CHAPTER 7: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18

While Didi was getting dressed the next morning, Cam noted that by mid-afternoon it would be two days since Didi had first awakened in the other room; two days since he had first gazed into her beautiful blue eyes and been drawn to the amazing soul he had seen inside of them.

In less than two days he had learned more about this woman than he'd learned about Sam or Vala in four years. He knew her full name (her middle name was Lynette); he knew her favorite foods and what she hated; he knew what types of music she liked and what sports she most enjoyed watching; he knew all of her favorite vacation spots, and he knew the details of the worst vacation trip she'd ever been on with her family . . . and those of an equally bad one with Tad. He knew the name of the pastor who had presided over her christening and the one who had performed the marriage ceremony to her scoundrel of an ex; he knew all of her favorite restaurants—including fast food places and greasy spoons—and he knew which ones made the best milkshakes.

He loved the curve of her face; the sound of her voice; the music of her laughter; the blond of her hair; the blue of her eyes; and the feel of her soft, warm skin. If he had to go another day without telling her how he felt, he would burst. Please, God, he pled silently, give me strength to wait another day. . ..

During and after breakfast they made small talk, covering a wide range of topics: how beautiful Kansas is in autumn, what the weather in Colorado Springs is like in comparison to their region of Kansas, and the Big Lie kids are told when they go to get their tonsils out.

"They tell you that you can have all the ice cream you want," said Didi, "but what they don't tell you is that your throat's gonna hurt so much, you won't want to eat any for days!"

"Yeah, I know; kinda got me mad, too. But, boy, did I make up for it once my throat started feeling better! I held my parents to that promise. I felt they owed it to me."

Didi laughed. "If I ever have kids and they need to get their tonsils out, I'm going to be upfront with them about it."

"I hear ya. I feel exactly the same way." After saying this, Cam stood up and said cryptically, "I'm going to go make some offerings to the porcelain god." He then went into the bathroom and closed the door. Didi, suddenly realizing what he'd meant, snorted.

By the time Cam emerged, Didi was sitting up against the wall, looking thoughtful.

"What's on your mind, Didi?" Cam inquired.

"I just realized that, outside of your football career and your experiences with SG-1, I don't really know all that much about you. I know it's my own fault: I kept asking you to tell me stories about your exploits going through the Stargate. But now, I'd like to know more about you—Cameron Mitchell, the man. Tell me more about your parents and your grandparents; tell me some stories from your childhood, from your days at the Academy and from your years as a regular old Air Force pilot."

Cam smiled and sat down at the foot of Didi's bed. "Be glad to."

He'd barely gotten through his first story—about an overly aggressive rooster on the family farm that was eventually served up for Easter dinner—when Gor-lak dropped in.

"Hey, Gor-lak," Cam said. "What's up?"

"I was just curious to see how you and Miss Steadman are getting along after two days together."

"We're doing fine, aren't we, Didi?"

"Yes, we are," Didi replied.

"Good! I was afraid you might be tiring of each other's company by now."

"Not a chance!" Cam said emphatically. "We're getting to know each other real well. It's been an eye-opening experience for both of us."

Gor-lak looked at Didi and she nodded.

"Very well, then," Gor-lak said. "I shall leave you to continue getting to know each other."

"See you later, Gor-lak," said Cam cheerfully.

Gor-lak was mystified by Cam's cheerfulness—particularly in view of the fact that he would be facing mortal danger the following afternoon—but he said nothing. Shrugging his shoulders, he left.

"Got another story for me, Cam?" Didi asked after the Chak-tuk elder had gone.

"I've got plenty. It's a matter of picking one. . . Now let me see . . . when I was about three or four years old, there was this big, old, worn-out inner tube from a tractor tire that Granddad had patched up, so that I could sit down and bounce on it. He set it in the middle of the lawn, so that if I fell off, I wouldn't hurt myself too seriously. . ..

"Well, one day I was just bouncing up a storm, and I came down on it wrong. The other side of the tube flipped up, flew over my head and dumped me on my back. My legs were sticking out through the hole in the middle, and I couldn't get back up. I started screaming and yelling for help, but everybody on the farm was busy, so they didn't hear me. Eventually, my hollering drew the attention of the old billy goat, Ned. (He was a smart old cuss and he knew how to undo the gate latch to the goat pen.) He came trotting over to see what all the fuss was about, took one look at the big, black ring with legs and charged it—punctured the inner tube with one shot. Then he stood there and ate grass while the tube slowly deflated beneath me.

