Chapter 4 of many. The continuation of the alternate ending to the fringe episode "august".
In which august lives and is able to escape his colleagues with Christine, to hide her from them and from any assassination. Their story of life on the run as he discovers emotions thanks to his developing relationship with Christine hollis.
Waterfall: sight: Christine and august hiked up and up a trail that followed a creek. She brought along her sketch book and colored pencils in her purse. He had his briefcase-always his constant companion-she still did not know the exact contents of it. They made it to the waterfall, the outcropping of rocks looked like it formed the profile of a man of August's features. the water appeared to like tears falling from his face. she enjoyed the tranquility of the place, a comfortable quiet between them. august asked, "may I use your yellow colored pencil and have a piece of your sketch book paper?" she handed him the items, and he moved further away from her so that she was unable to see what he may be drawing or writing. She began her picture, became engrossed in her work. Eventually he approached her with a smile, "look . . ." he handed her his sketch of the waterfall, them in the water basin splashing, looking towards the waterfall. She gasped, and showed him her picture-very similar-them splashing in the basin of the falls, hers in multiple colors in the style of Monet. His was in yellow colored pencil and black ink pen. "this isn't coincidence," she told herself.
Radio stations: hearing: in the car ride to another campground, christine tuned the radio to a station playing pop songs. A song by one of her favorite singers played, and she began to dance in her seat. She sang loudly, but in key, he notes, when the chorus plays. Another song played, one he had heard the many hours they had spent in the car. He knew the technical aspects of harmony, key, chorus, rhyme, crescendos from his perspective as an observer, he has heard so many musicians, watched their creative process, been at symphony's to observe. But today, the songs sounded different. He felt that tingle in his technology implant. He noticed how the music affected christine, her mood, her voice, and found he was indeed feeling the music, too. And today, when that song played on the radio, he found his fingers drumming in rhythm to the beat, and a sound escaped his lips-a hum. "are you humming?!" she asked in an excited tone."aaahhh, yes," he seemed suddenly embarrassed. "oh, don't be embarrassed, don't stop singing. This is wonderful breakthrough today. I am happy that you want to sing!" she exclaimed. "oh, lord," she suddenly thought-"what if my singing annoys him?" hearing her question in her mind he said in his mind, "you do not, you do not" he reached over to squeeze her hand, used the gesture he had seen others do when they wanted to reassure someone. "I know you will not criticize me, and I will not criticize you," he said aloud, gently. His eyes were on the road, but he still held her hand. She squeezed it, and kept it in her lap, and happily began to sing along with the next song. She teased," I know you wanna sing, sing with me, you've heard this one a million times!" and he sang.
Danger: It was towards the end of summer. They had been to many, many campgrounds across the united states. She noticed that they stayed at places for longer and longer stretches. He seemed more relaxed, especially in public places. She wondered if they danger had decreased-he still had to go on observations each day. He told her that the telepathy enhancement medication had long ago metabolized from his body. He had not teleported in months. She was in less danger. But sometimed she had to stay behind at the campground, many more times, he allowed her take walks alone. Just when she felt relaxed, They stopped at a diner in a rural town for lunch-the television on, people staring at it intently. He observed within milliseconds, that it must be of some local important event. They watched the coverage, bank robbery, escaped armed robbers on the lose in the area, interviews with witnesses. Suddenly, he sat up straighter, intake of breath. "what is it?!" she asked alarmed, that feeling of danger creeping over her. "look at the television-do you see those two men in the background, to the right of the reporter?" she looked and at first did not see anyone standing to the right of the reporter, but then, two figures came into focus for her, they were dressed like august, fedoras, bald heads, briefcases. . . She sat up straighter, too. " are they, are they?!" she stammered trying to keep herself quiet. "yes, those are my colleagues-the one on the right is called May, the one on the left is called November. We need to leave this area, immediately." They were able to leave the diner unnoticed by the waitress or any of the patrons. He left money on the table for the tab.
Nostalgia: shortly after that incident at the diner, she asked him" do you miss your colleges? Do you miss your work?" she asked. "miss? It is not a concept ever known to me-I have never been in a position to question that feeling. With this heightened awareness of my emotions in combination with my logic, then I do miss my colleges. I do miss my missions. My colleges and I share observation reports, have meals together, which would be the foundation of friendship. I realize now that I feel closer to a few more than to others. That closeness could be due to the fact that I share DNA with one. However, my mission now is to keep you protected, safe, prove to my colleges that you are important. That supersedes any nostalgia I may feel for the past relationships," he answered and then asked her, "do you miss your life in boston?" she answered, "yes, I miss my friends, my professors, work, my classes, being 'normal'. I miss my natural hair color, as silly as that seems. I have always been more self-reliant and mature than others my age, I suppose it's a consequence of losing my parents at such a young age. I tend to keep others at arm's length, though. And yet, I can talk to you, share with you things about myself never shared by others. Others never seemed to understand me, or what happened to me long ago, how my parent's deaths affected me psychologically. It's been a gray cloud in my life because people feel sorry for me. Yet, I find the silver lining in the gray clouds, try to be brave, happy, smile when I am around others. Inside, I am in turmoil. I am quirky, too. Two sides to me, but together whole, makes me a stronger person than most. Under other circumstances, this experience with you would be the trip of a lifetime. And yet, my lifetime is threatened by your colleges and assassins. I feel strong, yet weak, too, in this situation. But I must keep faith, as difficult as it seems. You understand-you remind me to be brave."
