Maps: They don't love you like I love you....

[Shuram Gudatetris]

John's armpits were sweating uncontrollably.

It was something he was not entirely unused to; when he was a teenager, he had the same problem for years whenever he was around attractive-looking women. But, to be sure, the phenomenon had been gone from his physiology for years, and he was surprised to find himself sweating like a horny young schoolboy.

With his armpits soaking wet as he walked along the halls of his ship heading towards Map's living quarters, he discovered that even his steps were erratic. It was as if he felt like he was on display, and was worrying about if his back was strait enough, or shoulders wide enough, hell, he was even worried that maybe the soft life of his captain's position had left him a little too flabby, or rather, that maybe his butt was a little too big now, and that maybe it was swaying like a cattle rump as he walked down the hall.

As he passed a window, he noticed the light was hitting it just right, and it served as a mirror. He paused in front of the reflective window to judge his appearance. His uniform was generally wrinkle-free, but he had to adjust his shirt to be tucked in a little more evenly. He noticed the areas underneath his arms were dark with sweat, and spreading fast, but that couldn't be helped now. Besides, he thought, it is a manly thing, to sweat, isn't it? Yeah, it means I'm a man. He turned sideways to inspect the size of his gut, thinking that perhaps he had let it grow a little bit too big for a man who was once the former Head of S.W.A.T. He tried sucking in his gut, but that made his chest swell up, making obvious his weak effort to hide his gut.

In the end, he just shrugged at himself, and turned back towards his goal, continuing on down the hallway to Map's room.

Map had called him over the intercom about fifteen minutes prior:

"John," she had said, "you need to come to my room. There is something we need to talk about. There's something I've never told you before, and now it can't wait any longer."

"What?" he had asked. "What is it, Map?"

"Please. Just come."

"Is this about the people who are trying to kill me? Map, is this about the Diamond Oracle?" John had asked her.

"John," she had responded, "just come. We can't talk over the intercom, not about this. Please, John. Come to my room."

And with that, she ended the call.

John was perplexed, for Map had never spoke to him that way before. There was no denying that his heart was swollen with impossible hope, that his mind was now racked with impossible dreams; he was overcome by these hopes and dreams which he had struggled for years to deny, to rid himself of, to quell from his thoughts and feelings. But, yet, here it was again, like a thorn in his side, painfully demanding attention, insisting that there was only one reason Map would call him to her quarters. John was deeply, insanely, and irrevocably in love with Map, and although he had tried forever to deny it, to dismiss it, and to ignore it, he was sure that Map felt the same way for him.

John reached Map's door and stopped, still trying to form a plan of action to follow once she answered the door. He would smile at her and say:

"Hi, Map. I've been waiting for this day."

No, that was stupid. How about:

"Map....I've waited so long....."

Ugh, that's no good. Something simple, like:

"Map, whatever it is, I'm here for you. Let's talk."

Geez, she doesn't have cancer. What if:

"Map, I've come as you asked. What is it, my darling?"

Darling? Come on, John, she hasn't confessed her love just yet.......

In the end, John decided that it would be best to just "wing it." He would give her a warm, caring smile, and the words will flow naturally, like the emotions springing from his heart. He pressed the call button on the outside of her door.

A couple of moments later, the door slid open, and there was Map, standing before John like a goddess from heaven. Her hair was light and flowing, in long curly waves, framing her beautiful face like a princess. She wore a teal silk nightgown, which cut low to reveal her cleavage, and formed around her waist, accenting her shapely hips. Her eyes were highlighted with matching teal shadows, and her lips were red and swollen. John was held breathless for long moments, knowing that her mood reflected her appearance. If she appeared this way to him, then that could mean only one thing. . . .

Map smiled the most serene and caring smile that John had ever seen light her face. "Hi, John. Please come in."

Instead of smiling the warm friendly smile he had planned, instead of sweeping her off her feet with his initial words like he had hoped to do, the best John could manage was an apparently angry scowl, and the harsh growl of the words, "I hope you're not wasting my time, demanding that I come here."

