Part 4

Michele sat at the table in the small suite, laptop before her, fingers flying across the keys as she entered information from memory. Cat was in the portable crib beside her, watching the toys that once again danced over her head. Darien stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching them, his hair still damp from his shower, trying not to let the anger bubble back to the surface.

It had taken very little persuasion by Claire to convince the Official to consider providing at least minimal help. Eberts had been busily looking through the dozens of disks Michele had provided, stunning them with the amount and type of information contained within. Numerous projects, plans, names of Changeling members (both active and not), names of government and military officials they owned at least a piece of around the world. There were contact codes, safe house locations -- the amount of information was immense, and this was just the beginning. They had yet to look at the notebooks, all full of handwritten information that she had stored in her head.

Though he refused to commit to anything specific, the Official had agreed to hide her and give her some protection so she could plan her next move. He'd also agreed to guard Cat when the rescue attempt was made, on the condition Michele remove the back door from the Agency computer system. It took Michele less than fifteen minutes to not only block the back door, but tighten up the computer's security to keep Changeling out in the future. Eberts was once again impressed with her skill and she took the time to explain that this was part of what she'd been hired to do by Changeling. Between her learned skills and her unorthodox talents, she was able to manipulate computers and similar systems easily. Michele had been their 'data retrieval specialist.'

She was also a trained killer.

As Darien watched, she finished typing and saved the whatever it was. She'd been transferring data for a couple of hours now. With a sigh she turned to Cat and plucked one of the toys out of the air with her hand. "You silly, why you like this ugly duck I'll never know."  She set it on the infant's stomach and moved the others off to the side. "Well, you seem to be happy, amazingly enough."  She tipped her head to the side and smiled. "Yes, little kitten, I know he's there. Maybe. I'll ask him."

Darien had found the entire one-sided conversation very odd, but wasn't surprised when Michele turned to look at him.

"Cat wants to know if you'll play with her for a bit. Something about 'the attack of the demented duck'."  Michele shook her head. "The impressions don't translate very well."

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, not sure he wanted to understand what he'd just heard. "She's a telepath?"

"No, or rather, not yet. Not beyond what most infants are, though being a twin does add to the effect. I'm reading her."  Michele tapped Cat on the nose and then walked to stand before Darien. He had yet to pull on his shirt and she lifted the chain from where it lay low on his chest. "Mine?"

"Yeah, yours."  He removed it from her grasp and put on his shirt. "At least I had something to remember you by."  His voice was so cold that he surprised even himself. When she started to laugh quietly, he had to resist the urge to hit her.

"And I didn't?"  She waved her hand in the direction of Cat, and Darien groaned in total frustration. "Shit, Darien. If I didn't give a damn, would I be going through all this trouble? If I were the cold, callous bitch you seem to think I am, would I be here? No. I would have shrugged my shoulders, let Changeling do whatever the hell they wanted with the kids, and gone on to the next mission."  Her hand came up to hover inches away from him, wanting to touch, but afraid he'd revile her. In truth, he wasn't sure he wouldn't. "Darien, I've literally thrown away the only life I've known for you. Could you give me a chance? Please? I've shown you how I felt, still feel, what else do you want from me?"

"Michele, I don't know. I've been hanging onto the memory of a woman for the last year who bears very little resemblance to the one standing before me. Vague feelings and hopes have been all that kept me going for long months."  He leaned against the door frame, slouching down as he tried to put the confusing thoughts and feelings into some sort of order and explain them to her. "I'll take responsibility for the kids and I'll help all I can, but I don't know if I can get past this... this change in you. In some ways it's everything I hate, everything I've been fighting against since coming to the Agency."  His hand came up to rest against her face. "And in some ways you're still the same. Your strength, your courage, your stubbornness. You come back, and I find the woman you were slowly trying to be. It's..."  He shook his head, sure he was doing this all wrong. "I just don't know what to believe anymore."

She seemed to contemplate his words, quietly observing him for several long minutes while the tension between them only increased. Coming to a decision, she took his hand, which had been almost unconsciously playing with her hair, and kissed the palm, causing him to draw in a sharp, sudden breath. The light touch of her lips on his hand was a shock. "I care about you, Darien. Enough to not want to cause you any more pain. You have every right to be angry, but don't dare try and deny that part of you wants me, cares about me, maybe even loves me. You've been hurt, turned to others to ease your pain, but you never forgot me."  She released his hand and stepped back. "Go play with Cat. I'm going to take a shower."

