

Bew T. and the Beast

Book 1

Keira Leggett

Published by Keira Leggett at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Keira Leggett

## Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their owncopy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

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## Contents

Prologue

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Acknowledgements
Prologue

## In this modern version of the classic Beauty and the Beast tale, the 'beast' is a beautiful young woman who is the result of DNA experimentation. Part wolf, she escapes into obscurity and safety in the mountains where she is befriended by a pack of timber wolves. Her life had become safe and comfortable until the day the wolves brought her an injured man who needed her help. He also discovers her secret and soon things become complicated and dangerous for both of them.

##  Chapter one

Her eyes flew open. Something was wrong. She held perfectly still in the darkness and listened intently.

The howl of a wolf pierced the night just outside her window. She tensed and waited. There was an answering call in the distance. Then silence. She slipped quietly out of bed. Naked, she made her way effortlessly through the dark to her computer tables. A shake of the mouse brought the monitors to life. A cold blue light filled the room as she checked the security feeds from multiple cameras around the main house and grounds.

Nothing uninvited was inside the building. Nothing had penetrated the perimeter security systems. There was nothing unusual about the grounds inside the fences. There it was. A movement by the gate. Hair fell in front of her eyes as she leaned closer to the monitor. She brushed it aside absently as she had done countless times before.

There was a man laying still in the snow. "Well shit," she said to the empty room.

She sighed as she slid on the Levi's she had left crumpled on the floor that night on her way to bed. She had not bothered to wear underwear for years now. The only point to women's underwear, near as she could figure out, was purely for decoration and it had been a very long time since that had mattered to her. She enjoyed dressing up sometimes and she did actually own lingerie, but she did not think it was a critical part of her every-day life on the mountain by herself.

It was also hard for her to feel pretty even with lacey intimate things to wear. She thought of herself as ordinary looking at best. She was not skinny but not a voluptuous woman either. She did have curves in all the socially accepted places. She was a medium height, she had a medium sized chest and chronically messy hair. That is what she thought. The truth would have surprised her. Her 'Irish child bearing hips', as they had once been called by her doctor, gave her an hour glass shape and her hair had a way of making men think of the bedroom but what really got her noticed was the way she carried herself with the confidence of an Alpha female. That and her eyes. They were sometimes green and sometimes amber but they were always startlingly direct. They made people feel as if she could see exactly who they were deep inside.

Since her I.Q. was literally off the chart, her senses were super naturally charged and she was a skilled empath people were right to feel that way. She looked around for her shirt. "Screw it," she grumbled to herself and grabbed a silk bathrobe which was the closest thing that she could find to cover herself with instead.

She looked at the monitor again. The man had not moved. She pulled the down comforter off of her bed, and barefoot, she jogged with it over one arm through the vast house not bothering to turn on the hall lights. She paused briefly to type in the security code by the front door disabling the alarms. It always gave her a moment of perverse pleasure typing in the code words "biteme", even though she had had to install a special key pad to do it. That was okay. She had more money than she could possibly use in one lifetime and she had no shame at all in indulging her whims.

The cold air hit her like a wall. It was refreshing to her. With her bare feet sinking into the fresh, soft snow she paused to listen to the night and to smell the air, trying to assess the situation. The wolf that had been there a minute ago had left but his paw prints were clearly visible in the snow around the body. She knew those foot prints well.

"Wise choice Rogue. You know how I feel about visitors," she said.

She talked to herself a lot. It was not like there was anyone around to care. She had tried talking to houseplants and pets before and she had come to the conclusion that they did not find her nearly as interesting as she found herself to listen to so she gave up the pretense eventually. The air was filled with the smells of a winter night on the mountain plus a hint of wet wolf. And of course blood. There was lots of blood.

She keyed in the password at the gate at the front of her vast yard which slid to one side with a grating sound that seemed very loud in the stillness. Every creature in the woods around her knew something was up and they were holding their collective breaths watching to see what she would do about it. Most of her animal brethren were not terribly supportive in a pinch but they did seem to find her entertaining to watch.

As she bent down towards the man she could sense his heartbeat. It was very faint and slow. Anymore she could not even tell whether she was hearing, seeing, or just 'knowing' some things like that. It all blended into one amorphous sense most of the time for her. She had always been that way. For many years she thought that it was normal. For even more years than that she had tried being in denial about it and finally she just took herself and her heightened sensitivities as far away from society as she could get. She was happy that way. It was peaceful.

Until now.

So he was alive. That was a mixed blessing. She should just walk away. It was not her problem. At least she did not want it to be her problem. The fact that the wolves had brought him to her spoke volumes to her though. If he had been a hunter or any kind of threat they would have left him to die without a second thought. If they were hungry enough they might even have been pleased. She smiled. That was not even a little bit true of course but it amused her to picture every big bad wolf ever depicted in a story and what it supposedly would have done to the guy it had found. Those stories were so very wrong. She also knew, and not just because they shared some DNA with each other, that wolves were extraordinary in their ability to judge character. If they thought this man should live they were probably right.

Crouching beside him, her basic triage training came flooding back to her. She had all kinds of usually useless information stored in that formidable mind of hers. She quickly determined that aside from the bruises and abrasions she could see that his major injury was from a bad bash to the head. Head wounds were always messy. She would have to risk the threat of him having a possible spinal injury and move him anyway as shock and hypothermia were already well underway for him.

She rolled him over to get a better grip to carry him with and a camera, still hanging around his neck, thudded to the ground. It was a very expensive camera. On closer inspection she noted his very expensive wilderness wear as well. It was not flashy but it was very good quality and it was actually appropriate. This guy was not fooling around. Apparently he knew what he was doing. He had probably been looking for the elusive timber wolf pack that wandered around in the Olympic Mountains. That was another good reason to let him quietly disappear in yet another mountain climbing accident. She was fiercely protective of her friends and like for herself, she did not welcome attention being brought to them.

"Too bad I'm not a cold blooded killer" she said to the unconscious man. "Unless someone really deserves it. You, my friend, do not seem to be actually evil. You might be stupid but you're probably not evil."

Wrapping him carefully in her comforter, and making a mental note to never buy a cream colored comforter again, she let out a little grunt as she swung him to her shoulder and adjusted him so he would not fall off when she moved.

"Ah, see? Psycho strength isn't just for chopping fire wood after all," she said to no one in particular.

She was trying not to jar him too much as she moved quickly to bring him inside and paused only long enough to secure the gate behind them again. Even when she was out here in the middle of nowhere, she was always vigilant about security. If anyone ever came looking for her she did not want to make it easy for them to get to her. She did not allow mutant hunting on her mountain.

Once inside the house she paused to close the door and reset the alarm system. She snorted.

"My first house guest and you aren't even awake to appreciate it. Now where to put you?"

She had three bedrooms. She had kept decorating them in different styles until each one was unique and satisfied some part of her personality.

One was the epitome of all things that were feminine. Complete with the dramatic four poster bed with sheer flowing drapes, and far too many pillows and the deep jetted tub that was equipped with all of the fragrant, colorful, bubbly, fizzy and sparkly things a woman could dream of. Everything in that room was soft to the touch. There was giant teddy bear stuffed under the bed. She did not know which embarrassed her more. The fact that she had the big teddy bear at all, that she sometimes like to sleep with, or the fact that she felt the compulsion to hide it.

Another room had started out as a library and it was full of an eclectic collection of reading materials. It had a fireplace and an insanely comfy chair in it. She had even added one of those wet bars that are cleverly disguised as a giant globe. It had seemed appropriate to the setting, even though she did not drink very often. The room was filled with curios from all over the world as well. She had not been to the places that they had come from but she enjoyed touching them and imagining what it must be like where, and sometimes when, they had come from. The room had a 'window seat' that was a full sized bed with heavy velvet curtains that could be pulled closed to keep away the chill that would often come from the window. She had never actually shut them but she liked the idea that she could do it if she ever wanted to.

The room that she usually slept in was more of an atrium than a bedroom really. One full wall was a fireplace built with river rock and in front of it sat a natural looking pool big enough for four people to easily stretch out in. It was actually a fully functional hot tub with a waterfall option. Plants cascaded from every nook and cranny and the windows and skylights far out- numbered the solid walls in that room. It had been a masterpiece of engineering to balance all of that moisture with dry air but her architect was both an artist and a genius and was able to make her vision work. Which was especially convenient because it was the technological Mecca of the house as well and she sometimes wondered if it was subconscious need to balance the sensory input of the computers and all that they represented with an abundance of nature that had made her choose that arrangement.

The bed in that room was a king sized, state of the art waterbed. Sometimes she would lie awake in bed for hours watching the night sky through the sky lights above her and she would enjoy feeling the motion of the water. There were times when she was so tuned to the subtle movement that she could hold perfectly still and move just a finger or two and experiment with the pattern the ripples made. Those times were some of the few times when her mind was completely quiet and she could stop thinking for awhile.

"The library I think. If you live through this it should help to reaffirm your manliness cuz Sweetie, so far you have not made a very studdly impression," she told the unconscious man.

The door to the library stood open as did all of the doors in her home. A Tiffany lamp covered in dragonflies cast a gentle light in the room. She abhorred completely dark rooms unless she was trying to sleep. It made her feel lonely and depressed to have rooms sit empty and dark. The light made them feel occupied somehow. It made them inviting rather than foreboding feeling.

She laid him carefully on the window seat bed and turned the fireplace on and set it on its highest setting. It was the first time she had really appreciated her past self for choosing to put a gas fireplace in that room. In her main bedroom she was an old fashioned purist about fire and had a wood burning fireplace. It was messy but she was convinced that the heat from it felt different than gas flames did and she thought that the smell was heavenly when she burned wood. Going back to the bed she stood for a moment deciding where to start. The bleeding from his head seemed to have stopped which made removing his cold wet clothes the most pressing issue. She felt that bandaging his head could wait. She needed to gently raise his body temperature first.

While trying to figure out how to get the camera loose from around his neck she looked more closely at his face. He was blond. He was not a kid. That was about all she could tell about him without cleaning him up first. She couldn't really tell if he was handsome or not. Like most women, she would not know that until she had seen his face animated by a personality.

Sometimes she envied the seemingly shallow way that men appeared to assess attractiveness. Women seemed only to need to have big tits a small waist, have hair (usually), to be under a hundred years old, and willing. Yup. It would be great if things were that simple for her. Getting laid was not a problem for her. She had no moral compunction to equate sex with depth. It was fun but optional and, as a woman, it was not especially challenging to get. To be genuinely attracted to someone...well now, that could be complicated, she thought. She did not need 'complicated'. She would rather be alone than have complications in her life.

Feeling around his neck she found the release latch for the camera strap and clicked it loose. If there had been an obligatory camera bag full of gizmos and extra supplies it was long gone now. She set the camera on the bedside table and very carefully started undressing her patient. She watched for any sign of returning consciousness as she unzipped, unfastened, and gently peeled off every bit of clothing he was wearing almost entirely by feel. The comforter was a gory mess now and she threw it onto the pile of clothing too.

Pulling open the huge storage drawer built into the base of the window seat she took out the deeply plush velour bedspread she kept there for the times when she wanted to just drift off to sleep by the window. It smelled of lavender. The real stuff. She kept sprigs of it in the drawer. It reminded her a little of aftershave and it made her feel safe and sexy in her girlie man cave.

She looked him over from head to toe checking for hidden injuries and for discoloration of any kind. His hands and feet were a little on the blue side but she knew better than to warm the extremities first. That was a big hypothermia no-no. The torso, armpits, and groin were the places to warm first. With hot water bottles, not with heating pads.

She laughed out loud when she glanced at his tender bits.

"Well, well, aren't we the lucky boy?"

Even unconscious he was quite obviously well endowed. It was not the standard by which she measured a man but she supposed it must be a bonus in gym locker rooms or at urinals or where ever it was that men compare these things with pride. Leaving him uncovered and exposed to the radiant heat from the fireplace she went to gather hot water bottles, warm washcloths, and sterilized bandages. His heartbeat was still steady when she left the room but she knew it was going to be a long night for her that was not likely to end in her taking his breakfast order.

It took awhile but she managed to eventually find two hot water bottles in a hall closet. She had not remembered buying them but she was happy to have found them. She grabbed her jumbo sized first aid kit, some fluffy hand towels, and a bowl of warm water. She had entertained the idea of sterilizing the water before using it but she figured that Artesian well water from the top of a mountain was probably good enough. She put one hot water bottle on his chest. Check. Then another one on his groin. Yipe. She watched his face closely for any sign that he had noticed it. Still nothing.

"Wow. You must be really out of it."

Opening the first aid kit, she found a couple of self warming compresses and she squished them up in her hands to activate them. She waited for a minute or so and then decided that they were not going to get too hot for him and placed one under each of his armpits. She dipped a hand towel into the warm water and with a tenderness that was at odds with her tough guy persona she started gently washing his face and hair.

Two large wolves watched her from a hillside outside the window. They gave each other a long and knowing look and then stepped, unseen, back into the night.

She carefully wrapped gauze around his head and felt a little silly while looking at the result. She was not sure that she was doing it right but his head did not start bleeding again and he looked like every stereotypical head trauma patient she had ever seen on T.V. She decided that it was good enough.

'Now what?' She wondered.

"Don't die," she told him firmly. "I'm going to make some coffee."

She caught herself tip toeing to the kitchen. Why was she trying to be quiet? She stopped and then stood in the dark hallway as she took stock of herself for a moment. She was still barefoot and her silk robe was sliding off one of her shoulders. It was also covered in the blood of a total stranger. She changed direction then and stopped by her bedroom on her way to the kitchen to grab a clean pair of flannel jammies to wear. She rarely wore anything to sleep in at night but she did sometimes like to wear pajamas around the house.

While the water came to a boil in the teakettle on the stove she stripped down to nothing right there in the kitchen and she looked at her discarded clothing. She hesitated for a moment and then she tossed them into the trash. She pulled on her jammies and admired the festive atmosphere the happy little penguins printed on them added to the, so far, fairly unpleasant evening.

While reaching for the coffee beans she paused before grinding them, concerned about the noise. Then she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Right. Wouldn't want to wake Prince Charming would we?"

The smell of freshly ground Tony's coffee beans must be one of the very finest things in life, she thought. She made special trips out of town to re-stock them when she ran low. She could have easily had it shipped to her but it made a nice excuse to go on a beautiful drive once in awhile and she enjoyed spending the day exploring every little funky shop in the old part of town where she bought that coffee. Each cup of this coffee was a pleasure she never tired of. Filling the French press, she grabbed her favorite coffee cup from the cupboard and the carton of half and half from a shelf in the fridge. All the while she kept telling herself that it really would be for the best if her mystery man would have the decency to die quietly without ever waking up first.

She was not squeamish, or even sentimental, about death. She had been around, and the direct cause of, more than her fair share of it. But that was more personal. It was justice, vengeance, self defense...This was random. It was like winning the Lottery except that it was shitty. She did not really want to be involved with it but having come this far she did not want to fail either. She wanted to fix him and then she wanted him to go away again.

She came into the library and looked for signs that anything had changed in the past few minutes while she had been gone. His heartbeat seemed stronger. His color was better. He was still out cold. So to speak. She cleared off the bedside table and set down the French press, her cup and the cream. She dragged the comfy chair over and put it beside the table. She poured herself some coffee and took an appreciative sip of it.

"Time to figure out who you are mister."

Setting down her cup she carefully started searching through his clothing for a wallet. She found his car keys right away. He had a Mercedes key chain. There was no alarm button on it and there was no auto start feature either. It held about a half a dozen miscellaneous keys but nothing that seemed overly pretentious or interesting. It could have been worse. In another pocket she stuck her fingers into some kind of paste that turned out to be wet Tums mixed with a few coins.

She found a cell phone next. It was a newer type of phone but it was not insanely fancy. Finally, after she had checked all of his pockets thoroughly, she had to accept the fact that she still had found no wallet.

"Are you kidding me?"

She went back to the cell phone again. It wasn't 'locked'. She located the address book feature and then typed in HOME. It was just a phone number. There was no name with it.

"That figures. He doesn't feel the need to carry credit cards and a license to go for a walk in the woods and he knows his own name. He must be smarter than he looks."

She took another sip of her coffee."Think...think..."

Suddenly she was grinning and trotting to her room to grab her own cell phone. Holding his phone in one hand and her phone in the other hand she dialed her own phone number from his phone.

"Wait for it...Ha! Gotcha

The caller ID on her phone clearly read 'Bew, T.' It was not much but it was something.

"T. huh? Tanner? Tobias...Too Stupid to Hike Alone?"

Then she laughed a little too hard as the strain of the evening started to take its toll on her.

"Timmy!" she almost yelled. "As in Lassie! What is it girl? Did Timmy fall off a cliff and hit his head again?!"

The last time she had checked Lassie was not a timber wolf but it was close enough.

She went back in to the library and saw that nothing had changed.

She leaned close to his face and called quietly."Timmy? 'You in there? C'mon buddy, Time to wake up now."

Nothing happened.

"Okay, we'll do this the hard way" she said.

Which to her meant waiting. Waiting passively did not come easily to her. She wanted to do something.

"Let us assume that your brain still works. Assuming that, we just need to pass the time until you thaw out again."

She walked over to the nearest book shelf and pulled out a familiar volume and took it back to the chair with her. Tucking her feet under her she opened the book.

"Okay Timmy. Get comfortable. It's story time."

She had picked up Kahlil Gibran's Garden of the Prophet. She had loved that book since she was a kid and she had read it many, many times before. It was deeply personal to her and she realized with a start that not one single person knew that about her. She began to read aloud.

By the time she had finished reading the book it was light outside. She had polished off all of the coffee and the hot water bottles needed to be refreshed. Once she had replaced the hot water bottles and had thrown away the now dead insta-heat compresses she noticed that his hands and feet had become a much more natural looking color. His pulse was strong and his breathing was easier and more regular now. For all the world it looked like he was just sleeping peacefully.

"Timmy?"

There was some movement of his eyes like when someone is dreaming.

"Hey Timmy- you can wake up now" she told him.

He did not wake up.

She was tired but the anticipation of something, anything, changing kept her from being able to sleep. She got another book from the shelves. It was the House at Pooh Corner.

She got as far as reading chapter six "in which Eeyore has a birthday". It was her favorite part of the book. Pooh decides to give Eeyore a pot of Hunny for his birthday but on his way to Eeyore's house he accidentally eats all the honey and Piglet decides to give Eeyore a balloon "about the size of Piglet. His favorite size" but on the way to Eeyore's house Piglet accidentally pops it. Together Pooh and Piglet end up giving Eeyore an empty pot and a burst balloon.

Eeyore is delighted. He now has a "useful pot to put things in" and something to put in it. As the chapter ends Eeyore is happily putting the balloon scrap into the pot and taking it back out again repeatedly.

She had never been sure whether it is because Eeyore is finally cheerful or if it is the joy of simple pleasures that made her so happy to read that part but she loved it dearly and she smiled and sighed out loud with contentment.

There was a low chuckle.

'The House at Pooh Corner' flew across the room. The contents of the side table crashed to the floor as she leaped to her feet in alarm.

"Jesus Timmy! You scared the crap out of me! How long have you been awake?!"

"Since about half way through The Garden of the Prophet."

She just stared at him. She was trying to take it in. The silence was becoming uncomfortable.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Tell me something wonderful. I suspect I'll be telling this story a lot."

"You're at my house. You are defenseless and hurt. You don't know me at all and we are miles from civilization and surrounded by wolves. We saved your ass and you're free to go as soon as you are well enough to. So yeah. It's pretty wonderful if you ask me."

He started to laugh. Then he moaned. Not in a good way.

"My head is killing me."

"It certainly tried to," she said more seriously.

Their eyes met and held. She was surprised by that. Most people were not comfortable making eye contact with her very long.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Then he fell asleep again.

She didn't know what she had been expecting but that had not been it. He was quick mentally. He was very quick but it was more than that. There was a familiarity there she could not quite put her finger on.

