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Brian practically tackled me when I entered the hotel room four hours later. "You're back! Jesus! I was worried sick about you! Where were you?"

I wailed as he jumped at me, my ankle buckling beneath me, and nearly collapsed to the floor. Brian quickly tucked himself under my arm and acted as a crutch, struggling to keep me aloft. "The ministry," I muttered, through a wince.

"What the hell did they do to you?" he demanded as he started guiding me into the hotel room.

"I hurt my ankle saving that woman we saw in Times Square," I answered, my teeth grit in an attempt to take on the pain shooting through my leg. "I think it's broken."

Brian frowned, "They didn't help you before whisking you away?" I could hear the disapproval in his voice.

"No," I answered.

Brian bent to help lower me into an overstuffed chair. He scurried and pushed the coffee table closer to act as an ottoman for my leg, which he gently pulled onto the table. He sat at my foot, straddling the table, and rolled my pant leg up to look at my injury. "How did you end up at the ministry?" he asked.

I gasped when his hand touched the bruised skin around the ankle bone and he lifted his grasp quickly. My voice came out through my panting. "After I saved those people on the subway --"

"Brilliant, by the way," Brian interrupted, rising from the coffee table and walking toward the kitchenette as he spoke, "Absolutely brilliant. All those lives!" he smiled happily then disappeared beyond the wall.

"Yeah, well..." I frowned at my three-times-bigger-than-normal-sized ankle. "That's exactly what pissed them off."

"Pissed them off?" Brian came back around the corner of the kitchenette, carrying a towel balled around some lumpy ice cubes, and the first aid kit that we always packed. I was always getting hurt, so the first aid kit was always mandatory, and always stocked full with every antidote one could possibly need. "Why in the world would that piss them off?" he asked, perplexed, "You saved peoples lives!"

"Exactly," I answered.

Brian's brow furrowed in confusion. "Okay, start from the beginning while I wrap your ankle," he said, laying the ice on my ankle and digging through the kit.

I launched into the story, telling Brian all about Dimitri Pyre abducting me and bringing me to the nondescript building in the nondescript black car. I told him about the beautiful lobby and the guest ID and the awkward separation from Dimitri in the hallway outside the door before going in to see the Elders alone.

"What were they like?" Brian asked, twining Ace bandages around my ankle tightly.

"Sort of like meeting with recording label reps," I answered, "Except much, much more intimidating." Brian frowned. "They had on normal clothes, which was weird kind of, but they were, like, really, really old. Not looks wise, I mean they looked young, but you could tell somehow that these guys were really, really old. Like centuries older than I am if you add all my cycles together, even," I explained.

Brian looked mesmerized. "What did they want? What'd they say?"

"We regret our first meeting being so impromptu and... negative," the eldest of the six of them had said apologetically, pacing around the table they'd sat behind. He'd had long, dark hair that reached to his waist, and a plain, solemn face that looked neither unkind nor gentle. His name, he'd said, was James. "We understand that you've only recently been informed of our presence?"

"They knew I was unregistered," I told Brian. "Apparently, Aimee spoke to them about me, and they've been watching out for me since, waiting for me to come to register. They're the ones that made her call me before, after the article about the plane was published."

"Do you know why you are here, Nick?" asked another of the Elders, Bartholomew.

"No, sir," I'd answered.

"Apparently," I said to Brian, "I've been too liberal with helping people."

"Too liberal?" Brian repeated. His brows were nearly touching he'd furrowed them so deeply. "How can you be too... liberal... with helping people?" he asked, "You save lives. Isn't that the point?"

"Not according to the ministry."

At this, Brian looked extremely disturbed.

"To disturb time from its natural order is to rewrite history," James had explained. I'd marveled at how oddly deep and smooth his voice was as he spoke, how composed he seemed. His fingers were lined up with one another, as though he were praying.

"Apparently saving lives alter history and causes 'disturbances' in the world's natural destiny," I said, nearly quoting James' continued sentence to Brian.

"But, but these people are innocents," Brian stammered, dumbfounded.

"Some," I answered.

"Do you know some of the greatest disasters and dictators that litter the pages of global history were enabled only because of one of our kind being unable to resist rescuing another being at an improper time?" Bartholomew had asked.

"He said Time Watchers were responsible for a ton of damage, historically," I explained.

"How can he say that?" Brian shot back, "Life is above all else precious."

"He named dozens of - of incidents."

"Incidents?"

"Like bad people that Time Watchers have rescued, or people who went on to give birth to them. By interfering with people's lifetimes they enabled things like the Holocaust to happen."

"Imagine... all those people, killed so pointlessly, all because a Time Watcher rescued the woman who would give birth to Adolf Hitler," another of the Elders had crooned.

"But if it hadn't been Hitler, it would've been someone else that did those awful things," Brian said, "It was just what was meant to be... God directs history, not Time Watchers."

"I don't get the feeling that these guys believe in God, Bri," I said quietly.

Brian frowned, "Besides, I bet a lot of really good things have happened because of people that Time Watchers have rescued, too," he snapped. "Right?"

I shrugged, "They didn't say."

"Always focusing on the negative," he said.

"Either way, they don't want me saving anymore lives," I said. "Apparently, even those of my loved ones." I instinctively looked at Brian's numbers as I said the words.

Brian stilled. "How can they expect you to watch your--"

"They said all I needed was to attach myself to other Time Watchers instead of fragile human beings. They called human life worthless," I said.

Brian looked away, at the wall, and bit his mouth closed.

"They want me to abandon my human friends," I said, "Like Amie did."

"But Amie's got her grand-daughter," Brian spat, turning to look at me. I couldn't tell if it was anger or panic that filled his brilliantly blue eyes as they locked on mine.

I shrugged, "Apparently if it comes to it, Amie will not rescue her grand-daughter.... but would allow her to die, per the code of the ministry."

"Bull shit," Brian exploded, standing up and storming away a few feet before pacing back, anger seared upon his face. "That's bull shit! Allowing someone to die when you could save them - no matter who they are or will become - is murder! This whole concept is bull shit!" He was livid.

"I know."

Brian, fuming, said, "I can't believe those bastards said this stuff."

"Me either," I agreed.

"So be warned," James had said, as I was on my way out the door, "Registered or unregistered, we will be keeping an eye out for you, to make sure you are not disturbing too much of the balance of history. And don't think we will hesitate to talk to you, should this... problem... occur too many times again."

"That's why I refused to register."