Confessions: "you are brave," he said one day. "brave? You keep using that word to describe me. Why?" she asked. "I saw you when you were a little girl, at the fair with your parents in san francisco prior to the earthquake, then again, in the backseat of your parents car, when the bridge collapsed, you were brave when you stood there with the emergency workers. I checked in on you thereafter over the course of your life," he explained. she rose from the camp chair and began to pace, absorbing what he had just told her. "you saw when I was a child? In san fransico? At the bridge collapse? With my parents at the fair? Oh my god! I don't know what to think, how to wrap my head around this revelation. This science fiction story just keeps getting weirder!" she cried. " I think I have angered you, scared you. I apologize. I thought this information would comfort you." he said. "why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she asked. "I did not realize the importance of this information. It has only since our discussion about your parents the other day that I realized you needed to know. " She said quietly, "in a strange way it does give me a little comfort. This means that you've been with me my entire life. You've seen me at the worst, most tragic event that happened to me. I could have died with them, does death follow me?" she anguished. "could you have saved my parents?" Christine asked. "no, there was nothing I could do. I arrived at the car afterwards," august said. "Did I escape death as a child, just for it to follow me to a doomed plane crash, to an assassin? Should I have died then? I am really beginning to freak out! I do not feel brave!" she wailed. "freak out?" he asked tilting his head unsure of the expression. "this is not the time for me to explain the expression to you!" she stated angrily. "do you want to freak out now. I can help you through it," he said. "I think. . .I think I need to be alone," and she retreated to the tent. He realized she wanted, needed to literally be alone, alone in this campsite. He took his book from his campchair, feeling confused by what was happening. "emotions are complicated," he thought. He walked to the ranger's station to sit there and read, wait for her. And he found it difficult to concentrate on the story. ***
Christine realized he had actually left. And a sense of panic rose within her. "has he left for good?" however that feeling quickly passed as she sat on the sleeping bag to freak out. "I miss my parents, why did they die? I was just a little girl," she thought. on and on her thoughts spun. "I was such a happy child. Had a happy life, two parents. what is so important about me? I am just an art major. I am or was getting my doctorate. I have lived a moral life, then I am kidnapped in order to escape a second death. By a man who claims to save me from it, who saw my near-death experience as a child. And observing me thereafter. Only still at risk of death by assassin," She sobbed and wailed, " my parents, at the fair, my last happy time. We'd enjoyed the the ferris wheel, and he was watching us. He saw me then, and I didn't notice. I never noticed him thereafter." she kept sniffling, not feeling brave. Just despair and great sadness. ***
Finally Christine calmed. she felt compelled to go to the ranger station, and found august there, looking out the window. "hello," she said. "hello," he said wirh concern on his face. "I'm feeling better now. Can we talk?" she asked, taking his hand.***
Christine explained, "The accident happened so fast-one minute I was talking to my parents-they were in the front seat, my dad driving, and I was in the backseat. We were talking about our fun day, driving home, suddenly the earth literally moved, shook, then blam! I can't get out. I look around me, the twisted metal cocoon, and my parents. I can tell they are dead, I call to them anyways, I am protected by a metal cocoon, but I do not emerge from it as a butterfly in the sun. The fire department cuts me out of the wreckage. no when I hear the sirens, the passerbys, I do not feel sunshine on my wings. I am a moth, brown, black, gray, no bright cheerful colors to display for the sun, just the moon. I am surprisingly calm feeling as I talk to the police the emergency workers, earthquake, bridge collapse, seeing the sheets draped over their bodies, the amazement that I had survived when I saw the wreckage from which I had emerged as a little moth. I had survived. A seven year old. Then when you brought it up, I relived it, and you were there to witness this event, this horror! My horror!" ***
afterwards they returned to their campsite to pack since they were leaving once again, roaming the country for another safe place. As the temperatures were cooling across the country, they decided to find a motel. No more camping-to Christine's disappointment.