Darien found himself unable to move, unable to stop her. It took an irritated squall from Cat to get him to focus on reality. When he got to her side, she got all excited, waving her arms and kicking her legs.

"'Attack of the demented duck,' huh?"  He picked up the butt-ugly toy and convinced it to emit long, annoying, and painful-sounding squeaks as he slowly marched it up her leg and torso towards her face. "You have to be my kid, you're completely mad."  She squealed as the duck got near her face and grabbed at it with a look of sheer joy in her eyes. Darien found himself laughing as much at her as with her.

It was some time before Darien heard movement in the other room. In the interim, Cat had played herself into a giggle fit and then straight into her late afternoon nap. In some ways he was thankful she was still so young. She was cute enough to catch his attention and sweet enough to keep it. She still spent most of her time sleeping, and wasn't too demanding or mobile yet, which had made it easier on him considering he had no idea what he was doing. The weird thing was that he was finding he liked having her around, like playing 'attack of the demented duck' with her. Just knowing that Michele would be leaving with her if -- when -- they got Kit back bothered him. He was beginning to realize he didn't want that to happen, but wasn't sure how to prevent it.

He made sure Cat was content and then walked into the bedroom. Michele was stretching, in the slow graceful movements that he remembered from before. It was even the same routine, for the most part, with only some minor adjustments due to space constraints. She was looking much better than she had earlier. Claire had come up with... something, and injected Michele with it, breaking the still-increasing fever. She'd been nearing one hundred and ten when she finally agreed to try the concoction. She still didn't look right, didn't look entirely healthy, but better.

Darien sat in the chair under the sole window in the room and rubbed his face in his hands. He wasn't really tired so much as worn. Even with the worst of the side effects corrected, he still had things to be upset about, things that kept him off balance, things he needed to deal with before he could continue. Michele finished stretching and flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

Darien moved over to sit next to her and looked down, his right hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "'Chele..."

She opened her eyes to look at him. "What do you need, Dare?"  She carefully controlled her voice, knowing how angry he'd been just a short time ago.

"What happened that night? Was it all a set-up? Did you force me to care, even beyond just wanting to help you?"  He wanted his memory back. He wanted to know that what he'd held onto for the last year hadn't been some dream. Oh, he knew she cared, but even she'd admitted there had been secondary programming that she'd enacted without realizing. He was afraid that he was part of that and her... attachment to him had been manufactured. "Did you just use me because you couldn't get what you wanted from Kevin?"

"Why does it matter, Darien? It's over and done with."  She hadn't moved, just lay there watching him.

"It matters 'cause I've spent the last year believing we had something... that I.... that you.... Damn it, 'Chele."  The frustration was unavoidable. Part of him wanted to shake her until she understood how important this was to him.

She sat up then, took his hand into one of her own and traced random figures on the back of it with the other. "I do understand, I just didn't want to burden you with the memories."

"Let me decide if it's a burden, please?"  He pleaded with her, somehow knowing she was breaking down, giving in, at least on this.

"All right. Lie down."  She rubbed the side of her nose and waited for him to do as she asked.

"Lie down? Why? You gonna try and take advantage of me?"  She laughed softly and shifted onto her knees. Leaning in, she kissed him lightly, much to his surprise, and despite his residual anger, despite her being so very different, despite everything, he found himself responding. Their fingers twined together as his other hand came up to stroke the back of her neck, causing her to sigh against his lips.

He deepened the kiss and her mouth opened beneath his in response, making him groan and lean back on the bed bringing her with him. His hand slid down her back, easily feeling her ribs even through the shirt she wore. They spent long minutes doing nothing more than getting know the feel of one another again, falling into each other again, learning she was very ticklish again. She pulled away, panting in reaction to his unintentional tickling.

"Well, which do you want? Me, or the past?"  She was running her hand across his shoulders and chest, a light touch that teased and made him relax at the same time. Just having her here -- here with him. It was enough for now.

"Start with the past, then I might be able to better deal with the present." She nodded and then kissed him again.

"What's the last thing you remember?"  Her voice had gone oddly serious, and he found himself trying to remember exactly where his memory cut off.

"Last clear thing I remember is you telling me the movie was over."  She closed her eyes and tipped her head slightly. He brought one hand up to rest against her cheek. "'Chele?"

