"Can I ask you a question?" The words were accompanied by a latte being set down in front of her.

Allyson lifted her head from the table. She had, just a few minutes before, groaned and laid her head down in frustration. This book wasn't going the way she wanted.

One of the young baristas stood before her. Dark hair, funky blonde highlights, big brown eyes; she stood there expectantly. Allyson smiled, "For a free latte, you can ask anything you want."

The young barista slipped into the chair opposite her. "You're a writer, right? I mean, you're in here almost every day pounding away on that laptop. I just..." she trailed off, embarrassed.

Allyson took pity on her. "You're right. I am a writer." She smiled at the girl. "What's your name? I figure since I'm in here every day, I should know you by now."

"I'm April."

"Hey, April. I'm Allyson Cole," she smiled again.

"Yeah, but that's not your pen name, is it? I hope you don't mind, but the place is small, and you've been quiet while you've taken your calls but we can hear some things, and we weren't eavesdropping, and I promise, I haven't been reading over your shoulder, and I'm not going to tell anyone..." April was speaking so fast that Allyson had a hard time keeping up, "but you're Ellie Spencer, right?" Her big brown eyes pleaded with Allyson, and she blushed a little.

Allyson laughed. "Good deductive reasoning, young lady. Do me a favor, and don't tell anyone; I'm trying to keep a low profile."

"You ARE Ellie Spencer," April whispered, leaning in close. "You're my favorite author, EVER."

"Now, I'm embarrassed," Allyson answered, laughing and blushing.

"No, I just...ugh...I just was curious," April stammered, "can I ask you one more question, please?"

"Honey, you brought me a free latte and you paid me a huge compliment; ask away," Allyson leaned back in her chair.

"How'd you pick your pen name? I mean, Allyson Cole is a long way from Ellie Spencer."

You had to ask THAT, Allyson sighed. "It's a long story, April. Let's just say that someone important in my past inspired the name." Understatement of the year, Ally, she thought to herself.

"Have you thought about including that person in your stories?"

"Oh, he's in every one," the words were out before she could stop them. Oh dear Lord, how do I recover from this one? She scrambled, "Uh, what I meant was..."

"Don't worry; I won't tell." April stood up and smiled. "He obviously was a great guy to have you name yourself after him...ohmygoodness...I just figured out what you meant. Wow." She turned, cleaned off the table next to them, then turned back around and winked, "Does he have any brothers?"

"I don't know," Allyson literally laughed out loud. "Haven't seen him in a long time, but if I do speak to him, I'll ask."

"Do that please. We're all looking for a good man."

Ain't that the truth.

Allyson awoke, her head on Hugh's shoulder. His arm was tight around her, keeping her close, and her fingers were holding on to the mother-of-pearl snaps on his shirt. She sighed, and shifted to snuggle in a bit deeper.

The pain hit hard, along with the realization that Hugh would never, ever wear a shirt that snapped.

"Breathe, darlin'. You forgot that you're injured." Eliot's voice rumbled from beneath her ear, his arm tightening just a bit. Allyson lifted her head and looked around, breathing as deeply as she could. They were in a pickup, traveling down an old, forgotten road.

"What...uh, I mean," she trailed off, looking up at him.

"Morphine's good stuff, huh?" He chuckled. "To answer the questions you're unable to ask, the storm stopped early this morning, you were so doped up on pain meds, you didn't even notice when I carried you to the truck, and we're about an hour away from any town...at least, one with a decent hospital." He took his eyes off the road to give her a once-over. "You decided that my shoulder was the best pillow."

She smiled. "It is...for now." She blushed, but hid it by putting her head back down. "You said hospital."

"You have at least two, if not more, broken ribs, I'm willing to bet a concussion, and although I did my best to take care of the dehydration, I wouldn't rule it out. You also need to be checked for internal injuries, although the fact you're doing so well right now means you probably don't have any, but we can't be too careful."

"I hate hospitals."

"I do, too. But, you're going." His voice was firm.

"No, I know, I just...really, truly hate hospitals." Allyson tightened her grip on his shirt. "Bad things happen in hospitals."

Eliot sucked in a breath. "Such as," he led, quietly.

"I...I just can't..." her voice faded off as she buried her head in his shoulder again.

"Fair enough, Sweetheart," he took her silence and gave it back to her. "We all have our ghosts." Once again, she found herself comparing him to Hugh. She had done that a few times in the past day, and each time her fiancé came up lacking. In this instance, Hugh wouldn't have accepted her plea to keep silent; he would hound her until he knew every minute detail. That's what made Hugh, Hugh...but she couldn't help appreciating Eliot's quiet confidence; her emotions didn't scare him, and his silent understanding was a balm for her battered soul.

"Eliot?"

"Hmmm?" The rumble beneath her ear was quiet, although the arm around her tightened a bit.

"When we get back to civilization...what happens then?"