John brushed past Map in a huffy stomp and marched into the living room towards a leather lounging chair. He seated himself awkwardly in it, feeling out of place and wondering what happened to him at the doorway, wondering why he froze up like that.

Map floated in after him, quiet as a mouse. She stood behind his chair, digging her fingers into the supple brown leather of the seat back, looking distractedly about her own living room. In front of John was an antique oak coffee table, and across from that was a fine leather couch which matched the lounger in which John sat. The whole ensemble rested on an earthy brown floor rug, and the room was serenely lit by artificial firelight glowing from the corner.

"So, John, has Kibble made any progress?" she asked in a hopeful tone.

"No," he said simply.

Map had been afraid that this would be his answer.

"Do you want a drink, John?" she then asked.

John felt his face flush, and his temples began pulsating madly. He realized that she was calling him "John" and not "Captain". It had been years since he heard her speak his name. John finally managed to shake his head, and mumbled words something like, "Got to get back to work" but sounding more like "googa-bat-work".

Map quietly walked into her kitchen and John could hear liquid being poured into glass. She came back with two glasses of golden brown liquor. She set one before John on a coffee table, and eased herself into the couch across from him, taking easy sips off her drink.

John eyeballed the drink she had set before him with a grimace. "Map, I really can't."

"Just wait," she whispered. "You might need it."

John's grimace morphed into a frown of confusion. His eyebrows were lifted up questionably. "Map, what is this all about?" John was hunched forward, searching Map's face for a clue to her intentions.

Map wasn't looking back at John. She was staring at the brown liquor in her glass.

"Map?"

Map let out a heavy sigh as she leaned forward, setting her glass on the table. Once the glass was resting on the table top, she hesitated for a moment, then picked her glass back up and poured the remaining fluid down her throat. She set the glass back down and leaned back into the couch once again.

She forced herself to look into John's searching eyes.

"John," she said. "I don't know how to begin, so I'm just going to start talking." She looked back at her empty glass. The warmth of the alcohol was spreading through her body now, making her feel more at ease, making her feel more courageous. "Have you ever wondered why I call myself 'Map'?" Her eyes darted back to his face, twinkling with hope.

John shrugged with his eyebrows. "Uh . . . . I mean, well, you have the continents of Earth tattooed all over your body. So you're 'Map', right?"

A look of disapproval spread on her face and she shook her head slowly.

Map spoke cautiously when she continued, "I was called Map long before I ever had these markings on my skin, long before I even had this body. . . . You see, there are several planets on this side of reality which can support life, as you know. And when I crossed over, I could have ended up at any one of these planets. But I saw a window to Earth and I stepped through it. These markings on my skin are branded there, a branding which occurred when I came through, kind of like a sunburn, but permanent."

John tilted his head inquisitively. "Oh. I never knew that," he said. Then, curiously, he asked, "So why are you called 'Map'?"

Once again, she sighed heavily before she could speak. When she did, she spoke severely, "John, I am a demon of Hell. I was born and raised to do the Devil's bidding. When I was on the other side, I was a tool, an object to be used by other people. I had a gift, or to be more precise, a purpose, for my master to use and exploit. John, when I was on the other side, I had the psychic ability to see any given location and the path that leads to it. My master used me to find his enemies so that he might kill them, or capture and torture, or do whatever sick thing he felt like doing to his prey. Or sometimes he would use me to find an object of great value, or to find a source of incredible power. You see John, I was his Map."

John's mouth hung agape. "I never knew," he muttered. Then a spark flashed in his eye, and he breathed, "Map, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"John," she said slowly, hands gesturing in a cautioning motion, "that was on the other side."

"Oh, of course," John said, obviously disappointed. "You're human now. You've lost the ability."

Map brought her hands to her face, and covered her nose and her mouth with her hands in sort of a praying position. She breathed slowly and deeply for a few moments. Then she set her hands back in her lap with her fingers intertwined.

