I apologize to the city of Colorado Springs for any bad publicity in this tale. Really, it's a nice city, come visit. I also apologize for making the police force slightly inept. (They're really good folks, and we appreciate all they do for us.) Hopefully, the founders are not turning over in their graves too much as I plunder their city. (Well, Gen. Jackson will be once I ruin his statue, but that's for later.) LOL I feel better now, but I don't think I'll be getting a job on the tourism board anytime soon.

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What would be white walls within the four corners of the room are not. Instead, they are covered, collage style, of so many faces, so many eyes watching him watching them. He sits in the middle of a simple bed, crisply starched sheets with hospital corners, a flat pillow by the headboard. He is the only real color in the room, even as all the photos are in black and white. Still he sits, his chest barely rising and falling with each breath. So many faces. So many people. So many victims, some from his past, some form his future. One photo in particular, lays in front of him, eyes staring up at him. He meets those eyes, and if he closes his own, he can breathe life into the picture and envision those eyes in vibrancy once more. So long, so long ago. The sun begins to peek in around the edges of the blinds, and he feels his warmth upon his skin. Time for the day to begin. Slowly rising from the bed, headed to the bathroom, commencing the morning ritual. When he emerges, he is no different than you and I, but remember dear one, appearances can be deceiving.

*****

The Colorado Springs Airport is small, and set far south and east of the city, in the middle of rolling grasslands. The new terminal, recently christened the Robert M. Issac Memorial Terminal, after a former mayor of the city, is larger than the old terminal which sits west of the runways the airport shares with Peterson Air Force Base. Security is still tight and it is odd to disembark a plane and walk down a terminal deserted except for the arriving and departing passengers. The last passenger form the United Boeing 737 emerged from the door leading to the jetway and paused for a moment, looking out the picture windows and at the Air Force base that lay in the near distance. Sighing, she trundled the rolling suitcase along after her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. It felt nice to walk again, after spending more time than anyone should cooped up on a number of flights.

Her momentum carried her up the slight incline and out past the security checkpoints. She didn't look around, only noted the location of the escalators, straight ahead, and the sign indicating the location of the rental car desks. She had a leather travel purse slung over one shoulder and as she rode the escalator down she dug her membership card out from it and sighed. Three days back in the States and she had maybe ten hours of sleep under her belt. All she looked forward to was getting her car, getting to her hotel, and falling asleep. Alas, that was the preferred plan, but not the one she would have to adhere to. Direct obedience was what was required of her, and she did it almost too willingly. She shifted her weight on her stiff legs as she waited in line, finally reaching the counter and laying her card on the counter. Minutes later, the bill had been applied to her credit card, her signature on the proper forms, and she was out the door to the shuttle. Fifteen minutes after stepping off the plane Petra Morricone had stowed her suitcase in the trunk of a new Thunderbird and was on her way now to the other side of town. Following the directions the rental agent had given her, she arrived at the front desk of the Broadmoor twenty five minutes later. On time and presentable, as she had an appointment to keep.

*****

It was just after two o'clock when the front desk rang his suite to tell him that he had a visitor at the front desk. Leigh was out shopping downtown for the day, leaving him to carry out his plans in private. That, and he didn't think that Leigh would take much of a liking to his visitor. A quick glance at the clock as he left the suite gave him cause to smile. She was early. He didn't pause at the desk as he stepped into the lobby, spotting her immediately where she sat in a plush easy chair. Smiling, he came to stand in front of her, watching as she rose to greet him. She was no longer the young girl he had met in Florence, she had matured, had finally grown into the mature look her eyes had always held. Silently, he offered his arm and escorted her outside. They didn't speak until they were on the path that led around the lake.

"You are looking well, Petra." One could almost say he looked fatherly right then, escorting his favored daughter on a stroll around the lake. She smiled up at him, nearly a head shorter than he.

"Thank you. I must say that I can say the same about you, Doctor."

"I am to assume there were no problems on your flights?"

A shake of her head, the long glossy raven braid swing between her thin shoulders. "None. Customs and security were not a problem."

"I didn't expect them to be."

They walked in silence once again, Petra taking the beauty of their surroundings in. The heat was still oppressive but there were thunderheads edging over the peak of Cheyenne Mountain. By the time the Doctor and Petra had reached the far side of the lake the first sprinkles had begun. It was all they could do to avoid a flat out run into the lobby of the main building as they reached the other side of the lake once more, just dodging the torrent that was unleashed. Soon they were in his suite and she was observing the rain along with the electrical storm that danced before her. The boom of the thunder was comfortably muted by the walls and the closed window. It was hard to draw her attention away from the storm and to the matters at hand. He waited patiently for her though, watching her from a seat at the small table. She finally turned away and came to sit with him, glancing outside at any loud crack of thunder.

"Please look at these, Petra." he slid the numerous articles cut form the newspapers in front of her, sipping a glass of water as she perused the offerings. Her eyes came up to his, some of the old fear tracing through the twin green orbs.

"You haven't been…" she trailed off, looking form newsprint to him, slightly paler.

"Not in the least. I've been secure in my freedom for four months, I wouldn't attempt something so rash while the authorities attention was still focused on me."

"Oh."

"Did you bring the items I asked you to?"

"Everything I could find. Glad you chose to put those documents in a fireproof safe, seems your hidey-hole at the storage facility has a mouse problem. But, everything you asked for is intact. I have it down in my suitcase below." Pausing Petra shook her head. "It makes sense now, why you wanted those files. I really hadn't a clue while I was plugging my way through the mice."

"Were there really that many, Petra?" there was hint of a sardonic grin on his face. If Petra hadn't known better by now she would have been frightened half out of her wits.

"No, not really. But it's a pint of good storytelling to make it sound worse than it was." her wide grin earned a chuckle from the Doctor.

"Storyteller, now?"

"It's in the blood. Look at mom." there was the slightest hint of distaste on the last word, but she was learning to hide it better now. Another chuckle and he glanced at the watch he wore on his left hand. Petra noted the scar was still there, although obscured with a tanning agent and some cosmetics. He was rising and she did as well, stepping back form her chair and sliding it back against the table.

"Not to rush you, Petra, but I do expect my companion to be returning soon. I don't think she'd take well to finding you here."

"Jealous type, Doctor?" she received a nod and she shook her head. "I'll dash then, I've reservations up at the Embassy Suites on the north end of town." she turned and started for the door, pausing as he caught up to her as she stood with it opened slightly. "It's not her, is it?"

Her. How appropriately put, but opposed to whom? He knew that she was speaking of Clarice and he shook his head. "No, it is not her."

"Didn't think so, the room didn't smell like her. Oh, that was the other thing I meant to tell you, although you'd realize it as soon as you got the files. The little bottle of perfume you had in there broke somehow, so everything smells like L'Air du Temps." A quick and slightly wicked grin was flashed at him as she ducked out the door. She paused again in the hallway, looking back over her shoulder.

"You never do things the easy way, do you?"

"Never, Petra. Besides where would the fun be in that." The smile on his face was eerie and she shivered, strolling to elevators and shaking her head. He watched the braid bounce between her shoulders for a few steps before closing the door. A sigh as he walked back to the table to clean up the clippings and start making his preparations. As if he really needed another reminder of Clarice right now.

*****