Before Sarina could say anything else, Isaac swept her into his arms and ran with blurring speed to her apartment. He was through the door and in her room before she could catch her breath. He gently set her on her bed. Curiously, her bathing suit was dry.
Sarina suddenly felt very vulnerable lying on her back. Isaac towered over her, his face solemn and filled with purpose. He seemed to know that he was being intimidating, because he smiled reassuringly and knelt beside the bed.
"How do you do it?" she asked nervously.
"My spirit will leave my body and enter yours," he answered. "This will not hurt but you may feel warm spots. That will only be me at work."
"The cancer...it can't hurt you?" she asked, true concern for his wellbeing coloring her voice.
"No. I will be as light burning the cancer cells away and repairing the damage to your body," he replied softly.
"So, it's like laser therapy?"
"Similar, I suppose, only much more effective." Isaac smiled. His hand reached up to sooth her worried brow. "Just relax. Close your eyes. Do not move. Think peaceful thoughts."
Sarina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Isaac also took a deep breath and let his body fall away. He entered her body and surveyed the damage. His heart clenched and he retreated back to his own body. Tears welled up in his eyes. He could feel the scars from the surgical removal of the tumors. The cancer had nearly destroyed her immune system, allowing bacteria and viruses to attack her internal organs. The chemotherapy had destroyed much of malignant cells and kept the outside pathogens at bay, but had also harmed her liver, scarred her insides, and of course robbed her of every hair on her body.
Calling on the discipline cultivated over centuries of emotionless existence, Isaac reentered her body and began the long work of destroying the cancer and healing soft tissues. He took his time, examining every corner of her blood stream, every wrinkle in her organs. He made certain that not a single mutated cell was left in her body. He broke down the remaining toxins in her body so that her kidneys could easily remove them from her blood stream.
Finally, he reinvigorated the hair follicles on her scalp. He was too week to force any hair growth, and her doctor would be suspicious if she regrew her hair in such a short time, but just starting the process was a gift he couldn't resist giving. He retreated from her body and sagged against the bed.
"How are you feeling?" Isaac asked.
Sarina took a quick inventory and replied, "Better. I feel less...fractured."
"Good," he sighed. "I was able to remove the cancer."
"Really?" she gasped, unable to to stop her heart leaping in joy. "You mean I'm in remission?"
"You are cured," he insisted. "I made certain not a single mutated cell remains in your body."
Sarina gripped his hand, her dark skin flushed with health contrasting with his pale skin.
"Are you OK?" she asked.
Her concern turned his heart over. He smiled, his eyes weary but warm. "Yes, meine liebe, I am fine."
Sarina sat up and looked him over. "You look like hell. Maybe you should lay down for a few minutes before you go back to your apartment."
He chuckled. "So quick to throw me out?"
She pursed her lips in annoyance. "I'm grateful and all—truly I am—but there is no way you're staying the night."
"Fair enough," Isaac grunted as he stood up. "Still, a thank you would be appropriate, and pleasant to hear."
She smiled crookedly, but dutifully said, "Thank you very much."
"You are most welcome, mein liebe," he returned with a gracious nod.
Slightly irked by his superior attitude, she asked, "What does 'mein liebe' mean anyway?"
"My love," he said honestly.
"All this time you've been calling me your love?" she demanded incredulously. He nodded again. "But you don't even know me!"
"I know enough," he replied simply.
"Don't start," she warned. "I'm trying not to remember your partiality to eavesdropping on my privet thoughts."
"I do exercise some discretion," he defended himself.
"Then discreetly forget to remind me how much you really know, and I'll discreetly forget that I should call uncle Mark to have you escorted from my apartment," she retorted.
"You only need ask me to leave," Isaac admonished. "I have no desire to make you uncomfortable."
"Would you really leave?" Sarina demanded. "Or would you extort more information from me before your departure?"
Isaac was starting to get irritated with her constant lack of faith in him. Had he not just proven his honor, his devotion, his restraint to her?
"I will leave now," he replied coolly and left the bedroom. He was just turning the knob on the front door when he felt a small hand slip into the crook of his elbow.
"I'm sorry, that was extremely rude," she apologized softly. "You don't have to go just yet. You still look very pale—would you like a cup of tea?"
