Title: The Miracle of Three

Author: Estel Baggins

Pairings: Virgil/Richie, Richie/Ebon, Virgil/Hotstreak, Virgil/Richie/Hotstreak

Rating: very high R- you have been warned!

Warning 1: The Miracle of Three is the sequel to Telling Tales- you need to read the first one, or this won't make any sense!

Warning 2: SLASH, rape (not explicit, I don't think, but don't hold me to that!)

Warning 3: talk of Christianity- Richie's foster family (I almost can't believe I have to warn about something like that, but I'm well aware that I might get loud complaints if I don't at least issue the warning)

Summary: Hotstreak (aka Fiyero) writes his second book. As before, it is composed of gleanings from others' writing as well as his own.

Dedication: This is for "soon to be world renowned Gracie" who confessed that she wasn't sure who Fiyero was. I understand that- sometimes I forget that I haven't explained things. Hence the-reposting.

Prologue

You Deserve to Know…

Prologue: You Deserve to Know…

Talon's jaw dropped and her wings ruffled, showing her shock. "Gear is… Richie Foley? That little nerd Ebon grabbed once?"

Hotstreak was laughing so hard he could barely speak. He was sitting on a crate, doubled over and shaking with a case of uncontrollable giggles. Grown men don't giggle, he thought, but then a snort escaped his weak control and Hotstreak amended, At least they don't do it in public. He gasped and tried to get his breath back. It wasn't just Talon's reaction that set him off; he had been put into hysterics by the thought of Static trying to kiss Gear through that face-plate. Now I know Virgil doesn't necessarily have to be Static, and there's no way Ebon would believe it anyway, after he was proved differently. But he saw Static in front of him and Virgil on a T.V. screen. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Foley messed with the monitors somehow. He gulped air into his lungs as he tried to calm down. He's Static sure as I'm a pyro. And just thinking o those two together- He snorted again, then clapped his hands over his mouth. All right, Francis, this is getting to be too much. Get a hold of yourself. But an image of Static and Gear trying to make love while the little robot, Backpack, beeped angrily at them set him off again.

At last, Hotstreak managed to regain hi sobriety, though an insane snicker still escaped his lips from time to time. During his whole laughing-fit Talon had waited patiently.

Hotstreak closed his eyes and sighed. "Yup. He has much as confessed it, and the little robot clinched it. He's Gear."

"Then who's Static?"

Hotstreak decided he wasn't quite ready to share that bit of information- it was still speculation, after all, and though Talon might believe him it had become Hotstreak's custom to hide crucial facts so he wouldn't be blindsided by his trust. "I'm not sure. I made a deal with Foley: he told me who he was dating- Virgil- and I agreed not to tell the world he was Gear." He smiled. 'But you were the one who pegged him, so you deserve to know that you were right. As for Ebon…"

"How do you know Richie won't turn right around and tell every meta-human in Dakota that you're soft, that you let him go?"

Hotstreak grinned. "Because if he does, I'll make sure Ebon knows who he is. And knowing Ebon's tastses, Richie wouldn't have much time for spreading rumors. Ebon would catch him and take him to a place where not even Static can find him."

Talon made a face. "Ebon lusts the kid, doesn't he?"

Hotstreak laughed and he stood up and stretched. "Yeah, he does. The only person he lusts after more is Gear… and once he found out they were one and the same…"

"So you're counting on Richie to be afraid of Ebon? Won't he at least tell Static what you did?"

"He might, but I guess that's fair, since I told you about him." Hotstreak shrugged. "I'm not worried about anything Static might know about me. I know who is partner is, and that's a powerful tool." He turned a musing gaze on Talon. "Remember how I said that Gear is Static's weakness, and that Static can't really be reached any other way? Well, if I let slip who Gear really is, Ebon would have an excellent way to capture Static… and enjoy himself at the same time."

Talon turned her head away.

"Why does that bother you so much?" Hotstreak demanded, suddenly reaching out and seizing her by the shoulders.

Talon writhed out of his grip and jumped back, putting space between them. "Why doesn't it bother you? You're talking about Ebon raping this kid like it's no big deal and-"

"It is not a big deal," Hotstreak answered. "If Foley's stupid enough to reveal his identity to me, why shouldn't I take advantage of it?"

"But… but five minutes ago you weren't going to tell Ebon!"

"And maybe I still won't," Hotstreak answered. "But now I have a weapon that I didn't have before. Ebon would be so grateful to at last know who Gear is, and he'd be ecstatic to find out that Richie Foley and Gear- the people he dreams about when he's alone in his bed at night- are one and the same." He sat back down. "Even if I don't ever use it, the weapon's still there."

