Phantom watched Owl from the far end of the pool. The other man stood on the diving board, his wet, coffee-colored skin accenting his toned, muscular body. Owl bounced a little, testing the board's spring.

If Owl had ever been as good a diver as he claimed, it would have to have been at least fifty years ago, long before the recent fall that broke Owl's fragile hip, forcing the old man to surgery and rehab. However good Owl might have been then, it was long ago, when Owl had been in his own body.

Owl was grinning in obvious pleasure. Phantom understood: the other man had only been here a week, and Phantom knew well how the sudden lack of pain could make you feel reborn.

The board went down deep a few times, then snapped up as Owl launched himself into the air, tucked into a ball, and spun above the pool. At the last moment he uncurled and sliced into the water.

In a moment, a fuzzy black head popped up next to Phantom.

"God, this is wonderful," Owl said, shaking the water from his head.

Phantom chuckled. "Almost as good as the original, eh?"

Owl's smile faded. "No."

"It never is," Phantom said softly.

It was a sunny day in Paradise. This near the equator it usually was. They paid for the weather, like they paid for the olympic-size swimming pool, tennis courts, world-class chefs, and the razor wire atop the high walls.

It was all part of the Paradise package, and the package cost. But then, three months in a young, handsome athletic body was bound to be pricey. Three months of relief while someone else took over the rehab of your broken body didn't come cheap.