By Rhyo



Notes: My brain is still stuck in the Resurrection Series - this the prequel, before Dolimir's first story. AND it fits in the "crossed wires" theme.



The police cruiser paced him for almost two miles, but he wasn't really worried. A single patrolman, no matter how well-armed or alert, was no match for him. No, the real hunters would come later, when they'd had a chance to piece together what had happened and who could have done it. For now, he'd changed cars and appearance twice during the day and was confident he was not being followed.

He kept his speed exactly five miles an hour over the limit and made sure that he was neither the slowest nor fastest car on the highway. Minutes and miles crept by as he carefully thought about nothing at all. Finally he saw the sign for his exit; in another four miles he would turn north and head for Dulles. The cruiser accelerated and passed him, the patrolman not even glancing his way as he passed.

The packet with his passport and his tickets for Mexico sat on the seat beside him and he glanced down at the slim folder that held his future. A new identity, a little money in an offshore bank and a future that did not involve Sentinels or Shafer. He reached down to touch the packet and noticed that his right hand was shaking slightly. Adrenaline, he supposed, though he'd thought himself beyond that.

Distantly, he heard the voice he'd been hearing all day, speaking the one word it said over and over. At first he'd thought it was just his ears ringing from the amount of C-4 he'd used to bring the building down in a satisfyingly thorough way, but the whisper had just kept repeating, getting louder each time.

"Cascade," the voice said, the whisper seductive and soft.

His planned destination was Mexico. Mexico and safety. Safety. Freedom. Solitude.

"Cascade," the voice whispered, more insistent.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Mexico.

"Cascade," the whisper came again. "Cascade and J---"

"No!" He was breathing hard and he struggled to take calming, deep breaths. He was relatively safe for now, but going back to Cascade would be foolish. When they came looking for him, it would be simple enough to trace his history back. It would be the first place they would come looking.


There was nothing left in Cascade for him, no good reason to go back.


The exit for Dulles flashed by. He didn't need to look at the map. He knew how to get home.

"Cascade," he whispered.





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