"Why do you need any more weapons when everybody's already afraid of you?"

Hotstreak blinked at her, shocked at how innocent she truly was, despite everything she'd gone through. "Ebon's not afraid of me. Unless I have poer over everybody, I can be taken out."

"But why do you care about Ebon? You don't want to be the boss of the Meta-breed, so why do you care?"

"Because he can hurt me!" Hotstreak yelled, standing and shooting twin fireballs at the ceiling. "He can make me come to his stupid meetings, and he can tell me what to do, if only a little. Do you think I want to just turn away from Ebon and have to fight him and his crew just to win the right to make my own decisions? You were there when he offered Static a place in the Meta-breed and Static refused to join. Now, I've only heard about that from stories, but I'll bet Ebon was ticked off. Right?"

"Yeah…" She watched him, ready to run if he decided to give up the little bit of control he had over his anger.

"I don't want to have to fight Ebon to get freedom, and I don't want to have to run to Static for protection, or have to join the good side. If it makes you feel better, think of my secret as a protection instead of a weapon. I won't use it unless I have to."

She kenw she was treading on dangerous ground, but her curiosity got the better of her. Damn my curiosity. That's what got me into this situation in the first place. I may as well be hung for a whole tortilla instead just for a crumb. "If Ebon raping the kid doesn't bother you, why aren't you just running to Ebon right now wit the enws? He's love you for it and you'd probably find yourself his secondin-command."

Hotstreak scowled. "I'm no one's helper. I don't owe Ebon anything, certainly not the key to his enemies. And if I told Ebon now, I wouldn't have the protection anymore." He shrugged. "And who knows? Maybe Ebon's plan to attack Static and Gear will work, and none of this will matter."

"You don't believe that," she said.

"Nope." He grinned. "But I can dream, can't I?"

"You're loco," she muttered.

"Yeah, well, it's gotten me through, hasn't it? I don't need to be sane to get what I want."

Talon caught Hotstreak's eye. "What do you want, Francis?"

If she'd hoped saying his name would help him open up to her, she was sorely disappointed. Hotstreak grimaced at her, stood and strode from the room without a look back. Sighing, Talon headed in the other direction.

Well, I have my answer about Richie. But I think I've caused more than a handful of problems for the kid by having to know. She wondered briefly if she should take the news to Ebon, but decided that, like Hotstreak, she didn't owe the shadow-man anything.

oOo

Batman faced the long conference-room table, the stars behind him outlining his tense frame. "Now you know what I have seen or sensed. What I would ask of you is this: help me do the right thing by Virgil and Richie. They have helped to save Earth, and now they need our help."

The Bat's eyes went to each face. Superman's brow was creased. Wonder Woman was frowning deeply. Green Lantern looked absolutely fierce. Flash was shockingly still, and his eyes were closed. Hawkgirl stared at something only she could see, and J'onn seemed to be studying the tabletop.

"You are alarmed, but with little in the way of facts to support your fears," J'onn said, raising his head and meeting Batman's gaze.

"I feel as if I'm being stalked, but when I look around, no one is there."

"Maybe you just need rest-" Superman began.

"And maybe you need to talk to Richie," Wonder Woman put in, laying her hand on Superman's shoulder. "Not now, of course, since you have decided to wait until Richie has settled somewhere and currently he is in the hospital…"

"Should I talk to Virgil?"

"Not yet," she said at once. "Richie is the only one who knows what is going on inside his head."

"What about his robot?" Green Lantern asked. "He has a very strong connection to Richie; he might know what is wrong."

"I don't trust Backpack," Batman answered.

"Do you think Brainiac-" Hawkgirl began.

"No. Brainiac is gone from Richie's computer. Of that much we are sure. I think Backpack could be a danger on his own. I don't want to consult him."

"But won't he hear everything you tell Richie?" Flash asked. He had started to move his hands as if he were shuffling an invisible deck of cards. "I mean, if they're connected and all-"

"Their connection is only short-range. If I can find a way to ge Richie away from Backpack for a few hours, talk to him, learn what it is Richie has to tell me…" Batman turned his back on the other members of the Justice League. He studied the stars and thought of the frightened look on Richie's face when the blond teen had first awoken..

"But then you're faced with the same problem of Backpack getting his answers from Richie when Richie comes back," Wonder Woman said.

"Exactly."

"So what are you going to do?" Flash wanted to know.

"All I can do is sit and wait." Batman's hands fisted at his sides.

