I

Into the Emerald Isle's sapphire skies,

the opal being exports fluttering fairies-

fellow jewels of Taelon.

Blushing amethyst,

these glimmers of his home world

become diamond durable legends.
 

Liam found the poem in his mother's diary. Underneath her glittering metaphors, Beckett had written a single word, Jha'du'ur, which she defined as "living lights." Jha'du'ur-- Liam is in the word, in the memory.

The Jha'du'ur are the first to evolve on Taelon, and they are nearly the last. Blushing purple, they flit through the haze of Atavus blood. They dart around Jaridian epiphanies. They illuminate Taelon despair. Dying with their world, the Jha'du'ur are saved by guilt. Ma'el does not allow these first and last lights to be put out by Taelon hubris.

Distant past flashes to recent past. Beckett receives a new assignment. "The Synod wishes to ascertain if any Jha'du'ur still thrive on Earth," the U.K. Companion states matter-of-factly. "They are nocturnal, preferring damp, cool niches during day hours."

"You mean I should be looking for the Fairfolk in caves," clarifies his protector.

"Precisely, Lieutenant Beckett. As a master climber, you are eminently qualified to carry out the search. You will be outfitted with a sensor calibrated to the genetic signature of the Jha'du'ur."

Recent past becomes the present. Liam collects himself, closing his mother's diary. Six minutes later, Liam lands his shuttle in Dublin, Ireland. He had come here with Da'an for the official opening ceremony, but he needed to see them again, alone. He stops outside the entrance and reads the sign-- THE DUBLIN SANCTUARY FOR THE FAERIES OF EIRE. Beckett had been the bridge she had always wanted to be. She had found hope for both Humanity and the Taelons. A tear tricked down Liam's cheek as he looked upon his family jewels.

II

Palm to palm, Lili feels interdimensional space through Da'an. The sudden rush becomes undulating serenity. The cyan-green-gray river outside the shuttle enfolds the peach and purple tones of the two beings within. In an eternal instant, the cyan-green-gray river gives way to emerald green earth. Lili and Da'an transform the energy of color into the energy of transmitted thought.

Lili: Dublin is my surprise?

Da'an: Not Dublin, but some that dwell here.

Their hands part when they reach the entrance of The Dublin Sanctuary for the Faeries of Eire. Da'an needs both arms to make a graceful gesture of introduction. Separate, they must make due with verbal communication. Da'an's blushes tenderly and begins:

"Lili, you are precious to me on many levels. You have become 'Jha'du'ur' to me, a source of living light. It is only fitting that you encounter other Jha'du'ur, other lights, that have inspired me since I first beheld them during my young days."

Upon entering, Lili and Da'an are greeted by Frances O'Shianan, a monitor at the Sanctuary. "Da'an, we weren't expecting you 'til Tuesday. That's your usual day to visit, isn't it?"

"Indeed, it is, Miss O'Shianan, but I have been feeling especially nostalgic of late."

"Ah, the call of home places, no species is immune....and you're Lili Marquette aren't you?"

"Yes," comfirms the pilot, looking at O'Shianan's badge. "I'm glad to see you don't consider yourselves keepers."

"So am I," agrees the monitor, "because we don't 'keep' them. In fact, we're developing stratagies to return the Jha'du'ur to their natural terrestrial environment. They should be able to come and go as they please, as they have done for millenia." A global sounds. "That's mine. I'll leave you to commune with them. A pleasure to see you both."

As Da'an and Lili walk along, other visitors to the Sanctuary part reverently in the Taelon's path. Lili knows that part of Da'an relishes the adoration, but she also knows that he, like her, is often most alone in a crowd. As she contemplates this irony, Lili realizes that something deeper is troubling Da'an on this occasion. She yearns to share, to comfort Da'an, but they must be careful in this public place. People are not ready for their connection. Humans would make them fodder for the tabloids or candidates for sainthood. Lili does not want to contemplate the Taelons' reaction.

Lili hits upon a solution; the crowds will work in her favor. Lili places her hand on Da'an's back, as if to guide him through, before the people part. When she does this, Da'an senses her desire and futively initiates the sharing. They are surrounded by the sounds of a world, but they only hear each other's thoughts:

Lili: What's wrong, Da'an?