Relationship: a slowly new relationship had developed after Christine's 'freakout'. it may have been slow of pace, yet with a greater level of trust. a friendship developing because they spent hours together, discussing, talking, quiet while observing. they took notice of the other's likes and dislikes. They discussed books, movies, television, world events, sketching together, writing. he evolved as his brain reprogrammed itself, having new insight into his past observations-the new emotional perspective-not the clinical, logical one. They discussed his new insights.
Learning the sense of touch A: His neck: the back of his neck tingled often, no longer painful, just tingly. He continued to rub it, she noticed, and worried that something was wrong-but he did not flinch, just rubbed it, often. "why do you rub your neck so often?" she finally asked. "I am changing, my neurons are rewiring, I am reprogramming, evolving-new channels being formed in parts of my brain," he stated. "does it hurt?" she asked, concerned. "it alternates between some pain and just tingles."***
She is intrigued by his tingling sensation, she has noticed tingling at the back of her neck from time to time, mostly when they spoke at the same time, or he 'read' her mind. ****
they stayed at a hotel near the grand canyon. She spooned him, while they drifted to sleep. She still thought about his neck, his very sexy neck, collarbone, throat. "oh damn," she thought. And felt tempted to kiss the back of his neck, that spot he rubbed. "Perhaps one kiss would make it feel better?" she asked herself. She leaned in and whispered to him," I want to kiss your neck". she heard and felt his intake of breath, unsure if that was a yes, or a no. "yes, it's yes," he answered She lightly kissed the tender spot on his neck, kissed it again, then kissed down the to the base of his neck, and then back up to the tender spot. "does this hurt?" she drew away. "no," he said. she leaned up and kissed the side of his neck, gently rubbed the spot on the back of his neck. "does this hurt?" she asked. "no," he said and turned over to look at her. She leaned over him, one hand cradled his head, the other gently touched his check. She leaned forward and kissed along his jawbone, then down his throat. His hands encircled her waist as she continued to kiss the right side of his neck, then the left side and back up to his jawbone. "do you feel better?" she asked as she drew away and laid back down beside him. they fell into a peaceful sleep. ***
"no one has ever done that to me", he thought upon waking the next morning. His neck did indeed feel much better today.
B: Hands: their hands seemed to find themselves palm to palm, fingers entwined, at an increasing rate. His sense of touch had advanced, certainly, in very primal ways, when he reflected upon the erections he had experienced. And hand-holding seemed to deepen his awareness of her, of his own emotions, her emotions-that mental connection that they had demonstrated in the physical form of hand-holding.
C: Hugs: hand-holding naturally led to hugging, after all, they found themselves entwined in the bed, so, naturally, they felt the need to hug, side hugs, short, brief, long, full body hugs, side body hugs, hugging while kissing the others neck. Hugs in the morning, hugs after laughter, hugs goodnight, hugs of comfort. Any excuse to hug.
D: bodies: they decided to stay and a bed and breakfast inn in Maine that they'd noticed on their drive through a town. The b&b looked like a castle. they admired the architecture. He booked the honeymoon suite-august liked that it had the word moon in it, recalling their love of the night sky. They wondered the reason no one watched the moon set. Everyone seemed more interested in sun rises, sun sets, moon rise, but never the moon set. They made it a point to look for the moon set each day. ***
There was a dance floor in the restaurant. "would you care to dance?" august asked christine. "you dance?" "I have observed the best dancers in the world. I understand the concept, have memorized the dance types and now that I feel the music, I would like to test my ability," he said whimsically. "wow, sure, I'll give it a try," she said enthusiastically. ***
"we are quite successful with dancing," he said. When a slow song played, it could not exactly be called dancing-they had found themselves embracing, swaying to the music. She enjoyed his clean scent, resting her face on his shoulder, the feel of his hands at her waist, reminding her of that night she had kissed his neck. She heard him whisper and realized her was describing in medical terminology the way a body responded to a kiss on the neck. He then said at her ear," I like visiting your mind." he gave a little chuckle. She pulled away so she could look into his eyes. "seriously, are you in my head all the time, eves dropping?" she asked. "no, no, not all the time. But don't you find yourself hearing my thoughts?" he asked "yes, yes, I do at times." she rested her head back on his shoulder. "Christine?" he asked. "yes?" she asked. " I would like to kiss your neck," he softly said. "here? NOW?" she drew back and looked at him again. "I think we'd be giving the others a bit of show," she said added, "we can't do that here and now." "Does That means yes. Okay. Understood," he said and reached to take her hand. "if not here, then I know where. Follow me."
E: Her neck: "oh, wow, your medical knowledge," she sighed in pleasure, as he kissed her neck, mimicking the manner she had on him at the grand canyon. They stood at the door of the room, she had her hands around his waist, and he around hers, gently, and methodically dropping kisses up and down and across her neck.
