***

Content and thoroughly worn out after another mind-blowing round of love making, Frank lovingly held Amber in his arms.  She had collapsed atop him after their combined release, and there she remained, lying chest to chest with him.  As he absently caressed her back and buttocks, he felt himself drifting toward the comfort of sleep when the image of the photograph flashed in his mind. 

Suddenly wide awake, the need for information took over and his exhaustion was pushed to the side.  "Amber?"

His soft, honeyed voice broke through the serene afterglow.  His tender caresses to her back were working one hell of a magic on her, sending her towards a contented dream state.  "Hmmm," she murmured, not quite capable of speech.

"Baby, I'd like to know more about Ardeth and Miranda...and why there is such a startling resemblance to us," he stated simply, his eyes drifting to the photographs on the dresser.  "It's...uncanny."

Amber nodded against his shoulder.  "It is that, and so much more."  She propped herself up on her elbow to see his face.  He appeared calm and receptive, quite the change from earlier in the evening.  "You'll have to keep an open mind, Frank."

He studied her serious expression for a moment.  What could he say to that?  "Of course, I will."

She smiled slightly and shook her head.  "I know that's easier said than done."

She lifted herself from him and scooted to the edge of the bed.  She thought about grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around her to hide her nakedness and then thought better of it.  How silly, Amber.  He's seen, touched, and kissed nearly every inch of you.  Why hide now? 

Frank watched as she moved from the bed to the walk-in closet.  He leaned up on one elbow when he heard her dragging something from within.  When she emerged, he caught sight of a small chest with ornamental carvings decorating its lid.  The symbols seemed familiar to him somehow. 

Amber opened the chest and removed the small, beat up tin box that was kept inside.  Looking up at Frank, she crossed the room and returned to the bed.  Sliding back under the sheet, she curled up against him and offered him the box. 

Curious, he took the proffered item and opened it.  He fingered the items gingerly; some of the papers appeared to be quite old and fragile.  "What is all this?" he asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

She motioned toward the closet.  "Not too long before Pappy passed away, he gave me that little chest.  I clumsily tripped over it and popped open the planks in the bottom, revealing the false bottom."

Frank frowned, wondering where this was headed.  At the moment he was too confused and clueless to ask any questions.  He nodded, urging her to continue.

"I was surprised to find a bundle of documents inside.  Like these," she pointed to one set of papers contained in the tin box, "they were very old and delicate."  She picked up one set of papers and handed them to Frank.  "These are the translations of those documents.  The originals were returned to their owner."

His eyebrow arched.  "You located the former owner of the chest then?"

She smiled and shook her head.  "In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.  But not the way you would ever imagine."  Removing one sheet of the aged paper, she held it carefully in her grip.  "After I had taken the pages to be translated."  She paused and looked into his eyes.  "They were written in Arabic, you see, and I cannot read the language."  At Frank's nod, she continued, "The next day, I found this note in the false bottom."  She handed the note to him.  "Keep in mind, when I removed the bundle the previous day, the bottom was completely empty."

His eyes had been fixed on the old paper she held, but flew instantly to her face at the implication of her words.  "The paper appeared from nowhere?"  He shook his head when she nodded.  It was unbelievable.  He unfolded the note carefully and began to read.  Unlike Amber, he could read Arabic.  The note accused the recipient of thieving the bundle of documents from the chest.  "Amber...this is..."

"Farfetched, preposterous?" she finished for him.  "I realize how it sounds, but it's true."  She knew this would be a hard pill for him, for anyone, to swallow, but she refused to give up.  When he read through the writings, he would believe her.  "What you're holding now, are translations of Ardeth's journal, written in 1934 and prior.  This remaining bundle is correspondence between Ardeth and me."

"You're telling me, you contacted this Ardeth and he was still alive?" he asked, thinking he understood.

Amber shook her head in frustration.  This was not going well; she was not telling it right.  "No.  I corresponded with a young Ardeth."  She pointed toward his photograph.  "With that Ardeth."

"That's ridiculous, Amber," he stated disbelievingly. 

Hurt, she immediately drew away from him.  "It is to someone with a closed mind," she accused.  "I'm telling you the truth.  For a short period of time, I communicated with someone in the past through some kind of cosmic vortex connecting our two timelines through a portal in that chest."

Frank opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing.  He released an irritated sigh as he left the bed to dig through the pile of clothing to uncover it.  "Donovan."

Amber watched, saddened, as he began to dress while he listened to the caller at the other end of the line.  He was leaving her.

Frank ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.  Stepping into his pants, he stood with his shirt dangling loosely from his fingers.  "I have to go," he said apologetically.  "I've been expecting a new case, and it came through tonight."

Amber nodded, her eyes following his movements and he shrugged into his shirt, buttoned it, and then tucked it into his pants.  She gathered up the contents of the tin box and placed them back inside.  "I've never trusted anyone enough for these to leave my possession," she said suddenly.  What she was about to say shocked her more than she could fathom.  "Take them with you.  Read them when you get the time.  Please."

He looked up from the task of fastening the zipper on his slacks.  Her eyes begged him to believe her.  Although he found the whole situation absurd, there was a little nagging voice in the back of his head screaming at him to give her the benefit of the doubt.  He pulled up his zipper, fastened his belt, and then reached for the box.  "I'll read them," he promised and offered her a smile.  She seemed satisfied with his pledge; he wished he could give her more than that, but at this point he found this all too difficult to swallow.

He slid his feet into his shoes and leaned down to kiss her gently.  "I'll call you as soon as I can."

She nodded and touched his cheek tenderly.  "I'm not crazy, Frank," she assured. 

