A month passed.

He checked the rings once. One night after a particularly vivid dream, an elaborate fantasy his brain constructed involving what might have happened, if their last night together had not ended the same way. He could still feel the smoothness of her skin, even after he threw back the covers and tossed cold water on his face. That was the night he looked at the rings, but he still didn't call her.

His anger held for another week. Then he decided to find her again.

"She and I were supposed to discuss a crucial matter this week."

"I'm sorry, sir. She was unexpectedly called away."

"Can you give me some idea of when she will be back?"

"I really... hang on a second," the secretary said, vanishing into the inner office. Ned took the opportunity to flip through a few papers, just in case she had anything written down.

A yellow Post-it note next to the telephone. International code.

Code that looked familiar.

He copied down as much of it as he could, then memorized the rest as he returned to his seat, looking expectantly at the secretary. "So when did you say she'd be back?"

"She's in room one-forty-seven." Ned shuffled around some papers on his desk. "Or at least I think that's what she said. Her cell phone was garbled."

"Our records are showing her as having been registered in room two-thirty-seven. Maybe that's what you heard."

"Having been, though?"

"Yes. She checked out today."

"Thanks," he said, then replaced the phone.

He called the secretary from the airport. Just in case.

"Just wanted to make sure... is she back yet?"

"Not for another couple of days, sir."

"All right. Thanks." Ned boarded the plane.

He checked into the same hotel.

He walked out and breathed the same air. Again. This was where they had been, five years ago. Where it had all started to unravel.

Not very much had changed. The names of a few hotels, the name of the bar they had all frequented. But he found the same pool cue he had used. The bartender hadn't changed.

He didn't bother to ask anyone if they had seen her. Not the first night. Even if they had, he had an idea of where she probably was. Not at the nightclub. Not at the bar of the hotel.

He tried to sleep, with the help of a few shots and reruns of Gilligan's Island, but it didn't work. He found himself staring at the wall. Staring at his fingers.

The surf was black in the dim lighting, thundering into the sand and then pulling back. He shivered in his sweatshirt and shorts, slowing his steps the closer he came to the end of the beach. To his destination.

Jean's house was deserted. The yard had overgrown from their previous visit. He was sure Jean hadn't come back.

But Nancy had come here. Jean had to be somewhere on the island, or else Nancy would not have come.

Ned let his legs relax until he was cross-legged in the sand.

Maybe she and Jean have a holiday once a year. Since she's unencumbered now. Maybe when she sees me she'll wonder why I'm here, why I'm bothering.

Why am I here?

She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Maybe a fling is just what she needs.

Why did she say she was so alone if she had him?

Maybe this is the first time this has happened since. Maybe he called and she decided to come here. Because he probably won't demand anything. Any commitment. He won't be like me. She wasn't ready five years ago, she isn't ready now. I tried to force her to be mine and it just drove her into his arms.

Why am I here?

Ned scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers, stared at it a while, then leaned back and looked up at the stars.

I want her sleeping next to me in my bed. I want to wake up and see her smiling at me again.

But if I can't have that, I want to go back to the way we were. Before we came here.

Chaste kisses at her father's door, separate bedrooms when they traveled, but still, the feel of her in his arms. Even when they (briefly) dated other people, knowing that he could still make her flush, still had some power over her.

I can have her now because she's been with him.

Ned put his hands over his face and closed his eyes.

Maybe she's with him right now. You know she is. Maybe they're out on the beach, out on his yacht, in another tapestried beach house, maybe she's touching him—

He rubbed his eyes fiercely.

Maybe you should just go home. Find someone else. Move on like she has.

Not until I ask her. If this is what she wants, if she's happy with him...

He was very charming with the desk clerk, despite his dry mouth. She was willing to bend the rules for him just this once, tell him where Jean lived, so Ned could personally express his satisfaction in the hotel.