F: lips: over the next weeks, They found themselves connecting as often as possible, in public or in private. it lead to kissing, she could not help herself. She wanted to feel his lips, kiss his checks, his brow, his ear, hold his hand and kiss the palm, wanted to feel her kisses returned, his lips upon her face, upon her lips. Holding hands, hugging, she wanted to kiss him. . .those luscious lips, sensuous lips. ***
she had placed her hand behind his neck, pulled him close, placed a light kiss on his lips, giggled, did it again, instead of withdrawing, she pressed harder, held her mouth against his. She felt him return the pressure. She moved back, held his gaze-he seemed very curious. She leaned in again and kissed, he responded quickly, pressing his lips against hers. She brushed her lips lightly across his. She pulled his bottom lip with hers, then on his top lip. She repeated the process many times. He sighed, enjoyed the sensations. He began to return the kiss type, repeating it over and over. She finally pushed his lips apart with hers, gently pulling, sucking his top and bottom lip, opening and closing her lips upon his. Gentle, caressing, soft, urgent suddenly, wanting to open his mouth, to thrust her tongue inside, to taste him, for their tongues to lick, caress. He gasped when it happened. Pulled her even closer. They felt giddy, content, satisfied with the non verbal communication shared with the kisses. "are you reading my mind," she asked breathless. "yes," he exclaimed.
G: bodies: They practically ran to the hotel room. It had been several days of driving straight through to their new destination. He fumbled to get the door open while trying to kiss her neck, her lips, stumbling through the door. The items in the car could wait, excepting his briefcase which he dropped on the floor. he frantically searched to close the door behind them, resumed caressing her back. She pushed off his jacket off his shoulders, he shrugged it off, they embraced and he walked them backwards to the bed, his lips kissing her neck. he sat on the bed, and gazed into each other's eyes. "too many days apart," he remarked aloud. She removed her jacket. They just needed the closeness, urgently. She moved forward between his legs, and they held each other, her check pressed against the top of his head, and his check pressed into her torso. "this feels wonderful," she whispered. They lay on the bed, and entangled themselves. He moved to her side. "oh yes," she exclaimed loudly when he kissed the base of her neck. ", god yes," when she felt his lips part and kiss the same spot. He alternated between light pecks and the open lips, all across her neck and jawbone, up to her mouth, kissing her deeply, tongues entwined, flickering. "turn over so I can kiss the back of your neck" he said. She rolled onto her stomach, he ran his hands over her body, caressing, massaging, "oh yes, oh yes," she exclaimed with each touch. He kissed the back of her neck gently. "wow, oh wow. . . August come here," she said and kissed his sensuous lips, soft, gentle mouth. He lays down on his side, she turns to her side, facing him, caresses his chest, his arms, his hip, rubs the spot on the back of his neck. They both feel a gentle tingle course through their bodies. She leaned in and kissed there. She pushed him onto his back, and kissed his neck the way he had hers, touching whatever part of his body she can find. 'yes, yes," he moaned softly. He tried to keep his eyes open to see her, the image of her doing these things to him, but "oh the sensations she creates," he thought, closing his eyes," "oh," he grips the covers when he feels a wet caress with one kiss. "what, what is that you are doing?" he stammers. "I am licking your neck with my tongue," she whispered in his ear. The sensations jolt through his mind and body. She straddled his body, placed kiss upon kiss on his neck, licking each place. Then, nipped, and sucked each place. He sighed, then exclaimed, "ooohhh oohhh ,yessss!" as she moved down to sit on his legs, and began planting kisses across his chest, his arms. She ran her hands over his chest and torso, rubbed his muscular arms, the tops of his thighs, "you're as aroused as I am," she said seductively, as she skimmed her hand lightly over his bulging erection, quickly, flirty manner, as her hands quickly, too quickly went back to holding his hands. "yes, yesssssss," he crocked, gripping her hands tightly. "is this arousal?" he asked. "yes," she said. He said teasingly, "I believe I can arouse you to a higher state, too, with me,…," he said and sat up. She lay back on the bed. and he began caressing her as she had him, light strokes, light carasses, skimmed her chest, her torso, she tingled, she pounded the bed with her fist, in pleasure. "yes, yes, that feels so good. How will you know whether you've succeed in arousing me?" she asked flirty. " you will tell me, instruct me," he breathed. He was a quick learner, feeling her responses, feeling her in a way he never knew was possible for one of his kind. she arched upwards, towards his hands and kisses,. He rubbed Across the tops of her breasts. "beautiful, you are beautiful, " he breathed huskily. He turned her onto her stomach so he could continue exploring her backside. She squirmed and wiggled as he tucked and caressed. His hand skimmed down her back, down her bottom, down between her legs, light touch that quickly moved back up to her neck. She sighed loudly, "aaahhhh!" "are we fully aroused?" he thought. She heard his thoughts, and let him read her mind "yes, yes, it does. Satisfied?" she flirted with him. They realized that they felt content with what had just happened, achieving the desired result. Nothing further needed. He lay on the bed beside her, enjoying the connection they'd just shared, and asked aloud. "shall we go to dinner?"