Suddenly she was exhausted. She knew that the danger had passed. He would live. She could sleep now. In fact she could sleep right there. All she had to do was stretch out in front of the fire on the soft carpet. Just for a minute...She should keep an eye on him a little longer anyway...She had not realized how tense she had been. It felt wonderful to lay down and stretch out.

## Chapter two

Slowly she woke up feeling like she was forgetting something important. Then it started coming back to her. That was right. Things were okay now. She could relax a little. It was dark out. That was weird to her. Something else was off too. She looked at the window seat. It was empty. For a split second she felt a flash of anxiety. It went away again as quickly as it had come but she was still concerned that Timmy was wandering around in a strange place with a head injury.

She stretched and got up to go find him. He could be anywhere. Her place was huge. Especially if you went below ground. She stood in the hall for a minute. She was listening and smelling. Then she smiled. He was in the kitchen. Yup. She figured he was going to fine if he had already found the kitchen.

He looked up as she walked in. He gave her a shy smile but it came with that steady eye contact that they had had before. It was disconcerting to her that he did that so easily.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. What time is it?" she asked. He was standing between her and the microwave clock which was usually her main source for knowing what time it was.

"I don't know but I made coffee. I hope you don't mind.I didn't want to sleep anymore ya know?" he said.

"Why don't you give me a cup and maybe we can piece together exactly what happened to you."

He smiled ruefully at that comment and then casually got her a coffee cup out of the cupboard, poured her some coffee, added some cream and handed it to her. She almost dropped it. It was like someone had kicked her in the chest. She had trouble breathing and her eyes welled up with tears. She blinked furiously and the intensity of her reaction was scaring her.

What the hell?! So a guy in her kitchen handed her coffee. So what?

So what indeed? It was a very good question.

It was completely disarming to her. Had it been that long since anyone had done something for her? Maybe, but that was not entirely what made it so astonishing. He had also made it exactly the way she liked it. She saw that he took his own coffee black. He had noticed how she liked it. How the hell did he know that?

"Thanks," she said trying to sound blasé.

For the first time in her life she averted her eyes breaking the eye contact with someone first. She had the distinct impression that if he looked into her eyes at that moment he would be able to see exactly what she was feeling. The very thought of that was terrifying to her.

Gulping a little too hard on her still very hot coffee she had to set her cup on the counter before he saw that her hand was shaking. She climbed onto a bar stool and tried to pull herself together.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Ah...there, now she could look at him again. She sipped her coffee this time.

"Foolish. Grateful. A little naked."

She almost sprayed coffee out through her nose. My god, he was unexpected wasn't he? she thought. It had been a completely honest answer and that had both impressed and amused her.

It was then that she remembered the soggy mess of his bloody clothes that she had tossed into the corner of the library. How could she have not noticed that he was wearing only one of the big fuzzy guest bathrobes she kept in her bathrooms for the guests she never had? Why was it also that he seemed so much more naked now, with a bathrobe on? She had already seen all of his parts. Why on earth was she blushing? And since when did she blush at all? Say something! Her brain screamed at her.

"I think we can salvage your clothes but the bathrobe is a good look for you. It says ' I'm not going anywhere right away' which is true. You're going to have to convince me you're okay before you try to wander off you know," she smiled.

He smiled. Reality was restored. Things were normal once again. She was back in control.

"Are you hungry? " she asked.

"I'm a little queasy but I should probably eat something. It might help."

"Look in the freezer," she chuckled.

She was enjoying watching him in her kitchen. He obviously lived alone. He was so used to doing things for himself that he did not even question it. When he opened the freezer he found a couple of dozen carefully labeled single serving Tupperware containers full of food. He glanced at her and raised one eye brow questioningly.

"What can I say? I love to cook and I always make too much. I must have a had a really big family in a past life."

She did not really believe that, but it would have explained the deep sense of longing that she had to be a part of the warm chaos of a big family. She loved the idea of all of the laughing and bickering and the children under foot and the babies that got handed to whoever had their hands free. It made her senses ache to imagine the sounds, the smells, and the cacophony of emotions and thoughts that would come with it but above all else she yearned for the sense of belonging. She could almost, but not quite, touch it all with her mind.

He read the contents of the containers out loud as he as he took them out of the freezer and piled them on the counter beside the refrigerator.

"Beef stew, lasagna, chicken soup, spaghetti, quiche, pad Thai...You weren't kidding were you?" he laughed.

It seemed like a rhetorical question so she did not say anything but she was pleased that he seemed to appreciate home cooking.

"I think I'll start with the stew. Do you want something?"

She was trying not to laugh. Did he even know how strange it was for him to ask her that, she wondered. It was her house, her kitchen, and her food and there he was being a good host to her. Nope. She decided he really had no idea. It was just in his nature to be that way.

"I'm good," she said.

She was bemused watching him put back the food and then fumble around with the microwave controls trying to figure them out. It did not even occur to him to ask her how it worked. She was just opening her mouth to tell him that four minutes and high should be about right when he said, "About four minutes you think?"

It had been another rhetorical question since he had already punched it in and started the microwave.

With his back still to her he said, "Those are interesting pajamas you're wearing."

Interesting? "You have an objection to dancing penguins?" she asked.

He turned and looked at her for a long moment. It seemed like he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"Dancing?" he smiled. "Those penguins are NOT dancing."

She looked down at her legs and the pattern on her pajama bottoms.

"Well of course they- oh my GOD!" she yelled jumping up.

She pulled at her sleeves and stared at them. The happy little birds were not dancing. They were fornicating with great abandon. All over her. She sat back down with a hefty sigh.

"At least somebody is getting some," she murmured.

Crap. She had not meant to say that out loud. She really needed to get her brain to mouth filter adjusted. He gallantly pretended not to notice what she had said and she quickly added, "I guess that's what I get for ordering online."

The microwave beeped and he gingerly took the container out and set it on the counter between them. Then, without hesitation, he reached into her silverware drawer and took out a big spoon. That simple thing startled her. How did he know which drawers she kept things in? She felt reality slip a little again.

Get a grip! she told herself sternly. Right. He had made coffee while she was sleeping. He had probably rummaged around finding things then. Yeah. That had to be it.

Removing the lid from the food he leaned in and took a long deep breath.

"Ahhhh...that smells wonderful," he said with genuine pleasure.

A little part of her died a happy death. He likes my cooking, she thought. He is wearing my bathrobe. He made me coffee. Oh Alice we have really fallen down the rabbit hole this time. Curiouser and curiouser.

He stirred the stew a little bit and then took a big bite. His eyes closed and he made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a purr. She felt dizzy and her chest constricted. He opened his eyes again and smiled completely without guile. He really was not trying to mess with her. He was just happy and uninhibited.

In her experience there were only two kinds of people that were like that. One kind were the type A personalities who went through life so full of confidence and arrogance that they took liberties with other people's personal space and assumed that everything they did was charming. Those types were fine for a night here and there but she would never dream of keeping one.

The other kind of person was so completely without ego that it would never occur to them that they had an effect on other people at all. Usually those people were also timid. They made her uneasy. She always felt the need to both reassure them and not to overwhelm them with her own personality.

Timmy was different. Her inner profiler was working really hard trying to figure him out. He moved with the ease of someone who is comfortable with who they are and what they are capable of. He was also reading her each and every minute too. If she had been tense about him making himself at home in her kitchen she was quite sure he would not have done it.

She read people all the time. It was so much a part of her it was like breathing for her. Usually she did not even realize she was doing it. She could not tell if he knew he was doing it or not. That was it! That was what was so familiar about him. He was, at least a little bit, like her. She had never met anyone like herself before. She was a freak. She had accepted that a long time ago. Nobody was like her. Not really.

She could take a bad guy out without batting an eyelash and never feel so much as twinge of remorse about it but she was very careful with ordinary people. It was the curse of being an empath. Living by the 'Golden Rule' was a very real thing for an empath. It hurt her to hurt other people. People and animals instinctively trusted her. It made her feel responsible for them. It surprised her the way people responded to being understood. It seemed counter intuitive to trust someone who could so easily hurt or manipulate you because they understood what made you tick.

They had not said a word to each other since he had started eating. She could not help noticing that it did not feel weird sharing the silence with him. It was easy and comfortable. Her natural hyper vigilance went into sleep mode around him too. It was liberating but it was also like misplacing your security blanket and not noticing that for awhile. She did not like it. Letting her defenses down was dangerous for her. Literally and figuratively.

It had been interesting but he had to go. The sooner the better. She had been a good person and logged some more karma points in her favor but now she was starting to learn some things about herself that she did not want to know. Game over.

## Chapter three

She watched him as he finished the stew, carefully scraping every last morsel out of the container. He walked to the sink and rinsed his dishes before putting them into the dishwasher, next to her favorite coffee cup that was already sitting there. The one she had knocked to the floor along with everything else that had been on the side table when he had woken up the first time. Apparently he had cleaned it up while she had been sleeping.

He brought his cup over and sat on a bar stool next to her and swiveled it to be facing her.

"You have been very kind to me. Are you always like this?" he asked.

"No. Almost never," she said seriously.

"Who ARE you?" he asked half jokingly, half nervously.

Her intensity was not lost on him.

"Callie," she heard herself say. The way she looked when she said it was unnerving. There was something about it that seemed very important somehow.

If he had asked her name she would have said Ashley without even thinking about it. She had not used her real name in more years than she could remember until now. But he had not asked her name. He had asked who she was. It was good that she was not planning to see him ever again. She could not afford to be this real with anyone. Her years of discipline training just evaporated around him.

She forced herself to lighten up and asked, "And your name is?"

He looked puzzled. "Timothy. Timothy Bew. I thought you knew that."

"How would I know that? You haven't been the most lively conversationalist up until now you know," she laughed.

She did not mention the caller I.D.

"Then why did you call me Timmy?"

Her cheeks grew warm.

"Lucky guess," was all she said.

She could see him trying to figure out what it was she was not telling him and she changed the subject.

"Why don't you let me look at your head?"

"Awwww...," he feigned dismay. " I kind of like the bandage. It makes me feel like I need to be taken care of still."

She thought the question of who had been taking care of whom was still wide open to debate just then.

"I'm pretty sure you're all better now."

She stood up and started to unwrap the several feet of gauze that now seemed like overkill. Her chest was practically in his face. He tried desperately to look somewhere else.

"Hold still!" she told him.

She had no clue what the problem was for him. He closed his eyes. That was when he noticed that she smelled amazing. She smelled warm and soft. If those things had a smell it would smell like she did. She finished removing the bandage and stood back. He was both relieved and disappointed. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side and looked intently at his head. She would have been mortified to know that he thought that it made her look adorable. He especially liked the way her hair was falling into her eyes.

Her hair was short everywhere except for in the front. She had tried growing it out a few times but not only did it annoy her to feel the need to do something with it when it was long, she had to also come to terms with the fact that it felt like a liability to her to wear it long. The idea that someone could grab it and try to use it to immobilize her made her skin crawl. It was not likely that anybody could get close enough to her to do that without her permission but it bothered her enough that she always chopped it off with relish when it grew out again. She also didn't want to look like a boy thus the front was kept long in what she thought was a uniquely feminine way.

"Wow. You really bashed it a good one didn't you? The cut isn't too bad but you have a huge lump and a mondo bruise going on."

He put his hand to his head and winced.

She sat back down and asked him, finally, "So what exactly happened to you anyway?"

He glanced at the floor. He was embarrassed she realized. It seemed as if he was not accustomed to doing things catastrophically wrong. That was interesting to her.

He looked at her and his shoulders slumped a little. "Ultimately I was both impulsive and careless. I would love to tell you that I was on a Search and Rescue mission when a yeti jumped out and threw me down a mountain but the truth is neither heroic nor exciting. I came up here trying to find your wolves and get some pictures of them. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I parked on an abandoned logging road and started hiking. I found an animal trail and followed it off through the woods. I thought I saw something moving in the brush that could have been a wolf so I climbed up on a big rock to try to get a better look. I stepped on an icy patch, fell and whacked my head, and the next thing I knew I woke up laying in the snow."

He paused. She did not say anything. He liked the way she did not feel the need to interject random comments. She was just listening to him.

"I was pretty dazed. I wasn't even sure I could move at first."

He got that turning inward look on his face that people get when they are re-living something in their minds. He was still looking at her but he was seeing something else.

"Something was standing beside me. I turned my head and there, inches from my face, was a huge wolf's paw. I almost wet myself. I know logically that wolves in the wild aren't violent but I was really scared."

She smiled a little.

"I thought if I just held still it would go away but several minutes passed and it was still just standing there like it was waiting for me to do something. I tried sitting up thinking he - it was a 'he' wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"I thought he would get spooked and run away but he just stood there looking at me. He had the most amazing eyes! I read somewhere that you are never supposed to look a wolf in the eyes because they will take it as a challenge but I just couldn't help it."

Yeah, she thought. That's bullshit. If you're challenging a wolf when you look them in the yes they will take it that way but if you don't look them in the eyes they won't trust you. If you have nothing to hide always look a wolf in the eyes. You'll be glad you did.

He was quiet and far away for a minute.

Then he said, "You're probably going to think I'm crazy- and who knows, maybe I was delirious- but I swear he wanted me to follow him."

When he said that his eyes focused back on hers again. He could see that she took him seriously.

"And then it's just a blur. It seemed like we walked for hours. I kept falling down. I remember that. One time I blacked out for awhile but he just waited for me. The last thing I remember was coming out the woods and seeing your house. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating by that point."

Suddenly he flashed her a big smile.

"Then I woke up warm and safe and listening to a woman reading me one of my favorite books. To be honest I drifted in and out for awhile then. It was like a wonderful dream you don't really want to wake up from."

He looked away for a split second. He was not sure he should have told her that last part. She had looked startled when he had said it.

"Rogue. You met Rogue. He's the one who brought you here. Be flattered. Frankly, I'm surprised he did that."

"They are your wolves, aren't they?" he asked.

"No!" she said emphatically. Then more gently she added, "Not exactly. It's a long and complicated story. Let's just say they are like my family. Or maybe I'm an honorary member of the pack. In any case, we belong to each other if that makes sense."

She could see the questions in his eyes that he wanted to ask her but all he said was, "Yes. I can believe that."

They were both quiet for awhile.

Then he said, almost too briskly, "So that's that. I'm pretty sure you and your wolves saved my life and when it gets light out the spell will be broken and it will be time for me to go back to my real life."

And just like that the spell really did break. He was a stranger again. The past several hours had a dream like quality that was already starting to fade away the way even the most vivid dreams do once you wake up.

"It's going to be awhile before the sun comes up," she said. "I can put your clothes in the wash and point you to a really good jetted tub if you'd like."

"Thanks. That would be great," he said.

All of a sudden things felt very formal almost as if to compensate for the intimacy of the past few hours.

"Right then," she said. "Give me a minute and I'll make sure there are towels and things for you. I'll be right back," and she quickly left the room.

She headed to her 'froo froo' room as she thought of it. The bathroom attached to it really did have a great bathtub in it and she was nowhere near prepared to let him into her real bedroom. She already knew there were towels waiting to be used. She had just used that as an excuse to get up and move. She had felt a sudden sense of loss when the mood had changed so abruptly and she had not wanted him to notice that.

As she walked past the four poster bed she stopped beside it and crawled on her hands and knees to take the big teddy bear out from underneath the bed.

She looked into his big glassy eyes and said, "Sorry Ted. It won't happen again."

She put him gently in the middle of the vast pile of pillows for all the world to see. It was time for her to own all of her vulnerabilities she felt. She patted his head and went into the bathroom.

She got out a pile of soft bath towels from the cupboard and placed them on the edge of the tub and then groped around in the medicine chest until she found a large bottle of Advil and put that on the pile too. He had to be in pain.

On her way back down the hallway, she stopped by the library and scooped up his dirty clothes and the comforter from the floor. What do you know? she thought. He really had cleaned up after her but he had left the two books on the table. She smiled to herself.

While she had been gone he had put their cups into the dishwasher and rinsed out the French press and set it upside down to dry on a fresh dish towel. He had no doubt noticed her obsession with dish towels then. She kept and entire drawer full of them beside the sink. It was one of her favorite indulgences. She used them the way other people used paper towels and she washed and folded them every night before going to bed. She loved going to sleep knowing that they were clean and waiting for her the next day.

She paused at the entrance to the kitchen and said, "You're good to go. It's the third door on the right, just past the library. Help yourself to anything you can find."

She continued to the laundry room before he could say anything. She took as much time as she could putting his clothes in the wash. She was avoiding him. It was awkward now. She felt that the hours between then and dawn were going to be stretching with agonizing slowness. She thought briefly that she should jump in the shower while he was busy. Then she realized that they would both be naked at the same time if she did that and that bothered her. She was completely at ease without clothes on normally. She was starting to really look forward to having her house to herself again. Why did he have to fall in her woods anyway? Right. The wolves.

And a camera! She was not about to let him leave with proof that the wolf pack was alive and well. Quietly she made her way back to the library and found his camera. She could hear the water of the shower running in the next room. She fumbled around with his camera until she had removed the memory card. She felt angry. At him for nearly exposing her wolves to the world and at herself for nearly letting him do it. He was distracting. Like a shiny thing.

Standing back at the kitchen sink, it seemed like simply tossing the memory card into the garbage did not seem final enough. It gave her a great deal of pleasure dropping it into the garbage disposal instead. She flipped the switch on with satisfaction. The memory card flipped around and made a lot of noise but it was not breaking into a thousand pretty little pieces. Not even close.

She turned off the garbage disposal again and sheepishly fished the card back out of it. It had a couple of nicks and scratches on its surface but that was all. She looked around the kitchen trying to think of another plan. There, in the butcher block was just what she needed. It was the meat hammer. Oh yeah...She gave the card one good whack and shards of plastic ricocheted all over the kitchen. Yes!

"I always wanted to use that for something."

She hummed happily as she cleaned up the bits and dropped them into the trash. It had been so satisfying she had started musing about what else she could destroy with the meat hammer.

She had once kicked in a door exactly the way it looks in the movies. The door frame had splintered dramatically and the door had popped open just the way it was supposed to. She had expected to feel silly doing it. It had seemed awfully melodramatic compared to quietly picking the lock the way she usually would have but she had been in a hurry, and it got the job done quickly.

What surprised her was how much she had actually enjoyed doing it. It had been insanely gratifying and she still fantasized about doing it again some time. On bad days she dreamed about having a dozen locked doors all lined up and breaking them open one by one until she was in a better mood. Maybe she should buy an abandoned building somewhere with lots of doors in it so she could do just that. She could measure the level of her frustration on any given day that way too. A one door day would be pretty normal but a ten door day would probably be a pretty bad one.

So far this day was about a one door day. She was feeling a little edgy now that some reality was creeping back into things. She was not accustomed to feeling uncomfortable for any reason and she had been just fine until he had woken up and started talking. Since that point she had found herself uncomfortable several times already. Both in good ways and not such good ways. Now it was not so good and they did have to realistically wait until it got light out to go looking for his car.

"Ugh" she grunted.

He would be getting back out of the tub soon. She should probably find him something more substantial than a bathrobe to wear while they waited for his clothes to be finished washing and drying.

She thought that they were close enough to the same size that he could fit into a pair of her sweatpants that she used for working out in and also one of the big t-shirts she used for both exercising and sometimes sleeping in. The sweats might be a little too short on him and the shirt might be a bit too big but she did not think there was any way that his shoulders would fit into one of her regular sized t-shirts. She smiled to herself thinking about his shoulders.

All women had their favorite male body parts. She was partial to shoulders. She loved eyes too. A really good pair of eyes and the mind behind them made for some excellent foreplay as far as she was concerned. Her biggest weakness, though, was the part on a man that was just below his waistline but not down as far as his 'junk' . It was the part that showed when a guys pants started to slide off a little bit. Just below his hips. It made her lightheaded with the desire to touch them when she got a glimpse of those two sweet spots.

