* * *
Darien set the bags on the counter, then peeked around the edge of the kitchen to find Michele still dead to the world, her face smushed into the pillows, her hair wild and tousled. The light blanket he'd tossed on her before leaving had been kicked down to the foot of the bed, the t-shirt rucked up, showing off a wide expanse of back. One foot twitching as if she chased rabbits in her sleep.
He'd been about to leave when he realized he had no idea what the codes for the two security locks on the building were and dreaded the thought of waking her up to learn them, but the only other option would be to hack the codes. He seriously doubted the building owner would appreciate him doing that. He spotted her keys on the counter along with a piece of paper with two long numbers scrawled across it. One was marked "main" the other "apt" and he quietly thanked her for her foresight.
Darien had taken far longer than he'd intended for a quick trip to the grocery store; he kept thinking of "just one more thing" that they absolutely had to have today and that required yet another stop. He'd ended up making four side trips after hitting Ralph's before he was satisfied with the purchases. He'd also made several calls while out, one of which was to the Store-All where'd he kept his less-than-legal tools. He was assured his bill was paid up for the next six months and that his belongings remained untouched. Darien suspected Michele had discovered the place and covered the bill since he was pretty sure the money he'd doled out ahead of time had run out three months ago.
He intended to visit the place tomorrow, after the meeting with his parole officer. Then he wanted to get his hands on those jewels, which he hadn't seen since the night that he'd stolen them.
Heading back downstairs he grabbed the remaining items from the Jeep and locked it. Driving a stick-shift had come back to him quickly even though he hadn't driven one in years. Michele had always preferred them to automatics for some unknown reason. Once back in the apartment he hunted through the cabinets until he found the lone vase and filled it with water to hold the bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the spur of the moment. The vivid mix of orange, yellows, reds and purples had caught his eye and made him think of 'Chele.
He quickly put the items away, picking spots at random in the empty pantry and leaving a few items on the counter to make up a late lunch for the two of them. While she'd probably grumble about being woken up, he knew she needed to eat. Her headaches tended to depress her appetite and, from what he'd seen last night, she'd been skipping a lot of meals lately. She might be petite, but he shouldn't be able to count her ribs without effort. If he were to guess, he'd bet she'd lost almost as much weight as he had since the last time they'd seen each other. That would put her under 100 pounds, which was far too light for her.
Carrying the tray of various finger foods - thinly sliced pastrami, cheese, sliced apples and melon, and crackers - and a couple bottles of the Evian, he paused long enough to grab a deep purple iris from the vase before walking over to the bed. He set the tray on the nightstand and sat down next to her, chuckling at her lack of movement. She was out like a light.
He brushed the hair off her face to discover she was practically breathing through the pillowcase. He picked up the flower and took a moment to smell it then used it to tickle her nose. At first she didn't seem to notice, but eventually she wrinkled her nose and shifted slightly, more of her face becoming accessible to him. He began again, this time with light strokes across her cheeks, nose and eyes, which caused her hand to shift and bat half-heartedly at the offending piece of flora. Then she huffed softly and settled back down.
Darien paused in his attempt to wake her, wondering if maybe she should remain asleep for a while longer. Missing one more meal wouldn't make that big a difference, would it? He took a moment to really look at her, something he hadn't done the day before, and quickly became aware she was whipcord thin. She'd never been one to shirk her exercise, fitting it in whenever and wherever she could with her busy schedule, but that wouldn't account for what he was seeing. Cheekbones and collarbones were decidedly prominent, tanned, but not so much as he'd seen in the past, stress lines about her eyes and mouth even in her sleep. It was looking like this last year had been as rough on her as it had been on him and Darien knew part of her stress was caused by his vanishing act.
He came to a decision and ran the petals along her face again, tracing the outline of her profile until she muttered something and tried to shift away. "Come on, sleepyhead, time to wake up."
She grumbled aloud, but it was still unintelligible.
"Please, baby, just for a little while," he pleaded softly, one hand coming to rest on the bare flesh of her waist.
"Mmmm, Dare?" she mumbled, her eyes fluttering open.
"Yep. Thought you should eat something." He waited patiently while she slowly processed his words, consciousness plainly still warring with the lure of sleep. "'Chele, you okay?"
It must have been the very real concern in his voice that did the trick. Her eyes finally opened fully and she looked at him. "Just tired, is all." She pushed herself into a sitting position, shifting the pillows about to support her. "But you're right. I need to eat something."
He presented her with the flower, which she took with a smile. He reached for the tray and set it on the bed between them, while she twirled the stem between her fingers. "I figured a snack for now, unless you want something more substantial, that is."
She shook her head and picked up a slice of the sharp cheddar. "Sorry about being lump woman. New mix has too much painkiller, I guess." She nibbled on the cheese and watched him quietly.
"What's going on with work that has you this wiped?" he asked as he bit into the slice of apple he'd chosen, the tart tang a pleasure to taste upon his tongue.
"Government crap," she replied, reaching for a bottle of water. "If I had my way I wouldn't be working this CDC thing, but..." She shrugged. "I was most certainly needed. I swear some methods they use go back to the 50s. Beyond outdated and slow."
