Phil placed a few more bits of wood on the fire and sat down with Ozzy, Danny, and Adem.

"So what happened out there?" Danny asked as Phil began rummaging through a knapsack.

Phil shrugged. "I'm not sure. This place is different."

"No shit, Sherlock," Ozzy muttered.

"His psionic emanations," Adem explained as he kept rubbing his eyes and squinting at the flames, "briefly aligned with the creatures' natural psi patterns."

"Meaning... what?" Ozzy asked as he leaned over to see what Phil had in the knapsack.

"Meaning," Danny replied, "that for a brief period of time, Phil was subliminally communicating with the wargs." He turned to Phil. "Right?"

The telepath nodded slowly. "I can't explain it," he said in reply. "Normally I don't have too much active influence on animals, or else it's pretty neutral. I know I can attempt to impose a calming effect over human minds, and occasionally it works on domesticated animals. This time..."

Phil shook his head. "Everything's all wrong here. I can't move objects around, and I can't feel my shield working. But, at the same time, it feels like somebody turned up the volume on the universe. I can pick up stuff I didn't even know was there before we came here." He paused. "I can project information faster, to more minds." He smiled briefly as he spotted what he was looking for in the bag. "And I'm starting to see stuff."

"See... what stuff?" Baxter asked.

Phil looked at him. "Other portions of the electromagnetic spectrum, I think. I'm seeing thermal imprints in the dark, when warmer objects are around. Before the -Loader was destroyed, I was starting to see waves, I think low-level radiation, emanating from its engine." He frowned. "There's other stuff too. When the comms were functional, I could overhear all the chatter. When computers were up and running, I was picking up information streaming from them. In this place, it appears I'm able to see signals, fluctuations in whatever electromagnetic fields are in place here."

Adem nodded. "Before my vision went away, I began to perceive similar things. Under normal circumstances, I can take in a wider portion of the EM spectrum than human eyes are capable of seeing. But when we arrived here..." The alien winced. "Far too much... far too much."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "If Adem can't process all of this," he wondered aloud, "what's letting you do it? Is it the cybers in your head? They must be the only things working properly here."

Smith scratched his head as he thought about it. "I don't know, but whatever they're doing, they're not functioning as per usual."

Ozzy looked alarmed. "Whaddya mean?"

"When the wargs were coming at us," Phil replied, "my train of thought was derailed for a brief moment. Just a split second. And I remembered something. I think it was something from my past. My childhood."

Danny's eyes widened. "What was it?"

"It seems really random," Phil chuckled. "But it was really surreal, like in a dream where you can't really see anything clearly but you somehow know what's what." He looked up at the stars. "I was sitting on a little hill overlooking a cornfield. It was a late September afternoon, when the air was just starting to get chilly..." As Phil turned the memory over in his mind, more details began to surface. "It was my birthday," he said as a smile spread across his face. "I was eleven." His smile faded. "It was... during... the Depression."

Danny and Ozzy looked at him intently as Phil went on, his knapsack forgotten.

"It was my eleventh birthday," Phil repeated. "The year was... 1936. I could only get one present for my birthday. We were poor, even for the Depression... But that year, there was a big harvest, and my..." Phil dropped to his knees. "Aghhhhh!"

Danny rushed to help him up. "What? Your what?"

"My father," Phil gasped. "I can't remember him! But... he was there!"

"You okay, man?" Ozzy asked as he picked up a water bottle and prepared to empty it on the winded telepath.

Phil held up a hand. "I'm... I'm alright." He slowly sat up. "I think I've still got it in my head."

"A puppy," he continued. "My father gave me a puppy. A little beagle. I remember my dog." Emotions came flooding into his mind, and Phil fought desperately to remain focused and keep drawing out the memory. "That was it. I was sitting on the hill holding my new puppy. He fell asleep in my arms." A single tear trickled slowly down the cheek of a man who had once been New York's most feared vigilante. "Holding my puppy. Just me and my dog, and everything was all right with the world."

"And that's what you did to the wargs," Ozzy finished for him, making the connection.

Phil turned away to hide his face and nodded. "Not the memory itself. The feeling. I took all of those feelings and pushed them toward the leader of the pack." He smiled, his back to them. "And it worked."

"That's amazing," Danny said in astonishment. "But... how long?"

"How long what?" Baxter asked.

"How long will your abilities be altered in this manner?" Adem finished the question.

Phil looked at them and shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "But it doesn't matter at the moment."

"Your shield doesn't work, man," Ozzy reminded him. "You can't move stuff. And you're getting all this information overload."

"I know," Phil replied. "I'm as puzzled as you are. But, I'm starting to remember things. If this is what it takes..." Phil smiled. "I'm okay with that."

