It took Terry a while to get his conscious and subconscious selves properly sorted out before he was able to establish that he was in a bed, in a hotel room on the planet of Tabaimo, it was pitch dark, and there was a noise that had woken him up. He stared stupidly at the clock for a few seconds, then shook himself awake enough to pick up the comm.

"Troy... what's the matter?" A palm over his mouth covered the yawn that might otherwise have accompanied the words.

"Look, Terry... I'm... I'm awful s'ry to call you a'th's hour..."

Drunk as fish, Terry realized with a shake of his head and pulled himself to a half sitting position, leaning on one elbow.

"It's all right," he lied fluently. "Is something wrong?"

"The m's'ge... message... you asked me to make... for Ben. I mean Sa-Salvador." There was some fumbling heard over the line, a thud and a quiet curse, and then some more fumbling. "Look, I've been tryin' to get it t'gether. But it won't come. Just won't work. What the hell can I say?"

"Troy," Terry said placatingly, "I told you not to sweat over it. Just let it brew, and you'll find the words, right?"

"No I won't!" The exclamation was emphasized by a sloshing sound. "Shit... goddamn cans..."

Terry waited until his partner in this conversation again remembered that he was still holding the comm in his other hand, then tried again.

"Troy? You still there?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I guess I'm a bit drunk. Wha' time is it?"

"Time for you to go to bed and sleep," Terry countered. "And I mean it."

"Don't be such a prick! I need to talk to you, right now! You asked me to get that message together, and I've been bloody well trying to! I just can't think of anythin' to say!"

"Troy, listen. It's only been a couple of days. I told you not to push it, a few days don't matter so much." Terry fell silent until he heard a reluctant grunt of agreement from the other end. "The main thing is that you give yourself time to think about everything. Don't worry, you will find the words you want to say, eventually."

"But you said he needs help!" Troy erupted. Obviously his rising temper somehow sobered him up, at least to some degree, because he wasn't slurring all the words together so badly any more. "He fucking needs help and I can't get one stupid message together! I'm just keeping you hanging here on this fucking planet and waiting, and it's not right!"

"Hush," Terry hissed to his comm, keeping it at a safe distance from his ear. "Listen to me, please, Troy! You go to bed right now, and when you wake up and feel alive again, you'll call me. Okay? I'll come there and we'll have another good talk about this then. In the morning."

"You promise?" Troyen hiccuped a little, sounding very much like a pouting five-year-old wanting his daily fix of sweets.

"I give you my word of honor," Terry said earnestly. "Just put that drink away and crawl under the blanket. You're way beyond tired."

"Okay."

The comm fell silent, so abruptly that Terry stared at it for a few seconds in astonishment before pushing it again on the bedside table. His eyes had accommodated to the darkness during the conversation, if it could be honored with such a name, and he squinted incredulously at the clock. He'd been going to wake up in about two hours anyway... but if Troyen had started drinking the previous evening and gone on all through the night, he'd be stolidly out of it for quite a few more hours to come. Provided, of course, that he'd taken the advice and was indeed right now getting himself horizontal.

Terry yawned once more, argued with himself some, and then buried his head again in the pillow. He at least was going to sleep.

After breakfast he headed out to wander about the city and to behave like a real tourist, seeing the sights, comparing the place to Trelissac – so far his only experience of a city – and exploring the various shops and attractions tempting visitors and inhabitants alike. Time flew past, Terry totally forgot to look at the time, and when his comm finally buzzed, he was more than a little surprised to notice that the afternoon was in fact nearly over and evening was at hand.

The voice greeting him over the line was raw and hoarse, its owner obviously not in too good shape.

"Hi," he answered brightly, determined to ignore the early morning call altogether. "How're you doing?"

"I guess I'm still alive." In all honesty Troyen sounded like something scraped off the walls of a grave. "Look, I'm awfully sorry about earlier... I did call you some time during the night, didn't I?"

"You did, but let's just forget about that," Terry said. "I guess you haven't really had anyone to talk to when you've felt bad before?"

"You're right, I haven't." A deep, contrite sigh. "Hey, do you think you'd bear to look at me? If you'd come over?"