"I figured it'd take a few minutes to deflate enough so that I could get out of it, but at least I knew it would go down eventually and I stopped yelling. I just lay there on my back, staring up at the beautiful blue Kansas sky and waited. Mom eventually came looking for me and saw me lying there with my feet sticking out of the inner tube. . . Not knowing the whole story, she just assumed the goat had attacked me while I was bouncing. After lifting me out of the tube and setting me on my feet, she grabbed Ned and hauled him off to the goat pen. She made the gate latch more secure than before and scolded him. I always felt sorry for him, since his puncturing that tube saved me from screaming myself hoarse."

"Did your grandfather re-patch the tube?"

"No; I told him not to and explained what'd really happened. (Mom was too upset to listen, having already made up her mind that Ned was guilty.) Granddad never bothered to tell her the truth. He just fed Ned an occasional extra carrot as a reward for trying to help me out of a jam and threw the inner tube out. I told him I didn't wanna end up on my back like that again. He made me a tire swing and hung it from an old tree instead. One day the tree was struck by lightning and split down the middle. Before too long it shriveled up and died and was eventually uprooted and carried off by a Kansas twister. I started believing that tires were just plain bad luck."

Didi was smiling. It wasn't a rip-roaring-with-laughter story, but it was amusing, and she could picture it so well in her mind. . . She just wondered what Cam had looked like back then. He was probably a really adorable little boy, she thought.

After the last story ended, Cam decided it was time to exercise. While he was thus engaged, Didi was humming softly to herself. It wasn't a tune Cam recognized, and he wondered if it might be something Didi herself had composed. He wouldn't put it past her. The lady was quite talented, and he had a feeling that there was even more lying deep beneath the surface that he had yet to discover about her.

When she had finished humming the new tune, she started to hum—and vocalize—other things: primarily workout tunes and instrumentals with a good beat, many of which Cam recognized. He knew Didi was choosing the numbers deliberately, to make his morning exercise regimen a bit more enjoyable.

When his watch alarm went off, Cam stood up, looked at Didi and smiled softly. Sweat was running down his face and chest. "Thanks for the exercise music," he said, panting. "I had a great workout."

"Houston, we have a problem," Didi said.

"And what might that be?" Cam asked with mild amusement.

"I don't have a used shirt for you to wipe yourself off with this time since Gor-lak swapped out the old one for the new one in the middle of the night."

Cam shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'll just go hop in the shower right away." He took his T-shirt off her bed and said, "I'll be out in a few. Don't sing anything . . . special while I'm gone. I wouldn't wanna miss it." He was looking at her tenderly, a soft smile on his face.

"What about the beds?" Didi queried.

"We'll move them when I get out; they're not all that heavy—which I didn't realize yesterday."

"Enjoy your shower," Didi said as he headed toward the bathroom.

"It's just a shower."

"I know, but I had to say something."

Cam chuckled. "You're so polite sometimes, it's downright cute." He closed the door then and missed Didi's blush.

She sat down on the edge of his bed, as near to the bathroom as she could get. She wanted to sing for him some more, but she knew he wouldn't hear her once he turned on the shower, and he had told her not to sing anything special while he was in there, so . . . she opted for some pop and bubble gum favorites, just for fun.

Cam heard about half of the first song before he pulled the curtain shut and turned on the water. It was "Sugar, Sugar". He smiled. His mother had sung that song to him when he was learning to walk; and when he was steadier on his feet, she had held his chubby little hands and swung his arms to the beat of the music. His father had filmed it and made Cam watch it more than once.

After he finished his shower and opened the curtain, he could just make out the words of "Happy Together". Didi was booming out the chorus, "I can't see me lovin' nobody but you for all my life . . ."

By the time the song was winding down to its conclusion, Cam was opening the bathroom door and exiting—clean, dry and fully clothed once more.

He was also smiling. "You're a lot of fun to have around, you know that?" He sat down next to her on his bed. "Sing me one more really pretty one; then I'll tell you another story or two."

"Cam . . ."

"That's right: no command performances. I can't just sit here and watch. Hm. What to do . . .?"

"Maybe you could just . . . unlace and re-lace your boots or something while I sing. As long as you're not just sitting there looking at me, I'm okay."

