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"Dr. Spenser? Benedict?"

"Here, Zachary."

"Why is it dark?"

"I just asked you to keep your eyes closed for a little while. Do you feel ready to open them?"

"I'm not sure. I have a feeling I know where we are."

"We're in two places, Zachary. One is real, and the other is..."

"The white room."

"That's correct."

"May I see what's real first, please? So I'll know... well, where I am?"

"Yes, of course. I'd like to do it just a little differently, if that's okay with you. I'd like to help you stay in this relaxed state, this hypnotic place that you've let me create for you, so that you would be safe. Do you feel safe, Zachary?"

"Yes. Scared, but safe."

"Okay. I'm going to bring you out, here into what's real, and you're going to be able to keep feeling relaxed and safe. I want you to take a deep breath... good, let it out slowly, as I count down to bring you out... three... two... one... welcome back, Zachary."

The Akita opened his eyes slowly, seeing Eoin first, and then Jerry, and he smiled at them softly. With a small gesture, he brought them to him, and they hugged him where he sat and kissed his cheeks. He didn't worry about the kisses being observed; Benedict, Dean Williamson, even Royal seemed to be happy to see the affection being shared, just as they were before. It was okay. It was safe here.

"Here" was a large and comfortable sofa in Benedict's den. The otter and Saluki sat on either side of the undergrad, each with a forepaw on his shoulder. He returned a kiss to each, then turned to look at the great crimson dragon directly. "Should I ask what happened?"

"What do you remember?" the drake asked softly.

"Breakfast. Some pastries, and coffee... and Royal, you said to call you Royal." He looked to the skunk, his smile still genuine if somehow restrained. "Thank you for breakfast, Royal."

"You're welcome," the skunk managed, as if unsure how he should reply.

Zachary breathed in again, slowly, piecing together thoughts. "I don't know why I feel so calm. I have the feeling that I must have done something really bad or crazy or..."

"Nothing bad, Zachary. Unexpected, maybe. I think perhaps you were remembering something, and it upset you."

Car burning... Carmen... Carmina...

The dog shivered once through, felt the steadying forepaws of his lovers on his shoulders. "Yes," he managed, with calm that he didn't feel completely. He was aware that he didn't feel it, and he didn't understand. "I was remembering, and I'm not supposed to, am I?"

"Why do you say that, Zachary?"

"Because... I think I am still under."

A pause. "Yes, Zachary, you are. I apologize if I seem to have betrayed your trust. I had to determine how aware you are. I feared my hypnotic ability toward you had been weakened. Your trance now is much lighter than our sessions before; I think that you could wake yourself from this on your own, if you wanted to. Do you want to?"

"I am afraid to wake up, right now." He was speaking as if he were dreaming all this, and that was what it felt like, a really detailed dream. "Are you really here?"What a dumb question, if he's not here, then who's controlling you?

Or do you really want to know?

"I am here, Zachary. You really are sitting on my sofa, in my living room. Your eyes are still closed, which is helping you to stay calm. Who else do you see, in your mind's eye?"

"Eoin. Jerry."

"They are also here. I've asked them not to speak unless you ask them to. I need to prove that they are here, right beside you. I'm going to ask each to tell you something that only you and he would know, something you've not told me or anyone else. Would that convince you?"

The Akita didn't answer. It made sense, but he wasn't sure what either of them might say.

"Zachary." It was Eoin's voice, unquestionably. "We went to the mall together on the day that we first made love. Over lunch, you joked that I was a great date. It's really me, I swear to you." There was a pause, and the young athlete found it easy to imagine hearing the smile. "And who else would lick farts with me?"

Chuckling softly, the dog reached a forepaw toward the voice, felt it grasped in two strong forepaws and kissed a dozen times. "You're here," he concluded softly. "So you can tell me if Jerry's here too, and I'd believe you."

"I'm here." The otter's voice sounded near tears. "And you know what I did to you that first time at the library. Benedict might know that, but he doesn't know that you returned the favor this morning, and I truly loved every moment."

His laughter stronger, he reached forth his other forepaw, felt the webbed forepaws take his own, heard chittering noises that no one could truly imitate. "Jerry," he whispered. "Yes, it's you." Zachary looked... well, with the eyes of his body closed, he supposed that he "looked" at Benedict. "You have to be here, Benedict. Dean Williamson? Royal?"