He didn't go immediately. He went for a jog down the hotel beach, then veered onto a path and threw himself into it, rubber soles pounding on the pavement. He ran until the sound of his breath drowned out the insistent voice in his head.

She could say no.

He rubbed his hands over his face in the shower. Flimsy bar of hotel soap in a lather over him, and he stepped out, selected an outfit while wrapped in his towel.

The door had almost closed behind him when he caught it, walked back into his room, flipped open his suitcase. He reached into a pocket, stared into his palm, then put the contents in his pocket and walked out again.

"Jean Varez?"

The butler (not the same one, Ned noticed) stood aside and gestured behind him, into the gloom of the hall. "Might I announce who is calling?"

"Scott Coleman."

He ran a hand over his hair as he followed into the house. Through the hallway, sparsely decorated, into the living room. The first thing he felt was the stifling hot air in the room. The morning had been unseasonably chilly but he would have been more comfortable in his shorts, or nothing at all, especially in that room. He pulled at his tie slightly.

He heard the butler announce him but he couldn't drag his gaze away from her, once he found her. She wore a shimmering ivory silk sheath and her hair was curled loosely over her shoulders. She and Jean were talking in a rather animated manner, but Jean stood at the sound of the butler's voice.

Ned was almost afraid to do it but he locked eyes with her. So he could tell her not to give him away, that he just needed to talk to her one last time, to tell her—

But he saw no shock of recognition. No silent communication. She gave him a polite nod, then returned her attention to Jean.

Ned exchanged handshakes and platitudes, half his mind on their conversation. He watched Jean's eyes carefully for any sign that he remembered him, but all he saw was a slight tightening around the corners of his eyes before he broke into a wide smile at Ned's glowing, but suitably understated, praise. He was offered a drink and took it. Anything to stay there a minute longer, in the hopes that maybe she would give him a signal or sign. Maybe she was just being a good actress.

Every further glance at her convinced him that she could either win the Oscar or have no less interest in him. She did follow their conversation, breaking into a grin or a light chuckle when appropriate. But she didn't join it. She fidgeted slightly.

She was just marking the time until she could be alone with Jean again.

His heart sank. He heard himself make some excuse about needing to freshen up before he left; he certainly felt it, could feel the sweat beading on his brow, but the cold sweat under his ribs had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the fireplace.

He washed his hands in the open powder room and then ran a wet towel over his face. When he looked in the mirror again, she was reflected there, leaning against the doorway.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

Ned turned around. "Are you all right?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine. I thought maybe the heat was getting to you. Jean did not think so."

"Nancy..." He placed a hand on her arm.

She gave him a quick hostile look and moved away. "Don't do that again."

He retreated slightly. "I'm sorry. This was a mistake, wasn't it."

"To come talk to Jean about the hotel? Why would that be a mistake?" She glanced in the mirror and adjusted her hair slightly.

"Nan—"

"Mr. Coleman, I don't believe we've even been introduced," she said. She turned to leave.

He couldn't breathe as he grabbed her hand. She turned around, eyes slitted, mouth opening to call out, and then he put the ring back on her finger.

Maybe she'd wrench it off and storm back to Jean. Maybe she'd scream for Jean and have him removed. Maybe she'd look down and her face would soften and she'd ask if they could talk later. He could feel his heart suspended in his chest as he met her eyes.

She did none of the above. Her eyes rolled back slightly and she fainted.

He caught her as she fell heavily, and the temperature of the house caught up with him again. He lifted her onto a chaise lounge in the corner and took a sip of water from the tap, then glanced over at her again. She was out cold.

For a minute he considered. He could toss her over his shoulder and find a back entrance. But he simply didn't have the time to wander around the house before Jean started wondering where Nancy had gone. Maybe the heat had finally gotten to her, too.

At the very second he'd put the ring on her.

Ned ran a paper towel under the water and pressed it against her forehead. "Nan?" he asked gently. She made no movement. He slid his fingers down her jaw and pressed into her neck slightly. Her pulse was there, strong, but a little quicker than he expected. He chafed her wrists, to the same lack of response.