"Ready?" she asked, confusing him.

"Ready for what?"

"Dare, I'm going to show you what happened, from my perspective for the most part, but some of your... emotions are mixed in. Is that okay? It'll be faster than just telling you."  Based on the look on her face, she was suddenly realizing that he might not want her in his head.

"Will it hurt?" That was the only thing he could think of.

"I'll be gentle, but you might end up with a mild headache. This is a bit different from just sharing emotions, or talking to you."  She sat up and looked down at him. "I'm just used to doing things this way, sorry."

"Michele, it's okay. I...."  He took a deep breath and made himself finish the sentence. "I trust you."  He found himself believing his own words; he did trust her, and it surprised him.

"Close your eyes and relax. Like you're practicing your meditation. Clear your mind."  Closing his eyes with only a touch of concern, he felt her free hand come to rest along his face. *You're safe.*  The words rolled through him, easing the last of his discomfort. He went into his relaxation exercise, clearing his mind of any built-up crud. Then, suddenly, he was back in his apartment, watching himself....

It was the oddest experience of his life. He'd never realized how tall he really was until now, looking up at himself through 'Chele's eyes. He listened to their conversation as she admitted that she wanted to stay the night, felt what she felt, including the hurt at his harsh commentary. When she lifted her hand to touch his face, he somehow knew what was coming and his mind was filled with feelings, the emotions and hints of thoughts of both of them. When he watched himself back away to lean against the door and moved with Michele back into the room, the connection was still there, had always been there he now knew, just stronger with the more intimate contact that had occurred.

Until this moment, he hadn't realized she had heightened senses as well; she'd never mentioned it. It was intoxicating in some ways. She could hear his heart pounding from across the room, smell the pheromones that signaled desire -- hell, downright lust -- and when he finally helped her remove her shirt and kissed her, she could smell and taste the quicksilver so very near to flowing. Her sense of touch was so very heightened that the slightest movement of his fingers sent fiery bursts of longing through her that she somehow tamed, controlled, and used. Simply allowing herself to fall into step with him and the erotic dance they were performing.

When the quicksilver flowed across them, it was both shocking and unbelievably intimate. How could he have known what a subtle caress it could be? What she was feeling, how she was reacting, had become so intertwined with him that there was little need for words.

His irritation at being unable to stop the quicksilver cooled them for a moment, but her quiet words and confidence in him aided in his gaining some sort of control, a control he'd never bothered with before. The annoying quicksilver effect irritated him, but he'd never wanted to correct it, to change the situation, until now.

There was a sudden flood of new information, like a door had been flung wide allowing in the summer heat and sunshine, and he found himself both looking down at Michele and up at himself as well. Feeling him/her kiss him. Feeling the cold stream of quicksilver down his back and the heat of his/her lips at the hollow of his throat. The sudden rush of need, of want, of love. With a sudden twist in his mind, he found himself seeing from his perspective alone, but he could still feel what she was feeling. That intimate mental caress that was beyond anything he'd experienced before was still there. It drove both of them to places he hadn't thought possible and, even after the moment was over, left him on a high plateau he'd never thought he'd get to see in his lifetime.

The rest of the evening played out in his mind:  their passion, their need revealing itself over and over again, until they finally dozed off curled about each other like a pair of puppies. His chin resting atop her head, their combined scent a soothing elixir, her warm body a relaxing presence that he melted into, her breathing a slow timed pattern that he found himself matching as he slipped into slumber.

He found himself waking to the sound of her voice calling his name softly and the feel of her lips on his shoulder, neck, teeth gently biting his ear lobe.

"'Chele? Is something wrong?"

She actually looked embarrassed. "I'm starved, and your cupboards are pretty damn bare."

"Hungry?"  Darien glanced over at the clock on his night stand which read a little after one AM. He'd slept for about an hour. "How about pizza? Luigi's is still open."

She nodded. "Pizza'd be great."  Her stomach growled in agreement and Darien chuckled softly. "Sorry, I skipped dinner. I had other things on my mind."

"Oh really?"  Darien pushed himself into a sitting position with a grin. "Such as?"

Michele followed suit, the sheet falling down to her waist, revealing the clothes she wasn't wearing. "Such as how to convince you I wasn't a little girl and get you into this bed."  Her lips found his collarbone and made their slow way across to his shoulder, where she sank her teeth in just hard enough to leave faint marks.