"Remember, though," Danny cautioned him, "you're not here just to discover yourself. There are dangerous things here, Phil. We can't have you getting hurt - or worse - because your powers aren't working right."

Phil frowned. "I'm working on it. I might need help, but I'm gonna do my best to keep all this from getting in the way."

"So," Ozzy said, changing the subject, "what's in the bag?"

Phil turned and smiled as he reached into the bag and pulled out two wire hangers, which he unwound and straightened.

Ozzy got it. The prizefighter grinned.

"Interesting choice," Danny said as Phil pulled out a box of graham crackers, followed by a handful of Hershey bars. He tossed one of the bars and the box to Ozzy, who took one of the hangers.

"What is it?" Adem wondered as Phil got out a bag of marshmallows.

"A few of my favorite things," Phil said with a smile. He turned to Danny. "You never had these?"

The Aussie shrugged. "Never got the opportunity, mate."

Phil popped two marshmallows onto a hanger and began toasting them over the fire. "Food of the gods, my friend."

Adem looked on curiously, straining to see as Ozzy, sitting next to him, slipped a perfectly browned 'mallow between two halves of a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate. "Ozzy?"

"Want one?" Ozzy asked.

"One what?"

"Do you want a s'more?" Ozzy repeated.

Adem raised an eyebrow. "If I haven't had anything, how can I have some more of nothing?"

Phil couldn't resist. "You're killin' me, Smalls!"

Ozzy collapsed laughing. Danny and Adem looked at each other, puzzled.

"Here," Baxter said, offering the finished product to Adem. "Try one."

Adem bit into the concoction. "So much processed sugar," he observed. "Actually, it tastes... rather good."

"Not bad," Danny echoed as he finished off one Phil gave him.

"Glad you approve," Smith said as he polished off his second.

"Way to think ahead," Ozzy said around a mouthful of marshmallow-and-chocolate goodness.

Phil shrugged. "I figured we'd have a fire at some point, so why not have some fun with it?"

Danny chuckled. "Impressive strategic planning."

The four Vanguardians were silent for a moment as they enjoyed the toasted treats.

"Y'know something, Phil?" Danny asked.

The telepath turned.

"No matter how many missions we've been on," Hearn said, "you never cease to surprise me."

"I do what I can," Phil replied.

"Let's hope you can recall some more memories in the near future," Baxter said. "This place weirds me out."

"It's magic," Phil said nonchalantly.

"You believe in that stuff?" Ozzy asked, mildly amused.

"I see it," Phil replied.

Danny dropped half a s'more into the fire. "What?"

Phil gestured at the air with his hands. "Signals. I've seen these unidentifiable signals ever since we got here. And I've figured out what they are."

"Magic is an electromagnetic signal?" Danny asked incredulously.

"Not in the sense any of us would understand," Phil explained. "Magic is sort of... well... another programming language for reality. It's like reality is a big video game, and magic is the cheat codes. It doesn't line up with any 'commands' we'd recognize, but it lets the user temporarily suspend the rules of the game so they can do things they otherwise couldn't."

"You came up with all that?" Danny asked, clearly impressed.

"Actually," Phil replied, "I got most of it from The Drummer."

"Who?"

"Planetary," Phil replied. "Only my favorite comic ever."

Ozzy put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

"There are only two kinds of magic," Phil continued. "White, black, good, bad... with magic those are all subjective. The only way to classify magic is by what it does, and there are only two categories. Either you're altering reality, or you're altering others' perception of reality."

"Sam might not agree with you," Danny challenged.

"I suppose it depends on what you consider magic," Phil answered. "Once you can see it and understand how it works, it becomes applied science, albeit a bit metaphysical in nature."

"Where do you come up with all this stuff?" Ozzy asked.

Phil smirked. "In all honesty, I really don't recall."

"I suppose we'd better get some sleep, mates," Danny said, checking his pocket watch - his digital wristwatch was on the blink. "We've got a lot to do, and we need to be a hundred percent." He headed for his tent. "G'night, gentlemen."

"Danny's bunking with Sam and Drake," Ozzy said, "so I think that leaves us three in the second tent." He turned to Adem. "You gonna be alright?"

"Perhaps," the alien replied, "after I get some sleep."

"Don't hold your breath," Phil warned him. "This guy snores like you wouldn't believe," he said, jerking a thumb in Ozzy's direction.

The prizefighter paled. "How did you know..."

Phil laughed, still addressing Adem. "You shoulda seen the guy passed out on the sofa at the New Year's party after losing the drinking contest to Grimm."

"I was out of practice!" Baxter insisted.