"That's the answer sometimes, but not now," Wonder Woman said. "You need to talk to Richie before anything happens to him. But since you can't talk to him until he's alone, track his movements for now. Find out who he's being sent to live with. I'm sure it won't be Virgil, and it probably won't be in Dakota." She stood and walked to Batman's side. She touched his shoulder much as she had touched Superman's. She was one of the few that could actually touch the Bat without worrying about being tossed across the room. "If you can get Richie alone, and if you learn that Backpack is a danger, then we will be there to take care of the robot while you help Richie."

Batman glanced down at her, and the ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. "Thank you. I did the right thing by coming to you."

She smiled, but didn't answer. It was enough for Batman to have expressed his gratitude; he didn't need to stand there and listen to altruistic platitudes.

oOo

Ebon lay very still. Around him, the city hummed with life and lust and power. But here, in his room, he was protected from all peeping eyes. He had built his room to protect him from the outside world. It had no doors, no windows, no way for anyone without his special powers to get in. Only a vent allowed air into the room. He had taken special care to select a spot away from all prying eyes, but one to which fresh air could be channeled with a minimum of effort.

And of course, there was nothing of metal in the room. Even the vent was plastic, though perhaps the pipes beyond were metal. It mattered not. There was no visible metal. If Static ever made it here by some impossible chance, it wouldn't occur to him to use his powers because he wouldn't see anything of use here.

He frowned and sat up, suddenly hard and craving release. But what about Gear? What could he do in this room? Could he find a means of escape? Ebon stood and began to pace, hoping to distract himself from the sudden urge to close his eyes and dream about Static's partner. Dreaming won't bring him here… Only my plan will do that.

But Gear hasn't been seen. How can you be sure he'll show up when the time is right?

He has to. He wouldn't just let me kill Static without trying to stop me. He has to show up.

Unless he's gone. Unless his parents moved or something. He's a teenager; it could have happened.

But wouldn't I have seen a change in Static? He hasn't changed, except to go on patrol alone. Wouldn't he be missing his partner?

And why exactly would Static show his distress to you or to anyone else? He has to have more control than that. If he didn't, he would have blurted his secret identity to the world a long time ago.

Ebon groaned and sank onto his bed again. His head was spinning from all the frustrating, circling thoughts. "I don't' know enough to figure anything out!"he roared up at the unsympathetic ceiling. "I don't know how to make Gear mine, or even how to find him!"

What about Foley?

Ebon groaned and rubbed absently at his throbbing erection. Foley had felt so good pressed against him the one time he'd managed to kidnap the teen. If Shiv hadn't been with me, waiting for Static to show up, I would have taken him right then. But I kept telling myself I would kill Static then no one would interrupt us. I hate being interrupted.

He turned his mind to the second- and last- time he had touched Foley. It had been just after Kangor, Talon and Shiv had broken into the high-security police station. Static confronted us, and we split. Not that I'm afraid of him, he rushed on, soothing his injured pride, but I'd just been released from those anti-metahuman chains and wasn't feeling up to fighting. So I told the others

Flashback

"Everybody split up," Ebon ordered as they ran from Static and from the cops. "Meet me back at the place." Which meant, of course, meet back at the old juvenile hall. No one would look for a bunch of metahumans there. For one thing, it was in a semi-residential neighborhood. For another, it wasn't very run-down, just closed.

Ebon turned down an alleyway, thinking to melt into the shadows. He was looking back over his shoulder, making sure that Static wasn't following him, when he heard a strange buzzing sound, like a small motor. He snapped his head around looking for the source, thinking it might be a cop on a mo-ped. Instead, he saw a blond teen on a scooter, his red helmet all but hiding the gorgeous blond locks.

They collided, Ebon half absorbing the scooter into himself and the teen falling backwards. He it the ground hard, and Ebon, in his fury, hoped the idiot was badly hurt. Then he threw the scooter and got a better look at the teen as the other struggled to his feet.

The teen looked nervous and apologetic. "Completely, utterly and totally my bad," he said, flashing a anxious smile that melted Ebon's heart and made other places ache.

Ebon circled the teen, studying him. Why did the guy look so…? Wait a minute… it couldn't be… he hadn't sent the guy in almost two years. But he haunts my dreams, Ebon thought, and as soon as he made the connection, he had to know if he was right. "I know you," he said, advancing.

The teen backed away a few steps, still with that half-frightened smile on his face. "Yeah, I get that a lot. One of those faces." His laugh was as frightened as his smile.

Ebon's need doubled and he reached for the gorgeous teen.

"Heh." The kid turned and began to run, loosing a panicked cry that was little more than a squeak.

Whore, you are mine, Ebon thought. He slipped into the pavement and easily caught up with the teen. He popped up just in front of his victim. Leaning forward, he raised an intimidating finger. I don't want this kid to know I've had dreams about him. That would give him entirely too much information about me. "You're that kid I saw talking with Static that time."

