Author's Note: Next chapter will be up tomorrow.

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The next morning I woke up to the sun streaming in my window, straight into my eyes.  I rolled over to try to ignore it, but it was too late.

I felt rather groggy and wretched, either because I was up too early in the morning, or because I had slept too long.  It was probably going to be a bad day either way.  I could just feel it.

My stomach chose that moment to remind me loudly it wanted some attention, so I rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.  I did not even bother to brush my hair.

Pierre came through yet again with a satisfying breakfast and I was in a much better mood when I made my way back to my room to change.

I was just walking back into my building when I heard a commotion.  I turned to look at the odd sight.

Michael was striding out of the office building and Elizabeth came tearing out after him.  She was calling his name and Michael was obviously ignoring her.  "Mister Thompson!  You need to sign these today!"

"I believe I made myself clear, Elizabeth," Michael said as he strode by the door I was standing in.  Elizabeth ran after him.  I was vindictively amused to see her almost fall when one of her severe heels caught on the turf, nearly right in front of me.  Who was the clumsy one now?

"Mister Thompson!  You have to sign the—"

Michael turned around and looked at her sternly.  I saw her stop in her tracks.  "I don't give a damn about that.  Let it fall through.  You are not to follow me, Elizabeth," he ordered and then turned again and strode off towards the forest.  He disappeared down a trail into the forest.

Elizabeth seemed shaky and as she turned to go back to the office she spotted me.  She reached up to fix her no longer flawless hair and she spoke.  "Dylan!  Go after him!"

I was no longer amused.  I had never been sure of what my role on the island had been and I was even less sure than ever, but I was completely certain it was not to be Elizabeth's lackey.  I could not imagine why she would want me to go after Michael when she usually acted as if she disapproved of me breathing the same air as her precious employer.

It was easy to answer.  "No," I said, stretching a wide smile across my face as I looked at her, mostly to annoy her.

She glared at me and then threatened, "If you don't—"

I felt that was quite far enough, so I cut her off.  "There's nothing that you can do to me."

She sputtered.  She clearly wanted me to go and I wondered why and then it hit me.  She wanted me to go as cannon fodder.  She was probably hoping I would go and Michael would eat me up and spit me out and hopefully improve his mood in the process.  Then he could come back like a nicely fed lion and do what she wanted like a good boy.

She was still staring at me as if I had transformed into something unexpected.  "Now, why don't you get back to your job," I suggested, looking down my nose at her.

She glared at me as if she wanted to burn holes in my skull, but then she seemed to collect herself.  "Please, go after him," she said in a strict tone.

I grinned again.  "It doesn't sound like you want me to.  It sounds more like you detest me."

Her lips were tight and furious, but still she repeated in a much nicer tone, "Please, Dylan, could you try and talk to him?"

I smiled even more wickedly.  "I suppose that I could," I said sweetly and then I jogged off after him.  It was worth doing anything to make Elizabeth humble herself.  I enjoyed the memory of her stumbling as I jogged along.

Of course, I did not care about Elizabeth's papers.  I was more concerned about Michael's uncharacteristic behavior. 

Michael generally treated work like  just another game and he seemed to enjoy collecting more power and resources and working his way through the inexplicable maze of finances. 

He was never disinterested and he usually at least humored Elizabeth.  I suspected it was a bad sign.

As I walked away I wondered how I was even supposed to find Michael.  He was already out of sight by the time I reached the thick vegetation.  I marched into the trees and followed the path, then I had to guess which fork to take as it branched off. I chose the bigger side at random. 

As I walked, I spotted a footprint in the soft dirt that might have been Michael's, although I really had no way of knowing.  Hopefully I was on the right path.

I jogged ahead for a while and I wondered if I had guessed wrong after all.  Perhaps he had gone a different way. 

I should have caught up to him at the speed I was going, unless he had started to run.

After a few more minutes, I was pretty certain I had lost him.  I shrugged and I continued walking.  The trail was becoming brighter, although still shaded by the canopy as the sun climbed higher in the sky. 