"Unlace and re-lace my boots, huh? I guess I could do that."

He picked up his boots from where he'd left them next to the dresser and began to remove the laces. Didi went back to the comfort and security of her own bed, sat on the inner edge of it, facing his bed, and began to sing, "Such a feelin's comin' over me; There is wonder in most everything I see . . ."

As she sang the final "Your love's put me at the top of the world" and then vocalized the last few instrumental notes, Cam found himself smiling. Something told him she meant it, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet. It was a bouncy, painless way of expressing her feelings . . . at least, he thought it might be.

"No one with a voice like yours should be afraid to perform," he said, "—especially to an audience of one man whose musical background is as limited as mine. Your voice is as beautiful as you are, Didi, no matter what you're singing."

"Thank you," she replied with a smile.

"So, I guess it's story time again," Cam commented, his back still to her.

"Yes, it is," Didi said. "But before you start, would you just tell me a few things about yourself? What's your favorite color? What's your favorite holiday and why? What's your favorite food? Is there anything your mom used to make you eat that you absolutely hated? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? What do you like to eat on a hot dog?"

Cam chuckled, dropped his re-laced boots to the floor, turned around and sat on the edge of the bed that faced Didi's. He gave her all of the answers she requested . . . and then some.

He told her that he liked to spend cold, snowy winter days in front of a roaring fire with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of apple cider; that his favorite childhood memory was of his mother singing "Someone to Watch over Me" while he was sick in bed with chicken pox at the age of six; that his grandma made the best macaroons anyone ever tasted; that his dad was the bravest man he knew; and that nothing could match the majesty and beauty of the earth when seen from space.

By the time he was through, Didi knew she had had a glimpse into his soul. This was the man—the everyday person—not the decorated hero she'd heard so much about over the past two days.

"Once upon a time," he began, "when I was at the Air Force Academy, I had a run-in with one of my instructors over something so trivial that it shouldn't've mattered at all—especially to him. . .."

By lunchtime, Didi had learned a great deal about Cameron Mitchell and his life, both in and out of the Air Force. He'd been hotheaded and brash when he was young, which didn't really surprise her, as his impulsive nature still manifested itself from time to time—albeit in minor ways at the moment.

It was fortunate for Cam that he'd had some practice in self-control over the last few years. His often impulsive behavior had gotten SG-1 into trouble a time or two, and he had had to learn to think before acting—or reacting—when every fiber of his being told him to "go for it" or "just do it"—whatever "it" was.

Having been a pilot, he'd been used to making judgment calls and reacting quickly in sticky or tense situations. Being the leader of a team of competent and experienced 'gate travelers, however, had meant that their needs and their ideas had to be taken into consideration before any action was taken. He couldn't go off half-cocked anymore; he couldn't come up with a plan and then just go and do it. Learning to wait for input and then make an informed and carefully considered decision had not come easy to him.

But, it had been good practice for what he was going through now. It would've come as quite a surprise to Didi if she'd known how much restraint he was exercising when it came to his feelings for her. Never in his life had Cameron Mitchell had to rein in his horses or cool his jets as much as he had over the past two days.

The only other time he could remember feeling equally impatient and ready to champ at the bit was when he was in the hospital, recovering from his injuries after the F-302 crash in Antarctica, and that had taken weeks. Three days should've been nothing compared to that, but . . . he was alone in a room with a beautiful woman whom he'd fallen head over heels in love with. How could he not want to hold her in his arms and tell her how he felt?

After lunch, the duo lay on their respective beds and shared jokes, riddles and limericks with each other. Cam did his utmost to keep his clean. It wasn't easy, as most of the ones he'd heard—that weren't old, trite or overused—had been told in locker rooms by guys with nothing but women on their minds.

After about half an hour of that particular type of frivolity, they began talking about their favorite books and movies. Next, they discussed books that had been made into movies and made comparisons between them. They then went on to discuss theatrical movies that had been made of old, defunct television series from the '60s and '70s.

In due course, Star Trek came up—with all of its various incarnations and attendant media—and Cam speculated as to what might have happened had the Borg run into the Goa'uld, or had Q come across the Ori.

"It might be kind of interesting to see what would happen if a Klingon went up against a Chak-tuk warrior in the arena, too," said Cam.

"Or a Vulcan or Romulun against a Jaffa," put in Didi.

