String waved as Dom pulled up the helicopter again and flew back to Van Nuys. He let a hand travel to his neck where he felt an uncomfortable crick and he released a tired sigh. Dealing with that know-it-all scumbag from Valentine Studios had just about torn through his last reserve of patience. Combined with the hours of repairs needed to repair a Jet Ranger after an almost crash… String felt dead on his feet.

It was a miracle he'd been able to land the way he had, instead of crashing the damned thing and going up in flames. Faulty servo… Damned thing was brand new too.

He felt like crashing to bed and sleep for a couple of days, but he couldn't… He still had to make dinner. Dom had took him aside earlier, telling him about his suspicions that Liona didn't know how to cook. One of Strings garbage bags had ruptured in the big dumpster and Dom noticed the huge amount of rotting veggies. Uncut, uncooked, unprepared in anyway. He figured Liona was too embarrassed to admit she couldn't cook, so she threw the vegetables out when they started to get moldy.

It made a lot of sense. As a prisoner Liona would have been given food ready to eat, so when and where would she have had the time and opportunity to learn how to cook? And he had been leaving her on her own to fend for herself, surviving on God knew what he kept in the fridge that was edible instantly… another offense against her he could add to his growing list.

He'd not forgotten the way she'd undressed in front of him last night. At first he thought it was a ploy to seduce him, until he realized the jerky, angry movements had nothing to do with seduction. He'd spent a big part of the night pondering why she felt comfortable enough to remove her clothes like that in front of him and he liked none of the answers he came up with.

The first thing String noticed when he walked up to the cabin was the awful smell, then he saw smoke curling outside from beneath the door. He quickly jogged the rest of the way and Tet started to howl from someplace nearby. With a curse he pushed open the door and he instantly started coughing from the amount of smoke and the fowl smell that assaulted his senses.

He found Liona in the kitchen area, about to douse a fire in one of the skillets with a pitcher of water.

"Put that down, you idiot!" he bellowed at her. He rushed past her and quickly grabbed a lid from a cabinet and threw it on the skillet. The stove was piping hot so he checked the stove door and closed off all the air vents, throwing an arm in front of his face to give him some protection against the smoke. He quickly opened the windows to allow the smoke to escape and then threw the pan, lid and all, in the sink. Once most of the smoke was gone, he turned to Liona with obliterating anger.

"What the hell were you thinkin'? Trying to douse a grease fire with water! What the hell happened anyway?"

"I-I w-was trying to m-make dinner for u-us," Liona answered him, her face white as a sheet. Whether that was because of the fire, the failed attempt at dinner or his anger, String couldn't tell and he certainly didn't care.

"You could have burned this place down! And what was that anyway?"

"Bacon…"

String gave her an incredulous look. "Bacon? For dinner?" he spat.

"I-I thought bacon w-would be easy."

"Bacon is easy! But I don't eat it. I don't eat red meat."

"I didn't know! You-you're never here! And when you are, you ignore me!"

"And you thought that nearly burnin' the cabin down might help."

"No! I thought I might break the ice a little. I was trying to…"

Even dressed in those old worn jeans and a simple sweater over a plain blouse, Liona was a lovely sight, with the firelight glinting in her golden hair and her green and golden eyes staring at him with helpless resentment.

"Tryin' to what? Seduce me with cremated bacon strips?" String rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his temper under control even though he felt like giving her a good shake and then kissing her completely senseless so she'd never again entertain the thought of doing something as stupid as throwing water on a grease fire.

"I was not trying to seduce you! I was just trying to get on friendlier terms with you because you've been ignoring me and acting cold and very unwelcoming to me every step of the way!"

Not trying to seduce him? He already was! The thought of what could have happened to her, had he come home just a moment later… It scared him half to death and it put the wrath of God inside of him. It would have been an unusually cruel joke… to first lose Gabrielle to the heat of the desert and then to return home to find Liona badly burned and maybe even dying.

He needed her gone, away, out of his life. It was better that way.

"Because you were dumped in my lap anyway when I asked Michael to take you somewhere else," he said through clenched teeth, the muscles of his jaw working vigorously. "If you know what's good for you, stay the hell out of my way. Or you can call Michael and ask him to pick you up because I sure as hell ain't flyin' ya."