"I don't have to be here, if you don't want me to be."

The skunk's voice sounded like the one that the Akita had heard that morning. "I think I remember asking if it would help you. I don't think you'd tell about... whatever this is."

"I can promise that." Another pause. "I'm thinking you're a pretty brave guy."

"Don't feel it." The undergrad student swallowed. "Dean Williamson?"

"I'm here, Zachary. Perhaps the others will confirm that for you; I've not known you long enough to share a secret."

"Might change now." The athlete managed a weak laugh, again feeling his lovers holding his forepaws reassuringly, giving them a squeeze. "Benedict... I think I could wake up."

"Do you want to?"

The young dog breathed deeply, knowing that his eyes were still closed yet seeing a mental picture of the dragon's den around him. "The walls are cracking, aren't they?"

"Yes. You're beginning to remember things."

More breaths. "I'm safe here. You can make sure I don't do anything crazy. My body's okay. My brain's in pieces, but that's about normal for me."

He heard his lovers chuckling softly, felt his forepaws raised to their muzzles for reassuring kisses. Squeezing the forepaws gently in thanks, Zachary released them to their owners. "I'm thinking it might be better if I'm not... attached, maybe?"

"Physical stimulation." It was easy to imagine the crimson dragon nodding. "You're very close to the surface here, Zachary."

The implication was obvious. "What do I do?"

"It's more what I can do, but I need your consent. It's about you letting me into your mind. It's... a dragon thing."

"That's what got us into this mess," the skunk's voice spat quietly.

"Royal..."

"It's okay," the Akita said. "He's right. Isn't he?"

A longer pause than he expected before Zachary heard, "Perhaps. It's cold comfort to you now to say that you're still alive. It was another dragon's work that kept you that way."

"But him being in my head... that was against my will. Right?"

"Yes. You most certainly did not give your permission."

The athlete worked to keep himself calm. "If I... let you in, can you fix it?"

"If you let me in, I can help you fix it. It's not going to be an easy journey, Zachary."

"Jerry? Eoin?"

"You can do this," the otter said fervently. "You're strong. I'll be with you the whole time."

"I'm here, too," the Saluki promised. "I think you know that you can trust Benedict. If he tries to do anything sneaky, I'll smack him."

"You won't have to," Dean Williamson said. "I'll do it for you, and I'm standing right next to him."

"You would, too," Benedict's voice sulked slightly.

Zachary felt himself smile, just a little. "Can you tell me what will happen?"

"At the risk of scaring the crap out of you..." The dragon's voice actually held a note of sympathy. "It's going to be like me stepping inside your mind. I'll be there to watch over you, like an angel on... okay, like a small devil dragon on your shoulder."

"Will the others hear us?"

"No. You and I will be talking to one another inside your mind. If I or they speak aloud, you will hear that, and them, with your ears. I'll call on them if we need their help to tether you, to help you remember what's real and not just in your mind." The voice paused and, despite his closed eyes, Zachary could "see" Benedict looking each of the onlookers in the eyes. "It's important that you all stay quiet unless you hear me ask for your help directly. When he's dealing with the shadows, hearing you too soon, or out of context, might confuse things." The voice concentrated on the Akita again. "Are you ready?"

Zachary swallowed his fear as best he knew how. "Okay. Let's... yeah, let's do this."

"Well faced, my young friend." Perhaps the athlete was wrong, but he could have sworn that he'd heard respect in Benedict's voice. "I'm going to lean in close to you, Zachary. It's to whisper some words in your ear, some words just between the two of us. It's going to help you relax back into that deeper place... and yes, we'll go to the room, but I'll be with you the whole time. The others are here with your body, but you probably won't see them in the room. I swear that I won't leave you."

The pup swallowed once more. "Better not."

"Wouldn't even try. Relax as best you can... listen to my voice..." The presence of the dragon loomed closer, the purring voice both nearer and softer, starting to whisper, and then the sensation of the merest sensation of breath tickling the fur inside the Akita's ear, and something like words, yet nothing like... words... sounds...spirits...

* * * * * * * * * *

"Zachary, open your eyes."

