"Elliot, stop messing with your tie," Iago chided his son.

"It's too tight," Elliot complained. "It's choking me."

"There's a difference between choking and just feeling it there," Iago replied.

Elliot let it drop, both literally and figuratively, the tie flopping back down.

Iago had let his son pick the design for the tie, so it was of course a wholly-inappropriate monster with gaping jaws, strange curved fangs, and a necklace of skulls. It wielded a giant club, and you could just barely see the hands and curved sword of the ancient warrior who was ready to battle it.

"I think it's cute," Cass had said when she'd seen it.

Which was, Iago thought, perhaps the most deflating comment she could have made. "It reminds me of humanity's insignificance in the face of the horrors of the universe."

That last bit, at least, Elliot had liked.

They were on their way to the Ceremony. Father Sair had not said that they should dress up, but Iago had decided they should; it felt appropriate to do so.

Cassandra took his arm, smiling up at him, and he felt such warmth and happiness at this moment that it stole his words.

He would never be thankful for thinking he had lost her. But that absence of her from his life had taught him just how deep his feelings for her had run. Every moment was a treasure.

How many people got their wish to have more time with the person they had loved and lost?

They had left early. He found he often tended to be late unless he planned this way, and with the way Cassandra fussed over her clothes and how Elliot tended to be, made it just seem wise.

So now they were walking, as a family, for a time. He'd planned a roundabout path through some of the Craton's gardens and the Equator Ring. It seemed just to be a good time. Even better if they could gaze upon the infinity of space before worship.

Elliot hadn't been very excited about it, but he now took to running around the garden, hopping over every crack on the decorative cobbles, and climbing up on benches.

"He's wearing himself out," Cassandra said, sighing.

"That was my plan," Iago admitted, winking to her.

"Oh, you are bad!"

"Well, I remember being his age. I was a menace. It might help him stay awake."

Cass frowned a little, seeming bothered.

"What is it?" he asked.

She said nothing for a long time, and they kept walking.

"I just wonder," she said. "I . . . I was gone for so long. I missed so much."

"I know, but now you're with us, and you'll be here for everything," he promised her. "We could leave the Craton if it worries you."

"It's not that I'm worried about the future . . . I feel safe with you," she said to him, putting a hand on his chest. "Sometimes, though, I . . ."

Cassandra had often hidden her thoughts from him, he knew. Not always; just since her return. She had said little, kept some things hidden away.

He had wanted to give her time - and he had a feeling now that she might be about to say something of importance.

He waited now, just wanting to listen. She finally spoke.

"I sometimes feel like I'm an imposter. Not the real Cassandra you met and married. My memories - sometimes I worry they're someone else's, not mine. Like I'm not real . . ."

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"You're real!" he said, taking her hands. "You are my wife, Elliot's mother. You are the wonderful, beautiful, genius woman who makes this universe a better place with her presence."

He could see her smile, saw that his words were having the effect he wanted.

He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek. "And no one else knows where you have that one mole, do they?" he added with an evil grin.

"Iago!" she said, blushing some, but also laughing.

"Dad!" Elliot yelled from down the path. He did not sound in trouble, but definitely wanted their attention.

Iago sighed. "Let's go see what trouble our son has found, shall we?"

She smiled and they went together.

Elliot was standing on the last cobble, balancing on one foot. He waited for them to get close, then pointed.

The cobbles of the garden paths stopped here, turning to more traditional decking, and out beyond was a small courtyard with little stands of snacks and street food. Among the benches, though, sat a man alone.

"It's Mr. Tred," Elliot said.

"Yes," Iago agreed. "What about him?"

The neurotic man was always sitting alone, so he didn't see his son's issue. Even stranger that he cared; Tred had always been annoyed by Elliot's antics. They knew him . . . not well, but well enough, since the man lived unfortunately close to Alexander and Pirra.

"Yeah, but he looks really down," Elliot said. "See? I think he's even been crying."

Iago blinked, surprised to see that it was true. Tred's face and eyes were puffy, and he looked . . . well, more miserable than usual.

"Why don't we ask him to come with us?" Elliot said. "You and mom always say you feel better after church."

The frankness of his son's comment shocked him. They did say that, and they did feel that. But he had not really thought his son would take it in this way, might even suggest others could benefit from it.

He felt a sudden swell of pride in his chest. Cass smiled at him. "I think that's a very good idea. Do you want to go ask him, Elliot?"

"Well, he doesn't like me much," Elliot admitted. "But you were a really important Response Officer, dad. He's got to know you and trust you. Why don't you ask him?"

Iago considered. It was a pretty reasonable point.

"All right," he said, smiling.

He walked over, and overheard Elliot speak to his mom softly.

"Do you think they won't be able to fit me in if Mr. Tred goes? Maybe I should go home."

Cassandra's voice was warm, but firm. "Not a chance, Elliot."

Iago grinned. It had been a nice try on his son's part.

He kept walking towards Tred. The man noticed him when he was only a few meters away, looking up with puffy eyes.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I'll go-"

"Go?" Iago asked, smiling. "You're not in trouble, Tred. I'm not even in Response anymore."

The man hesitated, sniffed once, then started to get up again. "I just don't want to cause any trouble."

"No, look," Iago said, putting a hand on Tred's shoulder. The man paused in an awkward half-stand. "I just . . . well, no, my son saw that you looked down, Tred."

The man hovered in his half-standing stance a moment longer, before standing up. "Oh," he said. He didn't say anything else.

"I just . . . we don't want that for you," Iago said earnestly.

Tred sniffed, wiping at his face. It was dry, he just didn't seem to want to look Iago in the eye. "Thanks," he said.

"Why don't you come with us?" Iago said. "We're going to an event. It's a religious ceremony - and I know you're not religious. But that's okay. You don't have to be to be there. The more the merrier, you know? And I think . . . well, I mean there's a chance that, whatever is bothering you, you might feel better afterwards."

Tred's jaw dropped slightly, staring at Iago in surprise. "You're inviting me to your event?"

He wasn't sure what to say to Iago. He did not like events, or groups. Or religion, for that matter. Most times he thought of it with a vague sense of guilt and apprehension.

Did he have faith in some higher power? He didn't think so. But strange things that could not be explained with science had been happening. Who could explain a Leviathan?

No one yet, he thought. It didn't mean they wouldn't be able to one day, though. But was he really interested in filling the void inside himself with some kind of supernatural belief?

He could imagine himself falling into it, even too deep. To the point where even the religious people rejected him. His bitter fantasy hurt already.

But maybe not? Maybe some faith would help . . .

Iago had waited patiently as he saw the visible struggle on Tred's face, but cleared his throat now. "If you do want to come Tred, it's being held in Event Room C13, at 1900. Get there by or before then, because the doors will be locked after that."

Tred did not know. Most meetings you could come in late. People might be annoyed at that, but they would still want you there.

"If you do show up late, just knock," Iago added as an afterthought. "I'll try to let you in."

"Okay," Tred said.

Iago did not know if the man really meant it, or if he would come. But as he walked away, Tred called out.

"Thank you, Mr. Caraval."