He stared at her face for a minute, then carefully pressed up one of her eyelids with a thumb. Her eye was moving rapidly, like she was dreaming.

"Did something happen?"

Ned closed his eyes for a second. "She fainted," he said over his shoulder as he gently shook her. "I can't get her to wake up."

"I'm going to call an ambulance," Jean said.

When they were alone again, Ned looked up at Nancy's face. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "Is a month that long? Is a month long enough to forget me?"

Jean looked over his shoulder, then closed the door of Nancy's hospital room behind him.

Ned ran his fingers over his face and shook his head. What kind of excuse could he possibly give? Nancy would probably have snatched a candy striper uniform and headed in there. Ned didn't have the luxury to go find a doctor's coat. Nancy could wake up any minute, and then Jean would take her back again, and he might as well give up and go back home.

What if he found the ring?

Ned's head jerked up. He spotted a telephone just down the hallway and headed for it.

Once Jean had fairly raced from Nancy's room, Ned pushed a wheelchair down the hallway. When the hallway was clear he opened the door and hurried inside. Nancy was still unresponsive on the bed. He slid his fingertips over her cheek, watching her carefully, then pulled the ring off.

She sipped in a breath and moved slightly. Her fingers twitched and she opened her eyes, and he found her dress and brought it over.

"Ned?" she said hesitantly. "Hmm?"

He placed the dress in her lap. "Here, put it on," he said.

"What...?"

"We need to hurry," he said urgently, and she shook her head. She dragged her hospital gown off and pulled the dress back over her head. When she started asking questions again he shushed her and bundled her into the wheelchair.

"I think I can walk," she protested vaguely.

"It's all right," he replied, wheeling her out.

She caught him staring at her on the taxi ride to the hotel. "Hey," she said weakly.

"Are you feeling all right?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Not really," she said, smiling faintly. "I need to take a nap."

"You can take one when we get back to the hotel."

"All right," she replied, then yawned and leaned over against him. She fell asleep against his shoulder.

About an hour later she smothered another yawn against the back of her hand, holding the door open for him. "So your name is now Nathaniel Barton and we were just married?"

Ned dropped his bags on the floor of their new room, in a hotel he was certain Jean did not own. "Do you have a better idea?"

"I hate to say it but I don't really see the need for all the secrecy." She chuckled.

"Yeah, sure," he said, sliding an arm over her shoulders. She looked up into his face and he held her gaze as he put the ring back on her.

She blinked, but that was all. "Feeling any better?" he asked.

That was when she put her hand up to her head and moaned softly. "I need to sleep," she whispered.

"Okay," he replied, but she was limp weight in his arms halfway to the bed.

He checked her again. He didn't want to wake her, but she didn't seem to be in as intense a fugue as she had been. She was breathing normally, her pulse was strong and steady, and her sleep seemed almost natural.

He watched satellite television and her all night. When the infomercials got to be too much, he stared out the window, then ran his fingertips down her cheek as he listened to her breathe.

Despite the uncomfortable couch and his worry, he finally fell asleep.

She was shaking his shoulder. He started awake, her face in blue shadow above him.

"Hey," she whispered. Her face was wet. "We need to talk."

He was staring up at the sky, watching the last stars fade from sight. Nancy was in the sand next to him. She wore one of his shirts, her fingers barely visible beyond the cuffs, which she used occasionally to swipe over her wet face.

"Why did you come here?" she began. She was nestled against his shoulder, with his arm around her.

"I wanted to talk to you."

She laughed, despite herself. "Must have been something important if you were willing to fly all the way out here."

She felt him shrug underneath her. "It can wait for what's making you so upset."

He shifted his gaze as she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked into his face. Her gaze searched him, and she opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nestled back against him.

"So..." he prompted her.

"I think I've been here a week," she started, her voice soft.

"You think?"

"It's hard for me to remember."

His arm tightened around her. "Take your time," he said softly.