Friendship: he always listened to her when they conversed as she told him what she observed on their outings. She learned quickly that his keen skills observation afforded him the ability to focus on many people, their actions, multiple conversations, situations at the same time. He could focus on multiple things at the same time, unlike herself. she was alone today in the hotel room, he said it was not safe for her to be outside. While she attempted to write her story, She became lost in her thoughts, thoughts of him. "he accepts me, in every aspect, watching me brush my teeth, my opinions on subjects. he wants to know me, he wants me to know him. Ugh, if this were ordinary, instead of extraordinary, situation, we'd be two people finding one another in a normal way. He would have been my friend back then, I just know it. And I feel friendship now between us, something more, I have to admit. All this time spent together, in close quarters-"****
over dinner they discussed friendship. Their friendship. "I know that my feelings for you, know, that they are different from my feeling towards my colleges, towards others of your kind. December called my action in regards to you was an error. December said that my error of judgment would be overlooked. I could leave you, go back to them, likely face punishment, but any punishment they doled out would be nothing in comparison to losing you, your death, my existence would be altered without you. I would trade my life for your life, one I am willing to make. I will keep you safe until they understand your importance for humanity on a whole, and to me. You've put your life on hold, if this on-the-run, gypsy lifestyle is a life, but It's what I have to offer. I brought you into this situation, you are innocent, yet I hold your freedom because I made what they called a mistake. My actions to save you are considered a mistake," he said. she responded, "now it's death by assassin. You at least see a future for me, despite what the others think. You hope your new found feelings on this matter will help convince them to allow me to live, because you know I am unique. Every day that I live is a stolen one. My present is only this stolen time with you. Perhaps just for me to help you grow your emotional self. . I felt a connection to you the moment I met you, especially when we spoke at the same time, when you were able to hear my thoughts. I feel a friendship with you, a kindred soul in you."****
Quick exits: He observed items scattered about the hotel room, toiletries on the bathroom counter, clothes over the back of the chair, hairbrush on the dresser, this was a scene different from the beginning of their life on the run. He realized they had become more relaxed, less cautious, less guarded since he had not sensed pursuit in a months. He had not felt the urgent need to flee at a moment's notice like in the past when he had noticed his colleges on several occasions. they did not take notice of him, but he continued to close his mind to them. And now he observed the chaos in the hotel room. If they had to flee quickly, the process would take more time than he liked. They needed to get back into the habit of staying packed. ***
she noticed that he had become more relaxed with her in public settings, allowing her more freedom of movement away from him, letting her go into a convenience store alone while he fueled the car. She could walk ahead of him if they were at a grocery store or at a thrift store searching for books to read. Yet, other times he was still as protective as ever. Pulling her close as they walked, keeping his hand on the small of her back, holding her hand, standing behind her, with his arms around her, needing to sit side by side in a restaurant.
Another Halloween: "I am aware of the Halloween traditions, witnessed trick or treating from small towns to metropolises. My collegues and I are especially able to blend in on that night, especially after the "men in black" movies were released-I believe that prior to those movies, we would have been regarded as mafia gansters or secret service agents. "well, I have been a bumble bee, a princess, to the figure from van Gogh's starry starry night. I haven't done anything for it since high school, when my friends and I went to a haunted house. Never again did I want to visit a haunted house. I never gave out candy once I got into college-just too much school work." she said reflecting. "would you like to do anything tonight?" he asked. "hum, let's stay in; I'll have you for tricks and treats," she giggled. "come here!"she exclaimed, kissing him with passion.