"Not entirely," she finally said, but her words came out like a prisoner awaiting execution.

When John heard those words, excitement took over, and he missed the tone with which they were spoken

"Map!" he exclaimed, "this is great! You can tell me how to get to the Diamond Oracle!"

She didn't respond and John finally noticed the change that was coming over her. Her curly hair was straitening and becoming darker, her face was becoming paler, her features more plain. Her night gown had turned black instead of teal, her cleavage now covered. She even seemed to be shrinking back into the couch she sat on. She was possessed by dread.

"John," she whispered. "You are right. I am human, now." A tear slipped from one of her eyes and began sliding down her cheek. "I've been running from the demons of hell ever since I crossed over. They want me back. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to be human." She sniffled. "John, I think that the time has come for me to go back. I can't run forever, can I?"

John didn't know what to say. Wasn't he trying to do the same thing, trying to run forever from his problems? "Oh, Map. . . ." Maybe it was time for him to stop running. He could start by telling her how he felt. "Oh, Map," he said again.

"John, even though I'm human now, I still retain a little bit of psychic ability. Something terrible is going on all around us. I can't put my finger on what it is, but I know it's there, dark and menacing. I may not know what the danger is, but there are a few things which I can very specifically identify. For one, Kibble is going to really, really need some cards at some point in the future, and if he doesn't get them, something really bad is going to happen. Also, I know, and I mean I know, that we must stop your enemies from reaching the Diamond Oracle. Many lives depend on it." Several more tears broke loose from Map's eyes. "And most importantly, I also know that our time together is coming to an end. Whatever decisions we make in the near future, there is no avoiding it, we will soon be separated forever."

John could feel his body tightening like a fist. "No." He pounded his leg, because he needed to do something to challenge this dread overcoming him. "No way is that going to happen." Once again, for a moment, he looked and sounded like the former Head of S.W.A.T. But in his heart, he knew he was wrong. He could feel it now, too. He was going to lose her.

Map was finally looking John in the eyes, ready to face his pain, to share it. "John, I can use my special ability again. I can find the Diamond Oracle. But there is a price that must be paid. For to use my powers, I must call upon the power of Hell."

Understanding finally penetrated John's mentality. Map was offering to sacrifice herself. He suddenly reached out and grabbed his glass of liquor, tilting it back and swallowing it in one massive gulp.

"If you use your powers," John said in a grating cough, fighting the alcohol fumes, "they will know where to find you, won't they? They will take you back."

Map solemnly nodded her head once.

"Well, then, you won't." John bobbed his head, nodding to himself, trying to reassure himself. "Kibble's still working on it. He can find the Diamond Oracle. He has the touch of magic, you know, he can do it. I mean, he's the ship's Specialties' Officer. It's his job. Don't worry, he'll do it. He'll do it."

Map intently stared back at John. "I wish you were right."

John suddenly lurched to his feet. "I'm the god-damned former Head of S.W.A.T! Don't doubt my decisions. What you're talking about is crazy. Besides, what if my enemies do find the Diamond Oracle? What's the worse that can happen? I'm not helpless, you know, I can take care of myself. And, besides, I've got Anna on my side. Who can mess with her? She's practically invincible! And with you, and the rest of the crew, and this bad-ass ship, everything'll be okay. Remember now, whenever there's a challenge before us, we always rise to the occasion." John began shaking his finger at Map. "Don't you dare do what you're thinking about doing. It's ludicrous. Don't you dare."

John turned away from her and started walking to the door.

"Captain, please wait," Map called after him.

Captain.

John paused, but didn't turn back to her.

"Captain," she said. "Please listen. I don't know quite how to say it, but it's like I said before: something terrible is going on all around us. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. It's right here, on this ship. Evil is afoot."

John didn't say anything. After a few more moments, he continued on, and he exited Map's living quarters.

It was the last time he ever saw her alive.