"Um, yeah… " The teen brought his hand up to his jaw, trying to carry off a contemplative posture.

It only highlighted how graceful and delicate his hands were, and how beautiful his neck was.

The blonde said, unaware of Ebon's thoughts, "He was asking directions to the power plant." He tried the dissimulating smile again, shrugging and attempting to look completely innocent.

"Don't play me," Ebon snapped, and he was excited to see the smile fall off the kid's face as if he'd slapped it away. Now he could see the fear his victim was trying to hide. Will he try to talk his way out of sex with me, too? Ebon hoped so. I'll enjoy teaching him that there are other ways to use that talented mouth of his. "Com'ere." Ebon lifted the kid with one hand.

"Hey! No, don't! Lemme-"

Ebon hid his smile. One talent of his was to be able to make himself larger, if only to a certain point. He enlarged the hand holding his little, wriggling fish and cut the kid off mid-plea. He'll beg me not to hurt him when we're in bed, too.

Wrapping himself around the teen- Foley, my new whore's name is Richie Foley- he pressed that hard part of himself against his victim's leg. "You're coming with me." He grinned, thinking, His eyes are so beautiful when he's afraid. I could almost lose myself in-

A bolt of energy hit him hard enough to drive all such thoughts from his mind. He would know that power-draining shock anywhere: Static. Why does he always have to follow me? Kangor, Talon and Shiv are slower! Why did he have to follow me

All the while, the burning charge seared him, stealing his strength. Ebon screamed, more in frustration than pain. Damn you, fly boy! Why can't you stay out of my way for once?

"Let him go, Ebon."

As Static flew closer, the beam of electricity he was using became more focused, more draining. Ebon's power was bleeding out until he could barely keep his shape. If I don't let him go, Static'll have me for sure. I ain't going back to that anti Bang-Baby coat. He dropped his victim, hearing the kid gasp for air as he was released. Yeah, and if I'd had you longer I would have held you like that til you passed out. You would have woken up to the feeling of me inside you.

Ebon dove for the manhole, knowing he could escape easily. "Another time, fly boy. Guaranteed." He longed to promise the same to the little whore, but he knew better than to clue Static into what he really wanted.

End Flashback

That's the one difference between me and the other crooks in this city; I talk the talk and walk the walk, and I understand that sometimes the best way to "talk" so that nobody knows your plans but you is to be quiet.

Feeling calmer, Ebon resumed his prone position on the bed. I need a way to find Foley, but I need to dispose of Static first. Let me do that, then I'll worry about him. As for Gear… Well, if I can't have first prize, I'll settle for second. And maybe once I kill Static Gear will come for revenge and I'll have both whores all to myself.

He looked around his room. I'll have to make sure there's no way Gear can escape from here. I made it Static-proof, but I never thought about him before. I'll do some thinking on that. It isn't as if we're attacking Static tomorrow. It's still too soon. I want to catch him completely unprepared. The longer we wait, the more unsuspecting he'll be.

oOo

The morning prayers finished and Richie suppressed a groan. I've gone from one highly-structured house to another, he thought. Why did Mr. and Mrs. Edmann, the people he'd been sent to live with, have to be uber-religious? Why couldn't he have been sent with someone who knew a little bit about the real world?

Ms. Katheryn clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. Everyone except Richie, who was doodling in his notebook and listening with only half an ear. "Class, you have thirty minutes to write a prayer in the style of the Old Testament. Make sure to check your spelling and your diction. It is not enough to fill your prayer with "these" and "thous". You will have to use the same language, word order and emphasis as those in the Old Testament."

"Can we use the Psalms as a model?" asked a black-haired girl who reminded Richie of Daisy.

Why are there always brain-washed ones? Richie thought sourly. He realized he had been doodling a picture of Static and Gear and scratched it out immediately.

"Of course, Miranda. That's an excellent idea. You have thirty minutes. Go."

Richie flipped to a new piece of paper, opened his Bible (a "present" from Mr. and Mrs. Edmann) and jotted down a short psalm straight out of his head. He was modeling it after one in the book before him, but not copying it.

O Lord, who made the heavens and the Earth

Hear my prayer, sinner though I am.

Lord of Hosts, powerful Protector,

Though my enemies surround me on every side

Do not abandon me to their wickedness.

Instead lead me past them, through the middle of them,

And to Your House. Amen.

Richie considered it, decided it would get him at least a B, and set out to write another sort of prayer on that first sheet where he had been doodling.

God, why did you have to stick me here?

These people aren't going to lead me to You- they'll push me away.

And I can't stand the fact that I'm separated from V.