There were a few shrieks from birds around me but I could hear no sign of Michael.

The day was already quite humid and I suspected it would only get worse.  I hoped I'd find Michael soon, if at all.  He knew the roads and trails of the island far better than I did.

I debated going back and hanging around in the library, but I could all too clearly picture Elizabeth hovering around the opening of the trails, waiting for my progress report.  It was a bit petty but I would rather let her wait and wonder.

I had spent enough time wandering the roads and trails of the island that I was no longer worried I would get lost now. While I did not know every curve and twist, the makeup of the island was easy enough to understand.

I had learned a bit since Michael had first brought me here.  I could never have found my way around here alone in the beginning.

I rounded another corner of cloying vegetation and I was no longer alone.

Michael was walking in front of me.  It did not seem he had noticed I was there.

"Michael?"

He continued walking away from me.

"Elizabeth sent you?" he asked, sounding unsurprised by my presence and very much as if he did not care about the answer.

I shrugged, even though his back was still to me so he would not see.  "She's pretty upset."

"What's it matter?"

How was I supposed to know that?  I had nothing to do with Michael's business and frankly I was not interested in figuring out.  "I don't know."

"Neither do I.  Why should I give a damn about anything?"

"Well, people are relying on you, aren't they?" I suggested.  "Why don't you return?"

"Why don't I return?  I don't feel like it.  There's nothing to do."

"Elizabeth thinks there is."

"If you're going to simply speak for Elizabeth why don't you leave now?" he asked coolly.

"Fine.  If that's how you want it," I said, because there was clearly nothing I could do. 

I was a bit irritated by his attitude considering he had practically forced me to return to the island with him, and now he was pulling this erratic nonsense.

I turned and walked back to the head of the trails.

Elizabeth was gone by the time I got back and I certainly was not going to search her out.  I spent the rest of the morning in the library reading and then made my way down to the village to visit Tara.

I opened the door to Tara's shop and walked inside.  My nose was assaulted by the strong smell of latex paint.  Tara was standing on a step ladder in the middle of the room.  The floor and all the furniture were covered in drop cloths.  There were splatters of paint all over.  Tara was still not a neat painter.

"Hi Dylan!" she said loudly as soon as she saw me.  "I'm repainting the shop!  Look, I'm making it light tangerine orange!"

"I can see that," I agreed, eyeing the majority of the ceiling which she had already painted.  It was definitely orange, a slightly light and yellowish shade.

"It'll be brighter and darker when it dries!  I thought this place could use some brightening up!"  She was definitely in a good mood.

I looked around at the formerly lime green walls and thought privately they were already more than bright enough for my taste.  But it was Tara.  I shrugged my shoulders.

"My mother always kept the shop bright and cheerful.  Makes the time spent in it that much more enjoyable."

That was one word for it.

"Did you need anything today?  Just wait a minute and I'll finish up the ceiling.  I can do the walls later.  I was so excited when my paint finally arrived!"

"I can see why," I lied because it was clearly my turn to comment on what Tara was talking about.

"Yes!  Well, there, all done!"  She said, sticking the roller in the tray of paint and climbed down the step ladder.  "Hang on, I'll be right back!  I'm going to get us some tea!" she told me as she charged to the back.

Tara returned with two cups of tea and we perched on stools in the centre of the room.

"Were you going to get anything today?" she asked me.

I glanced around at the mess.  "You know, I'll just wait a couple of days until you're done then come back."  Tara did not argue.  Instead, she leaned forward.

"So what's going on with Michael?  I've heard that he's been acting odd since you got back.  Are you two having difficulties?" I noticed the definite emphasis she put on the last word and rolled my eyes. 

I had to admit that Tara's information network remained impressive.  I rarely saw anyone in the shop and she rarely left, yet Tara always seemed to know what was going on with everyone else's business.

"Nothing much," I said benignly.

"Oh, now, level with me Dylan!  I know that something is up and I know when you're not telling the entire truth!  What actually happened when you went to Paris?"

