By Dahlia's request, Crane sent his workers back underground and allowed themselves some privacy on the surface. She was too flustered to take in anything but the desire to clean off the recent memory of the apartment, literally and perhaps figuratively. A nearby hose reel at the side of a barn stood out. With a stifled huff, she walked over and helped herself as Crane followed curiously. After twisting the knob and pausing to allow water to push out old debris, Dahlia pointed the end towards her cheek and roughly cleaned the soot off her face. She knew it probably came off odd, but she wasn't able to conceal her fears and frustrations.

"Dahlia."

For a moment she wanted to ignore him, but as upset as she was, it was hard to do. Spitting stray beads of water out, she turned the hose off and dropped it to the dirt ground. She turned his way, breathing heavy. Her chest ached to look at him.

"Yes, I had him follow you. For your protection."

Twenty thoughts were squabbling in her mind, but none stepped forward to be spoken aloud. She looked back to the ground. Crane continued, stepping forward. "It's not my intention to smother you, Dahlia. We live in dangerous times, and we're doing dangerous work."

He had a valid enough point. Five men basically went after her in broad daylight and one nearly violated her beyond comprehension. She mustered a weak and defeated, "I know now." But why couldn't he have offered a bodyguard when she was leaving? Reasonable doubt was that he may not have realized that danger at the time, but he was such a prepared person that it was hard to consider. It made a lot more sense to consider the alternate. To consider Amelia's truth.

When she glanced up to meet his eyes, they lingered for a long, long moment. Amelia's warnings seemed like distant fantasy right that moment. Somehow Jay's voice faded into a dark cavity deep inside. It was hard to fathom that the darling human in front of her would do anything to purposefully hurt her in any way. Yet here she was, her trust waning. Even diminished, even knowing it was diminished, that affinity stood strong. Even knowing something was wrong, it felt firmly rooted.

It was hard to think about now. She just knew how to feel. Seeking comfort, even from the stirring thoughts of her now ambiguous relationship, Dahlia closed the gap between them and locked onto Crane with a tight hug.

Crane gave Dahlia a tour of the nature-sodden compound. Two massive wooden barns stood side by side at the front of the property, facing away from the vast orchards. Down a short dirt path sat the sizable three-story main house, and centered over that pathway was an off-white canopy tent. Behind the main dwelling were two separate guest houses, one smashed in and half exposed due to what appeared to be a felled tree. Parallel to that sat a 40-foot office trailer that, unlike the rest of the property, looked too clean to have been there long. Crane confirmed it was placed there recently to act as a security office, although still needed work before becoming operable. But once that work was complete, he said, they'd have dedicated and armed security guards day and night. For some reason, Dahlia didn't like that idea, but let the thought sit silent.

Then Crane led Dahlia to the main house. After ascending eight creaky wooden steps and crossing the porch, they reached the front door, which led to an open floor plan surrounding a roomy living area. Also on this floor were the laundry room, guest bathroom, dining room, kitchen, walk-in pantry, plus a sunroom in the back. The staircase staring down at the front door led up to the second floor landing, and from there, the main bathroom, a large utility closet, a linen closet, and two bedrooms.

Dahlia took note of the new furniture in the recently-cleaned main bedroom. "What's going to happen with your house?" She asked softly, moving to peer out the front hall window towards the barns.

"Nothing for the time being. Someone's there, laying low, to keep an eye on things."

After a moment when he didn't continue, she clarified, "I guess that means we're staying here?"

"For a short while."She heard him approach her from behind, then felt him sweep her hair away to rest a hand on her shoulder. "We're safe here. And the lab can grow here."

"... Grow into what?" The question came off more hesitant than she intended. She was inexplicably afraid to provoke him.

"I'll show you, soon." Then she felt him lean near to kiss her gently on the head.

"What about Richard Dodge ... ?" A short while earlier, she had told him the whole story ... leaving out the parts before arriving at the burned apartment of course.

"He can't find this place." The comment was made with overt confidence. He continued gently, "Get settled in. The plumbing works in the main bathroom, and it's been cleaned. You don't have to rush yourself, Dahlia. I want you to feel comfortable here."

A long, hot shower didn't fix much. It helped loosen some tightness in Dahlia's recovering body, but her head was still clear as mud. Until she could sort out her feelings, she asked Crane how she could help out around the compound. He didn't encourage landscaping, but it came up in conversation and Dahlia liked the sound of something simple right that moment. To start, removing weeds and debris, plus sweeping. Crane removed his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves, but she stopped him. She wanted this time alone, but rather emphasized how he could be of better use in another area of the compound. Fair enough, he figured. So off Dahlia went to start work on one of the barns.

The door was a bit stiff, but with a firm shove, it finally swung open. The floor was decorated with old hay and bits of other organic matter. Having grown up in the city, Dahlia classified the smell as "damp farm with a hint of swamp." Near the front doors, she immediately recognized the tall wooden perch as Nightmare's. Dahlia didn't recall seeing the crow anywhere on the compound.

A couple of good hours clearing the floor and loft of the barn did her mind well. She felt more settled and level-headed, and more prepared for some recon and discussion. And what she decided during that time was that she didn't have enough information to confidently make a move. Yes, Crane set that fire, she now believed. It was too coincidental for her father to have been poisoned with a fear-inducing toxin and caught in a sudden apartment fire. It was too coincidental that Crane and Lou didn't like each other. The idea was still painful, but fully processed now. But why did it all happen? What was the motivation? Was he so possessive? He never gave her that impression before, she didn't believe.

There was a desire to confront him, as she returned to the house. But something inside was rattled by the idea of confronting him.

As the front door to the main house creaked open, Crane peeked a head out from the back kitchen. "How'd you do?"

The interrogatory questions Dahlia had mentally lined up had fallen out of her head as she closed the door. "I need another shower, but 'barn one' looks halfway usable." She didn't feel ready to talk about it. She went with the flow. "And, uh, I saw ... Nightmare's perch in there? Where is she?"

With a pause and exhale, Crane answered, "I set her free."