She had found that usually the parts on a guy that most women were attracted to had more to do with their character, sense of humor or the subconscious assessment of their ability to protect someone. What she liked best of all did not fit that stereotype. She wondered if her reaction was just base and shallow. She also wondered if that was how men felt when they saw a naked woman. If it was, she thought, it would suck to be a guy. It was nice to get a look now and then, but it drove all of the other thoughts right out of her head when it happened and the temptation was nearly overwhelming. Every single time. Even with total strangers. She could not imagine trying to deal with that on a daily basis.

Come to think of it, she would get Timmy a pair of her smaller sweatpants to wear. She did not want to have them try to slide off of him and suddenly an extra long shirt seemed like a really good idea too. Damn. Now she was thinking about it. She was picturing her kryptonite spots on him. The man who was completely naked in her bathtub at that very moment. The same person she had already seen with no clothes on. Yup. It would be difficult to be a guy alright.

Maybe it was a two door day after all.

She went to the laundry room where she kept her gym clothes again and found her smallest pair of sweats and an extra large t-shirt. He was going to look ridiculous, which was just fine with her. Now that she had interacted with him she would have to say that he was, in fact, attractive. He did not have the chiseled features or the bulging muscles and the long thick hair like the absurd images on the front of romance novels but she had never found those appealing anyway. She found it hard to believe that any woman actually did. She thought that body builders looked downright disgusting but an average looking guy who is laughing and playing with a little kid would make any woman stop and take notice. All women knew that one. It was shame that not all men knew that. They would get laid a lot more easily and more often if they knew what actually got a woman's attention. Any guy with a puppy was a sure thing too but those were few and far between.

A man who smells nice does not even have to be good looking or have a kid or a puppy. It amazed her that men in general had not noticed that. Every time a good smelling man walks past a woman, any woman, she will turn to take a look. She would already be expecting him to be attractive before she had even laid her eyes on him. Callie thought it was fun to watch. Any time she was in a mall or grocery a store or anywhere that there are a lot of people in a confined space she could see it happening. As soon as she caught a whiff of aftershave, long before anyone else did, she would stop and watch the effect it had on the ladies. It usually did not hit them until the guy had walked past them already, but then, without even being aware that they were doing it, every single female head would turn searching for the source of the yummy smell. It was like watching a swimming school of fish or a flock of birds flying in unison. On rare occasions a woman would just keep walking but she would have a private smile on her face. She liked those women the best of all. Those women knew exactly the effect it had on them and they enjoyed it.

She eventually became aware that she had been just standing there thinking while still holding the clothes in one hand.

Well, that is embarrassing, she thought. She was beginning to suspect it had been too long since she had had a fling of any kind. She would have to add that to her 'to do' list soon apparently. But not today. She just needed to get today over with. Besides, Timmy did not strike her as a casual sex kind of a person anyway.

The door to her 'froo froo' room was wide open when she got to it. Uh oh. If the bathroom door was open too she might have a problem. She did not want to see him taking a bath. As she stepped cautiously into the room she could see that the bathroom door was pulled part of the way shut. She could hear little splashing noises coming from the bathtub. He would not be able to see her unless he happened to look in the mirror just right. She would risk it she decided. It was important to get more clothes put on him. Keeping an eye on the bathroom door she quickly set the clothes on the bed where she really hoped he would notice them. Putting her finger to her lips she made a 'shhhh...' gesture to Ted who was staring at her from amongst the pillows. He did not say anything but she could tell he was amused by her sneaking around.

She made a hasty retreat and found herself standing in the hallway wondering what to do. She really did not want to spend the next few hours getting to know Timmy any better. It was not in her to be rude and just ignore him either. They had already done the food thing. She did have a huge T.V.. People loved to watch T.V. and not talk to each other right? She did not watch much television herself but she had an extensive movie collection and a special room built just for watching them. It was the only room on the ground floor that had no windows. She had designed it to be sort of a little theater. She had stopped just short of putting in theater seating and had a big wrap around sofa to sit on, or lay down on, instead. There was a big carnival style popcorn machine in one corner of the room that was well stocked with all of the fun stuff that goes with one. She had several different kinds of toppings, napkins, and of course the great big cardboard tubs with the red and white stripes on them. She could never finish and entire tub by herself but she always filled them to the top anyway.

She had to dig around in the sofa cushions for awhile before she found all the correct remote controls to turn everything on. The room had a top of the line surround sound system and recessed lighting in the ceiling that could both be adjusted remotely. She had even had some of those lights that came in long clear tubes that were put along the aisles in a theater so that you could still see a little bit even when all of the other lights were off. She did not have any isles so she had put them at the base of the three walls that did not have a screen on them instead. They made her feel happy. She had not quite hung a big velvet curtain that could be pulled aside dramatically to reveal the screen yet, but if she was honest with herself she did still kind of want to do it.

Her hyper vigilance must have kicked back in again because she noticed that she could hear the water draining out of the bathtub all the way in the other room. It would seem that he was not interested in taking a nice leisurely soak nor to enjoy the jets while he was there. Please find the clothes, please find the clothes' she chanted mentally. He was out of the tub at that point and he was taking a while to come out of the bedroom so it was a safe bet that he would be wearing her clothes when he did come out.

"I'm in here!" she yelled down the hall to him.

She had not given him the house tour yet so he would just have to come find her.

"Um..." he said hesitantly."Okay. These clothes are for me right?"

"Yup," she answered.

She was powering up the movie room when she felt him come up behind her. Here we go, she thought. Now begins several awkward hours with a guy I don't even know.

When she turned around and saw him standing there in front of her she doubled over with laughter. She had been wrong. They were not about the same size as each other at all. Her little sweatpants were tight on his thighs and the cuffs came up nearly to his knees. His shoulders were not as broad as she had imagined that they were either. He was practically swimming in her shirt. She could not believe that he had humored her and tried them on at all let alone that he let her see him dressed that way. He just watched her with his hands on his hips.

"Are you finished yet?"

She gasped for breath and glanced up at him. "No. Oh my god. Why are you wearing them?!" She was still laughing.

"Because you wanted me to."

Wow. She stopped laughing instantly. He had only been partly joking.

She stood up straight and made herself smile. "I think we can do better than that. Come with me."

He followed her back to the laundry room and she pointed to some shelves stacked with folded clothes.

"In there. You figure it out. Wear whatever you want to," and with that she gently closed the door behind her and went back to the movie room.

A few minutes later he came back dressed in a pair of grey pajama bottoms that she had not known had gotten mixed in with the other clothes she had meant to put on the shelves and a slightly snug olive green t-shirt. Oh damn. He did not look even a little bit silly dressed like that. One tug and those pajama bottoms would slide right down a couple of inches. It would have been so easy to do it.

"You're not laughing this time. I take it this is better," he grinned.

Well kinda... she thought. "Uh huh. You're good now," she told him.

"So this is very cool," he said looking around the room they were in.

"Thanks. I designed it myself. It's my temple to the cinema. The movies are over there." She pointed to a wall of cupboards full of movies. "The popcorn is in the cart, the remotes are on the table and I'm going to go jump in the shower now." A cold, cold shower, she told herself. Did that even work for girls? She was not convinced that it would help any.

He was looking at all of the buttons on the remotes in awe and simply nodded his head to acknowledge that he had heard her. Men and toys. She had lost him. He looked like he had just entered heaven on a day pass. He would be perfectly fine while she was gone. He might not even notice that she had left at all. He certainly would not have any trouble with distracting himself from her nakedness she figured. Sigh.

I must be in a coma, he thought. I hit my head really hard and now I'm actually lying in a hospital bed somewhere and living out a wild fantasy in my mind. Saved by wolves, alone in this dream mansion with a gorgeous woman who cooks, has a fascinating mind, and is taking her clothes off at this very minute...Yeah, this can't be real, he told himself. What the hell, I might as well imagine that I'm watching something while I'm here.

With that, he began to read the titles on the movie boxes and trying to choose something to watch. Then he found what he really wanted to see.

"No way," he said out loud. Then he added to himself in his head, If any of this does turn out to be real I may just have to marry her. He had found out that she owned copies of every single Muppet Show ever made.

## Chapter four

She was not in the right frame of mind to stand and let a waterfall cascade over her shoulders so she headed to bathroom that had he had already warmed up for her. As she walked down the hall she mused about his fascination with the movie room. She sighed a little, already anticipating that he would almost certainly have to choose an action film to really give the little theater a good test run. She actually enjoyed big explosions and ridiculous fight scenes once in awhile. They were nothing like real life, as she knew only too well, but perhaps it was the campy nature of them that appealed to her. They allowed her to take a step back from the harsh reality of the actual violence that had at times been her whole world.

When she stepped into the bathroom she felt herself starting to relax again. Maybe it would not be so bad spending a few hours doing something as mundane as watching a movie. She had not done it in a long time and could not even remember that last time she had actually watched one with another person. She could have a quick shower, watch a movie, and maybe even make some popcorn. She snorted quietly and she thought to herself, maybe I can finally finish a whole tub of popcorn with someone to help me. Then she would drive him to his car and that would be that. He would go back to his own life and it would be like it never even happened. She would just chalk it up to one of life's little mini adventures. She thought about how nice it was to have a small one for a change. Adventures, for her, had rarely been simple. Nor had they been pleasant.

Stepping out of her pornographic pajamas, she kicked them half heartedly into a corner and felt another wave of warmth on her cheeks. It was embarrassing her still. It was also very funny, she had to admit. She'd had every intention of throwing them away at the time but now as she looked at the rumpled pile on the bathroom floor she knew she would not. She was smiling. That also did not happen in her life very often. She would keep them like a souvenir of sorts and she probably would wear them again. She knew that they would continue to make her smile each time she did it too.

She decided right away that cold showers were no fun at all but they were certainly distracting. She washed herself quickly and then climbed out and wrapped a big bath towel around her torso, picked up her pajamas, and went to her room to get dressed. She dressed, as usual, in Western Washington camouflage which actually consisted of warm socks, jeans, a tank top, and a flannel shirt. It was human camouflage. If one wanted to blend into the scenery among the people where she lived, it was the outfit to wear. Between her clothes and the brisk temperature of the shower she was feeling distinctly less aroused.

Maybe there is some truth to the old cold shower thing after all, she mused to herself.

She could smell popcorn being popped and felt both amused and a bit sad that he had made some. She liked that he had done it at all but it was a little thing that she had always done by herself before and this was likely to be the only time she would ever have had it made for her. She was beginning to feel a little emotionally bombarded. It was not something she had felt in a very, very long time. She tried to tell herself that it was the unexpected nature of his presence in her life that had caught her off guard. She was not ready to accept that it could actually be the man himself who was having this effect on her.

When she stepped through the doorway to the theater room he was just topping off a tub of popcorn.

"Extra butter okay? It really isn't theater popcorn without it you know" he said without turning around.

"It's the only way to go really" she agreed.

She then saw what he had cued up and had paused on the screen while he had been waiting for her to come back from the bathroom.

She grinned and shot him an incredulous look.

"Muppets? Seriously?" she asked.

It was a rhetorical question. She beamed at him and grabbed the bucket of popcorn from him and all but bounced to the sofa.

As she jumped onto the sofa and tucked her feet under herself she said "There are drinks in the mini fridge. Grab me a Coke?"

She caught the bottle with ease as he playfully tossed it to her.

"You might not want to open that right away." He grinned mischievously.

He sat near enough to her to be friendly but not uncomfortably so. She set the popcorn between them and they settled in to watch an episode of the Muppet Show.

One episode turned into several episodes until finally she said, during the ending credits to the most recent one they had watched, "I have got to pee like crazy!"

"I've had to pee for the last hour" he laughed "but I was having too much fun to stop."

"Lucky for you I have more than one toilet, huh?" she said.

When they both got up and headed to the bathrooms they stopped, at the same time, and stared at the daylight that had crept up while they were not paying attention.

"Oh." She said quietly as the implication of it being light out hit her.

The way she said it made his breath catch and his chest ache.

How could one little word say so much? He wondered. And how could it be so heartbreaking?

They both stood there for a moment not speaking. It felt like getting caught doing something embarrassing.

"Well then" she said a bit too cheerfully. "You get to go home now."

"Yes. I guess I do." He paused as if he wanted to say more but he didn't say anything else.

In the short time he had known her she had made it quite clear that this was not going to be an ongoing friendship. There was no point in asking to exchange phone numbers even though he found himself wishing that there was.

"I'd better get dressed" he said.

"The good news is, your clothes should be very dry by now. The bad news is, they are probably also really wrinkled and I don't even own an iron." She told him.

"I'll live" he said.

"I'm going to get my shoes and car keys. I'll meet you outside" she told him.

He nodded and went to get dressed.

She had left her boots by the front door. She usually kicked off her shoes as soon as she came into the house. That is if she had been wearing shoes to begin with. She preferred to be barefoot but she also enjoyed wearing a really nice pair of shoes sometimes. Or in this case, boots. They were not the practical kind used for hiking. These were expensive, strappy, floozy boots with a slight heel. She thought of them as her 'town' boots. She pulled them on with satisfaction and started to get her car keys.

She was sure that she had left them on the dresser in her bedroom but now that she actually needed them, she did not find them there. She got down on her hands and knees and checked underneath the dresser but she only found fuzzy little nasties that had been collecting there for a long time. She went to her computer area and looked around and under everything she could find but to no avail. Living alone, and being a creature of habit, it just was not really possible for them to have gotten very lost. She went back to the dresser and shoved it away from the wall. Still, she found no keys. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the dresser for awhile trying to think of anywhere else they could possibly be.

Eventually she noticed that her underwear drawer, which she kept her bras in for when she bowed to the social convention of wearing one in public, was slightly ajar. Shaking her head at herself she walked over to it and pulled it open further and rummaged around with one hand until, sure enough, she felt the keys nestled amongst her frilly things.

"Gotcha." She murmured.

Dropping them into the front pocket of her jeans she went out on to the porch to look for Timmy. She found him admiring the rose bushes she had growing up the walls on each side of the entrance to her house. He had his back to her but when he heard the front door close he spoke to her.

"You know, I saw roses like this once before."

Callie became very still.

"They could bloom in the middle of winter just like these" he continued. "I was hired to photograph them for some crazy genetic engineer. He was creepy as hell but I'll never forget the flowers. He named them after his daughter."

It was at this point that he turned around to face her and found her standing inches from him. She had moved so silently he did not know she was right behind him.

The color had drained from her face. She was trembling slightly.

"Her name was Accalia"

The way he said it while looking deep into her eyes made it clear that he had just made the connection between her and the flowers. SHE was Accalia.

She was also suddenly quite dangerous looking.

Before he could say or do anything else she had deftly taken his car keys and cell phone from him. She was visibly shaking and nearly as white as the snow around them then. With her eyes still locked onto his she brought her fingers to her lips and blew a deafening whistle. He was stunned speechless when she then turned and started to run towards the front gate. She gained speed as she got closer and in one breathtaking leap she had cleared the top of the gate entirely. As he watched her drop expertly, and un-phased, to ground on the other side just as two wolves appeared beside her.

He heard her tell them "If he tries to leave kill him."

Then she started running again. She ran straight into the woods and disappeared.

The wolves looked at him through the fence and there was no doubt in his mind that they would do exactly what she had asked of them. He just had no idea why.

Callie was running on an animal trail. The branches whacked her in the face as she ran. Her boots were slowing her down and as she ran she pulled them off and tossed them aside. Running faster then, she put an arm up to fend off the worst of the brush as she ran. She did not even notice the cold on her feet. It was a byproduct of her 'modifications'.

Modifications! She thought. That is what the scientists had called what they had done to her as if the word was any less horrific than the truth.

Truth! She screamed inside her head. Fucking truth! Why the hell had she told a total stranger her real name?! One moment of weakness was all it had taken. Just one second and the damage had been done. How much did he know? How much could he possibly figure out now?

The running had been pure instinct. She had to put distance between them. It felt good. Even the sting of the branches and brambles hitting her as she ran felt good. She was not trapped. She would never be trapped again. She had escaped before. She could do it again. She had killed two people the last time- that she knew of. Several more were injured and possibly dead. One of them had been her 'father'. He had been the "crazy genetic engineer".

She ran even faster. Her breath was coming harder then and she was feeling hot and stifled. She tugged the flannel shirt off that she was wearing and dropped it in the snow as she ran.

She could kill Timmy and the problem would be gone. Nobody would ever know the difference. It was the smart thing to do. She could not be exposed. Not ever again. How could he not know who she was? What were the odds that it was some colossal coincidence? The odds were not good and everything she had ever learned about betrayal pointed to her having been set up. They could be coming for her right now.

She had to think. She slowed her pace to a trot. What if he really did not know anything? It would have been pretty risky to intentionally stage an injury like that. No one could possibly have expected Rogue to bring him to her. She could not believe that Rogue would have brought him to her if it had been a set up. He was too smart and too wary to fall for a trick like that.

She was walking now and came out into a clearing. She had come to the top of the mountain without even having noticed. The view was spectacular on top of the mountain. Her mountain. She stood for a few minutes calming her heartbeat and slowing her breathing. She needed to decide what she was going to do. It was moments like this that she wished she was a sociopath. It would be so easy to simply remove the threat to her security if she were. She was starting to feel foolish for running away the way she had. Her very first reaction when she saw the recognition dawn in his eyes was to neutralize (that was another polite word for an atrocity she used to hear growing up) him on the spot. That was the real reason she had run from him.

I'll bet he's freaked out right about now, she thought.

She tried to muster a twinge of guilt for scaring him but she could not do it. Maybe she was a smidge sociopathic. Was it possible to learn to be a sociopath? She was not sure about that. She suspected it was the wrong word for what she felt. She felt hard and empty.

She also felt weary. Her socks were wet and floppy. It struck her as so absurd that she started laughing. It bubbled up from deep inside of her until she was practically gasping for breath.

Bad ass scary wolf chick on top of a mountain with soggy floppy socks. Yeah, they don't put THAT stuff in the movies do they? Where the hell did I put my boots?

She was calm finally. That last burst of hysteria had cleared the fog away. She knew what she had to do. She had to find out exactly what Timmy knew about her. Ironically, the best way to find that out would be to tell him the complete truth about herself and her past. She was practically a walking lie detector considering how well she could read people. She would watch him as she talked to him and she knew she would see any glint of falseness in his responses as she talked. Then she would know if she would have to kill him or not.

What she did not know was what the hell to do if she told him everything and he was completely innocent after all. That and she had no idea where her favorite boots were. Suddenly it seemed to her that she had run a very long ways. She sighed and headed back down the mountain.

## Chapter five

Timothy just stood and stared at the gate, and the wolves for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Obviously he had said something wrong. That was nothing new. Men frequently said the wrong things to women unwittingly. Sometimes it left the women grumpy and the men confused but what absolutely did not happen was that the woman in question would casually jump an eight foot tall fence and call a couple of timber wolves to kill you if you made the wrong move because of it. THAT part was new. He was too stunned to even be scared at first.

Then he started to walk himself through it.

Okay he thought. She did not like the thing about the roses. I don't see why. That seems kind of nice, having a rose named after you. I'll set that aside for now. She was so upset that I knew a rose was named after her that she is ready to kill me now.

Yeah. That was the big thing wasn't it? Aside from the super hero jumping that is.

It was starting to occur to him to be a little frightened. What did he really know about her? Not much actually. She knew how to dress a head wound. Sort of. She had not wanted to kill him until he had admired her flowers. She had some seriously intimidating four legged friends. She had a big house in the middle of nowhere and a great movie collection. The mansion in the middle of nowhere was probably significant he supposed.

None of that actually explained what had just happened. He did not really know what was going on, where she had gone, when she would be back, or what she would do when she did come back. What he did know was that now that he had timber wolves glaring at him he was not very comfortable being outside. Still watching them watching him, he slowly moved towards the front door. He tried the knob. It was locked. Uh oh.

He tried it again. It was still locked.

