Hello all,

Thank you all for your great support of this story. I am really having a great time with it, and hopefully have some great stuff planned for it. Here is the next installment, we are getting to the heart of the matter. Huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010 who has always and continues to be an amazing support system for me.

Also, I'll try this again. We are having a little fun over at our blog with some prizes and such so come on over and check it out at www(dot)leigherikson(dot)blogspot(dot)com Obviously replace the dots with real dots.

I really appreciate the reviews so thank you I look forward to hearing how you like the chapter.

Here we go…WTIE

Chapter Three:

Erik crouched down behind a bush and adjusted his sunglasses and scarf to ensure his face was well hidden, even in the dark.

He glanced up at the moon, tonight it was full, he would be able to see her even better. She should be exiting the recovery center any moment now.

His body tensed and he turned his focus to the exit. For the last two weeks he watched her.

No, that wasn't right. For the last two weeks he researched her, he waited for her, he dreamed about her, he protected her. Even from afar.

Once he pieced together the paper and deciphered her name, he indulged himself and looked up Dana Marlon on the Internet.

He never meant to show up at her place of work two days later. He only wanted to see her again. Maybe he wanted to discredit her, or realize he built up the Nebraskan native in his own mind. Every day she was more beautiful, more ethereal, more miserable, and more alone.

Maybe it was the dream.

The dream of having someone.

The dream of being able to care for someone.

The dream of simply being able to walk someone home.

Now, two weeks later, rather than wanting to rip himself apart at the sight of her, he wanted to be near her. He swore to himself never to take it too far and limited himself to secretly walking her home. A woman of her caliber shouldn't be on the streets of New York alone at night.

Now he knew her moods, he knew her. Sometimes she would leave work humming and smiling to herself, sometimes on the phone. He especially enjoyed it when she talked to herself and he could hear her speak.

He looked down at his watch and held his breath. Any second.

The door opened at last.

She came out, a vision in light blue scrubs and her hair back.

"She should put a sweater on, its chilly." Erik whispered to himself.

She stopped on the steps to the recovery center and Erik stood up. Something was different today. She never stopped before.

Today, she stopped and wrapped her arms around herself.

Erik bit his lip. She really should put a sweater on.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, holding it up to her face and shaking her head.

She hit some buttons on her phone and shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"What's wrong?"

She looked at her phone again. She stopped moving.

Erik wanted to go over to her and clenched his fist.

She wiped her eyes.

Erik needed to give her a moment and turned down to the ground. He was practically standing in a planter with a small white and yellow flower that he bent down to pick. Maybe it would make her smile.

He watched her put the phone back in her bag and she began her trek to her apartment.

Erik did as always and followed, staying in the shadows, keeping his footsteps light and having a connection to someone if only for a few moments.

She stopped again. Not her usual stop to glance at something in a window or look up at the sky. She stopped abruptly and turned behind her causing Erik to back up against a building. From his vantage point he could clearly make out the tears streaming down her face.

He didn't move. The last thing he needed to do was scare her.

She looked up and down the street, and Erik could have sworn she looked right where he hid. She put her hand to her chest, turned back and resumed her travel.

Once Erik breathed, he allowed her to get a few paces ahead and followed, staying way back as she rounded the corner and made her way to her apartment building. After another round of wiping her eyes, she trudged up the stairwell to her apartment. She opened the door and turned back, looking around and shaking her head. At last she went inside.

Erik waited. He didn't want to leave her crying and he wondered if maybe she felt his presence. He needed to do something, and though he swore to himself he would never take this too far he tiptoed up to her apartment.

Adrenaline pumped through his body and his heart seized. All she needed to do was open the door and he would be found out, but he still managed to place the small flower he picked for her on her doormat.

With his gloved hand, he touched the door and rushed down the stairs. By the time he was down the stairs he couldn't catch his breath, and he hid around the building, right into a dead end, pulling down his scarf and inhaling the cool night air.

Out of nowhere the click of a door echoed through and he hit is head on the brick wall behind him. "Damn." He whispered, not sure if he should take the chance and run, or stay still and hope no one cornered him.

He didn't have time to make a decision, only a second later, the door closed and he waited a few minutes more before coming out from his hiding place. The street was empty and he went to her stairwell.

The flower was gone.

"The patient is ready." Anton announced. "Fletcher, the recovery center is here."