"An exaggeration, I take it?" She nodded in agreement. "They still bugging you to quit Hollow Brook?"
"Every budgetary quarter I get a call and a new offer. The joint project is important, but I made it clear I was working it under protest. Dr. LaSalle admitted to being backed in a corner. The lab risked losing several valuable grants if I was not assigned to the project." 'Chele took a long drink of water. "So I'm working for the government after all," she grouched.
"On what? If you can say, that is." Darien was curious, but after dealing with Kevin and his top-secret projects figured she wouldn't be able to tell him anything.
"Nothing special, it's mainly computer work. Simulations for various viruses and possible vaccines, stuff like that," she answered around a bite of melon. "Interesting work and my computer skills have definitely been a boon. I've had to write some of the programs from scratch just to get the project started."
"Is there anything you can't do?" Darien asked in amusement. One thing he'd learned over the years was that whatever new thing she set out to learn, she mastered and typically became quite skilled at. She was nearly as talented with a computer as she was with a petri dish; computer language was as simple as complex chemical formulae for her.
"Lots of things, Darien. Far, far more than I can do." she told him bluntly. "And there will be things I will never do simply because of who and what I am." She scrubbed her face in her hands and sighed.
"What else has been going on? You're doing that melanoma vaccine research and your personal work. You've been in at least one relationship since we last spoke and I'm quite sure you've kept in contact with your family... and mine." He handed her a slice of the pastrami wrapped about a piece of cheese. "What, tired of having your work published? Of making that six figure income?"
She laughed at that. "Okay, so the money's not half bad and I've gotten used to playing PR queen for the company. Not my fault I'm more photogenic than Dr. Krandell."
"And at least three decades younger," Darien added with a smile. Dr. Krandell was a nice man and could handle reporters even with the most difficult questions with a natural ease and calm temper. However, he was in his 60s, his clothes hadn't been updated since the mid-seventies, and he looked like Einstein after a really bad night involving tequila and a small pony. Michele had been asked to do a short lecture on her parents' theories as part of a much bigger conference and things had clicked. Dr. LaSalle was no fool and, after noting her ease at dealing with people, whether speaking in front of hundreds or doing a one-on-one interview for JAMA, she handled it with confidence and aplomb. She was often asked for by reporters simply because, given a choice between Einstein's evil twin and the beautiful, young-looking 'Chele, there was no contest. "Michele, is it... your..." he wasn't sure how to put it into words so he just tapped the side of his head. "Your headaches."
"Partially," she admitted.
"Have you thought about talking to someone about it?" Darien didn't want to push her on the matter, but he also didn't want to see her suffer needlessly.
"Who, Darien? Peter was the only one who understood what was going on," she told him frankly. "Its not like I can go to a regular doctor about this. Shit, I don't even let my GYN run my tests. I do that myself."
Darien's understanding of the problem was limited, but he knew 'Chele was, by normal standards, different. She had just never detailed how exactly to him, citing that the knowledge was too dangerous for him to know. Protecting him from some amorphous they who could use him against her if he knew the truth. He personally thought she was being paranoid, but since she had always been honest with him, he let it lie as it was, with half-knowledge and an underlying concern for her health and well being.
"Thought Doc Anthony was... in on it," Darien commented, reaching for another tidbit to munch on.
Michele sighed heavily. "He was for a while, but about six months after Peter died Curtis got a very odd phone call. Whoever it was scared him badly enough that he said he couldn't help any longer, even gave me back all the files he had. We occasionally have lunch when I'm up visiting Celia, but that's it."
"Your brothers? Jacob's no slouch in the research department, I seem to recall." Darien often found himself in awe of her family. Patrick was a confirmed computer geek rivaling both Gates and the team of Jobs-Wozniak. Mike, her twin, was working for the CIA doing god knows what, but 'Chele had a collection of postcards from around the world thanks to his business trips. Jacob was in medical research, but had gone the full route and gotten his medical degree so that he treated actual patients, performed final stage human testing of experimental drugs for such things as cancer and AIDS, and to a degree applying their parents' theories to current techniques to improve them. One day he might be testing the vaccines 'Chele had created.
She shook her head. "They all know sis is different, but I don't want them involved for the same reason I won't tell you everything."
He understood her logic, but didn't agree with it. "You can't do it alone." He mulled for a minute. "What about Kevin? I'm sure he'd help if you asked."
"I know he would and, while I trust him, I don't trust his employers. And they are the last people on Earth I want to know about my... uniqueness," 'Chele stated emphatically, worry lines appearing on her face to counterpoint her adamancy.
Okay, so she had a point. That weird government agency Kev worked for didn't do a whole lot for Darien's confidence either, and he suspected part of the reason Kevin had been so brusque over the whole arrest and prison thing was because of pressure he was under from work. Kevin had let a few things slip here and there that implied he was not very satisfied with the direction his research was taking, but that he also had no easy way out.
"All right, no Kevin." He toyed with a piece of melon for a couple minutes as he sorted through his thoughts. It was obvious she was running scared, but he wasn't sure how he could help. "Michele, I'm willing to risk the... danger. I may not have the right degrees to understand all the technical jargon, but that doesn't mean I can't help. You know as well as I do an outside perspective is sometimes very valuable."