He had to tell himself to stay calm. It was very important to stay calm above all else. When dealing with unstable people under stressful conditions it was always the wise thing to do. He had years of experience to back that up. Hell, he had a Ph.D. to back that up.

Still not taking his eyes off the wolves, he slowly sank into a sitting position with his back against the door. He was out of ideas as to what he should do next. It was not really a 'do something' moment. The only reasonable thing to do was to wait until something changed and then figure out what to do about THAT. Based on the way she talked and the way he had just seen her move he did not even entertain the idea of looking for some kind of weapon. He knew there would be no point in trying to challenge her in any way physically. For a second he wondered if that said anything about him as a man. It did, he decided. It meant he was not a stupid man. He was okay with that.

He was starting to get really cold when he saw the wolves tense and prick up their ears. They watched in the direction that Callie had run in to the woods. It was several moments before she came into sight. He braced himself for whatever was coming next. Then he noticed that her body language had completely changed since he had last seen her. She was not terrifying anymore. She still looked dangerous but she did not look as unpredictable as she had before. Especially because she was carrying her flannel shirt over her arm and one boot in her left hand. Just the one boot. For some reason that he could not fathom, she was walking through the snow in her socks. It did not seem to bother her at all.

Even from quite a ways away he could see the abrasions on her forearms. It looked like she had recently wrestled with a mountain lion. For all he knew, she may have done just that. There were twigs in her hair. It would have been cute to him under any other circumstances. When she reached the gate she said something to the wolves too quietly for him to hear, then like smoke on breeze, they were simply gone.

She stopped to enter a code at the gate. Apparently she was no longer in the mood for jumping. His heart started to beat harder as the gate opened and she stepped through it towards him.

"What the hell? Why didn't you go inside the house? You must be freezing." She called to him as she crossed to the porch.

He supposed it was better to have her concerned about his comfort rather than ready to end his life but he also suspected that she was capable of doing both of those things at once if she had to.

"I..uh..." he stammered. Finally he just said "it's locked."

She rolled her eyes as she brushed past him and keyed a code in at the front door. He felt a twinge of irritation at her. It was not HIS damned fault if he was locked out! Then he thought he must be seriously losing his mind and started a mantra in his head of "don't piss off the crazy lady, don't piss off the crazy lady.."

Their eyes met as she held the door open for him and was clearly expecting him to step inside. The strange thing was that even right up close she really did not look crazy. Not really.

As he walked past her into the house she said, wearily, "We need to talk."

"No shit." He said right back at her.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise but he would swear that a tiny smile flitted past on her face as well.

Yeah, you might be scary but I want some answers too. Especially if you're gonna kill me. It seems only fair. He thought.

She walked straight to her room, and with door wide open, she casually started stripping down to nothing. He averted his eyes and wondered just where they were supposed to have this little chat. He also wondered how long she was going to stay naked. Her being naked would seriously impair his ability to think clearly. It seemed very important to keep thinking straight under the circumstances.

He decided that the living room just off the kitchen seemed like a neutral place to wait for her. He had sort of wanted to get a better look at it when they had been having breakfast anyway. Or was it dinner? Or a midnight snack. Whatever that had been it seemed like a very long time ago to him now.

Absurdly, he found himself wondering why she did not have a Christmas tree set up. Christmas was only a couple of days away. He knew that it was not likely that she entertained for the holidays. She did not seem to like company much. To put it mildly. But still, a Christmas tree is a Christmas tree. He had not put one up himself, he realized, but somehow it seemed as if she should have.

When she came into the room she was dressed very much like she had been the first time. He was sitting to one side on the larger of the two sofas in the room. She came and sat, cross legged, on the floor in front of him. He found that choice interesting. She was clearly the one in control of the situation and yet she was allowing him to have the higher ground. Literally. In terms of psychology, it was an indication of submission which was very much at odds with the reality of the dynamic they were involved in together. He wondered if she could possibly have been aware of that and if she had done it intentionally to try to make herself seem less threatening. Most people did these things subconsciously but with Callie he had to wonder.

She had, in fact, done it deliberately. It was a very effective tool to use during the kind of interrogation she was about to conduct. Someone who has nothing to hide will feel empowered and they will feel more comfortable that way. They will be easier to read because they are less nervous. Someone who is trying to manipulate and deceive someone else will also feel empowered and think that they have the upper hand and they are far more likely to be careless because of that. Either way, it served her purpose. Besides, she liked sitting on the floor.

He just looked at her and waited. Silence, as he knew, was powerful stuff. It frequently said more than speaking did if you were paying attention to it. She looked down in her lap for a minute before she started speaking. It was as if she was collecting herself for something difficult to explain.

"Here's the deal" she said, meeting his eyes at last. "I don't know what the hell to do with you."

She saw a flicker of concern but not actually fear in his look. If he was under deep cover he should have been far more alarmed by that statement. He looked more puzzled than terrified. She paused. He still did not say anything. He was waiting for an explanation. That was good. If he already knew exactly what was going on he would not be feeling like he deserved one. Most people talked a lot when they were trying to hide something. They tried to pretend to act the way they THOUGHT they should which was almost never the way an actual person would for real in the same situation.

"First of all, I'm not going to apologize."

She saw a flash of anger at that. That was also good. It is hard to fake that.

"What I am going to do is tell you my life's story. I have never told anyone my life's story before because having anybody know it could be very dangerous for me. And for them, but I can't think a of a way around it at the moment."

Now he was just listening. It was a little odd how practiced he seemed at that. She made a mental side note of it. I was not exactly a 'tell' that somebody was a spy, it was just unusual.

She blew out a deep breath. "Okay, here goes" she said.

Never flinching or taking her eyes away from his face she began really talking.

"I'm not like other people. " She had expected a snort or a smile or fear at that. His face did not register anything but 'I'm listening'.

"I was genetically engineered to become a possible prototype for a new kind of soldier. It was a privately funded experiment. It wasn't the government. Not that being a military experiment is any better. My 'father', and I use the term lightly as he was never a father in the sense that other people mean it, was the mastermind behind the whole thing. The "Facility" as everyone called it, had several projects going at once but this was his main work. His idea was to blend wolf and human DNA to make an enhanced human being. No, I don't have any idea exactly how he did that and no, it didn't work. Not in the sense that they had hoped for anyway. I do not turn into a werewolf during the full moon. I don't get blood lust. I'm omnivorous... You get the idea. As near as anyone can tell, and trust me, they tested me in every possible way for years- the only thing different about me from normal people is physical prowess. You are looking right at me. I'm not huge. I don't look any weirder than anyone else. You probably noticed that I can jump well. Yeah. That's about it. I have extra stamina and my senses are more capable than normal. I can see, hear, and smell things from an extraordinary distance. My sense of touch is, well, extremely sensitive. And I can jump, run, and swim longer and faster than other people. That's it. It's something sure, but it isn't what they were hoping for."

She paused. He still said nothing but he looked.. interested. Not scared, not disbelieving, just interested.

She continued. "But, it was something and they had a kid who could perform well and was completely under the radar as far as the rest of the world was concerned. I didn't exist. So, as part of trying to find out what my 'enhancements' could do for them, I was trained all my life in all of the various forms of combat. Which is, ultimately, why I don't own an iron."

He did actually smile a little at that and raised one eyebrow ever so slightly as an indication that he would like to know how those two things were connected.

She could not help herself. She smiled back. Unless something changed dramatically, she was sure now that this was all news to him. He had not had any idea who she really was until just now.

"I don't own an iron because my entire life I was highly trained in everything except for just living. By the time I was ten years old, I could take down a Navy Seal. No kidding, they really did give me retired Navy Seals to play with when I was a kid. My clothes appeared, pressed and ready to go my entire life. Just like food. Imagine my delight when I found out that food could taste good! I didn't find that out until I was on my own and had to learn how to feed myself. But laundry..not so much. I suck at laundry. I can make it clean but I can't make it pretty. For the life of me I can't use an iron correctly."

"Anyway, to make a really long and grim story short, I was a smart kid. I'm told my I.Q. maxed out the I.Q. test so they don't actually know what it is. That's fine. I don't want to know. I was smart enough even from a very young age to figure out that the answers to all of my questions that nobody would answer were all locked up in various computer files. There were other kids there too and some of them had extraordinary computing skills that were being tested and developed. We saw each other and had some classes together but we weren't allowed to become what you would call friends. That was actually smart. Together we would have taken down the entire organization. Even as children."

"What I figured out by watching those kids though, was that the ones with those skills were watched extremely closely and every possible security protocol was put in place when any of them was anywhere near a computer. So I made sure that I wasn't one of those kids. I played dumb so well that it was a running joke that Accalia could barely turn on a computer let alone use one. They thought it was a glitch of some kind as a kick back for tampering with my DNA sequencing. That's exactly what they were supposed to think.

So, I waited and watched. For years." She sighed, then continued.

"I was seventeen before I got my chance. I lifted a key card from a newbie at the Facility and I got a security bypass code from someone else and I was in. It's funny, once I had access to everything they were hiding from me I found myself looking first for my mother. I hadn't meant to. I didn't think it really mattered to me. Family was an alien concept to me anyway. But there I was, desperately searching for traces of her first.

I found her. She had been a first year med student and she had been given an obscene amount of money to carry me to term. She then died mysteriously during childbirth. No doubt on the lethal end of a hypodermic needle. It was pretty much what I had expected to find. There was a photo. She looked like me. That surprised me."

Tears welled up in her eyes but did not spill. It was incredibly painful watching that far away look on her face and wondering how anyone could still be so human after all of that had been to them. He did not say anything. He did not want to break the rhythm of her story and he wanted to hear it all.

She blinked a few times and cleared her throat a little. "Next I found my file, but once I had it open, I didn't want to look at it. All of my life I had thought that's what I wanted more than anything. Once it was right there, I didn't want to know. So, I didn't read it. But, I did read the proposal for the Remus and Romulus Project associated with it. My name, Accalia, it means she-wolf in Latin but it is also the name of the foster mother of Remus and Romulus from Greek legend. They had been raised by a wolf before being turned over to their foster mother Accalia. I tell ya. " she shook her head. "Scientists have a much deeper, and more twisted sense of humor that people give them credit for. The idea was to harvest some of my eggs and reintroduce even more wolf DNA to them and make male twins from them. If nothing else, they would undergo training as fighting team of two and extra strong twins at that."

She said nothing for a moment.

"That's when I knew it was time to go. While I was in the project data base I redirected the funding for it- well over a billion dollars- to a Swiss bank account. And then I left."

Finally he spoke. "You left? Surely it wasn't that easy."

" Well, that might have been an understatement. The short version of THAT story is that while I left a couple of people died, a bunch of people got hurt and I spent some time on the run. Then I found a young woman who bore a passing resemblance to me and I paid for her to go on the trip of her dreams in Europe for three months. I told her some of the truth. That I needed to disappear and she could help me. If she ever told anyone she would probably die. So, "Accalia" was seen and filmed boarding a plane to Europe where she checked into a hotel near Heathrow- also well documented- and killed herself. Some well paid police officers and a corrupt coroner and it was a done deal. That young lady was whisked discreetly off to France where I sincerely hope she had the time of her life."

He was nodding his head in amazement and looking at her like..well, like she was special.

"Meet Ashley Miller" she gestured at herself. "Rich, reclusive, and 'seems nice'. It's also what I should have said when you asked me who I was."

She added quietly, "I will apologize for that. I should never have told you who I was. I should not have dragged you into my world."

He still did not say anything but his body language was speaking volumes. He was feeling pain on her behalf. That was something she had not seen before. At the Institute she sometimes saw guilt and shame but not once had she seen someone aching for her wounds. It was new to her. It was also making her uncomfortable.

She stood up and said "Let's try this again." She then said "Mr. Bew, my name is Ashley Miller. " she extended one hand which he automatically shook.

"Ms. Miller, it is a pleasure to meet you" he said with mock seriousness.

"You said that you hadn't told anyone where you had been going when you came here. Are there people expecting you back any time soon? " she asked.

"Uh. No. I'm going back to work on Monday after Christmas though. Someone there would probably notice if I never showed up" he said cautiously.

"In that case Mr. Bew, I would like to extend my hospitalities to you through the weekend. You have suffered a serious head wound and it seems prudent to have you looked after until such a time as your recovery is complete. As you can see, I have plenty of room."

"And if I said no?' he asked.

"All kidding aside, I wouldn't suggest it." There was, if not an actual threat in her words, an implied warning.

He went straight to the point. "So, I take it you're still not sure about me huh?"

"Nope" was all she said.

"In that case Ms. Miller, I would be delighted. But call me Tim."

She smiled a little. It did not quite reach her eyes. He could see that she still felt an inner conflict about how to handle her security breech.

"Well then, Tim, I'm going to go into town to pick up some things. I'll be gone for a few hours. You are welcome to anything you can find and you're also welcome to explore while I'm gone. If you get bored you already know how to use the theater and there is more stuff to do downstairs. You can use anything and go anywhere you want but do not attempt to leave. That is the only rule. You won't be able to see them but I assure you, my friends will be keeping an eye on you while I'm gone."

He gave her a long and measuring look. "Okay" he said after awhile. He needed some time to think about this as well. It appeared that he was safely off the enemy list now but it also seemed pretty apparent that he was not entirely in the clear yet either. He wondered what lengths someone like Callie would go to if she felt she had to protect herself from him.

Someone like Callie, right. There WERE no people like Callie. That is kind of the point here, he thought grimly to himself.

Without another word she turned and left. The house seemed too quiet. The whole mountain seemed too quiet.

## Chapter six

As Callie drove down the familiar dirt road and headed to the small town at the base of the mountain she felt tired. Her head hurt from the sheer frustration of things having become so messy. She rarely allowed any complications into her life and when she did, they did not last very long. She also felt weak for even having talked to him. Before she knew he was being honest, things were pretty simple. Now, they were much less so and it was not over yet. Was it even possible to reach a point that she would trust him so completely as to just let him go? It was very hard for her to imagine that.

"So," she said aloud, "deal with today. Right here, right now. He isn't going anywhere."

She had not been down off the mountain in a few weeks and she was surprised to see that the normally sleepy little town was bustling with activity. She headed to Tiny's General Store. It was the place in town to get everything except for fresh groceries. It was one of her favorite places. Where else could you get freeze dried rice pilaf (city hikers loved stuff like that) guns, and bras in one store? She had once seen dehydrated water for sale there. The locals had a sense of humor she could appreciate and Buck, the guy who ran the place, swore that he had actually sold it before.

She had to drive around a little while to find a parking space which was odd. That was something she had always taken for granted here before. There was always plenty of room to park. The bells above the entrance to the store jangled just as she imagined they had done for at least fifty years now when customers had walked through the doors.

Before she had taken a dozen steps a big voice boomed out

"Ashleeee! How they hangin' girl? Long time no see."

"Big and proud, Buck. Big and proud!" she called back.

It was their standard greeting. She had become an honorary local along the way and Buck had been the first person in town to really give her the benefit of the doubt that she could be a nice addition to the community. Buck was a little like Rogue, in the sense that if Buck vouched for you, you must be okay. He was also big, intimidating, and dangerous if you got on his bad side. Aside from that he was a big old softie.

She had to weave her way through all of the people shopping to get to the counter where he stood, ginning like a giant Buddha in bib overalls.

When she got close enough, she leaned in and said in a stage whisper "What's with all the customers? Ya giving away free shotgun shells with each purchase or something?"

"Ash" he said, "you'd be surprised. Nah, it's just that folks that didn't get around to it are trying to finish up Christmas shopping shit quick on account of it being Christmas Eve. tomorrow. The missus'll have my nuts on platter if I don't get home by turkey time tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow? Are you sure?" she was genuinely surprised.

"Darlin' you have got to come off that mountain more often ya know that? Yeah it's tomorrow alright. I'm guessin' this means you ain't delivering cookies huh?" he asked with so much feigned sorrow in his voice that she laughed out loud.

"I'm running a little behind this year but I promise I'll bring them soon. Hey, can you point me to the men's clothes?" she asked.

His eyebrows shot up and he waggled them dramatically at her and leaner in close to her.

"Ya finally got yourself a feller have ya? Good for you Ash. I mean it. We all like you here and it just don't seem right, a girl like you, all alone all the time. I gotta say though, this is pretty juicy gossip."

"Thanks Buck but if we could keep this on the downlow I'd appreciate it. I don't know if it's going to get serious if you know what I mean" she said.

He leaned back and grinned even bigger and said "I dunno, you know my wife. She goes after gossip like a hound dog will worry a fresh bone. It might cost ya."

"Then I guess it's a good thing your silence can be bought isn't it?" she said. "What will it cost me?"

He pretended to think long and hard about that. "Ya know those oatmeal cookies you bake? Not the normal ones but them kind with the butterscotch bits? I think a dozen of those might just do it for now."

"You drive a hard bargain" she shook his huge calloused hand. "It's a deal."

The shop did not have any empty carts left available so by the time she got back to the counter her arms were piled high with jeans, t shirts, underwear, socks and a couple of sweaters. She dumped them unceremoniously on the counter in a big heap.

"Good lord" exclaimed Buck. "The price just went up. It's gonna cost you two dozen cookies. This looks like a bit bigger secret than you're letting on sugar."

"That's me. I'm just a cosmopolitan woman of mystery. Two dozen it is. And I promise, if he's a keeper you'll be the first to know."

He rang up her purchases, bagged them, and handed them to her. In a softer tone than his usual bellow (which she knew was a farce anyway as he was actually quite well educated and gentle) he said "Ash..Have yourself a Merry Christmas okay?"

Man. Genuine people could really hit you where it counts, she thought. She found herself choking up.

"You too. Merry Christmas to Tammy and the kids too." She started to leave then turned around called back to him "There any Christmas trees left in town to buy? It seems I'm going to need one."

The bellow was back. "I doubt it but darlin' if you haven't noticed, ya live on a damned MOUNTAIN. Your whole freakin' property is Christmas trees!"

She laughed. "Good point" she said as she went out the door.

God it felt good to laugh. He was right about the trees too. Can't see the forest for all the trees, right? She did a mental head slap.

Her next stop was the grocery store. Even in this remote corner of the world they had access to fresh foods from all over the planet. It never ceased to amaze her to find the things she did at the local grocery store. She paused by a pretty display that included cumquats. Seriously? Cumquats? They were kind of cool in their own quirky way but did anyone really eat them? She tried to picture a room full of loggers passing around a bowl of cumquats while watching Sunday night football. It just did not work. She then wondered what Timmy liked to eat.

Yeah. He's still Timmy to me, she thought.

When in doubt, go all out right?

By the time she had reached the check stand she was pretty sure she had gotten one of everything in the store. The bag boy had a hard time fitting everything back into the cart and as he precariously balanced the last bag on top he asked "Would you like help out ma'am?"

She stood with her hand on her hips and said "Ma'am?"

The poor guy blushed from head to toe and quietly corrected himself. "Would you like some help out Ashley?"

She chuckled and said "No, I've got this. Thanks anyway Michael".

She had known him since he had been in middle school and she could not help being bemused by his awkward transition into adulthood.

After she had stuffed the back of her SUV full of bags she piled the remaining groceries on the back seats. As she drove slowly through town she looked half heartedly for an open Christmas tree lot. Sure enough, she did not find any.

What she did find, however, was a line at the only espresso stand in town that was easily three times the length that it usually was. The Daily Grind was a busy place that time of the year. Callie found herself seriously craving a giant eggnog latte and she pulled up behind the last car in the line and settled in for a nice comfortable wait.

She was not quite sure how it had happened, but over the past couple of years she had developed a friendship of sorts with the barista Laura who ran the drive through espresso stand. While that might not be so puzzling in its self considering the friendly nature of the people who lived here, her specific friendship with Laura surprised her.

Laura was not just a woman, she was the kind of woman that Callie had not really believed actually existed in real life until she had met this one. Laura was cool. Her long hair was fluffy and had just the right number of blonde streaks running through it. She knew how to layer her clothes exactly right. She went to a tanning salon faithfully. She had just enough piercings to say to the world 'I'm sexy and bold but I'm not a punk' She wore a ring on her thumb and when she bent over to get something you could see the edges of the filigree tattoo she had spanning the space at the base of her spine and just above her buttocks.