Ugh.  "You know, I don't want to talk about that right now.  I did bring you back something, though!" I added, thinking of the bags still sitting in my room.

"Really!  Oh, Dylan!  You're the best friend ever!" she squealed, then started asking me a million questions about what I had bought.

I smiled.  Tare diversion successful.

I went back to my room and for the next few days I continued much as I had up until that point.  I saw Michael more often than I usually did, but it was not in a pleasant or positive way.  He paced around the island and nothing seemed to help him settle down.

I tried speaking to him many times and he was distant.  The only times he seemed to have any contentment was when he seemed he was utterly disconnected from reality. 

The rest of the time he was like a wild tiger prowling in a cage or like a mournful ghost chained to the world by his unfinished business and regrets.

It was also quite clear that everyone had noticed the change in Michael and the entire island population was unsettled by it.

Elizabeth ran around looking much less severe and composed than she usually did.  Alicia was especially whiny and her obnoxious monologues seemed to drone on forever.  Even Pierre made a short comment.  It seemed Michael's behaviour had escaped no one's notice and yet escaped everyone's understanding.

Even I only partly understood him and I knew more than anyone.

I woke up one morning to an uncharacteristically stormy sky.  Seeing the clouds looking dark and brooding seemed like an ill omen. 

I spent the morning inside, down in the library in a comfy chair, ignoring the weather.  Around lunch time I was starting to get pains in my stomach, so I opened the door to make my way to the kitchen.

The halls were unusually busy.  I was walking around a corner when I collided with someone.  He was a bit taller than me and my forehead hit his chest and I fell backwards, landing on my backside.

When I got over my surprise, I noticed that man had also been knocked to the ground.  He seemed vaguely familiar and I struggled to place him.  Then I realized he was none other than my new blood donor.

"What's your name again?" I asked him, as I stood up.  He did the same.

"Oscar," he said, shaking his head a bit as if to clear it.  Another faceless drone walked quickly by in the passage as we stood there somewhat gawkily.

"So, where were you going so fast, Oscar?"  I asked.

There was a significant pause.  "Missus Eggleston sent us on an errand."

"What's the errand?" I asked even though he seemed reluctant to tell me.  So, the errand was top secret and included basically everyone on the island but me? 

No doubt Tara already knew what was going on.  I was a bit annoyed. 

"Just tell me.  It can't be that big of a deal."  I tried to look intimidating.

Apparently it worked.  "She asked us to look for Mister Thompson.  And we weren't supposed to tell anyone," he added pleading.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you told me," I said absently, thinking about where Michael might be.  "How long has it been since anyone saw him?"

"Last night."

His words put a chill through me.  I reminded myself he was probably just somewhere moping around, like a giant, secretive bat.  Still, I could not shake the feeling in my bones.  I felt compelled to look for him and I did not even try to fight it.

Without another word to Oscar I ran upstairs.  I thought through all the places he might be.  I had almost never seen him at the beach and he only occasionally went to town. 

I was forced to concede I would be little help in searching for Michael even if I did look.  I thought I might go and look for him in the trails in the forest.  Surely another body might be helpful.  Perhaps he had slipped in the rain and hurt himself, though it seemed more like something that might happen to me than Michael.

I was on my way outside when I remembered the caves where he said he liked to think.  I wondered if anyone knew he spent time there.  Considering Michael's secretive nature, the answer was probably no.

I ran out of the building to the offices, getting soaked in the process.  "Elizabeth!" I nearly shouted.  "Elizabeth!?"

The office was deserted, so I ran back to the main house and to the stairs.  I descended so quickly it was probably dangerous and then I ran down the direction I vaguely recalled. 

I knew I was likely being ridiculous, yet I continued running.  How could I just sit and wait when my instincts were screaming something was wrong?

Finally I reached the familiar staircase and I knew I had gone the right way.  I charged up the stairs and finally I reached the door that led out to the caves.  I slammed it open, happy it was unlocked and went through.

The storm seemed to have brought cooler air into the cave and I shivered.  I continued through and to my relief I saw him sitting there.