Da'an: I fear the Jha'du'ur could be driven to extinction when the Jaridians arrive on Earth. I fear these glimmering beings all around us will never know the bliss of any home places. I long to keep them here, to keep them safe, to keep you safe -- my living lights. Yet, I have also come to understand that neither they nor you can remain whole within artificial freedom. I cannot resolve this conflict or the accompanying fears.

Lili had no words. She could only touch him and see an uncertain future amid these living lights.

III

Ne'var, Companion to the United Kingdom, salutes his colleague:

"Greetings, Da'an. I am gladdened by your presence on an unaccustomed day."

In the recesses unreachable by the Commonality, Ne'var must admit the half-truth of of this statement, however. He is gladdened to see Da'an at the Sanctuary, but not on an unaccustomed day.

Ever since the discovery of Ma'el's tomb, Ne'var has sensed the people of his protectorate implicitly measuring him with the Legend. Da'an has been dear to him from their earliest days, but he has avoided sharing the Sanctuary, avoided sharing Ma'el's legacy, with him. Why prompt further comparison to the offspring of the Legend.

Yet, there is a deep bond between them. Before the Darkness began to descend on their beloved home, before Ma'el removed the Jha'du'ur to Earth, he and Da'an had mingled with the fluttering lights. He, Da'an, and Le'nor had mingled with the fluttering lights. He and Da'an had both grieved when the blackness that claimed Ne'eg also robbed them of Le'nor's light.

Ah, Le'nor, you would have been happy among the Jha'du'ur, again. You would have been happy to let them glimmer around you, through you, within you -- light with light. Except in rememberance, nevermore.

IV

A drowsy Jha'du'ur rests upon his skrill. Playing host for the first time in its existence, the skrill wraps the little creature in a blanket of ember-light from within its own being.

"Ah, this is a tender sight," whispers Frances O'Shianan.

"Yes, it is," agrees William Boone. The implant watches the monitor, as she moves past him on her rounds. Leaning upon the simulated cave wall, Boone then regards the sleeping lavender form nesting on Condor. Only a month before, he and Condor, too, had been sleeping, had been dreaming.....

They dreamt of death, probes, dimensions, hybrids, betrayals, and more still not fully processed. These dreams, Boone knows, were part injury and part prophesy. Liam's presence is real, and so is his mother's absense. Beckett did not die in the living arms of a grown son, though. Beckett's dying arms held her infant son for the first and the last time. She did not survive long enough to forget her child. "That's some comfort," thinks Boone.

Sandoval had been the one to find Beckett's body inside the Church. In shock, according to Lili, Sandoval did not consider why Beckett had stepped in this church in the first place. He merely cursed Ha'gel, noted the empty time in his mind, and went forward....with Lili. As in the dreams, Lili assisted Sandoval. When recovered, Boone then covered the second Liam Kincaid, as the first had covered him during the SI War. Apart from everything else, Boone needed the new Marquette-trained pilot. He hopes the Colonel is truly alive to tolerate this demi-doppelganger.

Doppelganger....Rayna....She could not go on without Sajhit. Did that make her weak or strong? Boone wonders. During the dream-time, her essense fled the replicant, leaving an empty shell. Da'an saw that shell in Lili's mind. The shadow of love became the substance of biosurrogates. But where Da'an saw a vessel of connection, others in the Commonality saw a vessel of destruction. "Same old story," thinks Boone, as he surveys the Jha'du'ur communing near the ceiling. Embers can be kindled into fires of hope and despair.

The implant hears his assistant before he sees him. "I hate to disturb the little one's nap," appologizes the hybrid, "but Quo'on wants us on the Mothership. The Atlanta cell brought down another shuttle. The Synod's not worried, just annoyed."

Boone sighs, "Of course, they're not worried. They KNOW how useless arms are against them in the long run." Jonathan Doors was, is, and always will be his own worst enemy. His embers seemed destined to start fires of despair.
 

Disclaimer: Earth - Final Conflict and all characters therein are the property of the Tribune Entertainment Company.