Of course Callie had heard the term 'tramp stamp' but she did not like to think of Laura that way. Laura did not sleep around and she was not stupid. She was just a small town girl who wanted to feel a little bit sophisticated and a little bit wild. She was kind and fell in love at the drop of a hat. She would stop everything for a chance to snuggle a puppy. She sang in the church choir and had dreams of moving to the big city one day. She shared..information, it was not fair to call it gossip, Callie thought, when it was all the complete truth and told with compassion.

For some bizarre reason, Laura seemed to adore Callie. More importantly, she treated her like one of the girls. It might not have just been that an eggnog latte sounded so good to her that she would be willing to wait in line for twenty minutes for one. She marveled at not only by being accepted by one of the 'beautiful people' but also by the way Laura seemed to genuinely miss her and notice when she had not been by the coffee stand in awhile. If Callie started to become social at all she would give Laura her phone number first. As much as the idea of trying karaoke and attending pot lucks sent a thrill of fear shooting through her gut, she might actually try it for Laura some day.

When it was finally her turn to place her order and she had rolled down her driver's side window and started to lean out Laura squealed with delight.

"Ashley! Oh my god! I was soooo worried about you! It's been forever since you came here! I thought maybe I'd pissed you off or something! Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

Callie started laughing. Laura was speaking so quickly and with so much enthusiasm that she could not have gotten a word in edgewise if she had tried to. This had happened before and Callie loved her for it. One simply had to wait until Laura wound down like a bouncy wind-up toy before they tried to speak.

"And, oh my god! I've been dying to tell you- remember that online dating place I told you about? Well I have met the most incredible guy! I'm serious. You would love him! Oh, what are you drinking sweetie?"

"The biggest eggnog latte you can make. And yeah, I'm fine. I just got busy is all."

Laura shot her a look, as she started making the drink automatically, that clearly said 'how can you be busy in a place where nothing ever happens' but it didn't last long.

While paying for the coffee their hands touched briefly. Callie almost gagged when she heard herself say "I love your nails!" with actual enthusiasm.

She would have been far more comfortable if the comment had been a carefully dropped socially polite thing to have said but no, she had spontaneously blurted it right on the spot. Laura's long acrylic fingernails had been very carefully painted each with exquisitely detailed holly leaves on then and with tiny little garnet red rhinestones in the centers of them. Callie actually thought they were wonderful despite herself.

"Oh! Thanks! 'Tis the season' and all that. Oh! Hey! I'm soooo glad I caught you today! Tonight is the big Christmas thing at the church. You should totally come! It's gonna be fun and not too preachy, I swear. And..." here she dropped her voice to a stage whisper "the new veterinarian is coming. Everybody says he's hot AND he's single. I heard he's really nice but kinda picky. I'll bet you'd be perfect for him being that you're classy and everything."

Caliie was mortified and laughing at the same time at that last comment. She was classy? She should meet a guy? Woah. That's what people thought of her? Who was she kidding, she was still trying to accept that people thought of her at all.

"Tell ya what, I'll think about it."

Laura put her hands on her hips and raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"No, I'm serious. Why don't you give me one of those flyers I know you must have back there with all the information on it. I'll see what I can do."

Laura beamed as she fished around under the counter and stood back up with a piece of paper in her hand and handed it to Callie.

"Okay babe, be careful with this, it's super hot." She said while handing Callie the latte. "I figured you still had a long drive and I didn't want it to get too cold right away. If you don't come tonight PROMISE me you'll come back when I'm not so busy. We have sooo much to catch up on!"

"I promise. Merry Christmas!" she called out the window as she drove away.

Laura wiggled her finger tips at her and then threw her a kiss and moved on to helping the next person in line.

She found herself singing the half remembered lyrics of some old songs she knew and finally flipped on the radio and hunted around for music she could recognize. By the time she got back up the mountain she was singing full blast. She still had a problem, a big one, but she was also feeling strangely liberated as if a weight had been lifted. She decided not to dwell on it too long. It felt good. Who cared why it did.

When she got home she fumbled with the front door while carrying too many bags at once and finally wrestled them inside and put them on the counter. She did not see Timmy anywhere but she could hear someone doing laps in the pool downstairs. She was glad he had taken her advice and explored the house while she was gone. In addition to the pool, she had a weight room, sauna and a gun range under the main floor of the house. The gun range was securely locked up. She was not worried about that.

Once she had gotten her things all into the house, she bustled around and put away all the frozen things and left the rest on the counter. She wanted to get back out of the house before it got dark. She could see well in the dark but it was not as easy to do most things in the dark as it was to do things during the day. She went to the utility room at the end of the hallway and got out a long rope and a big axe. Timmy's keys were still in her pocket along with his phone and whistling the last song she had heard on the radio, she cheerfully let herself out and headed down the road on foot.

She figured it would not be too hard to find his car since there were only a few roads that fit the description he had given her. Even though he may not have told anyone where he was going, if an abandoned car sat for very long this time of year pretty soon Search and Rescue would be called in anyway. She broke into an easy trot and about five miles later she found what she had been looking for.

"Not bad", she to herself as she admired his car. She thought she would enjoy driving it.

She had no problem getting in and starting it up. She jumped a bit when the local public radio announcer started talking in that slow soothing way they had. She turned off the radio. She felt like a voyeur somehow listening to his radio without him there. She drove slowly craning her neck to look at trees as she drove past them.

"There you are, my pretty" she said as she spied just the right tree for her living room.

It did not take long to get it chopped and tied to the top of his car. The air was heavy with the glorious smell of fresh cut fir. She rolled down the window as she drove so she could smell it even better. The air was crisp and fresh and carried the whispers of fresh snow soon. She was not sure that there was any smell she loved more than the exact smell she was breathing in at that moment.

When she pulled back up to the house Tim was still drying off from the several laps in the pool he had just finished. It had felt good to work some of the tension out of his body. He had heard the car pulling up and thought, absurdly, that sounds just like my car. Stepping to the window he stopped drying his hair and just stared for a minute. It WAS his car. It was his car with a huge tree tied to the top of it. His very first thought was of concern for the paint job. His next thought was one of delight. This woman was full of surprises wasn't she? Not all of them were bad ones.

He went to his room and changed back into his clothes and headed out to help her with the tree. She was strong enough to do it by herself but the tree must have been fifteen feet tall and it was much wider at the base than the doorway was wide. They wrestled it into the living room and stood back and looked at it the way people do when they have just wrestled a big tree into a room. There is that moment of accomplishment mixed with 'dear god, now what do we do with it'.

"I don't suppose you brought beer?" he asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact I did", she beamed proudly at him. It had been an afterthought and she had actually turned the cart around to get it because although she hardly ever drank beer, it had occurred to her that he might.

"We may have to put some of that away before we can find it though." She grimaced and gestured to the overflowing counter top.

He laughed when he saw it. "I'm a pretty good cook. Why don't you let me take care of this while you figure out how we're going to make that tree stand up."

She hesitated. Then she said "Yeah, that'd be great" as lightly as she could.

He met her eyes and held them with his own. "Callie, it is okay, you know. It's okay to let someone do nice things for you."

He turned and walked away from her before things got awkward and he said under his breath. "And it's about damned time SOMEBODY did it."

She went to get a tree stand while he started to unload the bags of food. Piled with them, he found the clothes she had bought him. It made him uneasy. Just how long was she planning to keep him for, he wondered. He did not say anything about it when she came back. He was not sure that he wanted to know the answer to that question. He found the beer and he took two bottles out and opened them. He took one to her and she wrinkled her nose a little at it as she sniffed it but then she smiled and said "thanks" and took a long swallow.

He set his on the counter and started to put things away until he came across the bag of cumquats. He held them up and said "I always wondered who ate these things"

"Oh, I don't eat them. I thought you might." She said.

He chuckled. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even tried one. You eat them whole right?"

"I think so." She said.

He popped one in to his mouth and a moment later he was spitting it dramatically into the sink and grimacing. He grabbed his beer and tried to wash the taste back out of his mouth while she threw back her head and laughed at him.

"No. I do not eat them." He told her.

He found a small glass bowl and dumped them into it and set it to one side. He thought that they were at least festive to look at. He also thought that if Callie has any idea how attractive she was when she laughed like that it would probably startle her. He kept that thought to himself as he put away the rest of the groceries.

He saved out the ingredients for making chili and cornbread and while he cooked he watched her set up the tree. They shared a companionable silence as they each did their own thing. He kept stealing glances at her as she very carefully selected and hung each ornament. He smiled to himself as she would stand back to look at the tree once in awhile and then reach over and move an ornament an inch or two. She was in her own world and it was clear that she wanted it just right.

Finally, it seemed, she had it exactly the way she wanted it and she turned around and as if noticing the food for the first time she said "My god, that smells wonderful! I'm starving."

They shared dinner while sitting at the counter and admiring the tree. After dinner she announced that it was time for the star to be placed on top. She walked over to a box on the floor and pulled out the big elegant star that was to be the final touch. She walked over and handed it to him.

"I.." he started, dumbfounded.

"Just do it" she said.

They walked over to the step ladder that she had left by the tree and he climbed to the top step. He still had to stretch up to touch the top of the tree. She was standing by his side, not quite hovering, and he had to wonder why she wanted him to do this. Clearly trusting him to do it right was not easy for her.

As he reached up she glanced over and saw his shirt pull up just enough to expose the top of his jeans. Which were sliding down a little.

Holy shit, she thought. Don't look, don't look, don't look..She looked.

For a moment she could not breathe. She could just lean over and take a nibble if she wanted to.

"How's that?" he asked.

"How's what?" she managed to say hoarsely.

He looked down at her, still holding the star in one extended hand, wondering if she was okay. She sounded weird.

"Oh! The star! Yeah, that's perfect right there" she said.

As he climbed down off the step ladder he said "You okay?"

She laughed, trying to make it sound light. "Yeah, you know, Christmas and stuff. It makes me wishy washy sometimes. Hey, whadda say we leave the dishes for in the morning. I think I'm going to head to bed."

With that said, she did not wait for an answer. She picked up the empty boxes that were strewn about on the floor and left the room. He could hear her fumbling with them in the closet and then he heard her bedroom door close. Firmly. And she was gone.

He had been around enough women to recognize the finality the door closing represented. She was not going to come back that night. He was concerned about her. He truly did not know what had triggered the sudden change in her. He was also concerned for himself. He was enjoying much of being with her but it would be foolish to ignore the underlying issue at hand. If he could not figure out what made her tick he would have a much harder time getting safely back to his normal life.

That was another thing. In his actual life he had a very real career and it was not as a photographer. When she had made that assumption he had let her do it because he knew that what he actually did for a living would not sit well with her. That would have been fine had she not confided in him the way she had. If he had just left, it would not have mattered at all. Now, it mattered quite a bit. He would have to tell her about it first thing in the morning. She was not going to like it. She was not going to like it a LOT. She had to know though, he was in too far to not be honest with her now. Even if it sent her off the deep end. He was genuinely afraid that it would be the straw that broke the camel's back when it came to her fragile and developing trust in him.

As futile as it would have been, he found himself wishing that he had some kind of weapon just in case. She had to decide whether to trust him with her life or not? Well, he had to do the same thing it seemed. It did not come readily to either of them.

He put away the dinner leftovers and rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He opened another beer. It would probably be one of many that night. He was dreading the next morning and getting a good buzz right now was sounding pretty good to him. Especially if it was going to be his last one.

Shit, he thought, that's not very funny is it?

He downed the beer he had just opened and reached for another one. He took that one over to the sofa with him and sat down facing the Christmas tree. It really was beautiful. It was also perfect in that way that Christmas trees in Macy's windows are during the holidays. All the ornaments matched and complimented each other. He liked the way she had used colorful ornaments. It was a bold look with blues, purples, oranges, dark pinks..oh hell, he did not know what all the shades were called but they were all the colors you would find in a big crayon box once you threw away the drab ones. It suited her. Maybe a little too well. He felt sad when he realized there were no clay ornaments with little handprints on them, no garish hand drawn ones, no tired paper chains on her Christmas tree. These ornaments did not even have any paint chipping off of any of them. There was not one piece of macaroni glued to anything.

There also were not any presents under it. That drew him up with a start. He found it hard to swallow past the pain in his throat. He knew, just knew, she had never been given one before. He gulped down the rest of the beer he was holding and went and retrieved the rest of the case of beer. He set it on the floor beside the sofa and started looking around for something he could make a present out of.

No more screwing around, he thought I'm telling her who I am first thing tomorrow. If she kills me, she kills me.

Eventually he found what he had been looking for and wandered, a little unstable on his feet, back to his room with it. After setting down what he was carrying, he went back to the kitchen counter and the living room to get the clothes and the beer, and after dropping them on the floor inside the door to the library, he closed the door. Firmly.

Ha! So there. Two can play that game!

He knew he was a little tipsy but he did not care. He'd had a long couple of days. A few hours later he admired his handiwork with pride. He almost fell over when he was trying to hide it in the drawer under the bed but after a couple of attempts at it he managed to do it. He figured the clothes could wait for tomorrow to be put away. He felt bad about sort of slamming the door earlier.

That wasn't very nice, he thought through his alcohol induced fog.

He staggered over to the door and opened it again. He walked back to the bed and tried to get undressed. It was not going well. His socks in particular seemed to be fighting him. He got one all the way off and threw it, with a giggle, across the room where it landed on the bookshelf. He gave up on the second one and just barely got his jeans off before he flopped on to his back on top of the covers to rest his eyes for just a minute.

## Chapter seven

Callie had to consciously stop herself from pacing around in her room.

Get a grip! She commanded herself.

Things were quickly turning into what felt like some fantastic fairy tale. She found out that she had absolutely no point of reference for this sort of thing. It was all well and good getting to indulge in a little fantasy now and then but this, this was waaay over the top. Who the hell had these dilemmas? Drag him into bed or kill him? What kind of choice was that to have to make? She supposed that she could do both. That would be nice and gothic wouldn't it? Dark fairy tales were all the rage these days. She would be downright trendy. There was an edge of hysteria to her thoughts. She could see that.

She walked over to her bed and sat down. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. It took longer than she liked but eventually she felt in control again. She felt the need for time to slow down. Things moved too fast around him. She resolved to avoid him the next day and give herself some space. Spending time with him was confusing her and it was no doubt clouding her judgment. She could afford a day she figured. He was not going to leave until she let him. Who cared what he thought. She needed a break. She tossed and turned in her sleep all night but still managed to wake up at dawn and slip out of bed before he woke up.

When she opened her door the first thing that struck her was the smell of stale beer. She had a pretty good idea how he had spent the rest of his night. She walked quietly to the door of the library and looked in. When she saw him passed out, half dressed, on top of the covers on the window seat, she felt a twinge of guilt. She firmly shook it off again.

Oh no you don't, she told herself. No foolishness today!

Still, he would be cold when he woke up if she did not at least cover him up a little. She crept silently over to him and carefully pulled the blanket away from the wall and draped it over him. That was when she noticed that he was wearing only one sock. She glanced around the room until she spotted the other one and had to cover her mouth the stifle a laugh.

Damn it! She really could not go anywhere near him without liking him could she? Yeah, she needed space big time.

She grabbed some workout clothes from the laundry room and headed downstairs to the gym. On her way past the kitchen she noticed that he had cleaned up after dinner despite her telling him not to. Oh yeah, she was going to get a good workout that day. This guy was starting to drive her nuts.

The first thing he noticed as he woke up was that the light streaming in through the window seemed far too bright. He groaned and rolled away from it, clutching the blanket around him as he did so. The blanket was nice. It was warm and soft and it smelled good. The last thing he remembered from the night before was lying on top of the covers though. He smiled. She must have done it. She had to have snuck in and covered him up while he was sleeping. He knew it should make him uneasy that she had been that close to him when he was completely vulnerable but really, it just felt nice.

Slowly he started to remember the night before and also what he had to do that morning. That wiped the smile off his face. He swung his feet off the bed and sat up, getting ready to face what was coming. He groaned. God, his head hurt. He decided to make coffee first, then sit her down and talk to her. He was still only half awake as walked to the doorway and tripped on the pile of new clothes he had dumped there the night before. He looked down at himself. He was in a t shirt and underwear and only one sock. Okay, coffee, then shower and a change of clothes and THEN the talk he decided. He felt that it was best not to scare her too much before it was absolutely necessary.

He had hoped to run into her while making coffee but the house was quiet and she did not seem to be around. When his coffee was ready he poured a cup full of it and took it to the shower with him. He had brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with him. He set his coffee on the bathroom counter and turned the shower on. While the water heated up he started removing the tags from his new clothes. She had done a much better job of guessing his sizes right this time and he paused for a moment when he noticed that she had gotten him the underwear he preferred. For an insane person she was certainly accommodating. He tried to entertain the idea that she was simply delusional, in the clinical sense, and that she had invented a wild fantasy about herself that she was now living out. He tried to do that but it did not work. He had seen the way she had taken that fence. He had met her wolves. As improbable as it might have seemed, he felt sure she was being completely honest. He had no choice but to be honest in return.

When Callie heard the shower turn on she left the weight room and slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of granola bars and a bottle of water and headed back to her room. She was still damp from her workout but she did not want to run the risk of running into him so she quickly got dressed and putting his keys and phone in her pocket once again, she left the house for the day. This time she took a leisurely stroll up the mountain. Before very long Rogue was walking beside her. He kept her company all the way to the summit and then he sat down beside her when she finally stopped and took a deep and cleansing lungful of morning mountain air.

He looked up at her with his piercing gaze.

"Yeah, I know. It's a mess isn't it, big guy? "

His ears shifted back a little.

"Don't worry. It's not your fault. There's no way you could have known."

She sighed and started walking again. She did not turn to head back home until well after it had become dark out.

After his shower and donning his new clothes, Tim gathered up his dirty ones and took them and the towel he had used to the washing machine and dropped them into it. As he reached for the fabric softener he muttered to himself. "Snuggle..she's a fucking assassin and she uses Snuggle." Who knew? Maybe they all did. It was not as if he had ever met one before. Not that he knew of anyway.

He put it back on the shelf when he looked down and saw the pathetically empty washing machine. That handful of clothes he had put in it did not really justify running the washing machine. He decided to wait until he had a chance to check to see if she had any clothes that she wanted to add to the load.

He went back to the kitchen. The house felt empty. He refilled his cup and tried not to wonder too much about where she had gone and what she was doing. Something had rattled her pretty hard the night before and he just did not buy that it was all about the spirit of the holidays. He made himself breakfast and cleaned up after himself and then tried to find some way to occupy the time until she returned.

He tried reading books. She had some really good books to choose from but he felt braced and was listening intently for any sign that she was returning. He finally turned on some music. She had a fabulous sound system. With the sound of Christmas carols taking the edge off the silence he actually did manage to eventually get sucked into a book. When it started to get dark outside he finally stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back.

He decided to make her an extra nice dinner as a sort of a peace offering even though he was not quite sure what he had done to upset her so much.

Two hours later the beef stroganoff was perfect and the remainder of the bottle of red wine he had opened to cook with was being poured into two wine glasses. The French bread was warm and just barely crisp on the outside. He even dimmed the lights a little bit. He took one of the glasses of wine and stood beside the huge picture window in the living room and leaned against it. The view was breathtaking. The mountains all around him were glowing slightly as the moonlight reflected off the snow. He could see his reflection in the glass and that of the room behind him.

My god, he thought, this is like a dream.

The music was soft, the lights were dimmed enough that the lights on the tree stood out and sparkled in the reflection in the window as he moved. Dinner was ready and waiting. He found himself actually surprised when the moment came and went without her walking through the door. He felt deflated as he ate his, by then, cool food by himself. He reached for her glass of wine and started drinking it as well. He felt for all the world as if he had been stood up for a date.

