A/N So now we are on to a little introspection for our heroes. Thanks so much to Michelle and Jennifer. Next we shall have some sexual relations.

Sara

Gil… He keeps saying that I should call him that, but it still sounds weird to me. We've been screwing for a while now, and I have to admit I'm a little intoxicated with the power it's giving me. It's becoming pretty clear that he digs me more than just a little bit.

We have a routine now. He comes to the club, sits near the back in a little booth where no one can see him. He doesn't even pretend to be watching the show anymore unless Jasmine or Rachel are onstage. He sits there and reads, or works on his laptop. He pays his cover and gives his two drink minimum to whoever is sitting at the bar because he's driving me home. He's real responsible like that.

He leaves work, picks me up, takes me to work and then when I get off, we go back to my place. When I asked him why he doesn't have a schedule at work, he told me that he's a contract worker. I didn't really understand what it means. I guess it means he doesn't always work 40 hours, but still gets paid plenty. He also does these lectures all over the state. I guess that's why he has such a nice income and can afford all this stuff - and me. He drives this sporty Lexus just like some of the girl's at school drive. Sara Sidle being chauffeured around in a luxury car; who would've thought that would ever happen?

School… That was another surprise. It would seem that I'm going to school at the rich girl refuge. I thought junior college was just full of ordinary people. But Sun Valley is where the trust fund babies who couldn't buy their way into Vassar or Stanford go to pass the time. I was a little freaked out at first 'cause I thought I stuck out like a sore thumb. But apparently skinny girls dressed in midnight black are the only requirements for fitting in at SVJC.

Apparently, they try to get some actual smart people to help some of the more academically challenged students get through school.

My work study job… Work study; what a laugh! They pay me ten bucks an hour to sit in the Learning Center and help people with first year Chemistry. Sometimes the students want to pay me to tutor them outside of the learning center. I was just going to charge them the same ten bucks and hour I get from the college. But Gil said I could charge twenty since I was an 'independent contractor'After I started getting the tutoring jobs, Gil said I had to cut back on my hours at the club 'cause I wasn't going to be able to do everything. I told him that my classes were really easy and that I could do both jobs AND get good grades. But he still said no. And when I brought home my first molecular biology test with a perfect score, he still wouldn't let me start back at the club full time. He said it just proves his theory of what I can do when I have time to study. I dunno, I guess he's right.

Melinda wasn't mad like I thought she would be. She just laughed and said she saw this one coming and that I would always have my hours back if things didn't work out. That was a relief, 'cause Gil is hung up on me now, but we all know that'll change. Mamma didn't raise no fools. He's gonna want to get married and have kids some day. That doesn't mean he'll get rid of me completely, but it'll definitely cut back on the cash he gives me.

At first, I showed him the receipts where I paid for my car insurance, my books and my lab fees like Marge told me to do so he wouldn't think I was wasting money or taking him for a ride. But he told me he didn't need them. It was my money to do what I wanted to with. He trusted me not to put it up my nose or in my arm. Let me tell you, he got fucked but good that night. Not that I don't give my all every time, considering this is a business arrangement of sorts. I just thought he deserved something a little extra for that comment.

I like having sex with him. At first it was just nice. He was gentle and sweet and kissed me all over and I was sort of surprised. 'Cause he gets that look sometimes. Like a wolf that would be better off in the wild. So the tenderness was unexpected. After a week he asked me if I had ever had an orgasm. I told him I hadn't, but that it was okay 'cause I read this book once that says some women just aren't built that way and have a hard time with that. So he shouldn't think it was his fault. I like sleeping with him. It feels good just being close to another person. I was aroused, I just didn't cum.

Eventually he figured out what would make me come and I have been screaming my head off ever since. And so, here I am, Sara Sidle, in a luxury car with a sugar daddy, going to college, getting paid to tutor rich kids and having mind blowing sex. Who would've thunk it?.

Tonight is Wednesday, and he's been pretty busy, from what I can tell on TV. Someone found three bodies in an abandoned house. I saw Gil on CNN just before my Chemistry class. He's been at the scene all day, and I truthfully didn't think I would see him tonight. But he called 20 minutes outside of town saying he was on his way. I managed to put together a respectable dinner of fruit salad, veggie pizza and Mr. Z's raspberry torte, all of which he was terribly grateful for.

After dinner, I rubbed his shoulders with an herbal liniment my mom used to make, which made him fall right to sleep. He ended up snoring louder than I have ever heard him as he laid face down on my new sheets. That was to be expected. Gil works so hard. Harder than anyone I know, but that was four hours ago and his mouth is still half open with stale beer wafting between us.

He turned in his sleep a few minutes ago to face me, but he's still not touching me. His arms are folded oddly and his biceps are straining with the effort.

"What?" Both of his eyes are open now, even if the left one is still slightly closed.

"You're awake."

"I am." He closes both eyes again, "Now I'm going back to sleep." He turns his back to me. And now I can see the wound on his shoulder, the one I bandaged and cleaned. It looks like I did a pretty good job.

"Okay." He rolls further away from me, giving me a full view of his smooth, sinewy back. Minutes past and his deep rhythmic breathing signals sleep again. I run my right index over his back, careful not to agitate the sensitive skin near his wound.