"You have no idea what you'd be getting into," she hissed, that dark fear lacing her words.
"Doesn't matter." He forestalled her protest with a sharp hand motion. "You got pissed off because I didn't tell you I was in prison... to try and protect you. You've been keeping this a secret for years, hell, at least a decade. Don't you think its time you trusted me, trusted my judgment with whatever it is?" There was no anger audible in his voice and only a hint of frustration, but she picked up on both, her entire body sagging in resignation.
"I do trust you, Darien, more than you will ever know. I'm afraid," she admitted. "Afraid it'll change how you see me, that you'll feel you can't be you around me any more. And I don't want to lose you." The last was said at a bare whisper, the tangled emotions written on every line of her body for him to see.
"You won't lose me. I can't see me not wanting you in my life. We're more than friends, Michele, and all the crap and piddly-shit don't mean nothing so long as we deal with it together." He paused, his words making her shake and hug her arms about herself. Whatever the truth was, it was big and she was obviously still reluctant to talk to him about it. "Does my having been in prison change how you see me?"
"Yes," she replied truthfully, surprising him with the answer. "But does it change how I feel? Not really. It'll take a lot more than that to make me even consider walking away."
"So the fact that I'm ... that I was...," He couldn't finish the sentence and wondered if he'd ever be able to say the words, ' I was raped' aloud. "Doesn't make a difference?"
"Only in that I'm worried about you and want to help you heal however I can. I'm still here and will be for a long as you want me in your life, I promise you that." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it away from her face, and allowing him a clear view of her eyes.
"Then let me help you," he pleaded, taking her hands into his.
"I... I'll think about it, okay?" At his dark look she added, "Trust me, if I just blurt it out you wouldn't believe me for a second. And I want to make some ... contingency plans in the event of trouble. My concerns about certain people discovering the truth about me are very real, Darien, and I will do what I can to protect you."
Her quiet sincerity swayed him. "All right, but no more evasions. Got me?"
She nodded and set about to change the topic. "You doing okay? You still seem... off."
Satisfied with her concessions, he allowed the shift to take place. "I guess I am. I spent so much time trying to ignore what happened that it's not that easy to deal with now that I can. Denial is a wonderful state to visit, but you can't stay there forever."
"And you've had months to think about what happened, and why, and what you could have done to prevent it. Worked over and worn out every possible variable and only now have a willing ear to listen, soothe you and tell you it was not your fault," 'Chele summed up efficiently. "I wish I had been there to help you. Hell, I wish I'd been there to hurt the bastards who did this to you."
Darien forced himself to not reveal his shock at the anger in her tone, anger he knew wasn't directed at him. "Now you understand why I reacted the way I did."
"Darien, I always understood." She shook her head and chuckled softly. "Remember your birthday party at the lake and John's gift?"
How could he forget having a couple dozen spiders crawling all over him and triggering his phobia in such an extreme manner he'd literally blacked out for several minutes afterward? "You were ready to feed John his own limbs." He instantly made the connection. "Huh, guess we both understand." He knew there were very few people he felt that protective of. 'Chele was pretty much at the top of that list and it had taken until now for him to realize he'd been on hers for a very long time.
Wanting to lighten the mood from such dark serious topics he tweaked her nose. "What say we find out if that big old television of yours works?"
"Nah, nothing but talk shows and soaps on this time of day." She tapped him with the purple petals of the flower. "I was thinking it was time to take advantage of you."
"Oh really," he responded, one eyebrow going up. This was more than just a change in topic. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Aside from the fact it's durned fun?" she quipped, smiling at him for a second before sobering. "It's the easiest way to show you that what happened doesn't matter and you need that boost in self-confidence right now. I'm comfortable for you, safe, and you know I won't hurt you. Someone you just met can't give you that."
"So your suggestion of calling Katrina was just a bluff?" He couldn't resist the urge to call her on that one, but she wasn't so easily distracted.
"No, that was before I knew you'd been hurt," Michele explained. "I think you two could hit it off and I hope you'll call her once I've headed back home. Hope you've regained some confidence in yourself."
"So you're thinking a little sex therapy and I'll be all better?" While an interesting idea, even he knew that wouldn't work.
She shook her head. "I'm thinking it'll be a start and no more. I know how long it can take to really heal, to go into another's arms and not see him instead of the person I want to be with. To not have a panic attack when a particular phrase is said in the heat of the moment. As do you since you were there for most of it." She shifted, then moved the well-denuded tray off the bed and settled on her knees right before him so that they were eye-to-eye. "It took me eight months to get to that point, to where I could trust even you that far. But then again, you got to walk me through it from the beginning. I've arrived in time for the second act in your case; I missed the meltdown that happened in the first. I just wanna make sure you keep healing."
"Ah, 'Chele, just you being here does that." But he still found himself reaching out to her, his hand curving about her neck and drawing her in for a gentle kiss. She was right; she was comfortable, safe and still the best damn thing in his life.