"You can call him yourself! In fact, you can call him right now and tell him I'll be outside while you're at it because I'm not staying here a moment longer! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to put some distance between myself and your toxic attitude!"

When he caught a glimpse of her rigid back as she stalked outside, String heaved a deep breath. Liona was alright, nothing had happened; she was safe for now. The fear left his system, taking with it the irrational anger. Probably best to just leave her for a bit.

With the anger gone, what he started feeling was remorse. It wasn't her fault that she was in this situation and it was not fair to treat her like it was. How easily he could set aside the fact that she'd been held captive for thirteen years. That made her – what? – thirteen when Dumaine abducted her? Thirteen. She'd been just a slip of a girl when she was robbed of her home, her parents, her siblings, her future… Now that she was finally free, what was left for her with her home and her family gone? Not much. And, to top it all off, she was stuck with him for the time being.

The empty feeling in his stomach claimed is attention and String closed his eyes, heaving a deep sigh. Right… dinner. Feeling older than he really was, he headed to the kitchen and was surprised to find that the only real victims were the cremated strips of bacon that were completely fused to the skillet… making that the second victim. He did not feel like scrubbing the thing that was up for replacement anyway.

Next, he checked the firebox, the chimney and the air vents of the stove and found everything was, surprisingly, okay. He stared at the stove for a moment, trying to figure out why he found that odd. His mind was awfully slow to put two and two together. Liona couldn't cook, String was certain of that. All the evidence was there. It stood to reason that she wouldn't know a thing about starting a wood-burning kitchen stove… Which begged the question, how had she been able to get it working in the first place? It wasn't exactly rocket science, but there were certain steps involved. Steps you'd have to know about.

The answer was so painfully obvious, String placed his hands against the kitchen counter and bent his head. Damn… She had help. Actually, she'd went to the trouble of getting help. Because she wanted to do something nice. For him. So he would stop acting like a jerk.

He closed his eyes.

So he'd stop hurting her.

God, he was an idiot!

There was no way around it. He would have to find a balance between keeping her at a safe distance, without making her feel she was unwelcome.

Ah, hell. No, that was not the solution at all. It was… it was already too late.

He had no more defenses left. The only option now was for Archangel to come for her as soon as possible because he was this close to forgetting all of his intentions to stay away from her.

It had to be the next day, because String wasn't entirely sure he'd make it through one more night of not showing her exactly what he really wanted. And, God help him, what he really wanted… more than anything… was her.

Quietly, String lit a fire in both of the fireplaces to stave off the chill that would undoubtedly start to seep into the cabin between dusk and dawn. Then he started to prep for dinner. An assortment of grilled vegetables, potatoes, and freshly caught trout he'd already cleaned and deboned early in the morning. He'd make that buttery garlic sauce again she'd liked so much. It was a small thing, but, String figured their last meal together should at least be spent in companionship. Not in silent detachment.

Not wanting to think about their imminent goodbye, String concentrated on cutting the vegetables. Courgette, eggplant, sweet potatoes, onions and bell peppers. He was going at it for a while when he let his chef's knife hover in the air and slowly raised his head… It was raining. In fact, it had been raining for quite some time now. His brows snapped together. Liona was still out. His eyes drifted to her jacket, hanging on a wooden peg next to the entrance. Dammit! Liona was outside, in the cold mountain air, without protection and it was raining down in buckets!

Without further thought, String threw down the knife, pulled on his warmest jacket and on his way out to the back he grabbed a flashlight and stuffed a spare jacket under his arm. Once outside, the rain instantly started lashing at him. He pulled up the collar of the jacket even further, throwing the hood over his head.

"Liona!" he cried out, but the savage wind drowned out his voice. He instinctively searched along the trail at the back of the cabin. Liona was not stupid, she wouldn't stubbornly sit outside at the dock, waiting for Archangel, risking hypothermia in this weather.

Weather up in the mountains was tricky and unpredictable. String would bet anything that Liona had thundered down the trail in anger, maybe even went up the mountain, and then had been caught off guard by this sudden onslaught of torrential rain.