"I'd like to stick Sam in a room with Seven of Nine," said Cam.

"I'll just bet you would," Didi said in an almost accusatory tone.

"Hey, no! I didn't mean it like that! I just think it would be interesting to watch them talk about technical stuff and see how much of what Seven told her Sam would actually comprehend."

Didi giggled. "If you were to put the two of them in a room together and they were talking tech, chances are you wouldn't be able to grasp much of what they were saying, even if you understood seventy-five percent of the actual words they were using."

"That's probably true, but since I never understand much of what Sam's talking about most of the time anyway, it really wouldn't make much difference. It'd still be interesting to watch."

They were in the midst of a discussion of the various King Kong movies that had been made over the course of decades, when dinner arrived. "The special effects might be better now," Didi was saying, "but I think the acting was better in the original."

Over dinner and for some time afterward they talked about their best friends, from early childhood thru the present day. Cam was impressed when he discovered that, despite having a steady relationship with Tad throughout high school, Didi had maintained close ties with girls she'd known most of her life. She was still friends with many of them, even though some had moved away.

Cam was able to reconnect with old friends whenever he went home to Auburn, but he was not in the habit of keeping up correspondence of any sort with them. The covert nature of his work made it difficult to converse with people who were not privy to his situation. Friends usually talked about work and about family. Cam was not married and didn't have a family of his own. When he'd been nothing more than an Air Force pilot, talking about his work had been allowed—as long as it didn't involve covert flyover missions in enemy airspace. Since becoming a 302 pilot in the employ of the SGC, however, everything had changed. From that time on he had been unable to say anything about what he really did. He and the others like him were always given a cover story to feed to family and friends, but he'd never been happy about lying to his parents. They knew he was stationed at Cheyenne Mountain, but exactly what he did there they would never know.

His new life had meant new friends, and although he cared a great deal about his teammates on SG-1, the bonds had been slow to form. Taking Gen. O'Neill's place as team leader had been daunting enough; trying to meld with the three people who had been the man's closest companions for nearly eight years was even harder. But Cam's natural leadership skills and his ability to keep his head during a crisis had done much to earn their respect, although they still tended to treat him like "the new kid on the block" much of the time.

All of this ran through Cam's mind as he ate. Although he only voiced a portion of it to Didi, she understood more than he realized. After the conversations she'd had with SG-1, she had developed a feel for them—a sense of who they were, both as a team and as individuals. She understood, too, the difficulty they had in maintaining relationships with people outside the Mountain. When people are close to you, they expect you to be open and honest with them about everything, including your work. When it doesn't happen, the relationship suffers. That was probably the primary reason that members of all the SG teams became as close as they did to one another. Cam acknowledged that such was, indeed, the case.

"That's why I'm glad I have you," he told her. "No matter what happens once we return to Earth, no one can take your memories of all this from you. You'll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement, but that doesn't mean I can't come and see you and talk to you about things. It'll be a relief to have someone I can share it with."

"And I'll be happy to be that someone," Didi replied, smiling softly.

By eight o'clock (PMST) on Cam's wristwatch, the talking began to wind down. Tomorrow was the Big Day, and both of them were well aware of that fact. Cam, especially, was anxious, not knowing what he would be facing in the arena. "I think I'm gonna go soak in the tub for a while," he told Didi. "I need to try to relax and unwind a little or I won't get any sleep tonight."

"Make it as hot as you can stand it, then," said Didi. "The steam and the warmth of the water are often conducive to relaxing."

"Yeah, I know. That's my plan." He smiled at her as he took his clean pajamas and underwear with him into the bathroom.

While he was gone, Didi sat on her bed, thinking. Her thoughts were centered on Cam tonight— and Cam only—because, after more than two days alone in this room with him, she was certain that she was falling in love. She'd been trying to fight it, not knowing whether it was a good idea or not.

If Cam was falling in love with her—as Didi suspected he might be—there would be no question: she could never turn away from him if he told her he loved her. In her eyes, Cam was as close to perfect as a man could be while still being human and fallible. But, after everything she'd been through with Tad, she hadn't wanted to put her heart on the line that easily, no matter how "rock-solid and dependable" Cam had proven himself to be. Despite the fact that she wholeheartedly trusted him, she would not allow herself to get in too deeply without being absolutely certain that he truly cared for her.