"I never said you were," he replied softly.  "This is all just a bit 'out there' for me."

"I understand."  She sighed quietly when he turned to leave.  "Goodbye, Frank."

"Goodbye, Amber."

When the door closed behind him, Amber felt a wealth of emptiness assault her.  She would not be receiving a phone call from Frank Donovan.

***

Three weeks later

Amber left the hospital room with her spirits a little lighter than they were when she entered to visit her English Professor, Gregory Brown.  He had suffered a stroke during a lecture the previous week.  It was mortifying to Amber to step back into that hospital after her grandfather's illness, yet she and many of her classmates wanted to lend support to Professor Brown. 

He was a good man who, unfortunately, had no family.  Amber could relate all too well to that situation.  She helped to organize a visitation schedule, and according to his doctors, it appeared to be helping.  His mood seemed cheerful during this latest visit.

She pushed the button for the first floor when she stepped into the elevator.  It stopped unexpectedly on the next floor and a young woman entered.  Just as the doors were closing, she heard a voice yell, "He's coming around! Send the doctor to Frank Donovan's room, please!"

Amber's heart jumped a mile and her hand instinctively shot out to halt the doors from closing.  As soon as she was out of the elevator, her eyes followed the group of people hurrying into a room just a few feet away.  She walked hesitantly toward the nurses' station and spoke to the woman behind the counter.  "Excuse me...what ward is this?"

The woman looked up unhurriedly.  "Coma."

Amber backed up slowly and headed toward the room as if lost in a daze.  For nearly three weeks she had wondered if she would ever hear from him again.  After the night they had made love for the first time, he had left her after discovering their supernatural connection.  She knew he didn't believe her and when he left, promising he would call at his earliest opportunity, she was not surprised when she never heard from him.

Saddened that he had dumped her so cowardly, and without returning the precious items she had entrusted to him, she had left him a few messages asking for their return.  When her messages were left unanswered, she went by his apartment, but it was apparent there was no one home.  Now she understood all too well the reason he seemed to have deserted her.

She approached the open door and saw all the people milling around.  She was hesitant to enter, but she also felt an undeniable force propelling her forward.  As she neared the bed, she went unnoticed as all eyes were focused on the man lying in the bed.

--

He felt as though he was swimming through muck, thick soupy water that clouded his vision.  Far away he could see a thin pinprick of light and he reached for it.  He was so tired and it was so much work to fight his way through the quagmire.  It was far easier to sink back into the darkness.

Something caught his attention and he moved toward it.  As his surroundings cleared, he focused on the warm sand his feet sank into.  He was guided toward a small oasis in a desert he was very familiar with, and yet he knew clearly he had never been there. 

He headed directly to the pool of water at the center of the oasis.  His breath caught in his throat as he watched a beautiful nymph swimming in the cool clear water.  She splashed to the surface, her slick, long dark hair stuck to her body, hiding her treasures from his eyes.  She smiled silkily as she waved, urging him to join her. 

Frank returned her smile.  Although he did not know the woman, he felt as though he did.  He recognized her as though they were bound by an ageless source.  Something deep down told him that this woman was everything to him. 

As if with a mind of their own, his hands began to strip the clothing from his body.  Oh yes, he was more than happy to join her.  It was his hands that caught his attention.  When did I tattoo my hands?  He looked up at the woman, his expression one of wonder as he approached her.  His hands cupped her face lovingly and just as their lips were about to touch, a blinding light flashed.  He was forced to pull away and shield his eyes.

--

Amber and the four other people in the room watched as the doctor hovered over the bed.  He held open Frank's eyes and flashed a penlight over them, looking for his pupils to dilate.

She couldn't remember a time when she felt so low.  All this time the man had been stuck in a coma and she had thought the worst of him.  She couldn't get over the sight of him, hooked up to numerous machines and I.V. tubes.  It was tearing her up to stand off to the side, when all she wanted to do was run to him and take him in her arms.

Cody nudged Jake in the ribs.  "Who's she?"

"I don't know.  I've never seen her before," Jake whispered in response.

"Agent Donovan," the doctor called loudly.  "Wake up, Agent Donovan."  When he felt the patient shift slightly, he moved away from the bed.

Frank's eyes fixed on the ceiling as his vision came into focus slowly.  When he could see clearly, his eyes wandered the crowded room, stopping momentarily on each figure that surrounded the bed.  Cody, Jake, a nurse, Alex, Monica, and the doctor. 

Just slightly behind Alex he caught movement and watched the woman approach the bed.  Her long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders and he was momentarily transported to an oasis he had never visited.  "Miranda?" he whispered.

Everyone in the room watched in awe as the woman came to his side and took his hand.  "No, Frank...not Miranda," she whispered in return. 

He blinked quickly as realization set in and a slight smile touched his lips.  "Amber," he stated firmly, squeezing her hand.  His eyes searched hers and he knew inherently what she was thinking.  His eyes flitted back to the others in the room.  If only they were alone, but they were not, and he was not prone to public displays of affection. 

"Everyone, if you would give me a few moments, I need to examine Agent Donovan," the doctor announced.

The nurse ushered the group from the room to a chorus of 'Glad you're awake, boss!  We'll be back as soon as the Doc lets us back in'. 

Frank released Amber's hand reluctantly when she eased away from the bed.  "Come back?"  he croaked from his dry throat.

She smiled and nodded.  "I'll be waiting just outside the door."  Noting the others had left, she added, "I really missed you."

He gave a slight nod with what little energy he could muster.  He watched until he could no longer see her.  As he went through a series of simple tests and listened to the doctor drone on for a few minutes, he grew very tired and drifted off to sleep.

***

To be continued...