Yeah, he thought sarcastically. SHE'S the crazy one.

Finally he had to face the possibility that she was not coming back any time soon. He put away the dinner and put the dishes in the dishwasher. He felt empty. Being there alone was a very different feeling than being there with her. He had everything he could possibly want. It should have been fine. He was used to living alone. He wondered if she ever felt lonely like this. Surely she must. That was when he remembered her Christmas present. He had to look around for awhile but he finally found a proper ladder and went to work. He found himself hoping she would not come home then. He thought that it would be best if he could finish before she saw what he was doing.

A few hours later she still had not returned so he put away the ladder, turned off the music and went to bed.

It was late when she got back to the house. Most of the lights were off and she was hoping he would be asleep. She opened the front door as quietly as she could and listened. She could hear that his breathing was both deep and even. She said a silent thank you to the cosmos and slipped into her room and closed the door. Going walkabout had been good for her. Her mind felt clear again and she was tired. She put on some plain silk pajamas and climbed into bed. Before long, she too was deeply asleep.

## Chapter eight

It was dark when she woke up. She still had time to put his presents under the tree while he was sleeping. She had picked out a bottle of twelve year old Scotch whiskey that was supposed to be good. All she really knew about it was that it was expensive and men seemed to be impressed by it. She did not like whiskey at all and did not understand the appeal of the strong aroma, the burn on your tongue, and the way it singed your insides all the way to your intestines.

She had bought it mainly as a decoration. Once she had gotten the big globe mini bar she had felt the need to fill it with something. Most of the bottles she had stocked it with she had never even opened. She really was not a drinker. She could handle her liquor but she had never enjoyed being tipsy. That lack of control made her acutely uncomfortable.

On impulse she had also grabbed her copy of The Garden of the Prophet and had written "To Timmy" on the cover page. It was personal that way but not too mushy she thought.

She had found some wide cloth ribbon in with the ornaments. It was the kind that sparkled and had wire along edges so it would keep whatever shape you bent it into. She had tied a big fluffy bow around both the bottle and the book, carefully bending the ends into long graceful spirals. She was pleased with the results. It looked elegant, she thought. She did not have much experience with wrapping things and was a little amazed that she had been able to make it look nice.

Timmy was not a bad guy. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and he knew way too much about her. It was not his fault and he had been handling the situation surprisingly well. Being held captive by a crazy woman who was trying to decide whether or not to kill you had to be unnerving. As far as she could tell he had not even tried to leave yet. Besides, it was Christmas. She was not a complete monster.

She glanced down the hall to his room. When had she started thinking of it as 'his room'? She corrected herself. The library. Her library door was open and the lights were all off. She had not consciously noticed it before but he always left the door open. That drew her up short. If she were in his place she would have found a way to lock the door securely and probably barricade it from the inside as well. Especially if she were sleeping. Could it be a subtle invitation? No, she decided. He was probably just being very careful not to upset her or be in any way confrontational. It had to be a deliberate ploy to seem as passive and non threatening as possible. It was brilliant actually. She was pretty sure she could not have done it. It would take some pretty big balls to go against one's natural instincts that way.

With the Scotch and the book tucked under one arm she stopped in the kitchen to get a drink of water. The moment she pushed her glass against the ice dispenser she flinched. The ice machine rumbled to life and ice clattered loudly into the cup and fell skittering onto the floor too. It did that every single time. Not once had she gotten ice from it without some also hitting the floor. So much for stealth mode.

Ha! Maybe that was why he left his door open all the time. So he could try to hear what she was doing when he could not see her. Now that she could understand. She might do that herself. Then again, it was very unlikely that his hearing was as useful as hers was. Realizing that she was obsessing about the door she looked in the hallway at it to check that she had not awakened him. The lights were still off and his breathing was deep and even.

That was good. She was a little embarrassed that she was giving him presents at all. Her plan was to let him find them when she was not around and then they could both act like it had not happened at all. She could live with that. It was a good plan.

Until she walked into the living room.

There in the glow of the Christmas tree lights were dozens and dozens of little origami birds hanging from the ceiling. They were turning in silent circles at different heights attached to clear fishing line. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen in her entire life. She walked in dazed wonder over to the tree and set down her gifts. She noticed that she was not breathing. She sank to her knees. There in the middle of the night, all by herself she stared at them unable to believe her eyes. Then she was crying. Big hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She did not even try to brush them away. She was not sobbing. She did not make any noise or move at all.

In the distance a wolf howled and was answered. A few more chimed in. She did not notice them but they had noticed her through the big picture windows, lost in her own world.

She had no idea how long she had stayed that way. How could anything so wonderful hurt so much? She felt like everything she had ever had to be strong about was finally escaping the intense hold she had always kept on herself. She was completely disarmed. She was helpless to it. It had taken less than one second to undo a lifetime of telling herself she did not want to be touched. And it was too late. She had been touched in the deepest possible way. It was exquisite torture.

'Oh god', she thought. 'I don't deserve this! What could he possibly have been thinking? It must have taken him hours to do this. Why would anyone do that?' Especially for her.

She noticed that her feet had gone numb from having sat on them so long. She wiped her cheeks and nose on her sleeve. She was shaking. She was still thirsty. She turned to go back to the kitchen to get her water and jumped when she saw him standing there leaning in the doorway watching her. She did not think of anything witty to say to defuse the moment. She could not speak at all. She could not even move. They looked into each other's eyes for a very long time. Neither of them smiled. There was no pretending that this was not a big deal.

She was willing him to say something. Anything, so they could break free and make light of it. He did not. She could not read the look in his eyes for sure. She thought it might have been tenderness. She would swear that there was also a look of ownership as well. Like she belonged to him. She had never seen anyone look at her like that before. She truly had no idea what he was thinking.

Then he moved. He walked to the kitchen and picked up her glass of ice water and walked over to her and put it in her hand.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

She still could not say anything. She looked at her glass. She nodded then took a sip of the water, trying to force it past what felt like a knot in her throat. It was working. The ice cold water was bringing her back. Without her dignity perhaps but at least she could breathe again.

"I think I used all of your stationary. I hope that's okay," he said.

That made her smile. "Yes. Of course. It's beautiful. Thank you."

"I only know how to make swans." He said it like it was some kind of failing on his part.

She heard herself laugh. "And I don't know anything about booze but hopefully you'll like it." She looked pointedly to the base of the tree.

He glanced under the tree and saw what she had put there. Then he looked at her. She raised an eyebrow. Challenging him to say anything at all about exchanging Christmas surprises. He smiled and then he bent down to read the label.

"Whoa. Are you sure?" he asked.

"Sure I'm sure. I buy it but that doesn't mean I have to drink it. To be honest I don't get why people like it. I have yet to drink anything like it that I have actually enjoyed."

He gave her a measuring look. Then he got a strange smile on his face and said "Is that so? How much would you like to bet that I can change that right now?"

She snorted. "Anything you want. I've had that. I know I don't like it."

"Not this. You have a different bottle I want you to try. May I?" he asked and gestured in the direction of the library

"Help yourself but don't get your hopes up. I know what I like."

He was not gone long before he came back with two wine glasses and a bottle. He set the glasses on the table and while he was still holding the bottle in one hand he grabbed her hand with the other one and pulled her over to the sofa. She nearly jerked her hand away because she was so startled that he had touched her. He could not possibly have understood that she felt like one giant exposed nerve right then. It was just sweet of him. There was nothing to it. Why did she always have to look for the deeper motivation behind everything? Surely sometimes people just did things for no reason. Didn't they?

She let herself sink down into the soft cushions and he sat right beside her. Their thighs were not actually touching but she could feel the warmth of his leg beside hers. He held the bottle out to show it to her as carefully and proudly as if it had been a newborn baby.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"I have no idea. The entire bottle is in French. It is pretty though," she told him, bemused by his apparent reverence.

"This is a bottle of Armagnac. It was made at Chateau de Pallehaut in the south of France. I've been there. You wouldn't believe how beautiful it is. This, my naive friend, may very well be the crowning achievement of the entire vineyard."

He opened the bottle and poured maybe an inch of the amber liquid into the bottom of the glasses. She noticed the way it seemed to cling to the glass. "That sure doesn't look like wine," she said.

"It's not. It's made from the same grapes but it is definitely not wine," he told her as he handed her a glass.

She sniffed at it and recoiled a little, making a face. "It smells like whiskey," she told him suspiciously.

"It's not. Just trust me."

She bit back the comment 'I trust that you are about to be disappointed' because it seemed mean to say it out loud. She watched him take a sip and could actually see the pleasure that it gave him spread through his body. She was already feeling guilty that he was going to lose his bet.

As she raised her glass tentatively to her lips he said, "During the bombing in World War II, the Germans intentionally didn't bomb this vineyard."

Okay. That was actually pretty impressive she had to admit. She closed her eyes, bracing herself. When the first drop hit her tongue her eyes flew open. It was not like anything she had ever put in her mouth before. It was not so much drinking something as it was a sensation. It felt like it had evaporated before it even touched her leaving a sweet warm nothingness that tingled ever so slightly.

He was looking at her to see her reaction. She was speechless. He smiled and took another sip from his glass. She was too stunned to care that he had been right. She took a slightly bigger taste than before and her eyes closed again. This time it was involuntary. It was as if her mind wanted to shut out all of her other senses.

The same thing happened again only more intensely that time. She tried to feel it move down her throat but she could not do it. It felt like it was not liquid at all. It was only a delicious warmth sliding down inside her. She felt a twinge between her thighs. This experience was unbelievable. She took another sip, still with her eyes shut. She felt her nipples contract. She felt suddenly exposed in the silk pajamas she was wearing. If he was paying attention at all there was no way he could have missed how hard they were getting.

She lifted her glass again to her lips and then paused. It was impossible to her that it smelled so good to her now that she had felt it caress her from the inside out. She tasted it again and it sent a sensual ripple through her that was so strong that she shuddered a little. She did not care what he thought. The feeling was overwhelming her and it was awakening a very primal part of her.

She opened her eyes for a moment and she looked at her glass. She decided to take the last of it in one big swallow. She was curious to find out what would happen. The flavor was intense but the way the warmth crept through her made her throb with a very immediate, and intimate, longing. Nobody had ever touched her body in a way that had made her quiver like that.

A soft moan escaped her as she opened her eyes again. She had often wondered why it was that people could climax in their dreams without anyone really touching them but that it never happened that way when people were awake. It was all just neurons firing and nerve impulses. She had always thought that it should be possible.

She knew that it was possible now. She was teetering on the brink of it right then and there. And it was not going away.

She thought, I may well be the first woman in history to have to fake NOT having an orgasm!

What she said out loud was, "Yeah...that is different alright."

She knew he had been watching her drink. It had been futile to try to down play her reaction to it. She had probably looked like a woman who had been caught in the throws of passion the entire time. With good reason. He did not even pretend to gloat. He knew he had her. The bastard had known that since before he had even opened the bottle. She was sure that she should care more about that but she was still floating on a euphoric cloud and very distracted by her own body.

He poured another inch into his glass. Just his glass, thank god.

Then he said, "You think that was good? Wait till you try this."

Then before she could react he leaned to her and put his mouth on hers. As he started to kiss her the Armagnac trickled into her mouth. Before his tongue had even touched hers her senses shattered. Her back arched and she crushed herself against him as the first wave of release hit her. She had not even known she could make the noise that came out of her right then.

He did not stop. She did not want him to. She peaked over and over. She could not even count how many times. Finally she started to feel sated but the throbbing was still so intense she that could feel it in every part of her body keeping time with her heartbeat.

He pulled away just a little and then he gently bit her bottom lip and she cascaded, one more time, over the edge. It took her awhile to notice when he was not touching her anymore. And that her hands were still clutching the sofa cushions in a white knuckled death grip. She forced herself to let go of them and to open her eyes. What she saw gave her an echoing spasm. The look in his eyes clearly said 'MINE'. It was feral and without reservation.

It was quickly replaced by a look of concern for what he saw cross her still flushed face was a look of pure fear. She tensed. She's going to bolt! he thought with alarm.

"No," he said quietly and before she could move he pulled her to him. He moved her all the way into his lap and he firmly put his arms around her.

This isn't real, she told herself. None of this could possibly be real.

She was trembling, he noticed. This, what had just happened, was not what he had meant to have happen. He knew that she had genetically enhanced senses and he had thought that it would be fun to blow her mind a little. He had not meant to destroy her. He had not even meant to kiss her.

He sat there holding her. He did not say anything else. He was strong but she had enough martial arts training that she could have easily broken free of him before he could even have blinked. She found herself immobilized with indecision. It was laughable that he could tell her 'no' about anything physical. She knew he had not meant it that way but her mind recoiled from the ramifications of it being purely emotional.

Basic strategy training was second nature to her. She would walk herself through it that way. First, she had to become calm and centered. Next, she had to decide what exactly the objective was. Then she had to take the steps to achieve that objective. She took several deep breaths. She focused and forced herself to relax. Now, what did she want to have happen? she asked herself.

The answer was immediate and raw. What she wanted was to stay right where she was for the rest of her life and pretend that she was normal and that her past had never actually happened and that she could just let go of all of it and have a happy and fulfilled life with another person. She had absolutely no idea what steps to take to make that happen except that she was pretty sure it did not involve neutralizing him with her Ninja moves.

He tentatively loosened his grip and waited to see if she tried to move away from him. She didn't. Instead she leaned her head against his shoulder. What the hell? she thought. I can always change my mind later. Though she was not sure that she believed herself about that. He raised his hand and started lightly stroking her hair. She usually hated it when people tried to do that but for the first time she was beginning to understand why animals sometimes would bump up against a person petting them.

She felt...safe? She was not sure if that was it or not. Is that what safe felt like? Was it knowing that you could be vulnerable and unguarded and that another person was there to make sure that nothing and nobody hurt you in any way? Whatever the feeling was, it was good. Very, very good. She closed her eyes. She did not want to talk. She did not want to move. So she did not do either of those things. For a really long time. Then she felt something brush her forehead as soft as a kiss. She had fallen asleep. Had someone just kissed her forehead she wondered incredulously?

"Hey Sunshine. I hate to wake you up but I really have to pee. It seems like that's the only reason I get off the sofa when I'm with you"

Okay. Now she was wide awake. And laughing really hard. What an awesome way to wake up. She sat up, still in his lap and stretched long and luxuriously. Partly because it felt good and partly to torture him just a little. She could forgive him for calling her Sunshine because he had made her laugh before she could even think about getting uncomfortable with him. She could not tell if he was a genius or if he was just really lucky that way. She squirmed a little as she stood up for the extra effect.

Grinning she said, "Alright Snookums but make it fast. It's Christmas morning and we still have presents to deliver."

While he went to the bathroom she practically skipped to her room where she had put a big red Santa bag full of goodies nearly a month ahead of time. She loved Christmas morning. Ever since she had been on her own she had enjoyed Christmas but for her it was usually a private thing. She decorated the house and tree for herself every year with pleasure. It was always pretty and it was always fun. She would sit by her tree and drink champagne each Christmas Eve and sometimes Christmas morning as well.

She adored champagne. It was one of those real life magical things to her. She got to carefully unwrap the shiny gold foil and untwist the little wire that held it closed. Then there was the pop that always made her laugh. Sometimes she broke things if she had not been careful to aim the cork well but even that was funny to her. Then there was the fizz that tickled her nose and all of the beautiful little bubbles that rose in endless trails that seemed to appear from nowhere. Champagne and Christmas lights and sitting next to the fireplace were all part of her personal holiday ritual.

Sometimes since she had been living on the mountain, she would go on baking sprees and take arm loads of baked treats down to Buck's and the other places she had become a regular at in town. But this, this was the best part of all. The delivering of the presents. This time her anticipation was two-fold. She could not wait to watch the look on Timmy's face while they did it.

## Chapter nine

She almost bumped into him in the hallway. "Get your shoes on," she told him. "We're going outside."

He was gone only a minute or so and then he came back with not only his shoes on but he was also wearing one of the sweaters she had bought for him. It made her want to touch him. But not as much as she wanted to go outside just then.

She did not bother to cover the keypad as she disabled the alarm in the front door. Even if he had been watching, which she was quite sure he would not do anyway, him knowing the password to her alarm system paled in comparison to every other defense of hers that he had already bypassed with ease.

She was almost bouncing with excitement about what she was doing. As she threw the door open and danced out into the snow clad only in her dark blue silk pajamas with an absurdly large and bulging red bag over her shoulder he thought she was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen before. He must have paused there in the doorway a little too long for her because she waved her free arm at him and called, "Come on already!"

He still had no idea what they were doing but in that moment he knew that he would willing follow her anywhere. He had assumed that they were heading to the garage to get into one of the cars and drive somewhere but she headed straight to the gate and opened it instead. She stepped outside of the gate and waited for him to catch up to her.

"Hold this a sec," she said as she handed him the bag.

She raised her fingers to her lips to whistle but before she made a sound wolves appeared from all directions and stood eagerly around them. She tossed back her head and laughed out loud. They had apparently been waiting for her already. He was a little uneasy but her delight was contagious. Taking the bag back from him she opened the top and stage whispered, "Watch this."

Then she turned it upside down and started shaking it. Dozens of colorful squeaky toys rained down on the white snow. They were every size and shape imaginable. The younger wolves wiggled and jumped all over each other but did not approach them. All of the wolves were wagging their tails. A whole big, scary pack of timber wolves were wagging their tails. Two wolves came forward. One of them was huge and familiar. It was Rogue.

"Rogue," she said. "This is Timmy. You didn't get to meet him properly the first time.' Turning to Timothy she said, "And this is his mate Ottersong."

He looked at them both and said, "It's nice to meet you." What did one say to wild timber wolves? "And thank you," he added, making eye contact with Rogue. They exchanged what felt like the classic 'guy nod' and then both of the wolves turned their full attention back to Callie.

"Well, go on," she said gently and Ottersong started to investigate the pile with enthusiasm.

Callie crouched down and Rogue came carefully closer to her. Timothy could see that their eyes were locked onto each other in some kind of private communication. She slowly reached out her hand. His ears went back. His tail went up and he stood rigidly still. She touched the side of his face and just held her hand there for a moment. She looked so serious. Without understanding why exactly Timothy felt a sharp pang of painful compassion for her. Then she stood up. She smiled and said with a hoarse voice,"Merry Christmas Rogue."

Rogue bounded into the pile alongside his mate and together they pushed and tossed around all of the toys until they had each found two or three that they liked. As soon as they had finished, the rest of the pack dove in to the pile. The sounds of mock fighting and shrill squeaking filled the air. The toys were flying everywhere. Wolves were jumping and rolling all over. Callie was laughing so hard she that she had to lean against him while she wiped her eyes and she was trying to catch her breath. He was too dumbfounded to do anything but watch the scene before him. Even if he had been able to take a photograph of what was happening right then nobody looking at it would ever believe that it had not been 'photo-shopped'.

One by one the wolves collected their favorite toys and slipped back into the woods with them. The forest around Tim and Callie was filled with squeaking noises. There he was, on the top of a mountain on Christmas morning with this incredible woman and surrounded by wolves with squeaky toys. The only thing he had planned to do for Christmas this year was to call his parents, probably not go to the Christmas party his co-workers had invited him to, and to curl up in his favorite chair with the T.V remote control and get contentedly get drunk all by himself.

Tim, he thought. Falling off that rock was without a doubt the smartest thing you have ever done.

When she had finally caught her breath and wiped away the last of the laughter tears from her face she picked up the bag that was now soggy and well trampled and she beamed at him. Then she sighed a happy sigh and said, "I'm starving."

He grinned at her and shook his head in wonder.

"What?" she asked innocently as if everyone did this sort of thing all the time.

"I didn't say a word," he chuckled.

They paused inside the gate while she reset the alarm system. It made him feel sad that even now, as happy and relaxed as he could ever imagine her being, she still took the time to protect her property. He felt the same way when she carefully re-locked her front door from the inside again as well. He would have done anything to change her feeling the need to do that.