Darien groaned and brought up one hand to caress her breast, teasing the nipple with his palm. "Pizza," he muttered. "You said something about pizza."

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, her own glazed over with desire. "Oh, yeah. Perhaps you should make that call."  She licked her lips, her tongue darting out for an instant, before biting her lower lip to keep a moan trapped inside as he rolled her nipple between his forefinger and thumb, squeezing gently. "Ah, D... Dare."

He leaned in to find her ear. "Yes? Something you want?"  Her breathing was rushed now, his touch a distraction that made her forget how to speak, and he loved it. He'd forgotten what a pleasure it was to be able to drive someone speechless with a touch and a few well-chosen words. Forgotten what a pleasure it was to have it done to him. "Besides pizza, that is."

Her panting turned to laughter. "Tease. Pizza first. Need sustenance to fuel the body for... other activities."  She rubbed her face along the side of his, ignoring the scratchiness of the hairs there, the sandpapery feel of his unshaven face, reveling in just being able to touch him. "Think the 'Fish'll get pissed if we call in satiated tomorrow?"

That got Darien laughing. He gave her a quick kiss and rolled off the bed. He headed over to the counter where his phone was and hit the speed dial for Luigi's. "Large?" he asked her, covering the mouthpiece with one hand.

"Hell yes, I'm ravenous," Michele answered with a grin.

As Darien ordered the large pizza with everything, he watched as Michele lifted her hands over her head and arched back, stretching. He could hear the soft pops from her neck and back and enjoyed the view quite a bit, though she was still underweight, he noted. Her ribs were prominent enough that he could see the skin and muscle flowing over the bones as she moved. He hung up the phone with a distracted "Thanks," as the guy on the other end told him it would be about twenty minutes.

'Chele shook her head in amusement when she saw that he was more than a little aroused again. "Let me guess, I could sneeze about now and you'd react."

Darien decided she was being silly and not trying to embarrass him. "You gonna deny the same goes for you?"

"Deny? Oh no. Admit the truth? Ain't gonna do that either."  She was doing the poker face, but the smile that had invaded her eyes gave it away.

Darien moved over to the bed and sat next to her. He caressed her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips as she watched him, meeting his eyes with a candor that was surprising. Tonight she was holding nothing back from him. "We've plenty of time."

"Hmmm, less than twenty minutes is your definition of 'plenty of time'?" It was a joke, but her voice had only a hint of humor. "Darien, I...."

He stopped her, suddenly knowing what she was going to say. He could feel what she was trying to put into words, could, through his light touch upon her, feel everything going on inside her including the undertone of fear. Fear of how strongly she felt, fear that it would all be torn away, fear that she was going to lose herself to him even as she was trying to find who she was. "Shhh, we've plenty of time, 'Chele," he repeated. The light kiss he gave her, the bare brushing of lips, was electric and he forced himself to stop with the one kiss. "Clothes. The pizza guys expect a bigger tip if I answer the door naked."  He slid across the bed and over to his bureau. Rummaging, he came up with a pair of faded blue pajama bottoms and T-shirt for himself. Spying the pajama top she'd worn the last time she was here, he pulled it out as well and tossed it to her.

Catching it she smiled and watched as he dressed. "I could answer the door nekkid. I doubt he'd demand any tip at all, or payment for that matter."  But she pulled the top on and began to button it before Darien could make any protest.

He walked around the bed and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'd rather not share."  That came out far more possessive than he'd intended. "If... if that's okay with you."

"Very okay," she answered quietly.

"Mmmm, good."  He found himself being drawn back down into her. Falling into that state of desire, of passion, where rational thought was unnecessary and touch, action/ reaction, and feelings ruled. Where instinct and need took command. He pulled himself back. "Thirsty. Want something to drink?"

It was obvious she'd felt the same thing, had been drawn along with him, and found it just as difficult to pull herself back to that level of rationality that was necessary for spoken communication. "Yeah, drink would be good."

Darien stepped away, feeling her eyes upon him as he turned his back on her and walked into the kitchen to search the fridge for liquid refreshment. He heard her exhale into the room and smiled; it was a good bet she was just as ready for another round of lovemaking as he was. She was a surprisingly wanton little thing, not shy in the least, and more than willing to do, or be done to. He picked up a couple cold bottles of beer and forced himself to calm down before he found himself sliding that shirt of his up over her head and himself into her.

