Dawn was creeping over the horizon at a lazy pace. Elizabeth tucked a wisp of hair back behind her ear and breathed in deeply. She loved the smells of dawn; the cool, musky air rising up from the forest below brought scents of the river that ran just a few yards away from the cabin. She loved this time of day; for a few hours she could pretend that she was free.

Elizabeth Weir was a hard-working, dedicated woman and she had studied hard at college to gain her doctorate in cultural anthropology; she was one of the best anthropologists the Museum of Coloradohad ever had. And yet, even after six years, she had not been promoted past researcher. To say the least Elizabeth was very frustrated. All she wanted was some recognition for her work; she did not even mind if the promotion didn't come with much of a raise, she was just fed up of being ignored. Finally, after another exhibition she had been heavily involved in was a success, she went to her boss, the Chief Curator.

The room was surprisingly airy, unlike the rooms where Elizabeth spent most of her working hours. While she waited she studied the many objects that adorned the room. It was the first time she had been in this room; the first time she had seen the magnificent Egyptian woodcarving of the god Isis; the first time she had seen the French-inspired clock with enamel roman numerals; and the first time she had seen the Venetian mask, decorated with intricate blue and silver flowers and with hollow eyes that made Elizabeth shiver involuntarily. And, she silently reminded herself, if things go wrong today it will be the last time you get to see the inside of the Chief Curator's office.

Behind her she heard the heavy oak-panelled door open and then close. She turned her head, expecting to see a man in his fifties, with receding hair and small, oval glasses. Instead there was a handsome young man who was approximately the same age as her. He was quite tall, with a head of brown hair that obviously did not appreciate being brushed that often.

"Hi there," the stranger said, almost sheepishly. He smiled crookedly and briskly waved his hand in welcome.

"Hi," Elizabeth said in return, but she did not smile. Then the stranger cleared his throat. She wondered what was making him so uncomfortable.

"I'm, erm, John Sheppard, the er…"

"Curator's son?" Elizabeth guessed from the surname.

"Yeah. His secretary said there was someone waiting for him. Sorry, she didn't mention your name."

"Elizabeth. Dr. Elizabeth Weir."

John smiled again, more relaxed this time. "Pleased to meet you Elizabeth." He offered his hand and she took it. His grip was firm but gentle, and she caught a whiff of a spicy-scented aftershave. "I'm sure my dad won't be too long, once he's seen to the secretary." He raised his eyes in a suggestive manner and, despite of herself, Elizabeth couldn't hold back a smile.

"That's better," John laughed triumphantly. "Now, how about a drink from my dad's well stocked drinks cabinet?"

Eighteen months later the couple married. It was a beautiful ceremony, out on the shores of a lake with all their friends and family, colleagues from the museum and a few of John's friends from the Air force. He didn't have many, but those he did have were good. Elizabeth hadn't expected to like having a husband in the military; in fact she tried to persuade him to leave. But she quickly found that a John who couldn't fly his big toys was not a John she wanted to be around. Almost as a wedding present she gained a substantial promotion from her new father-in-law.

Looking out now from her balcony Elizabeth still couldn't shake the feeling that that was why she agreed to marry John, to get her promotion. No, she was just being silly and insecure. John loved her and she loved him. She loved John Shepard; she loved his cocky smile and his cheeky grin; she loved the way he tilted his head or raised an eyebrow; she loved his hair, loved running her hands through it while gazing into his musky green eyes. Best of all she loved him in bed. She looked over her shoulder now at the sleeping form, tangled up amongst the white sheets. No, the promotion had been given to her because she deserved it. The tensions that had been occurring recently between the pair were because the couple needed a vacation, so a vacation they were having.

A few minutes later and John had stirred. He stretched his arms as he joined his wife on the balcony. "Why don't you come inside love? It's cold out here."

"I know, but I love the view."

"Well we can love the view just as much with the doors closed and some lovely breakfast in our bellies." He slipped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and gently encouraged her back into the room.

"What shall we do today then?" John asked as he got dressed. Obviously uncomfortable in civilian clothing he always wore clothes as close to his military uniform as he could get, and today it was black kharki trousers and a similarly black sweat top. Elizabeth, on the other hand, liked to stay well away from the suits she wore to the museum and today she was wearing a pair of tight, but comfortable, jeans and a red tailored t-shirt.