I know You probably don't want me with V, but I don't care;

I love him,

and he's one of the only people in this world who truly loves me.

Please don't keep me away from him.

And please, if You are so very powerful,

kill my father and punish him in Hell for all eternity.

I know I'll probably be sent to Hell because of that thought,

but I can't lie to You.

Now You know what I really think.

Richie scratched out that last bit, though it was still legible, and wrote:

Actually, You already know what I think.

It's not like I don't believe in you, God; I do.

I always have.

And don't even ask me why, because I shouldn't.

I'm too intelligent to believe in something I can neither see nor hear.

Granted, I've never seen a waterrat, either, but that's different.

I read it in a book.

Okay, fine, the Bible's a book, too.

So we're established that I believe in You, and that I have respect for You

(I capitalized You, didn't I?)

but I can't be happy and sure You'll fix everything anymore, if I ever was.

So here's my final prayer;

I'll try not to bother You anymore with my sinful thoughts.

Dear God, Savior of the World, Holy Spirit,

please let me get back to V soon,

and don't let my father keep us apart. Thank you.

Amen.

Richie spent the rest of the half hour writing a letter to Virgil.

"All right, everyone. Pass in your papers."

Without looking, Richie grabbed the nearest prayer off his desk and gave it to the person in front of him. Still without looking, Richie tucked his other prayer into his folder. Then he went back to his letter.

After lunch (why, when everything else was different, did the cafeteria food have to taste just as bad as it had at home?) Richie shuffled his way back to his class. At Dakota Union, he had always switched from class to class throughout the day, and didn't see his homeroom teacher until the next morning. Here, though, he returned to her classroom after lunch, after gym and at the end of the day.

The minute he walked in the door, Ms. Kathelyn handed him a pass. "Pastor Mitchell wants to see you, Richie. Go back out to the main hall, turn right, and knock on the second door on your left.

"Ma'am, did I do something-"

"You're not in trouble, Richie. Pastor Mitchell just wants to talk to you." She smiled at him and made little shooing motions.

Richie walked out, his heart sinking. What did I do?

When he was at the door marked Reverend Mitchell, he knocked. This sort of reminds me of when I went to the principal's office to be interrogated about my dad.

"Come in please."

Richie entered, determined not to let this man get to him as the other. I've caused enough problems with my mouth; I don't want anyone getting the idea that I need help. All I want is to be left alone until I see V. Virg can help me, even if no one else can. He offered the man sitting behind the large desk a polite smile and held out his pass.

The man stood, came around the desk and, after taking the pass, shook Richie's hand. "Richie Foley, right? I'm Reverend Mitchell. Would you like to sit down?"

No, but I will anyway. "Thank you." Richie sank into the offered seat and watched in mild surprise as the pastor sat on the same side of the desk in a chair nearby. The chair wasn't too close, but the two of them weren't separated by the desk, either. He wants me to feel that we're equal, that I can trust him. In his mind, Gear smiled sardonically, but the thought was wholly Richie's: What kind of a fool does he take me for?

The pastor smiled at him. "Well, Richie, do you know why I asked to see you?"

"No, sir."

The reverend sat back in his chair and folded his hands. "I read your prayer. Ms. Katheryn was struck by its honesty and asked me to look at it."

Hoensty? "Sir, I don't know what you're talking about. I just wrote that prayer for an assignment in homeroom."

The reverend smiled again. "Well, it seems to me you managed to forget the form the assignment was to take and instead wrote a true prayer, one from your heart."

Richie blanched. No… No, I gave her the right prayer. Didn't I? Alarmed, he realized he couldn't be sure of that. "I'm sorry. I just handed the wrong prayer in." Richie grabbed at his bag and opened it. "The real prayer's in here. I'll just take the other one back. Ms. Ktheryn can grade that one instead."

"Richie, stop, please."

Richie sat up, leaving the bag open at his feet. The concern in the man's voice made him feel sick and angry. "I don't need your help. I'll only be here for a few weeks, then I'll be going h…somewhere else." He'd almost said "home", but he'd been thinking of Virgil's house, only one of two places where Richie had always felt safe.

"Richie, when someone calls out for help like this, how can I turn aside? How can I ignore them?"

"Easy." Richie was doing up the snaps on his bag, preparing to run. "I sent that prayer to God, not to you. It doesn't say "Dear Reverend Mitchell," does it?"

"Sometimes God answers our prayers by putting people in our path that can help us."

"Eat shit." It was out before Richie could stop himself. He froze, expecting either an explosion or a strained, placating smile.

The reverend threw his head back and laughed.

Richie gaped at him, all thoughts of escape temporarily forgotten.