Their second Thanksgiving: they were seated at the Dillard House restaurant, a picturesque setting in the north georgia mountains for Thanksgiving lunch. Theirs was a table for two at the window, allowing them a view of the valley. The restaurant was packed, many people waiting in the lobby, on the front porch. Yet, they seemed to magically get seated well ahead of the others. She chalked it up to his amazing powers of observation. "oh, this is a wonderful setting for a Thanksgiving day meal. thank you for bringing us here." she said as the waitress brought generous bowls and platters of the traditional southern style meal. "scrumptious!" she took in the aromas, the array of colors appetizing to the eyes as well as to the pallet. They ate, enjoying meal and their company, feeling relaxed and content. Her hair had grown in length, and she had redyed it to a light shade of red. Most people did not give them a second look, if they were noticed by any other than the waitress. They reminisced about her previous thanksgiving-a turkey sandwich, cranberry juice, and pecan rolls, eaten in a car. He said, "you should have been a baseball player when you threw that pecan at me and it hit my forehead." he chuckled. At that point in time, she did not realize he could have avoided the hit with his quick reflexes, but instead had chosen to be hit so she could release some of the anger, he thought he perceived. "well, we now are friends, best friends. . . ," she said voice trailing. He did not need her to say her next words aloud. "we can discuss that later," he thought knowing she heard it in his head. "well, I am full, think I'll fight my way through the mob of folks to go to the bathroom," she said. "wait," he said scanning the room. "okay, go now, fewer people in your way, and no line at the bathroom," he observed. she walked through the restaurant and found no line just as he had predicted. But when she emerged many more people were crowded in the lobby, causing her to only creep through the crowd. Then she heard a male voice say," Christine? Christine hollis?! Is that you?" she felt a hand touch her shoulder. "ohh!" she exclaimed in surprise. "hello professor smith," Christine said. "wow, it's great to see you and here of all places, so far from Boston. My wife and I are visitng her family for the holiday through the weekend. Hey honey, look who I found!" professor smith exclaimed. "hello dear," mrs. Smith appeared, smiling, and embraced Christine. Professor smith asked, "how have you been doing? How was italy?" she felt stunned, unsure what to say, what to do, feeling cornered, paniced,"oh, well, thank you," she said, eyes scanning for august. "you look great. Your false kidnapping really shook the university. We had been worried. . . We were so happy that you avoided that plane crash, too. . .was the kidnapping really just an art movie project? " professor smith asked. Christine's level of panic increased. "honey," interrupted mrs. Smith. "I don't think Christine wants to discuss this," mrs. Smith said casting a sympathetic look at Christine. Professor smith quickly added, "right, right, I apologize." mrs. Smith interjected, "it's great to see you alive and well, have you already eaten, you could join us and my parents?" "um well, no, we have just finished eating. . . " Christine responded, "it's great seeing you, but I must get back to my party. Happy thanksgiving" she made a hasty retreat, pushing her way through the crowd. Mrs. Smith watched her hasty retreat, "oh honey, you upset her by bringing up that kidnapping. Tsk tsk!" mrs. Smith said. christine scanned the room for august, and caught sight of him at the check out counter, in a short line of customers. She hurried through the sea of people, as if it parted just for her. "we have to get out of here, now,"she told him in a frightened urgent whisper. "My professor from my university and his wife just recognized me, caught me off-guard, spoke to me!" ***
"I fucked up!" he cursed himself, hitting the steering wheel. "I didn't see that possibility-I didn't see it! I fucked up- I let you down, left you unprotected. I fucked up!" he hit the steering wheel again."he was overwhelmed by self-hatred, anger. "of course, people would think you were kidnapped." Christine didn't know what to think-"kidnapped, the university saw you grab me, that policemen, I'd been kidnapped as far as that looked to them at the time. Art movie project? What is going on? What is happening in boston? Now everyone will learn where I am presently, alive and well. . .won't that mean the assassins or your colleges can find me? " she lamented. August realized that they had to be more careful, more vigilant. "do you think they'll find me?" christine asked. "I will keep you safe. I have not sensed any activity in quite some time. Tell me again, what were their exact words?" she repeated what they had said. "interesting, the police, and the community have you classified as alive and well, not kidnapped. Art movie project? Weird. They are not looking for you. That is a relief. But it can mean that perhaps my colleagues manipulated the police reports, the media to have you reclassified to found-so that my colleagues can search for you instead," he said wryly "if they learn you've been spotted. . . .," his voice trailed off. "we'll keep traveling. I know you are unique, know that you are important. I will keep you safe," he said, reassured her. It was difficult for her to calm herself, she put on her brave face with the thought of an assassination agency. They arrived a few hours later at their new destination. "I had chosen this log cabin as a surprise for you, before the incident at lunch-perhaps it will cheer our mood." "is it safe to stay here? Should we get farther away?" she asked. "I am not sensing any danger. We are safe. I will make frequent observation excursions," he said to reassure her. christine began to relax. Her feeling of panic ebbed. "This is no different from any other day. Professor and mrs, smith won't be back in boston for day,s" he said aloud to reassure her and himself. To himself he thought, "there is a slim chance of discovery in that time." ***