"I think I'd survive it," Terry chuckled. "Are you sure you're feeling up to it, though? Quite frankly you don't sound too good."

"Never heard of anyone dying of hangover before. And I'm afraid I'll slip to drinking some more tonight if I can't talk to anyone."

"I'll be right over," Terry promised, waves of sympathy lapping inside his mind. "I'm in the city, give me half an hour."

"No need to rush, as long as I know you're coming." Troyen sounded relieved. "Could you bring something to eat?"

"I will. See you soon."

Terry smiled ruefully and stepped into the shop in front of which he had been standing. Troy would survive, even if he spent the next few minutes picking up something to take home to the School of Angels...

About an hour later he slipped into Troy's apartment and unloaded his bag on the table. He was happily surprised to see that the young man had obviously made an effort to get his act together: the place was clean, everything neatly arranged to their proper places, clothes out of sight in the wardrobe, dust wiped and swept away. Troy himself looked a lot better than he sounded. His dark hair was still somewhat damp from a recent shower, he was wearing a clean shirt and trousers and didn't turn immediately green when Terry began to open the containers of food. Terry considered that a decidedly good sign.

"I didn't know what you'd be able to eat, so I brought enough stuff to choose from," he said and waved his hand in a broad gesture towards the assortment of snacks. "Pick what you like and leave the rest for later, or just push them to me. I'm pretty much omnivorous."

Troyen inspected the selection, took one container and began to cautiously sample from it.

"I think I'll live," he said with a fragile smile and sat once more on the bed pulling his legs under him.

"I think you will," Terry nodded and curled up in the armchair that had so graciously been offered to him, without a word said. "But you look tired. How much did you drink?"

"I didn't want to count," Troy shrugged. "Just packed the cans away. Pretty much, anyway. I really feel like shit... about myself, I mean."

"I'm glad you haven't taken up drugs," Terry commented licking his fingers. Troyen shook his head and looked thoughtful.

"I considered it at some point," he confessed. "But I felt somehow, I don't know, like that would've been definitely admitting that I'm messed up. With drinking it's in a way easier to just make believe. Tell myself that it's nothing, that I'm just taking this one drink, you know? Just this one, and then I stop, there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just relaxing..."

Terry nodded. Troyen studied a piece of spiced vegetable, bit on it, grimaced a little at the surprisingly strong taste but swallowed. "Wow... doesn't even make me feel sick. I was sick to start with, though. But I'm feeling a lot better now."

"You wanted to talk... about the message?" Terry asked.

"Yeah. I've been thinking. In fact I don't think I've done anything but think about it ever since you left," Troyen said. "I've started it many times, but it just doesn't work."

"What exactly?"

"I can't find the words!" Troy sighed deep, frustrated. "I've tried to just think about it and say something, and I've tried to write it down first, but I can't find the things to say. I guess the problem is that I don't really know what I want to say."

He sucked on another piece of food for a while, brow furrowed. "It'd be so much easier if he was here. If I could really look at him, see him there, see how he reacts to what I'm saying. I've tried to imagine but it simply doesn't work."

"Would if help if you were talking to me?" Terry suggested. He refrained from even thinking about the possibility of broadcasting 'Salvador' to Troy, though. That would've been too much.

"I'm not sure," Troyen said. "I don't really think so. You look like him, but it's not the same."

Terry blinked when he felt the veritable wall of determination that suddenly seemed to push upon him from the dark man.

"I've thought about it really hard," Troy went on, "and I can only think of one thing to do. Do you think I could come there with you?"

"But – what about your studies?" Terry blurted out. "You haven't graduated yet. And –"

"To hell with them," Troyen said dismissively. "I'm not going to graduate anyway, not at this rate. And surely there's a university with a Physics department on Jainah as well? I could get myself transferred there."

"I suppose there is," Terry said. "Never inquired, though, but I should think so. But are you sure, Troy? I mean, are you sure you know what you're suggesting? Remember, it's not Ben we are talking about here. It's Salvador, even though he's a very messed up Salvador, but still. It's not as if you'd be coming there to find the same person you knew."