He focused on the bottles in his hands, hoping they would have that cold shower effect, and turned his mind to other things. Bobby was going to be upset about this, as was Claire. The thought of talking to either of them was enough to put a damper on his arousal and gave him enough control to be able to face Michele without pouncing on her for another round of play -- he hoped.

There was a sound at his door and he set the beers down on his counter. "Wow, that was fast. Where the hell is my wallet?"

"That is not the pizza guy," Michele said at a harsh whisper.

Darien turned to see her off the bed and standing by the back of his sofa. He headed towards her, but had only made it as far as the pool table when the door was smashed in and black-covered figures burst into the room wearing thermals and carrying laser-sighted weapons.

The self-preservation instinct ruled and he quicksilvered, even though he knew it was a futile act. A feathered dart flew by him, headed for Michele, but was diverted into the wall. One of the men flew backwards into the bookcase, knocking it to the floor and spilling books everywhere, and ended up under the door that hung by only the security chain at this point, canting it at an awkward angle. Darien headed for the bat he kept near his bed and, as he lifted it, swung at the guy he somehow knew was right behind him. It caught him on the shoulder, knocking the gun from his hand and him to the floor. Murphy's Law kicked in then; the dart gun went off as it landed butt first and the tranq found a home in his chest.

"Damn it. We don't want him dead. Just get the girl."

Darien heard Michele scream in rage and the shattering of glass as a blurry, dark form flung itself into the door of his fridge. The room was spinning in a dizzying manner and a wave of heat washed over him. Color returned, as his control of the quicksilver fled with the effects of drug overtaking his senses. He felt the bat slip from his grasp and bent down to pick it up, only to find the floor rushing up to meet him. It hurt, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. His body was numb, his mind just barely holding onto consciousness. "'Chele..."  He didn't know if he spoke aloud, or only thought her name. Not that it mattered. Darkness swooped in on soft-feathered wings and dragged him away.

Darien was suddenly seeing things from Michele's perspective again. He felt her terror, her anger, as the men burst into the room. Men who seemed familiar to her, men she knew, men Corvan had sent to reclaim her. Felt her release the power within her, felt the effort and concentration required to shove the one into the bookcase and smash another with the pool table, trapping him between it and the closet door. Watched while he proceeded to shred the felt in an attempt to free himself before passing out. He could feel the tendrils of energy as she deflected tranq darts away from herself and from him as he went after the bat. He saw out of the corner of his/her eyes as he took on the man moving up behind him, realizing only then that she had been the reason he'd known the man was there. That eerie connection allowed her to relay information to him without having to speak in any form.

When she saw him hit with the tranq and heard the words from the leader, she went wild. Everything she was became focused on the sole goal of protecting him. The rage with which she flung the one man headfirst into the fridge and another who attempted to close with her into the wall next to his bureau. The body slid down the wall, his skull crushed. Darien felt her terror as she watched him fall to the floor and fade into unconsciousness with her name in his mind, on his lips.

The sting of the tranq dart that hit her in the arm, fired by the man Darien had hit with the bat. He was now crouched behind the bed, having retrieved and reloaded the weapon after hitting Darien accidentally with it. She yanked the dart out and flung it back at him, connecting solidly with his temple and knocking him to the floor. The next team came through the door then, getting her with two tranqs outright and making her scramble back over the sofa, knocking it over in the process, to get away from them. By then it was too late -- she had more than enough of the drug in her system to affect her. She tried to drag the sofa over to hide behind but was only able to move it slightly, shredding the fabric instead, her control going, her concentration being shattered by the powerful sedative coursing through her body. She backed into the wall and felt her knees fold, her legs no longer willing to support her. Reaching for anything to keep her upright, her hands closed around the curtains, but instead of holding her up, they pulled free from the wall to settle down upon her and the remains of the sofa. Hiding her from those who had come for her.

Her last sight was of eyes, the face hidden by a black mask, and the gloved hand that had lifted the curtain out of the way to reveal her. Her last thought was of regret, that she had not said how she felt about Darien when she'd had the chance. Then darkness swept her away.

Darien opened his eyes to see Michele looking down at him with concern on her face. "Are you okay? You were out a bit longer than I expected. And... and you quicksilvered a couple of times."