Later in the day mrs. Smith remarked to her husband, "wasn't that an odd encounter with Christine hollis?" he responded, "yes, she seemed uncomfortable. In fact, I haven't seen her around campus since last fall, he answered." mrs. Smith said, "if I remember correctly, you had asked your colleague in the film school whether the students in his class had filmed such a movie." "true, he told me it had to have been an extracurricular, hobby movie of one of his students, nothing he was aware of," answered professor smith. Mrs. smith thought a minute then said, "it was bizarre-I heard that Christine had flown to italy, just missed that flight, you know, the one that crashed, that she wasn't aware anyone was concerned for her safety after the filming-apparently learned of the police involvement after phoning her subleter, remember?" "that week had all us worried," professor smith said shaking his head and continued, "and I haven't seen her in a year in boston or at the university, then we see her here in georgia." ****
The smiths did not know that on the day of Christine's abuduction, Captain wind mark had turned off the television after hearing the report of Christine hollis' disappearance at the hands of august. he spoken to september, "resolve the Christine hollis matter. We must locate her. I do not want the police, the FBI, the CIA, or NSA involved in this situation. A report must be circulated among the university, the media and agencies. Devise a plan and execute it. We must find her, correct her future. It is imperative."***
September had made the necessary phone calls, found a young lady willing to pose as Christine in a few telephone calls: one to her subleter to discover the matter, one to the police to ensure them of her well-being in italy, one to the media to inform them of her 'film participation', to tell all that she was fortunate to be at the filming instead of on the plane that crashed. And a year passed. No one had given much more thought to the matter or questioned the reason Christine had not been seen since that day in the fall. the young lady imposter had been well paid for her services and continued silence. She sunned herself on the lounge chair on her yatch at sail in the Caribbean. ***
christine reclined in the Jacuzzi tub, allowing the hot water and bubbles to soothe her, allowing the encounter with the smiths to fade from her mind. She sipped a large glass of wine, allowing her mind to wander to other topics, not the thanksgiving lunch fiasco. She actually giggled about the mirrored walls of the bathroom that looked like a scene from a naughty movie. She called out to him, "doesn't this remind you of a set for a naughty movie?!" "ahh, it does remind me of the GO GO club in Malibu. Marilyn sure knew how to party," august said. "hum, you'll have to tell me about that. . .," she called back to him. She giggled again thinking, "wish he'd join me in the tub. . .rub a dub dub, sexy man in my tub! Gosh, he is sexy, that mind, that body. . .I am such a lush, well, he did pour me an extraordinarily large glass of wine. Hardly platonic best friends, hardly traditional student/teacher." she giggled again. She heard him call to her, "do you require another glass of wine? I poured a new glass for you." "yes, thank you, please!" she called back, anticipating to hear his footsteps. None. Then, she saw a wine cup appear from around the corner, he had his eyes averted when he walked to the tub to hand her the glass. She thought, "oh my gosh, he's feeling shy because I am nude-and we've shared some intimate moments." aloud she said, "it's okay august, there are bubbles covering me. You can look. Just stay out of my head for a while!" she laughed. She suddenly knew the perfect way to end the evening, to erase the event at lunch.***
He heard her laughing and giggling, wanting to read her mind, but respected her need for privacy. Melancholy thoughts were on his mind. He felt angry with himself. "why did I not observe the smiths?" he thought. "am I loosing my advancements as I gain emotional awareness?" He had to do something to convince his colleagues to let her be, to the others to leave her be, let her live. He would have to reach out to them, to try to talk to them, convince them since he knew so much more of the reason she felt important, that she had a future worth saving. It might be the logical evidence December would need to hear, enough evidence for wind mark to call off the assassination. He would have to do it, contact them. They could no keep running, time was running out. She deserved better than this life if he saw there were a way to give it to her.
Nudity: they settled upon the couch, roaring fire in the fireplace. She sat curled up next to him blanket wrapped around herself, pressed a light kiss to his check. His wine glass sparkled in the light of the fire. He took a sip "here you finish the glass" he handed it to her. Because the subject of nudity was on her mind, "ya know, in college, I took several art classes with nude models both male and female. A friend of mine made good money modeling. She tried to convince me to model, too, due to my height and figure," she said. "and your brain," he added. "that sounds like you-you'd go to an art class where I'd be the nude model, and instead of drawing my breasts and genetalia, you'd draw my brain, the beauty of my brain. I'd like that," christine said. "I wouldn't draw your naughty thoughts," august teased. "good, I don't want the rest of the world to see those! The class would still be impressed by all your detail with drawing my brain, but overlook the hidden sexuality," she giggled. "you'd display your body? Not your soul?" he asked. "I never thought about it-I'm not modest, not a prude about my body, it's just a body, like every other persons-I hear you saying unique in disagreement. I just never let people get emotionally close to me-not until you. But I can assure you, I've not shared my body with anyone. . ., " her voice trailed off, unsure if he got the implications of what she was saying. "okay, I am a virgin, it's unusual for a woman my age, in this day and age to be one, but I did not met anyone who seemed worthy of my soul." she said as she looked deeply into his eyes. He said, "I'm glad. So am I."