String strained his ears, trying to pick up even the faintest of sounds which might indicate her location... Nothing.

As he followed the trail for a long time and then climbed up the path of the mountain, he kept calling out for her until his eyes fell on a large dark shape on the left. The deer blind! Maybe… String put an arm against his head as he approached the structure. When he tried to open the door, a blast of wind made him lose his grip and the door blasted wide open. It was very dark inside, but String didn't need his eyes to know Liona was inside. He could hear her shiver and her teeth chatter while she was trying to hum a melody.

It made him stop dead in his tracks, the soft broken humming causing a flood of memories.

Memories and feelings.
From when his parents were still alive. From when his dad used to play the organ, trying his hardest to get his two wayward sons to develop an interest in music.

Everything inside him went taut and he wondered why the hell Liona was humming the organ finale of Saint Saëns' Symphony number 3… a particular favorite of his dad's.

He turned on his flashlight and he saw Liona weakly trying to protect her eyes from the sudden light. There wasn't a dry thread left on her body, water was dripping from her hair and her skin and lips were developing a blueish hue.

"I-I t-t-tried t-t-o g-get b-b-b-b-back…"

"Sh." String shushed her. "Save your strength. Don't talk. We gotta get you out of these wet clothes first. Stayin' cold 'n wet is the fastest way for hypothermia to set in."

Liona didn't struggle when he pulled up the hem of her soaked sweater and pulled it over her head.

"I know it feels colder now, but without the wet clothes, your body will have a better chance of regulatin' its temperature."

He made quick work on the buttons of the white blouse she wore underneath and discarded that too. He pulled in a sharp breath when he reached behind her and unclasped her bra.

This was not the time for prudish sensibilities.

"Here," he said and he shrugged out of his thick jacket and wrapped her inside it. Though the outer shell was cold and wet, the inner lining was dry and more importantly… warmed by his body heat. He threw on the spare jacket himself and carefully lifted Liona in his arms.

"We'll get you out of the rest of these wet clothes back at the cabin. Ready?" he asked her. Her face was almost completely hidden by the hood, but he could feel her nodding against his chest.

As fast as he could, String carried Liona all the way back through the rain.

His boots were squelching in the mud and for some reason it made him think back to when he'd had to help carry back the bodies of his fallen comrades from his platoon through miles and miles of humid jungle in Vietnam.

In the cabin, String walked right up to the sleeping loft and set Liona down on the ground, a few feet away from the direct heat of the fire. She was shivering violently. He quickly grabbed a blanket from the wooden chest at the foot of his bed and kept it ready.

With deft movements he pulled down the zipper from his jacket and peeled it away from her, he did the same with her wet jeans that clung to her skin as if they were fused together. Her wet panties were the last article of clothing to go.

String immediately wrapped her in the blanket and gently laid her down onto his bed. Then he started to pile more blankets on top of her. Her eyes were closed but the shivering slowly subsided and he could see some color returning to her cheeks and lips. When her eyes fluttered open, he gave her a wry smile. "Welcome back. Want me to make you some hot cocoa?"

When she gave him a blank look, he realized with a pang of pity that she didn't know what he was talking about. He quickly went downstairs and worked the large kitchen stove to make the best damned hot cocoa he'd ever made. Grandmother Hawke's recipe. When he was done, he added a dollop of whipped cream and just a little sprinkle of cinnamon.

String carried the large mug upstairs and he supported Liona, holding her against him, as he handed her the mug. "Careful, it's pipin' hot," he warned her softly.

When she was finally able to have a first careful sip, the look in her eyes was of such unadulterated pleasure, it nearly brought String to his knees. He patiently gave her all the time she needed to finish her hot drink, down to the very last drop. Then he simply held her close, until he could feel her relaxing against him, her head getting heavier.

He wrestled them both down to the bed, hoping that all the blankets, combined with his body heat, would quickly drive the cold from her body.

Holding her so close to him, cocooned in layers and layers of blankets, it was like holding a huge teddy bear. The thought made him smile, just as the thought of how she reacted to her first taste of the hot comforting brew.