Reverend Mitchell was gasping for air as he looked back at Richie. He wiped at his eyes and chuckled to himself. "I haven't heard that in so long…" he gasped out. "I thought that was something that died in the sixties." He released a snort of laughter, then seemed to get control of himself. "Forgive me, Richie, but I haven't had a good laugh like that in days." He shook his head. "I'm so used to people being unsure around me, not saying what's really on their minds. I miss that honesty."

He sat forward. "If you give me twenty minutes of your time, I promise I won't bother you again unless you want me to. Deal?"

Richie shook his head. "No. That's not good enough."

Reverend Mitchell considered for a moment. "And I'll make sure the teachers don't bother you about your life before you moved in with the Edmanns. Does that sound better?"

Richie considered, then nodded. "All right. But your twenty minutes starts-" he glanced at the clock- "now."

Reverend Mitchell stood. "Would you feel more comfortable fi I was over there?" He gestured to the other side of the desk.

Yeah, but… "It's okay; I'm not afraid of you or anything."

"Fair enough. And since I'm calling you by your first name, would you mind calling me Ovid?"

Richie started violently.

"Which word is a swear word today?"

Richie bit his lip. "It's just… your name is the middle name of my bo- best friend."

"Do you mean V?"

Richie blushed. "His name is Virgil. And, yeah, I mean him."

"Do you love Virgil?

Richie's blush deepened and he looked away. "I don't have to answer anything you ask me."

"True, but keep in mind that what you say here stays here."

Richie's anger flared and he whipped his head around, glaring at the pastor. "IfI say yes, you'll tell me I'm going to Hell and scourge me out of your office and maybe out fo the school."

"Actually, I wouldn't do that. First, I would thank you for being honest with me. Next, I would say that we don't scourge people out just for being honest. Next I would say that I would rather have you talking to me, or, more preferably, to God than having to face the world alone."

Richie's jaw dropped for the second time since the meeting began. "But… But homosexuality is a sin!"

"That is for you and God to talk about. I'm not here to tell you about fire and brimstone; I'm here to tell you about the mercy of Jesus' love." He dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Can I erad you something?"

Stunned and confused, Richie only nodded.

Ovid declaimed: "Alleluia. Christ has risen, as he said. He has risen from the dead. Alleluia. Give thanks to the Lrod, for he is good; his love endures forever. I was pushed back and about to fall, but the Lrod helped me. I will give you thanks, for you answered me, you have become my salvation. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. Alleluia. Christ has risen, as he said. He has risen from the dead. Alleluia." He paused, then added, "God can be your salvation, Richie, not just from the physical world, but from the world of your mind."

Richie stared at him. "I'm already a Christian, you know."

"Yes, I know. Let me show you what being a Chrstian means."

Ten minutes later, Richie left the office, undecided but with more weapons at his disposal than he'd had before he entered the office. All right, God; I'm listening. Whatever You want me to do, You'll have to lead me. But I will still love V.

After a moment, he added, But if You can really take away my nightmares, I would be forever grateful.

oOo

"Richie, you have a package from Dakota," Mrs. Edmann announced when Richie set his backpack- not Backpack, he thought, his breath catching in his throat, just a bag- beside the stairs. "It's on the kitchen table. The police scanned it already and declared it safe."

"Thank you, ma'am." Richie smiled, trying to act happy and carefree and everything he wasn't. Two days ago, he had received some of his clothes that had been taken by the police and mailed to him. Oh, he'd been excited at first when his temporary guardians had announced that he'd received a package from Dakota, but when he saw that all that was in the box were clothes, not one keepsake or photograph, he'd nearly cried. He hadn't; he didn't want them to know how hard he was finding the adjustment. And he sure as hell didn't want them comforting him. They were strangers, even if they had been placed in charge of him.

He shuffled into the kitchen, smiled at his "sister", Amber, and turned the box so he could read the return address, fully expecting it to say "Sergeant Riley, Dakota Police Department" and to have the police stamp of approval that showed the box had been checked for bombs or Anthrax or who-cared-what-else.

Well, he did see the stamp, but it was across a return address that made his heart leap. "V," he whispered, touching the address, hardly believing.

Mrs. Edmann asked from behind him, "Is that from a friend of yours, Richie?"

"Yeah…" Richie turned a beaming, completely untroubled smile on her. "My best friend." He was about to tear into the box, but then thought, It might contain Gear stuff. Probably not, but anything's possible. "Is it all right if I open it upstairs?"

She nodded. "Of course. Just be down at five-thirty for dinner."

