Her breath catches in her throat as Kyra looks into Michael's eyes. Tears fill her own and she falls into Michael's arms. As Michael wraps her tightly to him, visions of Ronnie fill Kyra's mind. She sees her brother in different stages of his life, yet every picture of his smiling face turns into a grotesque parody. A fragile, trembling whine escapes her mouth. Faint hopelessness creeps into her voice as Kyra turns her eyes to the still form of the husky.

"No casualties?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra stands with her arms folded over her chest, watching Michael as the doctor finishes her inspection. A slight shake of her head accompanies the answer to Michael's question.

"There's no telling about Wolf. He's in surgery. The vet said...." Kyra falters slightly, shaking her head. "...that he'll probably make it but..." Kyra leaves the statement hanging, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek.

Michael laughs tenderly, warmth in his eyes as he slides off the gurney. With laughter still bubbling from his chest, a comforting sound, Michael pulls her close, smiling into her gaze. Confusion settles within Kyra's eyes until the big man lets her in on his secret.

"You're almost in tears when it comes to the dog, even tho the vet said he'll make it, but no worry for Matthew or George." As an afterthought, Michael smirks. "Or me."

Kyra shakes her head emphatically at first. As the joke becomes clear, she smiles faintly then speaks in a deadpan undertone.

"You know you men are tough. You can handle it. Wolf's my baby." Michael shakes his head, his laughter beckoning to Kyra's own quiet counterpoint.

The two move slowly through the hospital corridor arm in arm. Michael rests his hand atop Kyra's own, pausing there steps for a moment. he watches her then speaks softly.

"You carry that P20 with you everywhere, don't you?"

Kyra nods slowly. "Yeah, usually."

Michael returns her nod. "Then why don't you have it on you now?"

Kyra looks around nervously then answers as she turns, propelling the two forward again. "Because I'm scared, nervous and jumpy. That's the second worst time to be in possession of a leathal weapon."

Michael arches a brow. "Oh? So then, Miss I Know All, what is the worst time?"

Kyra looks into MIchael's eyes, her own deadly serious. "When you're pissed off."

They continue forward, Michael nodding thoughtfully. As they approach the end of the hall, Kyra arcs a brow, sighing exageratedly. George's voice growls from the room around the corner.

"Damn it. Get off me. I ain't no damned child!"

The older man struggles half heartedly as a nurse attempts to bandage Stratfield's stitched forehead. Kyra leasds Michaeld into the room her Uncle shares with matthew. She smiles softly at the Lieutenant, placing a light hand on his non-wounded arm.

"Next time, keep your elbows in when you're dodging wild fire."

Matthew smiles, chuckling softly with a slight shake of his head. Michael moves to his brother's side, gently pushing Kyra toward George. "Go on, Kyra. Go settle him down."

Kyra nods, already pushing past the nurse. "Go on, friend. I'll take care of it. I'm used to dealing with the Beast."

The nurse smiles greatfully, beating a hasty retreat. Kyra chuckles after him, then looks to her Uncle.

"Sit back, you cantankerous old man, and let me do this." Kyra roughly pushes George back on the bed, ignoring his grunt of protest.

With quick fingers, she applies the bandage to George's forehead. Kyra then steps back, examining the cast on his left leg. A soft smile colors her face as she addresses the bear before her.

"Thank you, Babbi."

The older man quirks a brow at his niece, not having heard her childhood name for him in too long. His reply is softly spoken. "For what, Ky?"

"For staying alive." Quickly she wipes a tear from her cheek, a tender smile curving her lips.

As George watches his niece, the feelings of anger and rage at his failure simply evaporate. He watches her delicate face, seeing Kyra s an innocent child rather than the woman she has grown into. A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as George's fingers caress Kyra's cheek.

"You know me, Ky-honey. I'm just a Disco Inferno."

Warm, musical laughter fills the hospital corridor, flowing from the room in loving waves. Time drifts onward, bringing in peace and comfort to smooth over the pain of each life. Soft pillows of tender words caress bone weary souls in a newly designed destiny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Within the next five years many changes occurred. Matthew was honorably discharged from the Army. He now lives in the forest near Dawson, in his Uncle's cabin. Matthew and George cooperatively started a company leading hikers through the Cascades. George takes care of the business side of things while Matthew handles the leg work. Matthew also takes time off to guide for bow and rifle hunters during the Fall and Winter months. It is suspected that Matthew will never lose all of his augmented senses, although his range has decreased.

Sky-Way Industries expanded under its new ownership team of Michael and Kyra Thomas. The Research and Development department was completely reconfigured. Plans for a new sensory aid, for those who suffer from sight and hearing loss, are on the drawing board and are based largely on Dempsey's research. Kyra and Michael are expecting the birth of their first child and recently announced Wolf's tenth litter of beautiful husky pups that seem to have their sire's extrodinary appreciation for music.

Lieutenant JG Catherine Stevens never spoke another word about the formula, Dempsey or Colonel Marx. She completed her exile and has since been promoted twice, yet she still hears infrequent reports of sightings of a man matching Colonel Marx's description. The most recent was from a waitress in a diner just south of the San Juan Islands. He was remembered by the young waitress because Marx had given a $5 tip for a cup of coffee and left behind a tattered and faded obituary notice.

Sherriff Volkenwold put in for early retirement after reading the death certificate for one Thomas J. Hepplewhite; the body taken from Sky-Way Industries. Stratfield was never notified that the body did not belong to Dempsey.

Occassionally there are sightings of a strange man in the high desert of southern California. Still today, locals buzz about the unknown figure, gossipping about how he looks more like a hawk than a man, but no one has actually talked to him and no one knows his name.

******** Final Note *********

All we are, dictates all we can be, and the river of destiny carries us forward. Through each tear a rainbow is born. And just as every action has an opposite reaction, each choice in your life is another step in the formula which designs your personal destiny. May your every positive and loving dream come true as you make yourself into that which you most want to be.