Now that she was comfortable and safe, he felt like he could breathe again. When she actually started to complain she was too warm, he laughed and agreed to lose a few of the blankets. Liona got rid of several more and snuggled against him when she was only wrapped in two. He tried not to notice how well she fit in his arms. He failed.

They laid there in silence for a long time. At some point, String even thought she'd fallen asleep. Absentmindedly, he was still stroking her back. And then he noticed she was looking at him, a curious expression in her eyes. He didn't even know he was leaning forward, until their lips touched, and when they did… String knew he was lost.

He'd hungered for her from the very start. Not just for this… for her. All of her. String looked down at her and turned one kiss into many. Each kiss building upon the previous one.

When he rolled her over, her hands touched his chest, not to push him away but to welcome him in. He allowed his body to sink on top of her, his lips sliding over hers until he forced them to part under the pressure. The moment he felt her lips give in, he groaned and then drove his tongue between her parted lips in a fiercely erotic kiss, retreating and plunging again and again.

It was not a sweet kiss, but one born from weeks of longing, yearning. It was as if he sought to draw the essence of her soul from her with that kiss.

Leaning over her, String pulled the two blankets away and revealed her to him.

She gasped a little when the fabric of his course shirt brushed against her breasts. In response, he drew her tongue into his mouth until he heard her moaning softly.

The only sounds in the room, were of the gently crackling flames and the soft sounds that came from the bed. When he let his hand slide downward over her stomach, there was a vague sense that he really shouldn't be doing this. Instead, his hand was reaching lower, covering the soft mound between her legs.

He sucked on her bottom lip, kissed her again with a growing hunger and swallowed a moan when he circled the pads of his fingers over that tiny bundle of nerves until Liona was trembling, clinging to him. String heard a strangled sob from her and then she parted her legs, giving him better access.

What the hell was he doing? This was the very opposite of remaining detached. He should… he should be sending her away. Not… Oh God, she was damp and more than ready for him.

String closed his eyes, and he fumbled with the zipper of his pants. He knew he'd hate himself for this in the morning, but not right now, not when he was half demented with need.

He just barely managed to pull his pants down over his ass before he cupped her bottom in both hands and pulled her tightly against him. The groan that ripped through the silence could be his or could be hers. He scarcely knew or cared. He wedged his knee between hers, probing with his body and then finding. String shifted his hips and with an utterly satisfying thrust, he was buried deep inside of her.

Liona gave a harsh gasp and for a moment String wasn't sure if she was trying to push him away or trying to pull him closer. With a groan, he lifted her knee to gain deeper access and the most glorious sound ripped from her throat that was half moan half scream. Keeping one arm around her hips, String rocked gently inside her, increasing the depth and tempo of each stroke imperceptibly.

When Liona reached up and crushed her soft lips to his, he lost all control. His heart was slamming in his chest as though it was trying to slam right through and each powerful stroke deep within her was pure bliss and absolute agony at the same time.

As his universe began to split and come apart, his hand found hers as his hips rammed deeper, and his fingers threaded through hers, holding tightly.

When his universe finally exploded with a blinding white light and a burst of pleasure that shot right up his spine, he was still holding her hand like that. He squeezed it even tighter when he felt his life pulsing into her, his body shuddering again and again. For one exquisite moment, a lifetime of bitterness and despair was drawn right out of him, replaced by a sense of belonging he'd not experienced in years. A feeling he knew could not last.

String fought his way back from oblivion with a great effort, rolling away from her and taking her with him as he forced his eyes open. He swallowed hard and couldn't bear to look into her eyes.

Her breathing evened out and he heard Liona sigh as she curled into him.

He knew he would never forget this night, just as he knew that this could never happen again.

That knowledge made his chest constrict with emotion and a lump grew in his throat.

He'd failed in keeping his distance from her and in preventing himself from developing these overwhelming feelings. It would hurt like hell, removing her from his life, but it was better to do it now, before… before he no longer could.

String knew that once he'd reach that point he would shatter completely if something were to happen. With his perpetual bad luck, she'd come to the conclusion he didn't have enough to offer her and leave him, like Tess had. Or, she would meet some tragic end and leave him behind that way, like everyone else he'd loved had. Almost everyone.