That easily, his heart melted. He turned around to gaze into her beautiful topaz eyes. "No, but thank you for your concern."
"You just cured my cancer—isn't there anything I can offer you?" she pleaded.
Isaac chuckled at the ideas that sprang to mind. Sarina's eyes went wide as she realized how her question had come across, and she blushed furiously. "No, mein liebe, I do not think it is wise for you to offer anything this evening. I have much work to do before tomorrow, and I need sustenance before I begin."
"I have some leftover lamb balls," she muttered half heartedly.
"Again, thank you, but no, I do not eat meat," he replied. She looked so sad that he couldn't resist brushing her silky cheek with the back of his hand. "Do not fear, I will be back tomorrow evening."
"So I'm stuck with you now?" she asked ruefully.
"You always were," he replied softly. He brushed a kiss on her forehead. "Tomorrow night, mein liebe, mein herz, mein seele."
"Tomorrow night," she sighed.
And then he was gone.
Sarina woke late the next morning. She looked at her alarm clock, surprised to see it was after ten. She usually didn't sleep that late on a weekday, much less a Friday. More surprising was the reason she woke: she was hungry! Not just the passing notion that she needed to eat, she was ravenous. Still in her pajamas, she went to raid her fridge.
Not surprising, there wasn't much. She never kept a lot of food on hand as a rule. No sense in over-stocking the fridge when she could be hospitalized at a moments notice. Normally for breakfast, she had a cup of tea and half a muffin. Obviously, that wouldn't cut it this morning. There was only one thing to do. She picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Los Angeles Morgue. You kill 'em, we chill 'em. How can I help you?" Mark's voice came through the phone.
"I'm looking for a lunch date," Sarina replied, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice, "but if all you have is cold cuts..."
"Little Sari, what's the occasion?" Mark crowed happily.
"No occasion. I'm just hungry."
"I'll be there in 20 minutes," he promised.
After she hung up, she jumped in the shower. When she was done, she put on her most flattering pair of jeans, a black chamois and a low cut green top. She picked out a unremarkable wig, a simple black bob, and even had time to put on a little lip gloss and eyeliner.
Mark finally knocked on the door. She opened it and found him very sharply dressed for a impromptu lunch date. He wore un-torn black jeans, a red turtleneck shirt, and a Nautica windbreaker. His nut-brown hair was combed back and his gray eyes sparkled with too much caffeine. He scrutinized Sarina.
"You look...like your old self again," he said.
"I feel like my old self again," she beamed. "And I really am hungry."
"Then lets go," Mark replied.
The two of them took Mark's classic Camero to the nearest International House of Pancakes. Mark flashed his military ID and they were seated immediately. The waitress promptly took their orders, steak and eggs for Mark and Sarina ordered pancakes, hash browns, turkey sausages, toast and jam, and hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows.
After the waitress left, Mark asked, "Since when are you able to eat so much?"
"I told you," Sarina replied. "I'm hungry today."
"Don't you usually have a hard time just keeping food down?" he probed.
"Usually, but I think I'll be fine today," she insisted.
Mark scrutinized her face. "There's something different about you. I just can't put my finger on it."
Sarina couldn't hide a blush at the memory of Isaac healing her. It had been ridiculously intimate in her room, his essence traveling through her body.
"Okay, what was that?" Mark demanded.
"What was what?" she echoed.
"That blush. You blushed at something," he accused with good humor.
"It's nothing," she tried to dismiss it with a wave of her hand.
"Bull," he called. "That wasn't a nothing blush—that was a trouble blush."
"Seriously, it was nothing!"
"Come on!" he persisted. "Spit it out."
Sarina sighed exaggeratedly and took the easiest way out. "It was just a silly dream."
"What kind of dream?"
"A dreamy dream; I don't know! What sort of dreams do you have?" She threw up her hands in exasperations. Mark gave her a considering look, as if he might actually answer her. Quickly she cried, "Don't tell me—I don't want to know."
"Who was in this dream?" Mark asked.
"No one you know." Just the guy you're under orders to keep away from me, she thought and her blush deepened. She glanced up at him and saw the gears in his mind putting the pieces together. He looked all too satisfied with his conclusion.