"Okay." Richie tucked the box under his arm and with all the restraint he could muster, walked from the kitchen. He scooped up his bag and bounded up the stairs. Alone in his room with the door closed, Richie tore the package open. He couldn't lock his door, but he didn't care at the moment that he wasn't allowed any locks- plice orders. They said there was a high risk of suicide in children like Richie.

He tore the brown paper off the box and stared at it for a moment. The words "FH Survival Kit" were written across the top, and at first Richie couldn't figure out what they meant. Then he grinned, muttered, "Foster home. It's gotta mean that," and opened the box.

The first thing he saw was the comic books, and his eyes widened in shock. Where had Virgil gotten the money for all these? He pulled out the stack and investigated them one at a time. Mostly they were easy-to-find copies, but Richie didn't care about that: Virgil had bought (or given him) all the issues he knew Richie liked best: Plantman, Issue #32, Kung Pow in Hong Kong, LocoMartian means Dreadbot 3000… and a comic that Richie had never seen before. The cover was blank except for a title centered at the top.

MEET DAKOTA'S YOUNGEST, MOST TALENTED HEROES:

GEAR and STATIC!

"Oh, Virg…" Richie stared at the comic for a moment. He longed to read it, to see what Virgil had done- and he was amused by the fact that Static had put his partner's name first, a thing that never happened in the news. He's trying to make me smile, Richie thought. And, on the heels of that, I'm so lucky to have him.

With a slowness borne of reluctance, Richie set the comic book aside with the others and reached back into the box. This time, he pulled out a cloth-wrapped object. Well, it wasn't exactly cloth. It was actually the same material that made up Static's saucer, the material Richie himself had found. Now why would he…? But when Richie unwrapped the small object, he understood. Virgil had known- or assumed- that everything Richie received would be checked. So he had hidden a homing device in a cloth-paper-metal-alloy that would shield any electronic devices without seeming to be doing so. Where a homing device could be hidden in a metal box, that box would be suspect. V got this to me the only way he could. Richie grinned at Virgil's ingenuity and promptly stuck the homing device to his shirt. It looked like an innocent pin, and Richie grinned at Virgil's brilliance.

Richie drew the blanket from the box next, and his eyes filled with tears. "V… How could you send me this?" Richie held the blanket against his cheek and closed his eyes.

Flashback

Nine-year old Richie crept up the stairs to Virgil's room. The house was so silent it seemed haunted and Richie knew he should be outside with his mom; she would start looking for him soon if he didn't come when she called. But V needed him.

Richie opened the door to Virgil's room and poked his head in. Virgil was huddled on his bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back the tears. His window was open, and the sounds of Mr. Hawkins thanking well-wishers and accepting condolences for the death of his wife drifted into the room. Without asking if he should, Richie closed the door behind him. He crossed to the window, shut it (with some difficulty because he was short for his age) and drew the curtains closed.

In the semi-darkness, Virgil raised his head. His lip was quivering and he looked at Richie as if he didn't know him.

Undeterred by that look, Richie went to the foot of Virgil's bed, scooped up the Green Lantern blanket that had been dumped there and took it to his friend. Rihie wrapped the blanket around Virgil, then made as if to step back.

Virgil caught Richie's wrist in an iron grip and tugged him forward. A moment later, Virgil buried his head in Richie's shoulder, sobbing. Richie held him, rubbing his friend's back. He drew the blanket around both of them and began to rock Virgil.

End Flashback

When I woke up, it was to Mom and Mr. Hawkins looking down at Virgil and me. We'd fallen asleep somehow, and almost two hours had passed. Virgil was still asleep, but when I started to get up, he woke up and hugged me. He said, "thank you." Then he went back to sleep.

Richie gazed at the blanket in wonder. Well, I can't return ti to him now. But when I see him again, I'll make sure he keeps it from now on. Richie rubbed the blanket against his cheek. But maybe I'll sleep better tonight.

Memories of last night's dream- of Brainiac in all his horrifying glory- threatened to overwhelm him, but Richie turned away from them, shutting the door on that part of himself.

Virgil loves you, murmured Gear in his mind. You're so lucky.

I know… and he loves you, too. We're two parts of the same whole, Gear. Let's not get too separated again or we might end up like lasts time. We might have a wall spring up between us.

Richie, that was because Backpack-

It wasn't Backpack! And I thought you agreed to trust him,

I agreed to follow your lead. Whether I turst someone or not is my decision.

You're too cold, Gear.

You're too trusting.

Richie scowled. Oh shut up, will you?

For a wonder, Gear did.

Richie brushed a little lint off the blanket, folded it and set it aside. He took out several pictures and laughed over them, seeing many that he had doubles of… or that he might have doubles of, assuming his father hadn't destroyed them. I won't think about that now.