Erik straightened up and closed his book. If the recovery center was there, Dana may be there as well.

He tried to stay away. He did. He couldn't take the chance of being found out, but he couldn't stop, and ever since the night where she took his flower he tried to think of a way to he could approach her without losing the small something he had. "It's really nothing." He said to himself and stood. The fact was ever since that first time, Dana had never come back to the brownstone. Still, he began to shake, what if nothing could turn to something?

Fletcher dashed by to help the patient and Erik wrapped himself in his scarf and donned his sunglasses and followed him. With the ruckus of loading the patient it was easy to sneak outside and hide by the wall. He crossed his arms and waited, glancing down at the asphalt.

"Here is the patient's chart." Anton said.

Erik closed his eyes preparing himself for a male voice to answer.

"Do you have his medications?"

It was her. The floating, dreamlike voice that seemed as if it only wanted a place to land. He looked up right as she came out of the ambulance. Cream colored scrubs, hair back, a blush on her cheeks. Gorgeous.

"Hold on." Anton turned and went back inside.

Dana moved aside as the medical assistants brought the patient in the vehicle and she stepped out and stretched.

Erik swallowed. The way she held her arms up allowed him not only to make out the outline of her figure, but she also revealed a bit of her stomach. A perfect creamy white like the rest of her.

She breathed in, put her arms down and then did the most amazing thing.

She looked right at him.

Now was his chance. He could walk right over to her. Talk to her. Say anything. A hello, an acknowledgement. A real conversation with a real person.

"Here's everything." Anton came out with a bag.

Dana turned to Anton and took the bag. "Th…Thank you."

Erik clenched his fist and pounded it on the wall behind him for Anton interrupting at exactly that time. It was nothing. The look was nothing. He made it up in his mind.

She signed the release papers and handed Anton his set. Anton returned inside but before she closed the door to the ambulance she looked at him again and nodded.

He stood in the ally watching the ambulance drive away. It was a nod, a true nod, and in a world where everyone who was conscious avoided him at all costs, it was a connection.

He needed to think about what his plan was now and he forced himself away from the wall, his knees threatening to buckle. He cleared his throat, took a breath and went inside, stopping short before he collided with Anton, Olena and Fletcher. Olena and Fletcher looked at each other and left.

"What do you want, old man?" Erik unfurled himself from his scarf and tossed his sunglasses on the side table.

"How are you?" Anton tapped his foot.

Erik sucked in his cheeks. Anton knew, he was sure Fletcher and Olena knew. Fine. "I am very well this fine evening, yourself?"

"Your surgery was perfect." Anton glanced down at the discharge papers.

"Yes, of course it was." He squared his shoulders and primed himself for the next question.

"In honor of your wonderful surgery, why don't we go out for breakfast tonight?"

"Go ahead and ask." Erik pointed at him, he would make sure to draw the first weapon.

"What?" Anton shrugged his shoulders.

"Leave me alone." He went to leave, make his plans, and be left alone.

Anton caught him. "I know you watch her."

Erik clenched his teeth. "Is that a crime?"

"It's just…" Anton pursed his lips before he finished his statement.

"Just what?" Erik grabbed his sleeve. "Just what?"

Anton stared at him. "What do you expect to happen?"

"You're no different." He pulled Anton closer. "I'm nothing to you but hands for hire. Maybe, just maybe someone like her could look beyond and actually want to be with someone who would worship her!" His blood rushed through his veins causing him to be come hot, charged, needing to explode. "Maybe she could be different." He thrust Anton away from him.

He ran up the room to his suite and headed straight for the bathroom, lifting his hands and holding them out like claws. He needed to get rid of himself. He placed his nails near his flesh. A woman like Dana would never want him after she saw what he could do to himself.

"No." He shut his eyes and forced his hands down, clutching the edge of the counter. A woman like Dana, would never want him if he destroyed himself. He couldn't resort to those tactics.

He looked into the mirror. Anton was right. The ridges and irregularities only made worse or better by the scars that crisscrossed his face, some physician made, some homemade. What did he expect to happen when all he did was sit on the sidelines, a spectator in his own life?

"She nodded at me." He spoke the words aloud. The moment she acknowledged him he was no longer a bystander. She would be off her shift in a few hours, and for the first time he wouldn't be going to her as merely as a passive observer, he would formulate a plan to be more than part of the scenery.