"I know that," Troyen insisted. "I know it, and I'm not even pretending I'd fully understand it all. But still... I'd want to try. I want to come there, see him, get to know him, help him any way I can. Maybe find something useful to do there. Please."

Terry stared at him, dumbfounded. He could feel that Troy had made his decision already and was determined to go through with it. He just wasn't sure what to say to the request.

"Of course that'd be the best thing for Sal," he began cautiously, but didn't get any further.

"Then I'll do it," Troy said decisively. "I'll travel to Jainah with you."

"All right, your studies could be salvageable," Terry said. "But what about everything else? What about your family, your friends..."

"My family and I haven't been on talking terms for a good while," Troyen said darkly. "Not since Hal disappeared, and somebody got the idea that I'd been involved. They didn't know about his rebel contacts or sympathies, but he and I were the only ones living around here, and when I refused to tell them anything... well, that did it."

"Must've been hard on you, on top of everything," Terry said sympathetically. "But –"

"Will you please forget the 'buts' now?" Troyen asked in exasperation. "I've made up my mind, and I really hope you'll help me with this."

Terry quickly checked his options. Of course he could flatly reject the suggestion, but his resolve was severely undermined by the sheer willpower radiating from Troyen at the moment. Yes, the man was tired, hung over, sore from hurting emotionally for all those months, and perhaps about to make a huge mistake. Nor did he have much of an idea of what he was getting into. But Terry himself was almost leaping with joy at the suggestion.

Besides, he had a feeling that Troy, maybe even more than Salvador, needed a tangible closure of some sort. Sending a message of forgiveness wouldn't do enough for him. He'd still be left with his loneliness and depression, without anyone to really talk to, trying to cope with his own guilt and the others' obliviousness. Troy needed a new start, and if this wouldn't give it then nothing could.

Shit, I've decided it already, Terry realized and sighed quietly. I'm going to say yes. And I quite honestly believe that this is the best solution, for everyone.

"All right," he voiced. "I'm with you."

Troyen smiled, really smiled to him for the first time since they'd met a few days ago, and Terry understood why the flirty Benedict had been so smitten by him. It was a heart-warming smile, beautiful and sincere, a smile that reached up to his dark, melancholy eyes and made them sparkle. He couldn't help smiling back.

The same smile greeted him when he, a mere four days later, walked into the spaceport lobby and looked searchingly around. Troyen walked swiftly to him and hugged him enthusiastically, ignoring the curious looks from people around them.

"You've got everything together?" he asked.

"Yes," Terry nodded. "My luggage is here. Shall we lump them together?"

"Yeah, we'll be sharing the cabin anyway," Troyen agreed and turned to pull the trolley closer.

His whole being seemed transformed. He carried himself with an easy confidence that didn't fail to impress Terry and looked like someone with a goal in life, eyes shining and hands trembling a little in anticipation. Terry had cautioned him about the 'broadcasting' trick he was going to play when in the open, even shown it to him, and he'd absorbed the information with remarkable equanimity. Sure it had startled him, but he was resolutely ignoring his confusion.

Besides, he'd really jumped at the opportunity to do something, to get away from the memories that whispered to him from every corner. He had insisted that Terry take care of the travel arrangements and, when informed of the first date when they could leave, said confidently that he'd have everything settled by then. He'd done exactly that, too, a feat for which Terry certainly admired him.

They approached the gates, checked in without problems, left their luggage to be transported to their cabin, and entered the spaceship. It was a regular liner, designed for speedy travel in enough comfort for long distances, offering accommodation that was spacious without being overly luxurious. Troyen looked around in the cabin in clear surprise.

"Wow," he commented. "Looks nice enough. And there's so much space all around."

"There'll be even more of it in a while," Terry grinned, "when we really get going! Have you ever traveled interplanetary before?"

"Certainly not!" Troy shook his head. "So this will be our home for a while now..."

"That's right, and we might start by getting settled here," Terry said. "Then, once we take off and are on our way, I'll tell you more about Jainah and everything that we'll encounter there."

"I can hardly wait," Troy said eagerly and dug into his suitcases.