Michael was leaning in nearly in the same place he had been sitting when I left the last time.  He looked up when he heard me approaching.

"Why are you here?"

"Everyone is combing the island for you," I told him.

He chuckled, but without mirth.  "Can't get on without me, can they?"

"Seems not."

He laughed again, clearly unhappy.  I watched him warily.

"I'm tired, little girl."

"Probably, because you've been out here all night?" I asked with tentative hopefulness.

"It's true I have been here all night.  Fitting night for a storm on my beautifully sunny island, isn't it?"

Nothing felt fitting and nothing felt right, but I felt like I had to answer.  "I don't know."

"Neither do I," he said, looking away from me out at the sea.  "I've mainly lived on this island for a long time.  For generations, really."

"I know," I agreed.

His voice was hard to hear over the sound of the waves and the wind coming from the mouth of the cave, so I moved to stand beside him, closer to the place where the cave opened above the sea.

"But really, what is the point?  I can go anywhere now.  I don't need to build my defenses.  Paul is not here to plague me any longer, is he?"

"No, he's not," I agreed slowly.

Michael shook his head.  "He's not.  So what am I to do?"

I was starting to wish I had never come looking for him. 

It was foolish to think something might have happened to him and even more foolish I was for caring that he might be hurt.  What had he done to deserve my worry? 

He had betrayed me and manipulated me and he deserved nothing from me, but for some reason I kept forgetting that.

Yet he seemed so lost now I could not even stay as angry at him as he deserved.  I knew better than to let him get under my defenses again, yet I was clearly always a fool, forever the court jester in King Michael's court.

"Michael, you've been acting... Odd lately.  What is it?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

"Do you really need to ask?  Paul has defeated me."

"What?"

Michael was suddenly angry, as if a switch had been flipped.  "Paul has stolen everything!  He has stolen my sister and he has stolen my peace!  He still plagues my mind. Sometimes he's alive, sometimes he's not, but always he steals from me.  He leaves nothing."

I remembered Paul's body so clearly.

Michael's anger ignited the banked flames my own, "Shut up, Michael!  Paul stole nothing from you.  You're the one who keeps messing with people's lives, with my life!"

He did not respond.

"You're the one who chose to spend your time seeking some stupid revenge, like it could even change anything. It's your own fault you're so warped!"

"Little girl," Michael began as if he would make excuses, but I continued talking loudly so he could hear me over his protests and the wind.

"And he never stole your sister!  She was with him of her own free will!  You can't force someone's feelings!"

"He stole you!" he snapped.

"I'm not your damn sister!" I shouted at him, completely losing it.

"I never said you were!" he shouted back.

"Paul told me you used to tease your sister by calling her that.  And I look almost exactly like her, don't I?"

He looked grim as his eyes flicked to meet my eyes.  Then he looked away.

I sat down an arm's length away from him, my back up against the cold stone of the wall of the cave. The wind changed direction and we were suddenly soaked in a spray of cold rain water.

After long minutes of silence, Michael nodded, as if resigned.

"You're right."

"What?"  That was unexpected.

"You're right about everything."  He pushed himself to his feet.

"Michael?"

"It's finished.  The game really is ended."  There were prickles up my spine.  I had nothing to say.  I watched him as he stood up.

"Perhaps I was wrong, but that no longer matters.  I see it now.  I'm a walking corpse.  Everything I knew is gone."

I looked up at him.  He stood beside me and I could see his face was ashen and sunken, his blond hair whipped around wildly.  All traces of the robust and handsome man seemed to have fled.  He was like a shadow of himself, like a wraith.  He almost did look like the diminishing corpse he described.

"No, Michael, you're not.  You can change," I said, trying to sound certain, even though I was not at all sure my words were more than pretty lies.

He shook his head sadly, as if resigned.  It reminded me of Paul.  "I can't change, little girl.  My time has passed."

Michael took three steps forward and he was gone.

I stared for what felt like an eternity at the empty space where Michael had last stood.

"Michael!" I shouted, about a thousand years too late.