Richie took out the envelope at the bottom of the box and turned it sideways so he could read what was written there. In Virgil's distinct hand was a short poem:

I went to the woods

Because I wanted to live deliberately

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life

To put to Ralph all that was not life

And not when I had come to die

Discover that I had not lived

Abraham Calolie

And so I have pledged myself to Richie Foley

From today until tomorrow

From now until forever

Virgil Hawkins

Richie was torn between love and hysterical laughter. He could imagine showing Virgil his little mistake, and he snickered. Um, V? It's not "To put to Ralph all that is not life." It's "To put to rest and so on and so forth." Richie snickered again. But I like your rewrite better.

Careful not to rip the envelope too much, Richie removed the letter inside. Letter? This looks like a last will and testament! Richie stared at the four handwritten pages packed with writing. He checked the time, saw he had well over an hour to read the letter, and arranged himself more comfortably on his bed. Okay, V, I'm ready for whatever you're offering me… I think.

Dear Richie,June 13, 2003

I love you. I love you. I love you. How many times should I write this before moving on to say how much I love you? I don't know; let's give it a few more times. I love you. I love you. Richie Osgood Foley, I love you. I love you.

(Richie laughed- Virgil wrote the way he talked, which was surprising but refreshing. Richie glowed with the words his boyfriend had written.)

I love you more than the waves love the shore. I love you more than the stars love the sky. I love you more than hamburgers love buns.

I love your buns, Rich.

If the world was going to explode tomorrow and there was nothing I could do about it, I would be content to hold you for that last day, knowing that I love you and you love me. You are my strength, my joy, my strength- I already said that, didn't I?- and my life. I need you, Richie, and I thank God every day that I am loved by you.

I love you more than I love flying.

I want you to know about this dream I had a few days ago.

dream sequence

(Richie burst out laughing. Virgil had identified the dream just the way many of their favorite T.V. shows did.)

I am sitting on a rooftop watching Richie fly towards me. He's in costume, but he's carrying his helmet.

"Rich, why aren't you masked? What if somebody sees you?"

"I needed to kiss you and didn't want to bother taking this stupid thing off." Richie grabbed me and kissed me so hard and so deep that my head was spinning. "Virg, I can't wait until we're eighteen. Will you make love me now?"

end dream sequence

I want to hold you, Richie. I want to sit outside, somewhere there are no lights and no other people. I want to watch the sun set and then I want to spen the whole night holding you until the sun rises. I miss you.

I want to comfort you. I don't want you to be so far away with no one to tell you that you were just dreaming, that you're safe. I want you know that all you have to do is call and I'll be there. I love you, my Richie. I love you and I need you and I'll never stop taking care of you. Whatever you need, I'll give. Please, Richie, don't ever forget that. Please promise me you won't forget."

("I promise, V," Richie whispered. He pushed his glasses up, rubbed at his eyes, then adjusted his glasses so he could continue reading.

(The next three pages were filled with poems, some of tehm clearly Virgil's and others ones that he had "borrowed". Richie loved the second of these the best:)

Relief to my soul

Intelligent beyond belief

Cherished by all that have any good sense

Happiness embodied

Important center of my life

Everlasting lover of mine

Only mine

Sexy

Generous and gorgeous

Only mine

Original inventions your specialty

Damned sexy

Forever my lover

Oh man, I can't think of anything for O! Sorry, Rich. Forgive me?

Lasting friendship- lasting love

Eternal partner (in crime or in crime-fighting and maybe? in bed?)

You are my idea of perfection, Richie Osgood Foley

Um, Rich, I wrote this during English when Mrs. Pettibone was telling us about this kind of poem where you take someone's name and make a poem out of it. I can't remember what it's called, but I want you to know that I immediately thought of you.

(And, squeezed onto the very last line of the fourth page:)

I love you I love you I love you I love you Love, V

That night, Richie curled up under the Green Lantern blanket, put the pictures in frames his foster parents had given him, tucked the homing device under his pillow, hid his comics and the letter, closed his eyes, slept and did not dream.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed "Telling Tales" and thank you to those who suggested that I put the second half of the story into a sequel. I'm not sure if it's a true sequel, since there were so many questions left unanswered in the other story. Maybe it's more like the continuation of a series.

BH: I'm sorry you're confused- does this help a little? If not, please tell me what's the most confusing and I'll do my best to explain things. Maybe I'll rewrite the confusing part and dedicate it to you, so don't be afraid to tell me what's weird.

BTW, why do you think that it was Virgil and Francis first? What did I write that made you think that?

leev: I'm glad you liked it. I was looking for a way to end the first one in a way that would lead everybody to the next one- and I, too, was looking for some sweet reprieve after all the angst.