"I think I've had sex with him," she said.

He tensed underneath her but said nothing.

"It's like a nightmare," she said, her voice trembling. She swiped a hand over her face again. "He... I feel like this has happened before."

"When we were here before?"

"No," she said. "Not while you were here with me."

He shifted his arm and body away from her, and she put her arm over him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Nan, where is this going?" he asked. His voice was tight, his face set like stone.

"He raped me," she whispered.

She felt the shock spread over his skin. She gagged as she spoke the words; a convulsive shudder shook her. He pushed himself up and looked down at her face, which had crumpled.

"Nan," he breathed, running a hand over her hair. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." He reached down and pulled her into his arms as she started sobbing into his chest. He closed his eyes and buried his face against her scalp as she tucked her leg between his and cried.

Her sobs only seemed to increase as he stroked her hair. "It'll be okay," he whispered. She wiped her eyes again and rested her face against his neck. After a few minutes she rolled onto her back so she could see his face again.

"He gave me candy first," she whispered.

"And you told him no?"

She shook her head miserably. "I couldn't say anything," she whispered. "It's like I wasn't even there anymore."

"Then why did you come here?" he murmured, smoothing a strand of her hair back.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know how I got here."

"Could he have planted a posthypnotic suggestion?" Ned asked her.

Nancy leaned her head against his arm. "It would make sense," she said. "But... I think this has happened before."

Ned shrugged. "It was right around five years ago we were here the first time."

"I can't..." She buried her face against him again. "You could have me because he already did," she whispered.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair again. "Nancy, I had you before."

She looked at him again, her face flushed, eyes shimmering. "You probably hate me," she whispered.

"Why would I hate you?" he whispered, tracing his thumb down her face to chase a tear. "He drugged you and raped you."

Her eyes dropped. "I could have done something," she murmured.

He took her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes. "You know that's not true."

"I didn't even remember it. Not even the last time I saw you."

"Why do you remember it now?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "But you found me with him, didn't you."

He nodded slowly. "And then I put this on you," he said, showing her the ring on her finger.

She startled, then met his eyes. "You put that on me?"

"And you fainted," he finished.

Nancy smiled gently. "Tell me why you followed me."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied. "But you flew all the way here. And after the conversation we had, I thought..."

He nodded. "I was hurt."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was tiny.

"It's all right," he said. "You said if I ever wanted to maybe look you up..."

She laughed. "So you looked me up."

"I wanted to know if you were with him. Because I would have just let you go."

She buried her face against his chest. "No," she murmured. "No, don't let me. Don't let me go again."

They remained that way until the sun was high in the sky and the kids started running around with their parents. He held her hand as they walked back into the room, and she was in the bathroom when the phone rang.

Ned leaned over with his hand on the receiver, then stared at it a minute. He picked it up slowly. "Hello?"

"Ned Nickerson," Jean murmured.

"Anything you want to tell me, you can address to my lawyer."

"What has she told you?"

"I'm hanging up."

"I can remove the suggestion. Or else you'll be chasing her back here a year from now."

"Is that what you're threatening me with?"

"It's not a threat. It's just what is."

Nancy walked out of the bathroom. Ned held a finger to his lips.

"I don't think either of us will be requiring your services. In fact, I think you'd better run. And pray that I don't find you."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's just what is."

Nancy's eyes were wide and staring as Ned hung up the phone. "Was that him?"

Ned nodded and reached out for her. "Come here," he murmured, and she crawled into his arms. "I have two tickets back to the States for tomorrow, if you want to go."

"I'd leave with you right now."

He smiled. "I'm not afraid of him."

"I am." She shuddered. "I don't ever want to come here again."

"Nancy." He rubbed his hand over her back, then shook his head.

"What?" She leaned back and looked into his eyes.

"Have dinner with me when we get back."

"All right." She searched his eyes, but when he was not forthcoming, she settled by quirking an eyebrow at him and then settling back against him.