The Akita did so, feeling no surprise regarding his whereabouts. The white room had not changed; he had expected to see something, perhaps literal cracks in the walls, but they seemed as solid as ever. The three doors stood closed, before him and to his left and right, looming somehow. He realized that the solid wall was behind him, as before, but this time he sat on the floor, and next to him sat Benedict. The dragon appeared to be in some form of_gi,_like a martial arts instructor. The athlete himself seemed to be dressed more or less as he usually was, in jeans and t-shirt. This one didn't seem to have an appropriately smart-assed saying on it.

"Welcome back to your least favorite place." The dragon smiled benevolently. "I won't insult you by asking if you're ready."

Zachary looked warily at the large white doors, each appearing as tall and as intimidating as the monolith in that weird old sci-fi movie. "They're so big. What do I do?"

"For starters, stand up."

The Akita looked over to see if Benedict was kidding, but he seemed to be serious... or as serious as he ever got anyway. Slowly, he maneuvered himself to his hindpaws, as Benedict did the same. He realized quickly that the doors were in fact normal size; the dragon could have bumped his head on the top of them, if he weren't careful. Zachary didn't think that would happen. He would have to open those doors alone, and he wasn't at all sure what would happen after that.

"Some things to notice," the therapist offered. "The doors aren't so intimidating now. First, that's because you're looking at them from a standing perspective rather than from the floor. Second, it's because you stood up all on your own. The room doesn't control your individual action. It's been a prison for you, to limit you, but you're taking action against that now. You can do that -- take action."

"I have to open them." The athlete felt himself swallow, whether he actually did or not. "Do you know what's behind them?"

"No. The one who did this to you... Can you say his name? You don't have to."

Past a click, Zachary managed, "Konstantin."

"Yes. Konstantin left a cryptic clue for me... only kind he ever gives. He said that these doors formed naturally out of truth, control, and loss. Does that mean anything to you?"

"No. I don't think so." The Akita looked around himself again. "Not labeled."

"That would have made it too easy. I don't know if Konstantin enjoys cruelty, or if he simply is contemptuous of anyone who can't solve his little riddles. I sometimes wonder if he was the Sphinx in a previous incarnation."

"I have to pick one to start?"

"I think so." After waiting a decent interval, Benedict asked, "Do you feel anything from any of them? One you want to start with just for the hell of it?" Responding to the Akita's raised eyebrow, the dragon apologized. "Poor choice of words."

Zachary moved, not entirely of his own will, to the door at his left. There was no rational reason that he could fathom, no draw or pull that he was aware of. It was just a place to start. "Can you go in with me?"

"I will know what you know, as you know it."

"Dragon devil on my shoulder." Taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, he put his forepaw to the knob.

Honey, did you remem--

Yanking his paw from the knob, Zachary pivoted to look at the dragon, who seemed unmoved. "Did you... hear something?"

"Not yet. You'll need to open the door."

Meant for me, the Akita thought. A warning, if I ever found myself here by accident. It was going to be another head game. Konstantin's "little riddles" weren't going to be easy to solve, like children's rhymes and skip-rope chants. It wasn't going to be as simple as memorizing the football playbook, or as uncomplicated as relationships and self-discovery. This, he was certain, was going to take every brain cell that Eoin and Jerry were convinced he had. He hoped they were right.

He gripped the doorknob tightly.

Honey, did you remember the tomato paste?

* * * * * * * * * *

"Of course!" The Akita grinned at his mate, bringing out the can with a flourish from the canvas grocery bag. "You can't make your world-famous pasta sauce without it."

He kissed her lips quickly as she came up to help him unpack the other few bags. "Looks like you got everything just right, as usual," she complimented him. He felt that old familiar warmth in his chest again, realizing how well she complimented him in so many ways. Zachary was lucky to have found her when he did; she might have ended up with some other male and, truth told, that would have been terrible for them both. She kept the house so well, did some volunteer work at the school (even was a teaching substitute, sometimes), made great meals even on a shoestring budget, and still always had time for him in all the best ways. Of course, she was a veritable demon when it came to keeping him at the yard and gardening work, on the weekends, but she always pitched in with everything important.

"Pappi!"

Two voices accompanied the pounding pads of running hindpaws, and his two pups all but crashed against his legs in their exuberant greeting. He picked up the youngest, a cute female pup of five years, giving her a proper kiss to the side of her muzzle, while tousling his nine-year-old male pup's headfur in appreciation of his hug. "How's my very favorite yowens?" he asked them.