He felt drained. "Shit, that was vivid."  He rolled and curled himself about her, his head buried against her stomach. The memory was still replaying over and over again in his mind. He'd regained his own memories of that night along with hers, and she was right -- with the last year still an obstruction between them, it was a burden. But it was a burden he was willing to bear. His faith, his belief, as vague as it had sometimes seemed to be, was justified. It had not been his imagination, not been some weird escape, or an excuse to avoid emotional contact with others; he had lost a part of himself that day, and, even with her here now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever find it again.

He shook in her hold, her arms wrapping about him, cradling his head in her arms, her hair falling about her face as she leaned over him. Her tears fell onto his cheek, chilling him as the quicksilver mixed in, nearly turning them to ice as they fell the short distance from her to him. "I'm sorry, Dare," she whispered. "I should have realized..."

He lifted his head, shifting so that he cupped her face with both hands. "Don't be. I wanted -- needed -- to know what happened that night. To know that what I felt, and what I thought you felt, was real. Thank you."  He kissed her cheeks, tasting the combined salt and sweetness of her tears, causing her to shudder and draw in a shaky breath. Her hands came up to encircle his neck, her need to comfort and be comforted leaking from her. Darien was more than willing to oblige.

They held that tableau for a long timeless moment, drawing what they needed from each other, reconnecting to each other, finding in each other what had gone missing for so many months. Darien pulled away first. "'Chele, once we have Kit back, why don't we leave, take off and start somewhere on our own?"

"How Darien? I've been on the run for weeks. It's not easy, especially with kids, more so with infants. Most of my resources have been cut off. I was backed into a corner by the time I tracked down where Kit was."  She let the exhaustion seep in to her words, let him feel how the past weeks had worn her down, gave him a small taste of how hard it had been.

He wondered why she was trying so hard to discourage him. "'Chele, think. I'm a thief, we can both turn invisible -- hell, you have an entire repertoire of talents that would be useful. You can't tell me you're worried about breaking a few laws?"  She shook her head. "We'll hit a few casinos, steal a few million, head south. Maybe down to Cabo San Lucas or Acapulco. Set up our own lab."  He was liking the idea more and more. What reason did he have to be loyal to the Agency? With the money they could steal, they could do just about anything, go just about anywhere they wanted.

"And what will you do when the counteragent runs out and there's no more? Or the patches. What then? Go quicksilver mad while holding Cat? Try and commit suicide when the depression crashes back in?" she countered, using a two very feasible potential scenarios.

"We steal all we can first. Get some made as needed till we're set up."  He took her hands in his. "We can do this, 'Chele."

"Darien, you barely know me. You still see me as the innocent you met a year ago. You may very well grow to hate the person I really am." Michele was almost pleading now, making it plain she wanted him to drop this idea.

He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "I told you last year that I was not the best person in the world. I'm still not. And neither are you. I think we'd make a hell of a team, and there are some responsibilities I take seriously. They are 'our' children, and I'll do whatever's necessary to see they are safe. Just like I promised you." He could see that his words had sunk in, that she was now aware how very serious he was about this. That he would throw away the little he had at the Agency for a chance at a normal life. With her, with their children. "You already said you were going to have to go into hiding. We could do it together."

"I'll think about it. I can't make a decision until after Kit's safe." She gave him a small smile. "Okay?"

He thought about it. So many things could change, could go wrong in the next couple of days. Somehow he knew they had to move soon, not so much for Kit's sake -- Stark wasn't likely to harm him -- as for Michele's. "Okay. Just so long as you really think about it."  He glanced at his watch, noting that it was well after dinnertime. "I'm going to order some food for us. Anything in particular?"

"Ummm, just some soup for me. Vegetable or chicken if they have it." She had trouble meeting his eyes for an instant, but finally did, her look carefully controlled.

"You can talk to me, if you need to."

She shook her head. "Nothing to say, really. Not right now, anyway. I'm just a little tired."

Considering what had happened earlier, he could believe it. "Why don't you catch a nap then. I can handle Cat when she wakes up. She needs her mom healthy."  He eased her back onto the pillows and dragged up the blanket folded over the end of the bed to cover her. "Rest."  She sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing into the overstuffed pillows. Darien lay the back of one hand against her cheek, finding her still slightly warm to the touch. As if that mystery fever from earlier was trying to come back, even with the medication Claire had provided.

When her breathing slowed and evened out, signaling she was deep asleep, he still watched her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~