What are you going on about? her practical side asked. You've only known him for a couple of days and a few hours! It's much too soon to be falling head over heels for the man!

Oh, it was frustrating! She was much too much of a romantic for her own good.

Rein in your emotions, girl! she chided herself. Let nature take its course and go with the flow! Don't over-think the situation! Just let it happen if it's going to. Just . . . breathe." She crossed her legs, closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to clear her head of too many thoughts.

Tune out everything but the here and now. Don't worry about what you left behind on Earth, or how or when you'll ever get back there. Just think about being here with Cam and be grateful that he's proven himself an honorable and trustworthy man.

Seeing Cam's handsome face in her mind and finding her heart racing at the very thought of him, she decided that it might be a good idea to consult with God concerning her feelings for him.

Opening her eyes and looking upward as Cam had done before, she asked, "If I was brought here for some purpose other than going into the arena, is it because Cam and I were 'meant to be'?"

She opened her mind, waiting for an answer. At first there was an almost audible sigh that penetrated her heart and touched her soul. The words that followed the sigh puzzled her. "This is an unusual situation. Only you and Cameron can decide if you were 'meant to be.'"

What does that mean? she wondered. She shook her head. It probably just means that it's up to Cam and me to decide whether to get together or not.

She sighed and returned to her meditation, trying not to think about Cam anymore. Generally speaking, however, when a person tries not to think about someone or something, that's precisely what they do wind up thinking about . . . and so it was with Didi in regard to Cam.

Don't dwell on what's going to happen in the arena tomorrow . . . (when Cam will risk his life for you.) She slapped her forehead. No, no, no, no, no! Stop it, stop it, stop it! . . . (But I can't help it!) she argued with herself. (We've been alone in this room for more than two days and he's the most wonderful man I've ever met—not to mention an extremely attractive one.) The argument stopped, and a smile lit up her face. Oh yes, he's definitely attractive. He always has been . . . Perhaps he's too attractive. (Is there such a thing as "too attractive"?) She shook her head. Nah! both sides of her said in unison. The war was over, and Cam had won by default.

He exited the bathroom right about then and saw a radiant smile on her face. "You look inordinately happy. What've you been thinking about?" he asked her pointblank.

"You," she replied completely candidly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. And it's good to see that you're smiling while doing it—as long as it doesn't mean you were having a laugh at my expense."

"I wasn't," she assured him. "So, tell me: do I have any reason not to smile?"

Cam shook his head. "None that I can think of."

"Good! Then I'll just keep smiling."

"Since I was in there so long," he said as he tossed his dirty clothes into the corner the duo had chosen for the purpose, "there should be plenty of hot water if you'd like to take your bath now."

Didi nodded. "Why not?" She got up from her bed, climbed over his and sat down by the dresser to get out her clean pajamas and underwear. Once she had them, she headed for the bathroom.

"Cam," she asked from the doorway, "could I use your shaving gel? I have no idea what kind of an outfit they're going to put me in tomorrow, and if I'm going to be showing my legs at all, I'd kind of like to be clean-shaven."

"Sure, go ahead. Since we only have the one can, we might as well share it."

"Thanks," she replied, smiling at him gratefully. She then closed the door.

Cam sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the water to stop running. Didi tended to sing while she was bathing, and he always liked to go to the door and listen. It took a few minutes—even after the water was turned off—before any sound of music issued forth from the closed room, and when it finally did begin, it consisted of nothing but soft, quiet humming—which sounded oddly familiar.

As Didi washed herself, a song was in the process of being born. The humming turned to quiet singing as the lyrics formed in her mind, and the volume increased as the words and music gained ground.

"My life's been like a rollercoaster,

With many ups and downs,

Many smiles and frowns

along the way.

But now we're together and I feel all right,

Being alone here with you tonight.

I look in your eyes and I simply have to say,

I think I'm falling in love with the thought of loving you.

I could see us together now and forever if you want it, too.

Please tell me: Do I stand a chance?

Could you and I find romance?

If the answer's 'yes,'

Then look in my eyes and just kiss me.

I've had my share of love and losing,

as everybody knows:

In my eyes it shows,

all the pain.

But since I met you, things have been okay;

The darkness turned into brightest day.

When I see you smile, I have to say it again:

I think I'm falling in love with the thought of loving you.

I could see us together now and forever if you want it, too.

Please tell me: Do I stand a chance?

Could you and I find romance?