They chorused greetings and quick comments about their days. His older pup was finishing up third grade and doing well, while the younger was getting excited about her upcoming entry into first. Despite video games trying to eat up all their time, the pups seemed to enjoy school well enough. He marveled again how the two seemed to trade off their features, the male more resembling his dam, the female more resembling her sire. They were a little like that in temperament as well, since the young male wanted to learn more about cooking, and the young female had a small flower patch that she was quite fond of working and weeding with her small yet nimble forepaws. For all he knew, he was raising a chef and a gardener, but they'd be what they'd be, and that was what was good.

His mate gave him another kiss and told him she'd finish the unpacking (there wasn't much left anyway) and get dinner started. Why not relax in your armchair for a while? The smaller of the two females in his life asked if he had time to read a story to her and, with a kiss, he asked very softly if he could just rest for a bit, because work had been hard today, and he would read to her before sleep. She asked if she could cuddle him in his armchair, and he could hardly refuse such a sweet offer. His male pup did that when he was younger, but he stopped when he got big enough to know that big males just don't do that sort of thing. Both were growing up just fine.

Settling back in his recliner, he helped his youngest into a warm space in the crook of his arm. She always seemed to be very good about being quiet when he needed to close his eyes for a bit, and he managed a brief doze just before his mate announced that dinner would be ready soon, if he wanted to change into something more relaxing. The scents from the kitchen already made his maw water, but this too was only to be expected. His youngest relinquished her perch and let him get up. He padded his way to the master bedroom, shucked out of his work clothes, happy to find some of his favorite lounging gear already washed and folded, placed in the usual drawer of his dresser. She really was amazing, and he celebrated once again his good fortune at having such a wonderful, happy life.

Poking his nose into the open door of his male pup's room, he saw him playing some kind of racing game. "Dinner soon; get your last laps in!"

"Thanks, Pappi. My nose already told me!"

"That's m'pup," he grinned.

Dinner was a bit of family time -- perhaps an old-fashioned notion, but a good one. They sat at the table in the dining room, took a moment to thank the non-sapient animals that had given themselves for their nourishment, then dug into plates of great meat-filled pasta with fresh garlic bread. Friday nights always seemed perfect for this simple celebration, and it just seemed right. Afterward, a good family-type movie (nothing dumbed-down, just a good story for adults and yowens alike), and by bedtime, the pups were quiet enough to get some sleep.

The adults went off to bed and, when the lights were out, they took a little time to do what male and female mates can do together. He felt the rightness of it, the fulfillment of his deepest desires, the fundamental truth of the sheer pleasure of the mating. The female is what the male is built for, and the fit, the feeling, the natural ease and ecstasy of it all... this, all this, he felt, he knew to be right and condign, and as he let himself fall into a happy slumber, the reminder came to him from somewhere deep inside himself: This is what he really wanted, now and always.

"Nice family."

The dream seemed strange, as he'd not dreamt of a dragon before, especially not one of such an imposing stature or such a vibrant red. "Thank you," he managed. Dream logic seemed to tell him that politeness cost nothing.

"Would you care for a glass of milk?"

For some reason, that sounded particularly good, and in that way that dreams have, he found himself in his own kitchen, seated at the kitchen table, a tall, cold glass of milk in his forepaw, the taste of his first sip already lingering on his tongue. He was still in the pajama bottoms that he had donned after his careful and proper attentions to his mate. It was always best, in case the yowens woke early of a Saturday morning and found them still sleeping in. The dragon had declined any refreshment, but he had to admit that he wasn't at all sure what a dragon would drink anyway. He hadn't met one before, which is why some semi-lucid part of himself wondered why he would be dreaming about one.

"This is a lovely house you have here."

"Thank you."

"Quite an accomplishment for someone only... I'm sorry, I've forgotten how old you are."

"Thirty-four," he said. "And thank you again. You're a very complimentary dream."

"One tries, Mr. Parker, one tries."

The Akita blinked. It was his name, yes, but do dreams have names? You're always yourself in dreams, but did anyone ever actually call you by name in a dream? He tried to remember other dreams in his life and how they worked, or didn't, or whatever. He couldn't remember...

"Your pups are... how old?"

"Nine and five." The information came automatically.

"My, you must have married right out of college."

"We fell in love during my senior year. A lot of folks wanted us to wait, but we went ahead, and we had our first pup a few years after. Waited for the second, to make sure we could afford this house; we needed the room, since that apartment was just too small."