"I'm going to put this in the laundry room," she said gesturing to him with the bag in her hand as she headed down the hallway. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

While she was stuffing the bag into a laundry hamper by the door she heard herself laughing some more. She had not even known it was possible to feel this much joy. She could hear the coffee bean grinder start up in the kitchen. Was it only a few days ago that he had handed her that very first cup of coffee? That was inconceivable to her now. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago and that she had been a completely different person then.

When she came into the kitchen she casually put her hand on the small of his back to let him know that she was behind him as he started to back up without looking behind him first. It was a simple gesture but it was as if they had been moving around each other in the kitchen like that for years already. While he started making the coffee, she got the ingredients for making an omelet out of the refrigerator. Not once did they bump into each other or get in each other's way. She cracked open the eggs and whipped them in a bowl that he had handed to her without being asked to and started cooking them in a big cast iron pan once the butter in it had started to sizzle.

He was slicing the cheese and peppers when the water in the tea kettle came to a boil. She was closest to it and took it off the burner and turned and poured the boiling water into the French press he had gotten prepared. While she finished making the coffee, he added the cheese and peppers to the pan and continued to cook the eggs for her. She got out two coffee cups and poured them each a cup of fresh coffee. She put cream in hers and left his black. She set his cup beside him at the stove and then carried her cup, two plates, and forks over to the counter and climbed up onto a bar stool.

"Thank you," he said.

She loved the way that he always acknowledged even the smallest things she did for him. If not verbally, then with a moment of pointed eye contact to let her know she was appreciated.

After she had set the plates down he turned to her with the pan in one hand and with the other hand he deftly cut the omelet in half with the bamboo spatula he had cooked them with and expertly slid one half of the omelet onto each of the plates. He set the pan back on the stove and without missing a beat he took a hand towel from the drawer where she kept them and he wiped up the egg that had gotten spilled while they were cooking. When he had finished doing that he joined her at the counter and they started eating in friendly silence.

It had been a culinary ballet worthy of applause and they had both taken it completely for granted that they could do it at all. After they had eaten and rinsed all of the dishes and put them in the dishwasher he poured them each another cup of coffee and said, "I think I'm going to jump in the shower."

The way he said it made it clear that it was an invitation for her to join him. Their eyes met. Eventually she said, "I'll be there in a minute. Go ahead and start without me."

She could not quite believe she had said that so casually but it did seem a little silly to pretend to be modest all of a sudden. He smiled and all but ran to the bathroom to wait for her.

Her mind was racing as she went to her room to get a change of clothes and find out just how quickly she could shave her legs. She stopped at her computer briefly and on a whim she typed his name into a search engine. It was a little late in the game now but it had just then occurred to her to 'Google' him. Ah yes, the modern age of romance, she thought cynically.

"Timothy, Bew Seattle" There were only three people by that search criteria that came up on her screen. One was a used car salesman with a really cheesy website, one was a seventeen year old boy with a social networking site, and the third one was Dr. Timothy Bew MD, PhD who was a professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the University of Washington. It couldn't be... she thought. She clicked the link to his professional profile. His picture came up. It was as if all of the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. There was no doubt about it. She was looking right at Timmy.

A behavioral psychiatrist. She knew a lot about psychiatrists. And about behavioral studies. And their specific interest in her. Her blood ran cold. It had all been a crock of shit! From the minute he had figured out who she really was. No wonder he had been so damned perfect. It was all another lie. Her whole life had been built on lies. Nobody had ever wanted her. Not for the person she really was. They just wanted her for science experiments.

But how could he have possibly known about the rose? How could he known to make up that story? She read down to the bottom of his profile until she read "...in his spare time he is also a freelance photographer of some local notoriety." Okay. So maybe that part had been real enough. Maybe he had not come looking for her intentionally. But the rest, the rest was just a shrink who had managed to outsmart her. None of the others had ever been able to do that.

In the bathroom, Timmy had been just about to remove his boxer shorts and get into the shower when he heard a window rattling roar of pure rage rock the house.

He ran down the hall to Callie's room not knowing what to expect and he stopped like he had run into an invisible brick wall when he saw her at the computer and guessed correctly what she must be looking at. He had been waiting for the right time to tell her. He did not want to spoil her wonderful morning with it. This was not good. She would never believe his intentions were not sinister now.

She turned to look at him when she sensed him in the doorway. Her eyes had changed to an eerie blue gray color and they were terrifying.

"I should have killed you when I could."

She said it so coldly that he knew she meant it. He also noted that she had used the past tense. She could no longer kill him. That was a very important point right then.

Charming Callie was gone. This was Acallia. The she wolf who had been experimented on, tortured, neglected, and turned into a killing machine. And she had trusted him. She did not trust him anymore. She was dangerous and hurting. He could feel the pain radiating from her that was barely being contained by her fury.

"Callie," he started.

"Do not call me that," she growled. "Don't ever call me that."

"It's not what you think," he said desperately.

"And just what do I think Doc? You must know me pretty well to have PLAYED me!" It was almost a snarl.

"You think that I tricked you to save myself. You think none of this has been real. You think that now that I know who you are I'll expose you to the scientific community or worse if you let me leave."

"What do you know, I guess you do know me then, don't you?" her words were dripping with bitterness.

"Your father was a sick bastard Callie. I had nothing to do with that. You have to believe me," he implored.

"That's where you are wrong. I don't have to do jack shit. Not for you. Not for anybody. You're done," she added. "Get the fuck out."

She did not raise her voice but it became even more intense than before. It was final.

"What are you going to do?" he asked her.

"Do? I'm going to disappear again only this time I'm going to a much better job of it. Including you there are now four people on earth that I know of who know about me. Three of them are about to die. It's time to end this once and for all."

He was at a loss for words.

She stood up. She seemed taller than before. She walked to the closet and got out some clothes and a pair of shoes and without another word she brushed past him in the doorway. He could feel how badly she wanted to hurt him. How much control it was taking for her to not tear him to pieces. She grabbed her car keys off the side table by the front door, she opened the door and walked out still carrying her clothes. She left the door standing wide open.

He could hear her footsteps crunching in the gravel as she strode purposefully to the garage and then he heard the garage door opening. Each passing second he was wishing that he could stop her. The car started, she drove to the gate, she opened the gate and then she was gone. She had left the gate open as well.

He stood there in his underwear feeling numb. This was not over. He would not allow that to happen. He was not going to lose her. Somehow he would fix this. Whether she knew it or not, they belonged together. It was just a fact as undeniable as gravity its self. It slowly dawned on him that he was standing in the inner sanctum of the 'bat cave'. He took a couple of steps further into the room.

It was spectacular. The pool and the rock wall and all of the windows and sky lights were breathtaking. He saw that she had not made her bed. It was an odd thing to have noticed but it seemed so out of place to see something so mundane sitting in the center of such a magnificent space. It gave him a twinge of pain and longing imagining her sleeping there, secure in the middle of her fortress. It was a perfect example of her complicated psyche.

It also occurred to him that she had left her computer turned on and unprotected from prying eyes. He briefly contemplated searching it for any clues he could find as to where she might relocate to or to what identity she might assume if she really did flee. He knew he would have had plenty of time. He was sure that she was going to give him a very wide berth and more than enough time to clear out of her place before she came back.

It was so tempting to try it that he actually took a few steps toward her desk before he stopped himself. When he did stop he saw his own smiling face looking back at him from the monitor. Damn it! Maybe he should have told her sooner but he was sure that it would have gotten in the way of her getting to know him, and who he was, naturally. It had to have been done the way he had done it. She would never have let down her defenses enough for them to find out what they meant to each other any other way.

Maybe he was an asshole for being so selfish. He just had to know how she would really feel about him if she let herself. He knew that she hated him at the moment. Given who she was he could not honestly blame her for that. He also knew that she would have to cool off a long time before she would be able to think clearly about him again. He knew too, that on a fundamental level, they were bonded to each other now. Surely that would help him to get her to eventually hear him out.

He was positive that if she would just look into his eyes again without being blinded by what she thought was betrayal, she would see that he was telling her the truth. The really tricky part was to catch her before she left for good. He had no doubt that she was capable of doing that without leaving any trace of where she had gone or who she had become. Once she got away, she would be gone forever. He could not let that happen.

He also could not be there when she got back. She had been serious about him leaving. She did not want him there anymore and it would have been very foolish of him to provoke her by ignoring her demand. She might not be able to kill him but he was sure that backing her into a corner to try to talk to her would just drive her even further into herself where he could not reach her.

The part about going off to kill some people was disturbing to say the least. He knew that she could do it and he also knew that she would never get caught if she did. It went against all of his beliefs to support vigilante killing but he also could not seriously imagine himself calling to police to report her either. He had believed her when she told him that she had killed in the past and that she was fully capable of doing it again but he knew she was not a sociopath. She might think that she was but he knew, both on an instinctive level and a professional one, that she was anything but that.

She was more like a highly trained soldier than anything else. The really sick twist of the knife about that was that she was also an empath. What a nightmare that must be for her. Her childhood and her training had taught her to be hard and cold but her own spirit was the complete opposite of that. Justice would always supersede any other motivation if she felt the situation called for violence but he was confident that she would have seen even the most vile of people as human beings with lives and families and things they cared about and were afraid of. She would see all of that and more in their eyes even as she watched them to be absolutely certain that the light of being alive was permanently extinguished by her own hand.

Was there a difference between a soldier and a killer? Of course there was but it could be argued that it was a purely philosophical difference. Was he equipped to pass judgment on her that way? A few days ago he would not have even hesitated to make that decision. It would have been a no brainer. People were simply not allowed to kill other people. It was against the rules. The bad guys did whatever the hell they wanted to until somebody stopped them and in most cases, stopping them was against the rules too.

He did not know if she had really gone off to kill those people right then and there but he did believe her when she had told him that she needed to end things for good. He was also sure that if she thought someone should be dead that she might be right. His perspective of these things had changed considerably in the past few days. He was pretty sure that was going to screw with his ability to function well in his chosen profession but he would sort that part out later.

For now, he should leave. He would try to talk to her again in a day or two. He figured that it would take her at least few days to set up an entirely new life wouldn't it? Besides, she loved this place. It would be very painful for her to leave it behind and she would not do it lightly. This was all his fault, he thought. He absolutely had to catch her before she left her mountain. He had to convince her to trust him again. She needed the mountain. And the wolves. And him.

## Chapter ten

I don't need him,, she thought as she drove at breakneck speed down the mountain road. I don't need anyone. I have never needed anyone before and I am not about to start doing it now.

Whispers of Shakespeare writing the words "the lady doth protest too much" came to mind. It was probably from The Taming of the Shrew. She could not remember for sure. The Taming of the Fucking Shrew. That would be perfect, wouldn't it? She would never admit it to a living soul but that was her favorite Shakespeare play. Well, Rogue probably could have guessed that. If he could read.

She stomped on the brakes of her car sending the land rover careening dangerously close to the edge of the dirt road and to the side of the severe drop off of several hundred feet. She was actually an excellent driver. She was excellent at most things. Except for having a life.

"Fuck!" she yelled slamming her hands against the steering wheel repeatedly. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" It was not productive but it was satisfying even though she had to be careful not to damage the steering wheel. Even while losing control some part of her was still aware of the fact that she had to be careful.

"Fuck," she said very quietly one more time.

She sat for a few minutes feeling the rage draining from her. Aside from the now idling engine, everything was quiet. She needed to be quiet for a little while. In the far distance she could still hear faint squeaking sounds in the woods. Oh God, she thought. What was she going to do? She could not just leave the wolves behind. She sure as hell could not take them with her either. No amount of money and guile could hide transporting an entire pack of timber wolves to somewhere else not to mention how much it would scare them. She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

"No good deed goes unpunished, right?" She was talking to herself again.

She put her hands back on the wheel and shook herself both mentally and physically. It was time to get moving again. She put the land rover in gear and started back down the mountain. She was driving like a sane person now. She had no idea where she was going to go. She had been bluffing when she had implied that she was going to go running off impulsively to kill those people. Contrary to popular belief, no matter how talented you might be, successfully terminating a life took careful planning and a cool head. What she needed to kill just then was time.

She had to give Timmy enough time to leave. She knew he would do it and she did not want to go home before he had.

'Timmy'.. Shit. Dr. Bew. Professor Dr. Bew. He must have found her hilarious. And easy. A virtual walk in the park for a guy like him. She wondered how long it would take for her to become the topic of yet another research paper. Her mind and emotions dissected and pulled apart to be critically analyzed by people who had the arrogance to think that they could even begin to understand how her mind actually worked.

The thing about being completely unique that all of these brainiac types failed to notice was that they would have to be like her or have experience with people like her in order to analyze her with any degree of accuracy. Even the very smartest people seemed incredibly dense to her at times. Except for Dr. Bew. He was actually brilliant. He really did figure her out, didn't he?

It made her head hurt trying to puzzle out her own dichotomy. By her own reasoning the only way he could possibly have out witted her was to really understand her. In order to understand her he would have to be like her. If he was like her, he would have just been straight with her from the beginning. Probably. There was small chance she too would have played things out the same way he did if she had been in his place. She still had a hard time believing he could have completely faked the connection that they had.

If he was like her.

She came to the stop sign at the bottom of the road and realized that she had not been aware of driving at all for the past several miles. Now she had to make a decision. She had to go someplace. Somewhere she could change out of her pajamas. Oops. Yeah. She was still in her pajamas alright.

There was a big black crow perched on top of the stop sign in front of her.

"You ever have one of those days?" she asked it through the windshield.

She backed up the land rover to a wide spot she had recently passed and turned the car around and headed back in the direction she had just come from. She knew that there was a campground a little ways back up the road that left it's out houses unlocked even in the winter for hikers and snow enthusiasts that were too prissy to crap in the woods. That would have to do.

Once Callie had put on proper clothes and started her car again, she had absolutely no idea where to go. She pointed the car vaguely in the direction of town and hoped that something would come to mind. Once she got there it was as if she was driving through ghost town. There were no cars. All the shops were closed. For a minute she could not believe what she was seeing. She was just starting to feel a cold trickle of fear at the base of her neck when she noticed a handwritten sign in a window. It said CLOSED FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

She felt incredibly foolish. Of course. It was Christmas day. Now she really had no idea where she was going to go. In a community this size people took the holidays very seriously. Even the movie theater would be closed today. She noticed all the lights were on at the mini-mart gas station across the street and pulled in at a gas pump. After she had filled the tank with gas, she decided to just drive. Instinctively she headed away from civilization and also away from her mountain. A few hours later she found herself bumping up against the Pacific Ocean. It seemed as good of a place to stop as any.

As she walked towards the beach she found the violently crashing waves oddly soothing. She was so tired. She did not want to run anymore. She did not want to fight it anymore. The magnificence of the water was hypnotizing. She walked right up to the edge of it and let the water splash up against her feet. The pull on her ankles was like an invitation.

She started walking.

## Chapter eleven

He found his keys and his cell phone on the computer table right beside him. He had sort of wished that she had not left them there. This way he had absolutely no excuse for not leaving. After getting dressed he put them in his pocket. He felt like he should do something before he left. It felt wrong to just walk out. He stood there for awhile but nothing came to mind. Finally he wandered through the house turning off lights. He knew it was lame but he stopped after the second light. He just could not do it. He could not shut down the house that way.

He was half of the way to his car when he doubled back and went into the library. He took a look around. There was nothing there that he wanted. He went to the living room and spied the book she had given him. He held it in his hand a long while just looking at it.

Right, he thought. Time to go.

He took the book with him. He closed the front door carefully behind him and walked down the steps. He felt almost unbearably heavy. After he got in his car and started it he was still wishing that something, anything, would prompt him not to go. Nothing did. He slowly eased the car through the gate and started the long drive back to the city.

Once Timmy had reached downtown Seattle he was already half forming a plan. He would have to be very careful but he was going to get Callie back. One way or another he would be with her again. This was just the next complicated phase. Nothing more. He felt lightheaded as he put the key into the lock of the front door to his condo. There was such an unreal quality to doing something that was so familiar to him. He walked in through the doorway and automatically dropped his keys on the hall table the way he always did. He flipped on the lights to the living room just like when he came home from work every day.

And he stood there. Staring at nothing. It felt wrong. It all felt utterly wrong. It did not feel like coming home at all. He knew, right then, that he was about to live the longest couple of days of his life. He had to give her that much. He was not sure how he could but he would do that for her. He walked over to his front window and looked out of it at the city lights. He had always loved the city and when he became financially successful enough to be able to afford to buy a condo in the heart of downtown Seattle he had felt satisfied in way he never had when he had lived other places.

He loved the rhythm of the city. It had become like a second heartbeat to him after awhile and as strange as it sounded he felt so familiar with the sights and sounds and patterns of downtown that it was almost cozy to him. It gave him a sense of security to be surrounded by people and yet, the fact that there were so many people from all different walks of life, gave one complete anonymity. He could act or dress anyway he wanted to at any given moment and nobody would give him more than a cursory glance. To other people that would have been frightening, to him it was a kind of freedom he did not feel anywhere else.

Having been born and raised in, and near the big city the idea of spending very much time in small towns actually made him feel uneasy.

In towns where everyone knew each other they also knew your business, your personal life, and they felt that they had the right to have an opinion about it. You were being watched, no matter how cheerfully, all of the time. He understood intellectually how that could make people feel safe but to him it felt smothering. He could not imagine having that many people aware of him all the time.

He was a regular in several of the places that he lived close to and he knew many of the shop owners and baristas by name. It was not lonely feeling but it was all kept at a friendly distance. It was a Northwest thing. People were friendly and polite. They helped each other. He clearly recalled one day that a man stumbled off a curb downtown and started to fall. People came running from all four corners of the intersection without hesitation to assist a complete stranger. Maybe it was just a Seattle thing. He had certainly heard of other cities that sounded pretty cold and heartless. People here cared about each other. They also maintained their separate lives.

It was a city that was surrounded by luscious trees and sparkling waters and had majestic mountains rising in nearly any direction you looked too. Maybe that made a difference in the way people felt in general. The glow of the city lights obscured any chance of seeing the mountains from his window at night but he could see the water sparkling with lights and could smell the ever present scent of a busy sea port. The Ferris wheel on the waterfront was particularly eye catching at night. The nearly endless journey of the ferry boats back and forth were comforting and somehow cheerful as well.

Really late at night, though, the center of the city became very quiet. Most people did not see that part. There were no dogs barking. There was no sound of the day time traffic. There were not even voices usually. Once the bars and restaurants had closed their doors for the night, a hush would fall. There would be no reason to be there unless you had one of the few night jobs that would take you there. Even those people seem to move quietly as if they did not want to disturb the sleeping city streets. It was then that you would notice the steam rising from the holes in the tops of the man hole covers in the street and the enormity of the mostly empty sky scrapers would hit you. The idea that nobody knew you were there became an emptiness. It was both painful and beautiful.

That was when it was time to shut your drapes and turn on a television and pretend that the streets were not empty outside your window. It only lasted for about an hour each night. Soon the bustle would begin again and the city would wake up refreshed. There would be newly brewed hot coffee, morning newspapers, footsteps and voices, and people of all kinds up and about again, each with their own purpose. It would be time to join the friendly group of people waiting for the light to change and exchange morning pleasantries at the places you went through your morning routine. And you would forget again what it was like at three a.m. if the city caught you accidentally looking out of your window.

He felt that sense of emptiness ever since Callie had drawn away from him. It was a constant ache. He had never had to walk around feeling that way before. He had touched it for a brief time in the middle of the city late at night but never had he had to bear it continually before. It was not going to be as simple as waving to his favorite waiter at breakfast to take the edge off of his discomfort this time. He supposed that was the difference between the polite friendly people you sort of cared about and the kind of people that you cared deeply for. When he really thought about it, it seemed pretty simple actually. People were like a kind of investment. The more you invested in them, the greater the value they would have to you and the greater the loss if you should lose them.

Jesus, he thought. Look at you putting this in practical terms to try to minimize the emotional impact it is really having on you.

