stern expression clouded Miriam's eyes. "You. How are you?"

A tear slid down Sera's face. "I hurt. This hurts. I love him so much and I miss him," Sera swallowed back a sob and Miriam's cool hand covered hers.

"Love is a gift, Sera. It transcends all. Is bigger than life or death or eternity. A gift."

Sera sniffed, nodded.

Miriam took another drag of her strange cigarette and Sera wished that she could smell the scent of tobacco, see the blue smoke wind and twist a drift around Terry's head; swirl from Terry's lips, curled in a slight smile.

"There are rumors, Sera."

"Rumors?"

"Yes, that Paul will be resigning his post as Master Guardian."

"Really? Why?"

Miriam grinned. "It is said that he's found love."

"Huh," Sera leaned back, fully relaxed in Miriam's presence and obviously surprised by the news. "What happens here…when love is found?"

Miriam shrugged, stubbed out her cigarette. "They say the couple is sent off to a place; a good, lovely place where they can live out eternity together. The proverbial 'happily ever after'."

Sera chuckled. "I always knew that phrase was coined long before the Brothers Grimm."

"There's much talk about who will replace Paul in the department."

"Oh, Frank would be a good choice."

"He would be. He's done well. His training was a bit dicey I hear, but he has proven himself worthy of his new post. There are many being considered." Miriam rolled her neck and sighed. "Changes on the committee as well. Lots of changes ahead."

"Why changes on the committee? Are others moving on?"

"You might say that. Orders from the Boss…some shifting in the near future, my dear." Her eyes drifted off into the distance and Sera wondered if Miriam was to lose her post. Her position on the Committee board had been invaluable, especially where Sera's work was concerned. Was life about to get even more difficult for her?

"Oh," Miriam blinked and reached to the nearby table. "I almost forgot. This is for you, Sera."

She fingered the small disc, examined it for title or case number but nothing was there. "What is this?"

"The reason. As you know, your work with Mr. Thorne was based on his Code 7 blue standing. That file explains everything. You do realize that it had progressed toward its fruition this very afternoon? Phase one was successful. Michael Cromwell has reached his first of many goals."

Sera shrugged. "Was he what all the excitement was about today?"

"Oh it'll continue, lots of fun ahead with that one," Miriam grinned. "I felt that since your work so closely related to these events and this man's mission on earth, you might like to take a look. At your leisure, of course."

Sera stood, dropped the disc into her tunic pocket. "Thanks." She had no interest in the information on the disc, no curiosity as to how it played into her own work. What difference would knowing make? There was nothing to change anything in her existence, each day would move as the one before…time is timeless in the heavens. There's a good reason for that, she supposed. She turned to the door then thought, returned her attention to her host. "Madam Miriam, can you tell me more about love? Love…here?"

"Like…your parents?"

She watched the woman's eyes carefully and nodded. "Yes, the entities who created me."

Miriam smiled. "Trust me Seraphima. Those two are your parents. And so few come to existence from residents who began life here…that you've touched on a very powerful and unique subject. You see Sera, love is universal. Humans don't hold the patent on it; they just have more opportunities, that's all. Your parents were committed to things…important things…things that were imperative to the existence of everything vital. True love, the kind that conceived you…is not about flesh and heat, it's not about the heart…it's about the communion of the soul. Your parents have that…a profound connection that transcended all."

"Who is she?"

Miriam blinked.

"Who is the woman Paul had come to love more than anything?"

The woman smiled softly, stood and reached out her hand. "I thank you for spending some of your rest time with me; I have always enjoyed your company, Seraphima."

"It's you," Sera gasped. "You…and Paul. Why have you never told me?"

"Told you what?"

"That you are my parents."

Miriam just smiled. What was there to say? Sera reached and hugged the woman.

"This is good," she sighed, tight in the Committee speaker's arms. "Almost human, Mother. Almost…human."

"Ah, my dear. Trust. Always trust. The heavens and earth work hand in hand…perhaps one day soon, you will see how."

Sera went to her quarters. One hug given with the love of a mother had both comforted and saddened her. What would her life have been like had Miriam and Paul been open with her? There were legends of her parents everyone knew, but this was the truth of it. Had Sera always known? What would be different if…if…if.

But the word 'if' had been weighing too heavily on her heart as of late. She turned a glance toward her window. Was it time to face reality? To see what life was bringing to Terry Thorne? To accept that she is no longer a part of him? She took a step…then another. Then…

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

The alert! She hadn't heard it in a long time. None of her current charges were active enough to bring such a high level alarm! She ran from her quarters to see Paul awaiting her at the end of the hall.

"What is it?" Sera was nearly breathless.