If the answer's 'yes,'

Then look in my eyes and just kiss me."

By the time the song was over, Cam's heart was pounding in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind now that Didi had finally admitted her feelings for him to herself—which is why she'd been smiling when he'd come out of the bathroom. The song was her way of expressing those feelings to him without the fear of a face-to-face rejection, since she knew that he loved to hear her sing. She probably figured that, if he didn't feel the same way, he would treat it as though it were just another song. If he did care for her, he would respond to it—and he fully intended to do so.

He stood outside the bathroom door, waiting impatiently for it to open and discharge the creature he loved most in the entire universe.

The moment the door opened, his heart began pounding again. Didi's towel was wrapped around her head and she was carrying her dirty clothes, but Cam didn't care. He took the bundle from her, tossed it to the floor, held her chin in his hand, gazed into her eyes and said, "The answer is a definite 'yes.'" He then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Since it was their first kiss, he kept it relatively brief, just in case. It was warm, soft, tender and sweet—all the things a first kiss between two people who have recently fallen in love should be.

"I was hoping you'd respond," Didi said when their lips parted. "That's why I sang that song."

Cam nodded. "I kind of thought so. I do care about you—so much so, in fact, that when we go into the arena tomorrow, I'm gonna have that emotional edge we talked about the other day. Whatever I have to face—however formidable or terrible—I will give it everything I've got, because, when it's over, I'm going to claim you as my prize."

"Cam, I—"

"It's the only way I can guarantee your safety, Didi. What Gor-lak plans to do with you once the event is over, I can't say. None of this has ever been done before in Chak-tuk history. It's a first. I don't know what to expect, and I'm not going to take a chance with your life . . . or anything else."

"Do whatever you have to do, then," she said quietly.

"I want you to understand something, though, Didi: I'm not gonna push you into anything you're not ready for, and I'm not going to try to seduce you. I know what kind of a woman you are, and I hope that, by now, you know that I'm not the kind of a man who takes advantage of a woman—ever. The ball is in your court, as it always has been."

She nodded. "I know, Cam, and I trust you. But I have to be absolutely certain that this is right and real—not just infatuation, or some kind of . . . hero-worship thing I've got going on. If you really do know what kind of a woman I am, then you know that I'm an old-fashioned girl—that I believe in the sanctity of marriage."

"I'm not sure if this'll make any difference, but . . . as Jackson told you before, when a Chak-tuk warrior wins an event, he has the right to claim the proffered female as his mate, if he wants to. From what we've been able to ascertain, that's about the closest thing to a wedding ceremony that exists on this planet. If I win and I claim you, we will be—under Chak-tuk law—married . . . or at least mated; same thing as far as they're concerned. But, like I said, I'm not gonna push the issue. It's entirely up to you. If you'd rather wait 'til we get back to Earth and make it wholly legal, that's fine with me. I just want you with me, Didi, that's all."

"I understand. I want that, too. But I'm still a little scared, you know?"

"Yeah," Cam said, nodding. "I know. It's happened so fast, my head is spinning. But, I'm a guy and not much of a romantic. You, on the other hand, are one—and it shows. Being a romantic can make you lose your head—and your heart—too easily, so I can understand your reticence . . . especially since you were hurt so badly by your ex. . . .

"As for me . . . I've never felt this way about any woman before, and that's saying a lot. When you're approaching forty and still single, it generally means you've been around the block a few times. I know I have. There's not a lot I haven't experienced when it comes to relationships. But you're the first woman I've ever really . . . fallen in love with." Having said that, he gathered her into his arms again and kissed her lips once more. Then he whispered, "I love you, Didina Lynette Steadman."

He finally said it! Didi was elated. She'd promised herself she wouldn't say it until he did. Now that he had, she, too, could say those all-important words without fear.

"I love you too, Cam," she said to his chest. "—at least, I'm pretty sure I do . . . if my romantic nature isn't leading me down the primrose path."

Cam loosened his hold on her, then smiled and gazed into her eyes. "We'll have plenty of time to figure that out once we get back to Earth and you move to Colorado Springs. In the meantime . . ." He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again—more passionately this time. When their lips finally parted, he held her to him once more and said, "This is what I've waited all my life for. It feels like you belong in my arms, Dee. You're a perfect fit."

"I feel the same way," she responded.