The go go club in Malibu: "so at the club, security believed me to be just another body guard of the celebrities. My mission was to observe Marilyn Monroe. I found a point that logically suited observation, but the crowds increased, and the women are scantily clad, the alcohol flows freely, the music blars, lap dances, several well known play boy bunnies see me, actually notice me, and rush over to me, surrounding me, calling me by the name of Frank Stevens. They mistake me for him. I am pulled over to Monroe, who says to me, "you're not Mr. Stevens, but I'd love to take you upstairs!"in a flirty, highly intoxicated naughty tone. She takes me by the arm and leads me throught the crowd and a photographer snaps our photograph. The local newspaper ran the picture along with the headline "Marilyn's Mystery Man". needless to say, my colleges were unhappy with me," he laughs. Christine laughs. Then she asks, "wait. I can just picture you in your suit, wanting to blend into the background, pushed into the spotlight, horrifying, wait, wait, you said marilyn wanted to take you upstairs. . .did you actually get to have sex with Marilyn Monroe? "no, no, no. . . she wanted to, she pressed her body against mine, kissed me felt my crotch, felt no response, and says, "damn, it's always the good-looking ones who are gay!' Marilyn laughed and left me, rejoined the party." Christine roared with laughter, nearly choking on the sip of wine she'd just taken. "she felt you up!"****
"Yes, and I have also learned to not say 'I am here merely to observe'. . . That has gotten me into other awkward situations with doma matrixes, oh, and Bill Clinton," august chortled. christine said, "oh, I know you are kidding me now." "no, I am very serious. If the public knew what other ojects Ms. Lewnski and President Clinton enjoyed during that fateful cigar incident. . ., " he laughed. she broke into more laughter, "if you say gerbil, I'm gonna tickle you!" he leaned forward and whispered, "gerbil" "ahhh, tickle tickle tickle!"she pounced him, tickling his anywhere she could get her hands. He tickeled her in return, the blanket fell away, revealing to him that she wore the red slip nightgown.
The red nightgown:
"surprise, happy thanksgiving!: she said as she observed his reaction and expression. She stood letting the blanket fall away to reveal the red nightgown and said, "here, let me give you a better view." she twirled around. he was mesmerized. "I do not, I don't know how to describe what I see or feel, words just do not adequately describe them." "fortunately, we don't always need words to communicate," she breathed. She stepped forward towards him and stood between his legs. He arms encircled her waist, hands on her hips, slowly moving them upwards and downwards. she closed her eyes, as he smoothed his hands up the front of her body, to cup her breasts, then down to cup her bottom. She sighed. He leaned in to place a light kiss on her stomach, then nuzzled against her, loving the feel of the red fabric. He felt her lips kiss the top of his head. She sank onto his lap. Her arms went around his neck. "by my observation, we are more than best friends, in reference to our conversation at the Maine bed and breakfast," he said. He willed himself to put the anxiety out of his mind. "you have a future," he thought. "hey, what are you thinking? You had a far away look on your face," she said concerned. "nothing but your beauty, here, now, this…" he responded. she didn't quite believe him. "okay, perhaps this will help brighten your thoughts. . .," and with that she placed a brief, light kiss on his lips. He jumped, the feeling coursing through him. She kissed him again, more pressure, longer. Kissed his checks, his brow, then his lips again, anything to earase that sad look from his face. He lay them back onto the couch. His hands roamed her body while their tongues danced. There was no way for him to hide, no reason to hide the physical reaction his body was experiencing, the erection. She could feel it. She could feel herself reacting in the same way, "soaking wet down there." she thought, then aloud "are you in my head?" she asked breathing hard. "yes," he whispered in her ear, and went on to describe in medical terminology what was happening to her. It sounded so arousing to her. After several minutes of kissing and touching, they gazed into each others eyes. They felt content with what has just happened. "do you want to watch television?" august asked. "yes, lets cuddle here on the couch," Christine responded. ***
Two personalities: christine awoke to an empty bed, but to the smell of coffee. She found august sitting outside on the porch wrapped in a blanket, drinking a cup of coffee. "you are awake much earlier than I had expected, I was going to treat you to breakfast in bed-that is what people do, as a gesture of affection?" he asked. "yes, you're getting the hang of the various gestures that go along with expressing your emotions," she said, recalling some of the comical mistakes, like the use of chicken soup when she stubbed her toe. "you did feel bad" he said, -"isn't chicken soup used for when one feels bad?" he gestured for her to come sit in his lap, in the warmth of the blanket. She joined him and kissed him good morning. "will this kiss lead us back to bed?" he asked uncertain. "no, this is just a good morning kiss," she said as she gave him an extra kiss because he looked like he needed extra reassurance this morning. He said, "okay, I will make you breakfast. Could you turn on the news broadcasts? I'd like to hear about the events going on in the world while I cook. Did you observe that there are 18 ceramic floor tiles in the bathroom? That there are fifteen 60 watt bulbs in the cabin?" there it was: the old logical, methodical side of his personality-merging with the new emotional side. Both would keep her alive.
To be continued in chapter 5 august and Christine hollis life on the run