"Guardian Seraphima, it is time. You are to leave immediately."

"Leave? Where?"

"Go and bring him home, Sera. Bring Terry home."

Visions of rifle fire, blood and cries of pain soared through her head. Quickly, she must move quickly to spare him whatever misery she could…and to see him again…just once more before his eyes close forever and he belonged to a higher power. Lost forever to her.

***

Terry stood at the lane and waved farewell. He glanced around him at the sparkling sea and rolling green hills…and the low wall, pristine and perfect. He watched the cloud of dust obscure the leaving back bumper, grinned and shook his head. The car followed the wall then disappeared around the hill. Terry thought to follow the wall as he had so many times before, but he did not. A long walk, that. He'd do it tomorrow.

His eyes closed and he breathed in the land. Life. His life…a good life. At sixty-seven, immediately after Dino and Alexandra's beautiful daughter's wedding, Terry had retired to West Cork and his farm. Dino was quick to also climb aboard the retirement train, whisking his beautiful wife around the world. Travel? Terry couldn't see it. He'd traveled his whole life. He was content with being quiet. Sedentary. Peaceful.

He turned and gazed at the big old farm house, lovely, warm and fully refurbished. Home. Some distance from the house, the barn filled with sturdy Irish milk "coos" managed by his farm caretakers who lived in the small guest cottage. A more Irish couple one could not imagine. Twenty years his junior, those two were still vibrantly alive and happy and nosey as hell. Terry chuckled, thinking of the endless questions. But that sunny morning, only one floated in his head.

"Why don't you ever go to see your family?"

"Because they come to see me."

And they had, every summer for seventeen years Henry and his brood would descend upon the quiet farm. Terry had watched his grandchildren grow and thrive and had loved every moment of it, pleased to have a place like the farm for them to come to and enjoy. He glanced at the empty lane. The dust had settled. They were gone, but Terry waved one more time. Tressie was more like her father than any of Henry's children. The oldest of six, she had Henry's tenacity and spark for life. Tress and her boyfriend, Robbie had just spent two months with Terry. Sixty straight days of laughter and conversation, of work and play.

"Grandpa, how come you never married again?"

"Because Sera died, Tress."

"But I'm sure she'd have wanted you to find love again."

"Ah no, no," Terry had grinned. "Sera would've haunted me 'til I was bloody mental."

But that wasn't the truth of it. With Sera went his ability to love again. To love with that intensity and capacity was gone. Nothing less would suffice. But love never dies. It holds on, aches and comforts, ticks off the days, the weeks, months and years. To have loved like that sustains everything. He was solid, right there on his land, floating on the memories of Sera. In fact, in all the years he'd been there, he'd hardly stepped foot off the farm.

At first, it was hard to be alone there. As the years passed and his mind softened, the sharpness of his youthful memories altered. Perhaps at eighty-two a bit of dementia was to be expected, but it didn't feel like a loss of senility. It felt real. He actually had memories of Sera with him there in West Cork…even though she had never even seen the place. But it was meant for them, together. Together.

Terry bent with an aching lean and placed a gnarled hand on the stone wall. That wall had been repaired in the same way his soul had healed; with the loving support of friends and family. He had had a good life, a full life. A positive life.

Memories of his past slipped and meshed, melded and muddled in his head. Was there really a time when these arthritic hands could expertly handle a weapon? When his aching shoulders could carry the burden of a rescued victim? When his mind could clearly devise a perfect operation?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

A cold chill whipped up from the sea and Terry shivered. One more look at the empty lane, one more goodbye wish for Tress and Robbie, off to the Peace Corps before Law School. What were the odds? So very much like Henry, his pretty granddaughter Tress.

But Henry had surprised Terry. He'd followed through with his commitments; uni after the Peace Corps, a sterling military flying career followed, but came to an end when Henry met his lovely, strong Asian wife. That was when Terry truly had to sit back, take notice and admire the man his son had become. Henry had true human focus, something Terry knew he was seriously lacking. Henry had retired from his military career to father the children he wanted and help with his dad's company. To that day, when Morty (now the sole active partner at International Risk Management) called for the ERV, it was Henry at the controls. Could a father be more proud of a son? Impossible.

The brisk breeze ruffled Terry's shirt and he rubbed his arms. Inside the big stone house, Terry shuffled through the cupboard. Never one for self medicating, all Terry had in the place was an outdated bottle of pannies. Since sunrise, his head had been aching from the back of his neck, up over and into his eyes. A bloody impressive thumper at that. Terry sighed and sat at the kitchen table, sipping water to assist the tablet down his tight throat. He rubbed his eyes and refocused his vision.