"They're wonderful. What are their names again?"

He said something. He must have said something, or else the dragon wouldn't have nodded so sagely.

"And your mate's name?"

Dreams are so strange, because he knew that he had said her name, just as he'd used it throughout the evening, interchanged with various endearments, of course. That's how couples are. Happily-married couples are supportive and loving, with pups to raise, and he to bring home the metaphorical (and sometimes actual) bacon, and she to care for the house, and him, and of course herself. He guessed that the dragon must have known that, seeming like a worldly sort of fellow. Like someone he might meet in college. Might_have met_ in college. A professorial type.

"Quite the ideal life," the dream visitor was saying. "Had you ever imagined that it would turn out so well?"

"I could only hope," the Akita said. Half his glass of milk was gone, even if he didn't remember drinking it. Dreams. Go figure.

"Is this what you always wanted?"

"I guess so. Since I was a pup myself, before I even barely got through high school."

"And this was your dream?"

Dream. "Yeah, I guess it was at that. I never knew my own parents, see. I was orphaned. Good foster homes, but never adopted. I wanted a good home, a good mate, and a stable life for pups to grow up in. You know, like any normal guy."

"Is that what normal guys do? I never knew that."

"You're not married?"

"Never settled down," the dragon said quietly, leaning back and folding his forepaws together over his rounded belly. He seemed somehow too large to fit into the kitchen table chair, yet there he sat, the biggest, reddest thing in the whole kitchen. The whole recently-painted kitchen. Some color that he and his mate had argued over, very gently, but certainly not red. And aren't dreams more black-and-white or something? "Sowed my wild oats in my remote youth," the drake continued. "Never sired any yowens. A bit difficult to do, given my predilections."

He found himself able to marvel at the use of the dragon's vocabulary. He had to have known the words, or he couldn't have dreamed them, but in this peculiar dream, he couldn't really remember that he'd used the word before, at least not recently, not in such casual conversation.

"What about you, my fine young dog?" the crimson-scaled visitor asked softly. "Did you sow your share of wild oats before marrying?"

"Not safe." He shook his head. "A lot of males can get trapped into a bad marriage by getting a female pregnant. Better to wait."

"There are alternatives."

"Condoms?"

"Other males."

The Akita laughed out loud at that, shushing himself only when he realized that he might wake her and the yowens, which was dumb, because this was his dream, and unless he was laughing that loudly in his sleep, no one would be waking up over it. "That's ridiculous."

"Not at all. Quite natural, even to the backward thinkers like Freud. Kinsey's research was better, although still a bit flawed. Breakthroughs come in small increments."

Who the hell was Kinsey? "Okay, even for a dream, this is getting screwy."

"Dream, is it?" The dragon waved around him. "Is this your dream, Zachary?"

"Yes. Of course it is. Has to be."

The dragon aimed his muzzle to the ceiling. "Say my name."

"How would I know--"

Benedict.

The dog's head pivoted first one way, then another. It was an entirely different voice, not belonging to anyone in the room.Or in the dream?

"Someone else say it."

Benedict.

He spun in his chair certain that the voice had come from somewhere behind him. Again, no one else...

"All of you, say his name."

An imperfectly-timed chorus of Zachary sounded, four voices, if his ears could be believed. If his mind could be believed.

"Each of you, say your name, once."

Eoin. Jerry. Royal. Nelson. The voices came from everywhere and nowhere, four distinct voices, and he'd never heard any of them before, not even once before, not even...

"Hold on to yourself, Zachary. Tell me who you are. Tell me how old you are."

"I'm Zachary Parker, and I'm 21. I mean, 34."

"And who are you married to?"

His jaw worked, his lips moved, but no name came out.

"Your pups' names? What's your job? What company?"

He didn't know. It wasn't possible, how could he not know his mate's name? How could...?

"What was your college major?"

Nothing came to mind. Was he dreaming about losing his mind, or losing...

"How's your student debt?"

"Had a full ride," the Akita blurted, happy that he knew at least one answer.

"Academic? Athletic?"

Once again the dog had to pause. He felt uncomfortable, helpless, uncertain, out of control.

Control.

"It was something he couldn't program in," the dragon said. "The dream could be there, the goal, but not the specifics. He couldn't tell what you what to do with your life. He could only create the shell."

"What... what do you mean, 'shell'?"