There was a small hitch in his breath; if she hadn't been pressed up against him, she would've missed it. "You'll heal, both physically and emotionally, you'll marry Hugh, live in that large castle on the hill, have babies, and be gloriously happy." The way he said it made it sound as though it was a fairy tale.

"I meant you...will I...?"

"No." He interrupted her. One word. That was it.

"Eliot, really, please..."

"No, Ally," he had never called her that before, "what I do, who I am...it's too dangerous. You will never need to fear again, especially not because of me." She watched him clench his jaw, his eyes never leaving the road, his knuckles white from where he held the steering wheel.

Ally closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath, "I'm not scared," her defiance and stubbornness began to rise up within her.

Eliot kissed the top of her head. He'd done that a lot lately, she realized. "I am," he whispered.

"You? Scared? Eliot..." she began.

"You didn't see yourself when I found you, darlin'. You were huddled in a puddle, covered in your own blood, and terrorized beyond comprehension. How you're able to sit here and tell me, not even 14 hours later, that you're not scared is beyond me. I told you, my life is not a safe one; I live in the shadows, my name is an alibi. It's who I am. It's what I do. It's not a life I want for you; I want you safe. I want you to never, ever go through that again. Hell, if it were up to me, you'd never have a hangnail or stubbed toe again...let alone the hell you just survived. Yes, you're a survivor; you're a scrapper, but by no means am I going to put you in that kind of jeopardy. And, Ally, baby...just by being around me, you're in danger. So, yeah...I'm scared. That one day, you're gonna be in trouble because of me and there won't be one f-ing thing I can do to stop it."

"So, to protect me, you're just going to leave."

"I never promised anything other than getting you out safe and delivering the merchandise." His voice had dropped an octave; it was gravelly and rough...and it sounded like he was convincing himself.

Ally pushed herself away from him, sucked in a breath to steel against the pain, and ordered, "Pull over."

Eliot turned to look at her, and realizing she was just going to keep asking, he pulled the truck to the side of the road.

"What?" He could be stubborn, too, she just didn't know how much.

"You listen to me, Eliot Spencer. There is one reason, and only one reason why I'm not going stark raving mad with fear...and he's the man sitting behind the wheel of this truck. YOU saved me."

"Ally..." he began to interrupt.

"No, this is my turn to talk. Eliot, you saved me, you pulled me back. YOU. Yes, Hugh hired you to do what he couldn't, but it was you. I just..." she felt tears sting the back of her eyes, "...look. I just need you to know that you're not the monster you seem to think you are. Don't tell me you don't, I see it in your eyes." She did, too. "You do things you need to do, and I don't even want to know what you had to do to save me; but you aren't that man, Eliot. There's a heart inside of you that is tender; I know; I felt it." She watched the emotions play across his face. Reaching out, she touched his cheek. "You could've just pulled me out of that...dungeon, and let it go. But you didn't. You gave me what I needed, and I'm not talking about the medical care. Thank you."

He stared hard at her for a long time, blue eyes into blue. She held his gaze, never wavering, and kept her hand at his cheek. He finally closed his eyes and reached up to hold her hand against his face. "It doesn't change anything, baby. I can't be the one to put you in danger. I have to walk away; what those men did..." his voice cracked, and he opened his eyes, revealing the turmoil inside of him, "...is nothing compared to what I've seen others do. Do you understand, please?"

She was stuck at the "baby," Hugh never called her any pet names, and it shocked her to realize how much she liked it. That was an emotion for another time; she pulled herself back into the conversation here and now.

"Eliot, I'm not asking for...I don't know what I'm asking. I just know that I can't have you walk out of my life..."

"You must. Allyson, there is no other way. Promise me. Marry Hugh and forget about me."

It was her turn to stare, hard. Long minutes passed as they sat on the side of that forgotten highway. He let her see into him, and she could tell it wasn't something he was used to doing. "Okay," she whispered the word, submission filling her, her heart breaking a little bit, "I will let you walk away, and I'll marry Hugh and have babies and live in that mansion as you call it, but I won't...I CAN'T forget you, so don't ask me to do that." She ducked her head into her chest.

"Don't look for me, don't search, don't talk about me. I'm a dream, a memory; I have to be, okay?" He pleaded again.

"I promise, Eliot. I won't." Tears did fill her eyes this time, slipping over and sliding down her cheek. "Just..." she couldn't find the words, and she looked up at him, "...just, KNOW, okay? I...." She slid closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her again, settling his chin on her shoulder.

"I know," he whispered into her hair, gently tightening his hold on her, careful of her broken ribs.

Allyson smiled and sipped the now-tepid latte. She could still remember the way his arms felt around her and the comfort from the sound of his heartbeat. She realized she had been staring out the window, hoping for another glimpse of Eliot, searching every face as she was lost in the reminiscence.

She shook her head to clear it and refocused on her computer. The story that needed to be created was not the one she was remembering. That story was hers to carry, not share.