It was at times like that that he really hated being locked up in his own head with a shrink twenty four hours a day seven days a week. Sometimes it was very hard to shut that voice up. He needed to go somewhere and do something distracting. That was becoming pretty clear to him. He had better do it soon too because tonight of all nights he did not want to be out late enough to feel like a kid staying out too late after curfew.

That was when he remembered that it was still Christmas Day. Even the big city had some respect for that. Sure, there would still be a few places open and some things to do but he might want to go online to find out which places and what things those were before setting out that night. He did not want to face any more empty spaces that day. He pulled himself away from the window and walked over to his stereo system and tuned on the radio. It was nothing as grand as Callie's sound system but it took a bite out of the stillness around him. It was Sunday and his favorite station was playing 'All Blues' as usual. Ordinarily he would settle down to grade papers he had put off looking at over the weekend but it was winter break and he was between semesters. He did not have any busy work to occupy himself with.

He sat down at his computer instead and tried to find something interesting, or at least distracting, to go do. After a few minutes idly clicking on web sites that were claiming to be full of great activities the city had to offer he had to give up and accept that nothing was really going to be able to hold his attention for very long that night. Frustrated, he dialed his favorite pizza delivery place and put in his usual order. He flopped into his big recliner chair and turned on the T.V instead. Flipping through the channels, his thoughts kept going back to the mountain. Callie's mountain and he was marveling at how at peace he had felt there. Well, aside from the near death experiences that is. He certainly did not feel bored or restless there. Or alone.

He had the television muted and was still changing channels when the pizza guy buzzed to be let up. When he answered the door, he saw that it was a new person and his heart sank a little. He had been looking for familiarity. He 'knew' Joe, the usual guy. They would always joke about something and Tim always tipped him well. The new kid did not even make eye contact and left as quickly as he could, no doubt having his own world to get back to. That was the way it was with the city. He might never see Joe the delivery guy again and he would never know why, and in a couple of weeks he would have forgotten that Joe the delivery guy had ever even been a part of his personal landscape.

He set the pizza on the counter unopened and turned up the T.V. and turned off the music. He found an old movie he had seen a few times before and sat in his chair again and leaned it back and put his feet up. His mind automatically tracked the lines that he knew by heart and eventually he stopped thinking and fell into a restless sleep.

## Chapter twelve

Callie walked for miles. The surf continued to bombard her legs and feet. She did not care. She did not care about anything. No. that was not true. She cared about him. Whoever he was. She knew she should hate him. She wanted to hate him. She simply could not do it. As she walked along she would sometimes feel that she was trespassing in somebody's yard as the houses in some places came right up to the sand. She knew that it was not technically true. Property could only extend so far onto a beach legally but she found that she hurried past these places anyway. Maybe it was partly for fear that she would accidentally glance in one of the big picture windows and see the warmth of a real home and the people inside doing the things that ordinary people did.

Nearly every window had a Christmas tree shining behind it. It was not just the domesticity that she did not want to see, it was also the families that would be sharing the aftermath of a long Christmas day together that she did not think she could bear being witness to. She ached in a way she had never done before. She had felt pain plenty of times, both physical and mental, but this feeling was unlike any other she had felt before. There was no way to mask it or distract it. Or ignore it.

She eventually came to place that was private enough that she could not even see the light from a house and she stopped. She sat on a log and looked at the ocean. She knew she should be concerned about the fact that she had long since lost the feeling in her toes and that her hands were not far behind them. Just because she had a tolerance for pain and extraordinary endurance did not mean that she was immune to the damage that could be done to her body by abusing it. She still needed to eat, sleep, drink, and be warm like everybody else. Well, not QUITE like everybody else, she amended to herself. She could go a little longer than other people without those things, but ultimately she did need them to survive.

It was starting to move from just evening to night time proper. The people in the houses would be starting to get ready to settle in for the evening and the nocturnal creatures would be starting to wake up, stretch their furry little bodies and begin to take over the night shift. She loved that time of night. It felt like an honor to be allowed to, if not participate, at least to get to watch the animals going about their business. Unconsciously, that was why she had sat down. It was the time that if one kept very still and quiet, they would be able to observe this part of life that most people never even knew about.

A heron was startled awake by something bigger than its self and flew, like a modern day pterodactyl, slowly across the sky and it made a cronking sound to express its irritation. She smiled a little. She loved herons. They were dignified and graceful and primal all at the same time. It made her think of the cranes that Timmy had made for her. Or swans. She smiled again. She had not had the heart to tell him that in the origami books, what he folded would have been called cranes. So, they were swans.

She could see them swirling in her mind. She felt as if she could fall into that moment and stay there forever. It seemed impossible to her that they were still there. Still dancing.

Suddenly she had the need to see them. She had to be sure that they were real. She did not trust herself any more. Walking back the way she had come it felt as if distance was playing cruel trick on her. Just as she thought she was recognizing the last turn of shoreline before she would be back at her car she would see, instead, what seemed like miles more of empty sand. Walking through the sand had become an effort too. The tide had risen enough that she was no longer able to walk along on the firm wet sand that was exposed when the tide was out. Now she had to walk up by the tide line where the sand was loose and strewn with logs and debris that she was beginning to stumble over.

One time she almost walked into a family of otters that were making their way to the edge of the water. It would have made her laugh if she had not been beginning to feel desperate in her need to be home. They tumbled over each other, hissing and coughing the dry little coughing sound they make when they have something to say and then slipped, without so much as a ripple into the ocean. She could hear smaller animals rustling in the brush and she suddenly felt like an intruder. Clumsy and bothersome like a tourist. Her cheeks had started to sting with the cold. The spray of the water and the wind made a fierce combination. Her nose had started to drip. She did not even know that there were tears trickling down her face.

It seemed like a short lifetime had passed before she finally reached her car again. For one horrifying moment, she thought she had dropped her keys somewhere because her hands were so numb with cold that she could not even feel the keys in her pocket at first. It took two tries to get the door unlocked. She came very close to just sinking down into the mud of the parking lot and simply giving up.

She sat for a very long time inside her car with the heat turned up to its highest setting. The first sensation to come back was of an intensely sharp nature that she felt in all of most chilled parts. Eventually she felt she was thawed out enough to hold the steering wheel and control the foot pedals again. The warm air from the heater vents had also dried the tears that had fallen down her face without her ever being aware of the fact that she had been crying at all. She drifted in and out of sleep a couple of times sitting in the now toasty warm vehicle. The last time she woke with a start. Dimly, she was still aware of the fact that it was not good to fall asleep in a car that was still running.

Rather than turning off the car and simply spending the night at the beach, she forced herself to wake up some more. She did not want to be away from her home for a minute longer than she had to be now. The drive home was like a nightmare for her. The yellow lines painted on the road developed a monotonous and nauseating quality to them. She started to see things out of the corners of her eyes that were not really there. She swerved once to avoid an animal that turned out to be her mind playing tricks on her and trying to lure her in to dreaming.

At some point she began to recognize signs of civilization ahead and felt nearly faint with relief when she found a truck stop that was open all night and promised to serve fresh coffee with a smile. She was practically tripping over her feet as she made her way into the restaurant. She ordered coffee to go and made a quick stop in the bathroom to relieve herself. As she stood at the cash register and paid for her coffee she realized that she was the only woman, aside from the old seasoned night waitress, in the entire place. She also took it as a bad sign that she must look like the wreck that she was feeling like when not one man in the place wanted to make eye contact with her. At any other time that would have made her laugh.

As it was, she really could not imagine laughing ever again. She had always suspected that she was not destined to have the kind of life in which laughing was a regular thing. She certainly had not grown up around laughter. Not the nice kind anyway. Once again, she began to berate herself for having even entertained the idea that she could pretend to have a life like other people had. Sure, they had heartaches and fights as well. She knew that, of course, but those times seemed to be balanced with joy and comfort as well. It was one of the precious things about being human. Human. Well, there you go. She just was not human enough it seemed.

She knew logically that it was her exhaustion talking to her then. Even wolves played and had friendships. And love. Wolves really do mate for life. That was not a myth. They also had families with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. She could not blame the human species for excluding her. She knew, when she was being completely honest with herself, that she was doing it to herself. Some part of her had chosen to be the way she was. Circumstances were a great excuse but the reality was that by being human you were given a choice, as your birthright, as to how you chose to live your life. No matter what had happened to you or had been done to you. Or how many mistakes you might have made.

She felt raw and weary. Maybe she was actually just weak and had only convinced herself that she was fiercely independent to provide cover for that. What if that was a lie? What would have happened if she had let her past go as if it had never happened? Could she become a different person? No, she could not be a different person but she might be able to have a different life.For the first time, she noticed that she HAD already done that once. What else could you call having escaped from the Institute and having built the life she had now? It was completely different from the life she had been programmed to have.

She moaned loudly. It hurt so badly to imagine that she could change her life again that she was not sure she could bear it. No, she decided, she did not have the strength to find out. She was finally beaten. She did not want to think anymore. She did not want to feel anymore. She just wanted everything to stop.

When at last she turned on to the road that would take her the final stretch of her journey she was aware of the movement in the woods as wolves slid through the night, keeping an easy pace with her vehicle. The gate to her driveway was still open. The door to her house was not. She knew Timmy was gone without even stepping a foot out of the car. That is what she has wanted, wasn't it? Part of her wished that he had not believed her. She shook her head the way a dazed animal does. Her thoughts were muddy feeling. She could not think clearly at all.

As she walked to her front porch, two wolves flanked her. She smiled weakly at them and rested one hand on Rogue's head briefly. Together they entered the house. She did not bother to close the door. She staggered down the hall. The wolves exchanged a concerned look. When she came to the doorway of her living room, she stopped. She leaned on the wall and closed her eyes with relief. She had not imagined the whole thing She walked into the room.

She sank to her knees just as she did the first time she had seen the paper birds hanging there. They were real. They were just the way she had remembered them. Only this time, she did sob as she sat there in the light of the tree. Loudly and without reservation. At some point she must have fallen asleep.

When she woke she was laying on the floor at the base of the tree. She was cold. Why was she so cold she wondered. She had left the front door wide open. It was winter. She was wet. She could smell the sea salt. She did not care. She did not move. She did not want to ever move again. She just wanted it to all go away.

## Chapter thirteen

When he woke up in the morning he was still sitting in his chair and some obscenely cheerful morning show was in full swing on the T.V. His back was stiff from sleeping in the same position all night long. He felt disoriented in general. Looking at the clock on the DVD player beside the television he saw that it was already past ten o'clock. He did not remember the last time he has slept so late in to the day. Working at the university meant his days started pretty early. It was a routine he was used to. He did not mind it but he had found that even when he had days off, he could not turn off his internal alarm clock.

It was also Monday which would have really been significant to his internal time keeper because Tim had a secret fear of sleeping past his earliest classes on Monday mornings. As it was, most of his students, although they did attend that class for the most part, did not really wake up until long after they had been in his Monday morning class anyway. After a weekend of playing and getting sleep deprived with their college buddies, that Monday morning class was brutal to face.

Crap! He thought as he remembered the meeting that he had scheduled for that morning. It was to be with one of his grad students who had asked him to look over a doctoral thesis idea he had been working on. He had wanted Dr. Bew to review it before he had to make the final decision of exactly what thesis he was going to present to the board that could grant him the title of PhD if his work was compelling enough.

It was a huge thing in the young man's life and it had been an honor to have been asked to look at it. And it had been scheduled to start ten minutes ago in a funky little dinner in Pike Place Market. Tim spent several minutes trying to find the phone number of the restaurant, whose name he was drawing a complete blank about, so he could call his student and explain that he was not being stood up by his favorite teacher and that he, Tim, took what the young man was doing very seriously. Finally, by process of elimination, he found the correct phone number and while he waited for the young man to be paged he tried to collect himself enough to sound at least plausibly competent.

It was always a little strained the first time he met with a student outside of class. He had done it several times though, and in fact, he had made some long lasting friendships out of some of those meetings but it was always awkward the first time and he could imagine the discomfort he was adding to their meeting right that minute. He may even have compounded it by having had the guy paged in a public place.

Oh well, he thought.

It had seemed like the lesser of two evils to call the restaurant instead of making him wait and wonder if anyone was coming. He made a mental note to be sure to always ask for a cell phone number from his students in the future if they were attempting to do anything together outside of the school day. It was better to be embarrassed than to feel abandoned, he figured.

With that one small thought, the one of abandonment, the past few days crashed into him emotionally like a herd of buffalo.

For a few minutes he had actually forgotten about them. He had to fix things. He would fix things he.. "Hello? Dr, Bew?" asked a voice in his ear.

"Yes, Zack, it's me. Hey, I'm sorry I'm late but I haven't forgotten you", he chuckled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "I'm on my way now. Can you give me fifteen, maybe twenty minutes? I'm eager to see what you have been working on."

He could hear the relief over the phone when Zack said "Yeah. Sure! Cool. See ya in a little bit. Thanks for calling."

He HAD been wondering if he was being left to dangle. Damn. That had been a close one. His personal life might be a train wreck but Tim's professional life had always been dead on and completely beyond reproach. Until ten minutes ago. He called a taxi cab company to come pick him up in the lobby of his building. It was not far from his condo to Pike Place Market but finding a parking place parking could be a bitch sometimes and he just did not have time to walk.

I guess it's a good thing I'm still completely dressed huh? He thought.

His clothes even still had the new smell clinging to them. Besides, when he was not actively teaching he preferred not to wear his ties and slacks. That was usually the first thing that seemed weird to the kids he worked with outside of the class room. Dr. Bew wearing Levi's was a little bit freaky to them at first. Yup. He really walked on the wild side when nobody was looking, he thought sarcastically to himself.

Well, he sure as hell did now actually. Little did they know..

He was running his fingers through his hair while waiting in the lobby for the taxi to arrive. He had gotten into the elevator before it occurred to him that he had not combed his hair or shaved for a few days. He did not care very much really. Probably not as much as he should have. He liked Zack a lot and he genuinely was happy to help him but going to breakfast and having to try to be professional, and casual at the same time, was the last thing he wanted to be doing just then. Zack was a good kid. He was going to be brilliant in his field and he was very likely would become a good friend eventually. He deserved to not be 'rescheduled'.

It was closer to ten minutes than twenty before Tim walked up to the table that Zack was sitting at. The restaurant was an old style feature of Seattle. Though the name had been changed a few times as owners came and went, it looked as if the Formica on the table tops and the cracking red bench seats had been there since the place had opened. Despite the shabby appearance of the diner the food was adequate, the servings were huge, and the prices were decent.

Zack jumped to his feet to do the obligatory hand shaking thing that real men did when they were being respectful and professional. Tim tried not to smile as he soberly shook hands with him and then slid into the seat opposite him.

"Thank you for coming" ,Zack said. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to go with this but I'd just like you to look it over and see what you think."

Tim waved at a waitress and ordered a cup of coffee and then picked up one of the two menus that were sitting on the table.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Breakfast is on me" he smiled. "The eggs Benedict is good here. You should try it."

He had said that deliberately and did not actually know if they were good or not but he could remember, only too well, what it was like to be a struggling college student. He knew that it was probably the most expensive thing on the menu and he wanted to be sure that Zack would feel comfortable ordering whatever he actually wanted to eat rather than whatever was inexpensive.

The waitress was prompt bringing his coffee to him and took their breakfast orders at the same time. Zack had the eggs Benedict and Tim ordered a bagel with cream cheese and lox. He took a sip of his coffee and tried not to grimace. Despite the reputation that Seattle might have had for being the coffee capitol of the country, the coffee served here was much like the ambiance. It actually tasted old and tired.

They made small talk while they waited for the food to be ready. They pretended that the grey clouds that hung so low that they obscured the view that day were actually worthy of comment and talked about how it did not seem as if there was going to be snow for the holidays. Looking out the window Tim could almost, but not, quite see the Cascade Mountains across the water. He could feel them pulling at him though.

Once Zack had eaten, and Tim had pushed his food around his plate enough to make it appear is if he had eaten, they got down to business. Zack talked at length and Tim really did try to listen but he could not keep his mind on what they were doing for very long. He threw in enough "Uh huh"s and "I see"s that Zack did not seem to notice how distracted he really was and when Tim realized that he was honestly only hearing about one in every six words he said, "This all looks really solid. I think you have a good thing going here. Tel ya what, why don't you let me take this with me so I can give it really thorough look through. I'm going to be out of town for a few days but I we can meet again as soon as I'm back if you'd like."

Zack looked pleased and handed him the stack of papers that he had brought with him.

"That would be great!" he said.

They stood up and shook hands again and Tim put a tip on the table, paid the bill and then left, barely remembering to take the papers with him.

As he waited to find a taxi to flag down he thought, I'm going out of town? Where the hell did that come from?. Even as he thought that he knew he was not going to be able to wait another day before trying to make thing right with Callie. Once a taxi came near enough he opened the door and climbed in without even looking around first to see if anyone with a greater need than his needed it. It was Seattle after all and people did things like that here. If there was a pregnant lady or an elderly couple waiting, you let them go first. Usually.

While riding the few blocks back to his condo he got out his cell phone. For the life of him he could not remember if he had scheduled anything else for that week. He checked his 'recent' calls both incoming and outgoing for the past few days to see if it would jog his memory. In the 'in coming calls' section he saw a call had come from someone named Ashley.

Ashley? he thought. I don't even know anyone named Ashley.

Then he figured it out. He did not know how she had gotten his phone number but it had to have been Callie calling. His hand was trembling as he hit the redial button. The phone rang several times and then went to voice mail. He tried it again, willing her to answer her phone. An icy feeling crept down his spine. He did not even go back up to his condo when the taxi left him outside of his building. He went straight to the parking garage and got in his car. He did not even think about it. He just started his car and began driving to her.

Once he was on the road he must have broken half a dozen traffic laws within the first hour alone. Something was wrong. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. He started dialing her number every few minutes and mentally begging her to answer her phone. Every ounce of training and professionalism he had ever had was failing him then. He was almost frantic as he finally pulled onto the dirt road leading up to the house. It was getting dark. He turned on the headlights. As he came over the last crest of road and the house swung into view he could make out the shapes of several wolves by her front door. They were on high alert by the time he pulled his car to a skidding halt. They flinched a little at the spray of gravel as it cascaded in their direction but they held their ground.

Cautiously at first, he approached them with his hands extended to show that they were empty. The gate had been left wide open. The door to the house was wide open. The Callie he knew would never have done that. He sprinted past the last two wolves who were standing sentry by the open door.

Go ahead! He thought. Just try to stop me!

They let him pass and seconds later he saw her. He thought his chest would explode with the intensity of finding her there. She was laying on the floor and did not move when he came towards her. But the biggest timber wolf did. Rogue stood between him and Callie. His feet were slightly apart. His ears were flat against his head. The hair on his neck and back started to rise.

Tim froze. Hardly daring to breathe he took one slow step forward. He could then see the other wolf curled up against Callie. She was watching him too.

"Okay guys," he said calmly. "I'm here to help her. You just have to let me get to her."

At the desperation in his voice Rogue's ears perked forward a little.

Tim took another step.

"Look at me" he said. "You know I love her too."

Rogue did look at him. He looked long and hard and right into his eyes. Neither of them blinked.

Then Rogue stepped aside and whimpered.

Tim flew to Callie's side and cradled her head in his lap. Ottersong was still curled against her. Callie was so cold he was afraid he had been too late. Tears fell, unnoticed down his cheeks as he held her. Then she moved against him.

Half laughing and half crying he said "Callie, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He heard her say, with her face against his chest, simply, "Oh."

She believed him and in that tender moment of acceptance she knew that she finally belonged to somebody.

He smiled at her, understanding her.

She leaned up toward him as he leaned down to her. She felt the world she had come to know slip away from her as a whole new one began with a kiss.

###

## Acknowledgements

##

## To Suzanne, without hesitation.

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## Special thanks to Josey Wise and Mandie McClain-my editors!