This night would have to be enough. Because first thing in the morning, he'd call Archangel to take her far away from him. It would be safer from them both.

\A/

Liona reached out across the bed… and found it cold and empty. She opened her eyes and found the room empty as well. Her gaze slid sideways, to the door of he bathroom, but she heard no sound. She furrowed her brows and sat up in the bed, wincing slightly at the tenderness she felt between her legs.

As she took a quick shower, just a quick wash without getting her hair wet, and went through the rest of her routines, Liona allowed her mind to drift back to the previous night. A night of revelations...

She touched her fingers to her lips, lips he had kissed with such a fiery passion that it had left her breathless. When she looked in the mirror, she noticed the pink blush on her cheeks and the slightly glazed look in her eyes when she remembered other things.

So that was what making love felt like. All she'd ever had to go on were steamy chapters in cheap novels she managed to pry from her female guards. There had been… lurid movies as well. Those seemed very popular with quite a few of the male guards. She'd caught a few glimpses a few times and she'd not been impressed with what she'd seen. Seeing that had only made her wonder why the books and movies were so very different in depicting the same subject. Now she knew there was a bit of truth in both.

She'd not expected it to hurt, she'd not expected it to feel so incredibly good after that initial moment either. She was a bit disappointed though at the way it had ended, with a whimper instead of a bang. The books were always mentioning some kind of mind altering culmination of… of stars bursting or the earth splintering or the creation of super novas.

When she was done brushing her teeth, Liona leaned forward and licked her lips.

Those movies didn't seem entirely correct either. Last night had not been so… so… static.

She was also pretty sure she'd not made the ridiculous noises as what she'd heard those women make. Not like that anyway. Though, there had been a few moments in which she thought she understood the reason for those sounds, especially towards the end… but then it was suddenly over. String certainly seemed to have enjoyed all of it, though she did wonder if he too felt that it had ended too soon. Mostly she wondered if they could do it again.

When she was dressed, Liona descended the stairs, thinking to herself that with this new shared intimacy, perhaps… Her heartbeat tripled, just seeing him there, sitting in his chair, until she noticed the dark look on his face.

She could feel the blood leech from her face and a foreboding feeling pooled in her stomach. Something was very, very wrong. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes and there was an unfamiliar pallor to his face. There was also a strain that carved deep lines about his mouth and pulled the corners down.

He looked as if he'd spent the night battling for his soul instead of savoring the feeling of what had happened between them. In the pale light of the early morning, Liona could see clearly just how deeply loneliness could cut itself into a man's face and how barren his eyes could be.

She couldn't bring herself to say 'Good morning' because she already knew it wasn't, and that it wouldn't be either. And so she stood there, waiting for whatever he had to say.

First he drew in a deep breath, before he raised his eyes to her. "I called Michael. He's comin' to pick you up. A safe address has been arranged. If you find it's not quite to your standards, don't take it out on him. I'm afraid I insisted."

Liona swallowed hard. "You insisted?"

"Last night was a mistake, but that's on me. I took advantage of you and the situation." Another shuddering breath. "You can be angry with me, hate me if you want. You just can't stay here."

"So, let me get this straight. Last night you seduced me, made love to me," – her voice cracked on a whisper – "but now you can't stand the sight of me and you want me to go?"

String looked up, as if his attention was now on something else. "Dom is here to pick me up. I have a job to do." He rose to his feet and walked to the door, then he turned to look back at her. Liona clasped a hand to her heart.

"Last night was lust. It had nothin' to do with makin' love." He turned around again and walked out of the cabin.

String's cold words hung in the room like a dark cloud.

Her vision blurred with tears and she swallowed hard, again and again and again. Her nails were drawing blood from the palms of her hands. Then, she forced herself to breathe in and out. In and out. Until she felt she could trust her limbs and walk all the way down. When she sat down on the couch, Tet jumped right next to her, whined, and pushed his nose against her cheek. Without really seeing her big buddy, Liona threw an arm around his neck, thinking she might have been able to hate String, if she'd not seen his eyes – dark and wounded and hopeless. For now, simple anger would have to do.