Don't worry… the ending is months off still.

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They had paused on the way out for Mark to grab a few more apples, one for his aunt and each of his nieces, then they pushed their way through the ring of trees that guarded her garden.

"Why are those there?" Mark asked, asperity tinting his voice. He had followed too close behind Anne as she passed through and got hit in the face with a branch. He worked his mouth a few times to make sure that his jaw was still attached, then continued. "Trying to keep people out? I thought you said that no one came this way."

"The branches keep the sands out. Otherwise, the grass gets covered in a few months."

"Oh. That makes sense." He turned to look at them again, saw how the branches intertwined even close to the ground, and nodded as he saw their purpose.

"Thank you. I rather thought it did."

They were both rather quiet on the walk back, trudging silently across the sands. Anne was still mostly lost in her mind, and Mark was busy trying to commit every detail of that visit to memory. He had hardly the words to describe that place, but knew that he needed to find them. It was too much a wonder that somewhere like that could even exist on this planet. To let any part of its memory fade seemed to him to be nearly sacrilegious.

The journey to the oasis had taken hours, and the walk back took even longer as the urgency that had driven Anne had abated. Mark was too lost in his own thoughts to notice how long the walk was taking, and she didn't care to arrive in December any earlier than she had to. She wasn't dragging her feet, not really, but she wasn't hurrying back by any means.

With a sigh, she looked up at the stars, their twinkle unobscured by the lights of the city. They seemed so bright, so close that her hand rose to touch one of its own volition. Then she remembered another night where she had tried to touch the stars, and her hand fell back down. She stopped walking and buried her face in her hands, breathing heavily as she tried to get her emotions under control again.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but she could only shake her head.

After a few minutes she sniffed loudly and let her hands fall. "Sorry," she said through a too-tight throat. "It's just… everything reminds me of him."

He shook his head slowly. It still boggled his mind that she was in love with Knives Millions. The most evil man he had ever heard of, and she stood there and acted like a love addled fool. He wanted to shake her, to tell her that she was better off with that creature out of her life, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue. She didn't need to hear right now that this was for the best, even though it was. Maybe in a few days, when she was capable of being a bit more rational. But crying over looking at stars?

Better to give her those few days.

Taken from his thoughts, he looked at the moons and gauged the time.

"Whoa, it's really getting late," he noted. "How much farther?"

"Another ten iles, easy."

"We aren't going to get back before midnight."

"Nope."

"That's when the hotels close," he felt obliged to point out.

"Oh. Damn." Her pace picked up a bit. "You're right." Then it slowed again. "I'll just sleep at work. I have a blanket there."

"There's no bed at work."

"There's no bed in my apartment, either. That didn't stop me from sleeping last night."

He shook his head. "We have that guest room. You've slept over before; you still even have some pajamas there."

"No. Oh, no. Your aunt is not going to want me there."

"She's probably asleep already. If we're quiet, she'll never know you're there."

"It's not right. What will she say when she learns that her son's killer decided to visit again?" Bitterness twisted the words, making them sour in her mouth.

He sighed, then tried another tactic. "Anne… There are no showers at work."

"So?"

"You are a little less than fresh at the moment."

"I'm still better than the engineers."

"True. But unless you want people to ask you questions, you're going to need to get clean."

Anne sniffed the air and grimaced. "Fine. You're right. I need a shower." She sighed. "You win. But I'm in and out, and she doesn't have to see me. I don't want to hurt her like that."

He nodded, and they walked the last few iles to December in silence. But as it turned out, Anne didn't need to sneak into Mark's house.

Or rather, didn't get to.

The porch light wasn't on, nor were any in the house, so there were no clues to hint that not every member of the household was snuggled warmly in bed. Mark unlocked the front door and ushered Anne in, then turned on the hall light.

And his aunt was there to great them.

"So, the murderer returns," she said, her voice harsh. She stood slowly, her bones creaking as she arose from her chair in the living room.

"I was worried about you, hon," she continued, looking at Mark. "You had told me you were going to come home some time this afternoon to pick up some more of your things, but you never came. I wondered what she had done to you this time." Her voice dripped hate when she referred to Anne.

"She didn't do anything," he protested weakly, backing up a step as his aunt walked closer.

Anne sighed, squared her shoulders, and began to apologize for having bothered her.

"You shut up, murderer," snarled Kathryn. She raised her hand and slapped Anne across the face, hard. Anne collapsed to the floor, unconscious, and Mark had to grab his aunt's arm to keep her from hitting her again.