Oh no! He thought she had dreamed of him. And not just any dream—a blush-worthy dream. And she had asked him out for breakfast. She almost groaned aloud. She would probably never live this down. Still, she consoled herself, at least he wouldn't pry any more.
Then their drinks came. Mark sipped his black coffee and she enjoyed her extra-marshmallow-y chocolate. She occupied herself with drinking the hot beverage carefully to avoid anymore awkward conversation.
Soon their food come. Mark watched in amazed silence as she ate 3 pancakes with fruit and whipped topping, 4 pieces of buttered toast with marmalade, a plate of hash browns, 4 turkey sausages, and three refills of her hot chocolate. Curiously, she didn't feel even the slightest bit nauseous or bloated. If anything, she was still hungry. Maybe she was truly cured. It certainly wouldn't take long to get her old curves back with an apatite like this.
"Where do you put it all?" he murmured in awe.
"I think my stomach has turned into a black hole," she confided. She just drained her last cup of chocolate when Mark's cell phone rang.
"Hello?" he answered. Then his whole demeanor changed; his shoulders straightened as he came to attention. "Yessir... Yessir...we're on our way."
"Was that dad?" Sarina asked.
Mark nodded, his face bewildered. "Someone sprung him."
"You mean he's escaped?" she cried.
"No, I mean someone has legally cleared his name," he said. "He's waiting in Lancaster for us to pick him up. He said to bring him some fresh clothes."
Sarina sat stunned for a moment. Then she grabbed her purse, already half way out of her seat. "Lets go!"
Mark threw several twenty-dollar bills on the table and escorted Sarina out of the restaurant. She was in such a hurry to see her father free, she didn't really notice Mark's hand on the small of her back. They momentarily stopped at her apartment again so she could throw some of her father's old clothes in a duffel bag. Then they took off towards the state penitentiary.
The hour long drive seemed to take forever, but finally they made it. Mark hadn't stopped the car when Sarina jumped out and ran towards her father. He was waiting for them outside the compound in old inmate-issue clothing. She threw her arms around his neck and he responded with a gentle bear-hug, careful of his daughter's fragile body even as he lifted her off the ground.
"Please tell me this isn't a dream," she begged.
"No dream," Michael promised. "Very bizarre though."
"What happened?" Mark wanted to know.
"Some hotshot lawyer called this morning and said that Javier Brashears—the guy I put in the hospital for trying to drug you—had confessed to a judge a long list of crimes, including using drugs to seduce unwilling women. Sever court rulings were overturned this morning, including mine!" he explained.
"What about your lawyer? Didn't he have anything to say about this?" Mark demanded.
"He said that he'd received copies of everything, and that it's all legal and official. He wanted to know where I'd gotten such a high-powered attorney so fast, and he gave me a long lecture about not being off the hook for his legal fees and blah blah blah," Michael replied.
"Isaac," muttered Sarina under her breath.
"What was that pumpkin?" her father asked with another squeeze.
"Nothing. Come on, lets go home. You are coming home with me, right?" she looked up into his eyes hopefully.
"What I wouldn't give to hear those words," Mark sighed wistfully.
"There is no place I'd rather be," he assured her while he shot his subordinate a warning glare.
"Then change into some fresh clothes, and we'll go. Have you had lunch yet?" Sarina asked as she passed the duffel bag to her father.
"I wouldn't dignify the sludge they serve here by calling it lunch," Michael replied. He ducked into the Camero to change. Sarina and Mark turned their backs to give him some privacy. Very soon, Michael tapped on the glass to let them know he was done.
"First order of business," Michael said as Sarina and Mark climbed back into the car, "Is to get some cheeseburgers and shakes."
"To In-and-Out!" Mark cried as if he was sounding a charge. He gunned the engine and they took off.
So not much of a cliffhanger this time. I hope that has redeamed me at least a little bit. I recieved quite a few reviews--which I LOVE!!! So thank you everyone! I have big plans for the next few chapters, and some surprizes in store regarding Michael, Mark, and even Sarina's mother! But I won't give away any spoilers. I hope you enjoy!