"Do you know," said Cam, pulling back a bit and looking at Didi, "in all the time I've been here, I have never seen a single Chak-tuk embrace another? Whatever their mating practices are, I don't think they involve much in the way of emotions. Hugging may be a completely alien concept to them."

"Maybe their mating practices are like those of animals back on Earth: the males fight to win the favor of the females so that they can reproduce."

"And for most of them," Cam added, "it's a matter of winning the choicest females, so that their offspring will be superior, too. I don't think it has anything to do with emotions."

"Their loss," said Didi, gazing raptly into Cam's eyes.

"I couldn't agree more." He kissed her yet again, though not quite as passionately this time. The kiss was warm, deep and satisfying, nonetheless. He then touched his forehead to hers and said, "I really do love you, Didi."

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that," she replied, placing her hands on his chest. "I haven't heard those words from anyone but my parents for a very long time."

"Neither have I."

Didi looked into his eyes thoughtfully. "You haven't, have you?" She shook her head. "All this time I've been thinking only about myself—what this relationship could mean for me. It didn't even occur to me that you might never have been in love before, and so never heard those words from a woman outside of your family."

"You couldn't've known. I haven't talked about my personal relationships. I didn't want to."

Didi nodded. "I understand. Anyway, I'll try to rectify the situation and say 'I love you' as often as circumstances dictate." There was a light in her eyes as she gazed into his. "I . . . love . . . you." She said it slowly and deliberately, letting each word sink into Cam's heart and etch itself into his mind.

He smiled warmly and appreciatively. "Man! That does sound good!" He released his hold on her and said, "I think it's about time you combed out your hair: it's been wrapped up in that towel long enough."

"Oh, gosh!" she said, running into the bathroom while removing the towel. "I forgot all about it!"

"Understandable. It's not every day a guy tells you he loves you and makes a commitment to lay claim to you as his mate."

"That's certainly true," she replied through gritted teeth. "This could take a while," she told him. "My hair's almost dry already, and because it's kind of long, combing out the tangles when it's this dry is really, really hard."

"Could I give you a hand with that?"

"Uh . . . thanks, but, no. I have a system for getting the tangles out of my hair—one that's as pain free as possible. . .You could pick up those dirty clothes you tossed on the floor and put them in the corner, though."

"Oh, right. I forgot all about those, caught up as I was in the aftermath of your beautiful song." He picked up the clothes and disposed of them as directed, then returned to his bed and sat down.

"Do you really think it's beautiful? I was working on it while you were exercising this morning."

"Is that what that was? —that first melody you were humming that I didn't recognize?"

"Yes."

"And 'yes' right back at you. It is beautiful. As soon as we have access to paper and pencil—or a computer with a word processing program—I want you to write it . . . for posterity. It's going to be our song. And I won't brook any argument from you on that score."

Didi smiled softly as she set her comb down on the countertop. "You won't get any."

Cam heard the sound of the comb being laid down. "You're finished with your hair?"

"Yes. Why don't you come on in and we can brush our teeth together?" she asked, sliding the scrunchy she'd been wearing the day she first arrived into her hair. (Since it was all she had to hold her hair back, she used it each time she bathed, brushed her teeth, or washed her face at the sink. Cam had considered asking Gor-lak to get her another one or two, but Didi had told him not to bother—that it wasn't worth the trouble, since it was plain white and she could wear it with anything.)

Cam smiled. "I haven't brushed my teeth alongside someone else in years." He entered the bathroom, stood next to Didi and picked up the toothbrush and toothpaste Gor-lak had procured for him.

When they were through brushing, Didi removed the scrunchy again, set it on the counter by the sink and said, "I guess we'd better hit the hay, huh? Tomorrow's the Big Day and you're gonna need all the strength and energy you can muster."

"Yeah, I know," Cam replied, exiting the bathroom and climbing onto his bed. "But I'm kind of wound up right now. Do you think you could try singing me to sleep again?"

"I'd be glad to." Didi made her way to her own bed, climbed underneath the covers, propped up her pillow, and said, "Lights out."

"Good night, Didi. I love you," Cam said one last time.

"Good night, Cam," she replied. Then she began to sing. "Stars shining bright above you; Night breezes seem to whisper I love you; Birds singing in the sycamore tree; Dream a little dream of me . . ."

Sometime during the repetition of the last verse, Cam drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face and the sweet glow of love warming his heart.