"I don't know," she replied, still staring out of the window as she munched on a piece of toast. "Though some exploring of those hills could be fun."

John laughed, though it wasn't one of his kinder ones. "You should be an explorer, not a museum curator; always wanting to see what's over the next mountain."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you like to do as well, only generally in an aeroplane?" She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat on the bed. "I've never been to Canada before and I'd love to get out into the countryside."

"I know you do Lizzie, but we always go exploring on vacation. I thought that perhaps we could stay in town this time and see the local sites.

"You mean see the local watering holes and see if there are any sports being shown?"

John put on his best 'offended' look. "I meant no such thing!" he protested.

"Then perhaps you meant visiting the local museum?" Elizabeth suggested, knowing exactly the reaction she would get. She got it.

"No thanks," her husband scoffed, "I spent far too much of my childhood in those things!"

"Then we go for a walk?"

Husband and wife just looked at each other for a moment, neither really knowing what to say. It had been getting like this all too often lately, and neither liked it. "Fine," John submitted eventually, "we'll go exploring. Just as long as I can go find a bar this evening?"

There were times when Elizabeth knew exactly why she had married John Sheppard and this was one of them. Leaning across the bed she kissed him on the mouth. "Thank-you," she whispered.

They had spent a long time debating where they would take their vacation. Money was no object, as both Elizabeth and John had good wages and no children nor a particularly lavish lifestyle to spend it on. Neither particularly liked socialising; John had some air force mates that he went to baseball games with, and Elizabeth had a few friends from the museum she would met up with, but mainly she enjoyed spending time in her beautiful garden. She loved gardening, with the attention to detail that each plant required in order to reach its full potential. Also it was a hobby in which John took absolutely no interest, and she rather liked it that way.

In the end it had been the accommodation that had dictated their vacation to Vancouver Island. The house was owned by one of Elizabeth's senior colleagues and she fell in love with it the moment she saw it; a colonial style house made of cedar wood it blended in effortlessly into the surrounding forest. Yet it had a sense of order amongst the wilderness that Elizabeth admired, with its strictly symmetrical appearance and a neat, well-kept garden at its foot. It was a narrow house, one generous-sized room in breadth, but it was deep, disappearing almost endlessly into the forested hillside behind. The master bedroom was at the front of the first floor and opened directly onto the wooden balcony. The décor was fresh and tidy, full of airy pastel blues and yellows. To one side of the house was the feature that had persuaded John to come; a spacious deck with a luxurious Jacuzzi situated right in the middle. In the evening it was the perfect place to enjoy the fading sun with the heat of the day being slowly released from the wooden panels.

By the time they had cleared away breakfast the sun was shinning above the trees and was quickly heating the earth below. They had been here for two whole days already and had mainly just lazed around the cabin, slowly exploring and enjoying their temporary home. But now Elizabeth was itching to see more of the island.

They headed straight for Strathcona, a provincial park in the center of the island.

For nearly five hours they walked one of the well-marked trails. A light wind kept them fresh and cool, though Elizabeth could feel her body revolting against the unusual excursion. They ate the baps and fruit they had brought with them while they dipped their feet in the cool waters of Buttle Lake; Elizabeth felt calmer and at ease than she had in a long while.

"Isn't this beautiful," she said quietly, feeling somehow that a loud conversation was not appropriate for this scene.

"Yeah, sure, came a rather non-plus reply. "So can we, you know?" John smirked suggestively, just as he had done when they first met.

Elizabeth scowled. "No John, how could you imply such a thing in such a…"

"Oh come on Lizzie," John interrupted with an innocent wave of his arm. "Wouldn't it be fun? Out here in the wilderness of the mountains?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. It annoyed her so much when he went off like this, acting like a hormonal teenager. Worse still, he knew it annoyed her and he seemed to extract some amusement from that. "No John, not fun, certainly not fun if people come and walk along this popular trail."

"We can hide in the bushes?"

Elizabeth made no reply, she simply gathered the things and headed off down the trail. John rolled his eyes and jumped up to follow her.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached the car and they had spoken little since their food stop. The trail had continued to trace the shoreline of the crystal lake and the car was parked next to one of the few official campsites in the park. Elizabeth sat in the car, relieved to be able to take the heavy boots off her sweaty feet. After a while she noticed that John was still outside, reading some notice board or other. She lowered the window and called him. He turned to her and grinned, then walked to her side of the car. "I have an idea," he beamed.