"The triptych formed naturally, from truth, loss, and..."

"Control." The dog felt something about that word. He looked to the dragon again, and something tried to form in his mind, a thought that came from somewhere younger than his 34 years, somewhere in a university, in... in... He looked to his glass, seeing it empty, seeing it as clean as if it had never held anything but air. He looked back to the dragon again, looked back at...

"Benedict."

"Here, Zachary. Are you just repeating my name, or are you remembering?"

"I think..." The kitchen seemed much more bare to him now, as if it were part of a house up for sale, only the table and two chairs remaining. It was white, a very sterile sort of white (hadn't it been something else, yellow maybe?), but things were missing, and the white reminded him of something. "I think maybe..."

He stood, padding slowly to the back door of the house, the one he had entered with the groceries earlier the previous evening, three canvas bags of groceries (Honey, did you remember the tomato paste?), and he opened the door, expecting to see the back porch, the driveway, the garage, the little female's tricycle turned on its side near the side of the small shed where the lawnmower and gardening tools were kept, the expected detritus of that whole suburban paradise that "normal" males grow up to have...

The doorknob in his forepaw, he found himself looking into a shallow, white-walled closet with what looked to him like a bridal gown, depending from a padded hanger, held in place by a rusty nail large enough to be a railroad spike. He had just a moment to wonder what had made the nail rust so terribly before he realized that he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and that Benedict sat behind him, still wearing his_gi,_ looking at him with something like pride.

"Would you like to rest?"

"I'm not sure." The young athlete managed to move away from the door, back toward Benedict and, despite it making the rest of the room seem so much bigger, sat on the floor next to the dragon. "It was all some sort of... what, programmed future?"

"An idealization for you to work toward, convincing yourself that it was what you really wanted for your life. It might explain something further. Do you remember what that future, idealized self said about your mate?"

"We married young, right out of college, because we fell in love during our senior..." Zachary broke off, realizing the point. "Pris."

The dragon's head nodded slowly. "It wasn't the football game that started this, nor even the incident in the library. Your thoughts may have drifted occasionally toward males, but this first of the defenses was so strong that your chance meeting of her fulfilled that part of the impulse. It made you certain, but it made her seem hesitant."

The Akita rubbed his forepaws against his face, as if to clear away his thoughts. "Part of me feels like I've been away for years."

"You've been keeping a helluva lot of secrets from yourself, and for a long time. Think of it as a dream. That was its purpose -- to make you dream of something other than... well, whatever is behind those other doors."

"Truth and loss." Zachary leaned against the wall behind him. It wasn't real; none of this was "real," come to that. It was a construct in his mind. The Akita really wasn't stupid; he had some idea of what this was all about, but that didn't stop him from feeling like an idiot about things. "How did I find that one first?"

"I think that's part of Konstanin's construct, his little games. Should you ever find yourself confronting these doors, the first one you'd find was the one that he reinforced most."

"How would he have known I'd ever find this place? How could anyone..." The thought slammed home with crushing force. "You did this to me before."

Benedict's expression did not change. "Yes, I did."

"Hospital."

"Yes."

The primary emotion, for Zachary, was not anger but weariness. "Tell me."

"You had become physically unstable in ways that were genuinely life-threatening. The combination of the incident on the field, your unexplained fury, and your reaction to certain of my questions led your mind to shut down and your body to collapse." The dragon sighed. "I invaded you, Zachary. I felt that I had no choice, but still, I entered your mind without permission. It was not a simple thing, and it was painful. I hope that you can learn to forgive me."

Emotions warred within him. We're in my head, he thought oddly; why can't we see them? He breathed slowly, gave himself time to pore over the feelings. "Maybe I am tired," he said at last. "I think maybe I understand, though." He chuckled softly. "Dumb jock, facing his demons, learns how to use words."

"Not dumb. That much, I can attest to." Seeming to address the air, Benedict said, "Anyone here think that Zachary is a dumb jock?"

Is he trying to fall back on that one? It was Eoin's voice coming from somewhere, and the Akita heard the smile in it.Jock, yes; dumb, oh hells no!

We've talked about that, Zachary. Jerry's voice. You've shown me that I can teach a young dog new tricks!

There, in his mind, in a white room that he despised, with a door opening onto a tiny closet with a wedding gown spiked to a wall, Zachary Parker laughed.