Surely only a moment had passed! But around him, the house was dim. He glared into the darkness. Everything had been removed from every cupboard. Who had done that? He was alone in the house. Exhaustion rippled through him and he stood, the misery of his old body making him groan. Bent and slow, he climbed the stairs. As he passed the hall mirror, the light from a full moon illuminated his form. It was the reflection of a very tired elderly man. Wrinkled and pale, his thick hair white as a blanket of snow and his once brilliant eyes, dull with age. He stood still, blinked as the face before him changed, altered into the man he once was. Robust. Strong. Not too bad looking for an Aussie bloke. And he wondered; was that the man Sera saw? The man she loved?

Sera. "Sera," he whispered and ran an aching hand over his withered chest. "Sera." So short a time to love so fully. So completely. "Sera."

Terry climbed onto his bed, never dragging down the blanket and thinking of the mess he'd need to correct down in the kitchen come morning. Ah well, life is full of surprises. At that point, as a man of his years, those surprises seemed a bit more unexplainable. More nonsensical. He chuckled, ran a finger under his nose and felt a warm wetness. Had he cried? Not even known? Shifting his hand into the shaft of pure white moonlight, he sighed. Blood. No he hadn't cried. His efforts to again touch his face failed and his body weakened, numbed. Perhaps he'd worked a bit too hard that day. Perhaps it was time to sleep. His eyes drifted closed.

A breath. Another. Suddenly his eyes popped opened. Terry blinked but did not gasp at what he saw. Was he expecting it?

There, beside his bed stood Sera. It was not dementia, not an illusion. She was a real as anything he'd ever seen, as bright, as beautiful as he remembered. Her golden curls danced around her lovely face and she smiled, a glittering tear in her brilliant blue eyes.

"Terry," her soft voice sang.

"Bloody hell, I love you, Sera."

"It's time to come home," she reached out her hand. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not." And he placed his hand in hers.

EPILOGUE

Obituaries in heaven are not the same as obituaries on earth. They speak of welcome and future, of power and yes, glory. There was always a plan for Terrence Thorne. A plan larger than even Paul had suspected, but the former Master Guardian had long since ceased to question such things.

Sera had taken the time to review Michael Cromwell's file. The simplicity of it all was astounding. Terry had to survive to protect and save Michael's life. Michael had to live in order to protect the entire planet…literally…the entire planet. Young Michael Cromwell never did return to the priesthood, but he was an employee of the Vatican…and the U.N. and every other planet wide organization hell bent on saving the world. Young Michael had finally taken that rifle Terry's father-in-law, the old General Watson had force him to master…and used it. His target would have altered destiny and quite possibly ended life as human's know it had he succeeded. World War III would have blackened existence. Michael Cromwell was a hero in heaven. But on earth? No one even knew he existed. He was nameless and faceless, living the life of an undercover, invisible hit man on a worldwide payroll.

Sera stood outside the door. On the wall; a sign.

The Elite Guardians of the Earthbound Saints
Basic Training Facility
Classroom 6077

"Don't be too hard. Don't scare the crap out of them, remember they're all worthy if they got this far." Her fingers smoothed the white fabric on the chest before her.

"Are ya gonna remind me to play nice too, Sera?"

"Yes," her eyes glittered and Terry leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Fuck no, love. I play nice, those recruits will fail. Now give a kiss and let me get on with this."

Even in such a powerful place, Terry sensed the quiver of concern. He eyed every trainee as he dropped the workbook and sheet of paper on each desk. From the back of the room he groaned a sigh and all turned to watch and listen.

"My name's Thorne. Master Guardian Terrence Thorne. And you, well mates, you're all in for the ride of your lives.

"Listen up and listen good, trainees." Terry glared and stomped to his podium. He lifted a copy of the sheet he'd just distributed. "This is an average scenario. Average. Need I emphasize the word average?" he hissed.

"Average. That means usual or ordinary. Mediocre." His grimace intensified. "In other words, should even one of your sorry arses manage to reach my office as a Guardian, this particular kind of scenario will never appear on your screen. The Elite Guardians are assigned human souls far above the average. This particular task, trainees, is your first hurdle. I'll tell you right now that this may well be your last.

"You are expected to use every one of your senses to approach this test. Every bit of political and physical awareness that you have must be tapped and called upon. And you must remember; failure is not an option. Failure is never an option.

"You have two minutes to solve this problem and protect the Charge in your care. Not two and a half minutes, not two minutes and fifteen seconds. Two minutes, and that would be a luxury in a real situation. Start," Terry looked at his stop watch, said a silent, quick prayer for each one of them, and shouted, "now!"