Terry watched him from the corner of his eye as they both unpacked their clothes and scattered their bigger and smaller things all around the cabin and the adjacent bathroom. The place soon began to look like a well lived-in home, and Terry grinned to himself. Troyen was sprawled on the bed he'd declared as his, and was studying his datapad with a soft smile. Terry was rather sure he knew what had called out that smile, and felt a stab of uncertainty somewhere deep inside him.

"I'm going to take a nap," he said and threw himself lazily on the other bed. Troy glanced at him quickly, lost in thought, and nodded.

"Go right ahead," he mumbled.

Terry laced his fingers together behind his head and closed his eyes with a sigh, letting his entire body relax on the bed. He wasn't going to sleep, though, oh no. This was the perfect time to at last contact his kin, far away on Jainah, and for that he needed to reach a suitable state of concentration. He listened to the quiet hum of blood coursing through his veins, the regular thump of his heart, the hiss of breathing, and methodically closed them all away. Finally he opened up his mind and reached out, out, still out.

He felt the slightly chaotic presence of a large lump of consciousness and frowned a little. The kids... they had to learn how to keep their minds to themselves, or they were going to run into big trouble at some point in their lives. Being part of the brain pool that was their quintet was all well and fun, but they really depended on it too much. Obviously it was becoming necessary to separate them from each other and give them loads to do, to distract them from their constant state of togetherness. It wasn't good for them.

Terry sighed again and moved on, careful not to touch them.

Adrien... agitated. Extremely agitated, and not in a too pleasant way. Terry cringed at the feeling and skimmed hastily on, reached out a tendril and curled it around André's mind in a far more demanding fashion than he'd intended. It was strange, he thought in passing, that even though André was the one of them who was still basically in a 'primed' state and not in a 'pure' T-clone mode, he still had the most power and the best control over his mental abilities. Perhaps the priming did in fact somehow enhance it, as they suspected, or rather modify the clone's hold of them. Well, of course it did that, but maybe it wasn't all for the worse, as they'd speculated, maybe priming didn't in fact really dull the powers? Maybe, if a primed T became aware of his true being and capabilities, he could exert more control? And of course André's strenuous training and studying had given him the tools to harness his mind...

The flash of introspection was really just a flash, because André responded immediately.

Terry! Oh Terry, I'm so glad to hear from you! The thoughts and the warmth were so instantaneous that Terry shivered with pleasure on his bed. I haven't wanted to contact you, I was afraid I'd disturb you. Where are you? How are things? Why haven't you talked to me since reaching Tabaimo?

I've been busy, Terry sent back with a smile. I would have contacted if there had been the slightest trouble. I'm still on Tabaimo, but not for long. This is a spaceship, ready to depart. I'm coming home.

So soon? Did you find him? Tell me something, I know you have something to tell, you're pleased with yourself. Satisfied. Please, Terry! André was practically whining. Terry felt a wave of physical pleasure – ah, André was in bed, next to Rori...

Is it morning or evening there? Terry sent. Early morning – well, sorry to have woken you up.

Stop dawdling right now, André ordered sternly. I was already more than half awake anyway. Now, Terry! What's the status?

I found Troy. He's coming to Jainah with me. Prepare, brother, I'm going to send you a real package now...

Terry inhaled slowly and let the whole cluster of facts, emotions and doubts flow through the channel between them. He knew that André had to be trembling by exertion by now, and gave his twin a playful mental shove. There, got it?

Sure I did... oh my god, what a mess. But he's coming with you? That's marvelous! Sal's been talking about him, poor thing, and it seems the mere hope of hearing about Troy has made him marginally better. One good thing at least. André's delight was again pushed aside by clear anguish and Terry nearly shot up on his bed.

What's the matter there? Why was Adrien so upset when I felt for him a moment ago? And why are you? What's happening there? he demanded tersely.

We've got a message, André sent back with unmistakable sadness. A rebel group operating in the Zodiac system. They've requested our assistance, and we really cannot say no.

Assistance? Terry stiffened.

Yes. They need pilots. When will you be back?

On the twenty-fifth, Terry replied numbly.

Good. André's mental voice was quiet and resigned. Then you ought to be here before they leave, unless there is a change in plans and their departure is sooner than expected.