Gil works out, but not obsessively. He doesn't look overripe like some men, but he isn't chiseled either.

Something fell on him at the scene today. He wouldn't tell me what it was, but as soon as I saw him moving slow and wincing, I knew it wasn't good. I helped him off with his shirt and found that the blood tacked it to his back. It was the first time I saw him with his shirt off when he wasn't tugging at my own clothes.

My eyes traveled down his torso and landed on his flat belly then back up again. He turned his back so that I could see the wound. I'm totally mesmerized by the sight of him and I barely that the slash just over his right shoulder is red and surrounded by vague purple bruising.

He looked back over his shoulder, his hands resting on my counter.

"What are you doing? I thought you were going to make it better," he said softly.

"What happened? Why didn't you tell me?" I'm worried now. Nothing's supposed to hurt Gil. "I can't believe they'd let you leave like this."

"I didn't think it was that bad. Until I was on the road 10 minutes."

"What hit you?" I ask.

"Guess?"

I gave a skeptical snort.

"Suppose I was dead and couldn't tell you and you had to avenge my death." He said simply, brushing hair from my face.

"If you were dead, more qualified people than me would avenge your death." I don't sound as brave as I'd like. Death and absence are not easy subjects for me.

"You are going to be just as qualified one day soon." He seems awfully confident when he says that, and it's contagious.

As I clear away the blood, the shape of the cut starts to appear. "It's rounded but precise. This bit here is deeper. It's like the point of something. There appears to be a bit missing. Did it fall on you from very far up?"

"Old house. Fell through a week spot in the ceiling. I should've proceeded with more caution. The house wasn't secure. It could have fallen in on any of us."

"How do you do that? Secure the scene, when it's dangerous, I mean?"

He glances over his shoulder for a second, his eyes bright with appreciation. "The smart thing to do is to wait for a building inspector or a mine expert or whoever can access the scene. Sometimes you dash in and take as many pictures as you can if you think the scene might not hold up."

Dried blood releases easily from his skin. The muscles in his neck relax.

"I have a thing about kids. It makes me...reckless. I can't wait on anyone if it's a kid. I have a thing about people that hurt kids."

I've figured as much already. Still, it's nice that he's telling me. "I guess everyone has something."

"Yeah." How do I tell him what my thing is?

Gil

I haven't been home in days. The Debbie Marlin case has me...spooked? No, that's not the word. I am beyond spooked. Spooked gives one the idea of wispy smoke curling about like a ghost. Spooked is more like a shudder; this feeling is an earthquake. I'm downright scared. A man obsessed, one who has crossed the line from safe affection or even raw love, is...dangerous.

Women think that men don't' feel as much, or as deeply, as they do. But in my experience, that is not even close to the truth. Men, especially men like myself, who keep their own counsel, often feel too much; think too much. The cycles of emotion get caught up in our brain and won't let go until some other action requires it.

Actions can never be undone.

So, how does that affect my Sara? Or more importantly, Sara and I? I don't know. I can only think that my need for control has something to do with it. I really don't know. I could work it out if I wanted, but I'm not ready for that just yet.

I think…I might…love her. Yet another bit of insight that I'm not sure what to do with.

Screwing Sara.

Making love to Sara.

Fucking Sara.

I do all three.

All are immensely satisfying. But there is still a small hollow place that will probably never be fulfilled. This is probably as good as it gets for me. And that's pretty damn terrific. I seem to have quieted the howling wolves in my brain - and my body-for the most part.

She lets me...do what I want-mostly. I don't push the issue of my restrictions. Restrictions? There's only one thing she hasn't agreed to. Not that I've pushed the subject. She made her pronouncement the first time we got together and I've never revisited the issue. It won't fill the hollow place. Only a warped corner of my brain would even suggest it. Sara needs to keep some part of her to herself. God love her for having the sense to do that.

After the first three rounds of HIV tests, she trusts me enough to tell her if I sleep with anyone else. She's right. I'll never lie to her. Her safety, even from me, is preeminent in my mind and my heart

She's staring at me now, looking up from the textbook she's been judiciously studying for over three hours.

"I'm hungry." She yawns and closes the book, closes her eyes and rests her head on the back of the couch.

"Me too," I say. I was hungry two hours ago, but I didn't want to disturb her studying. "What's say we go to Sun Moon over by my place?"

Her brow furrows a bit and slim fingers twist a lock of hair. "Why all the way over there? Can't we just order in? I still have a ton of stuff to do."

Sara Sidle has found a subject she cannot conquer, Anatomy and Physiology.

"Well, we can pick it up."

She groans and rests her hands on the little place she calls her beer belly. "It'll still take too much time; driving all the way over there and all the way back. If you want Chinese, why not go to Mr. Fung's"

"Well..." She's studying me like an experiment now. "I need to get some stuff done at my house. I was thinking we could spend the night there. I've been awfully neglectful of some billing I need to do and I have two experiments that have probably gone to seed over the last week."

Her eyelids meet; one, two, three times. She still hasn't said anything.

I give her a pinched grin. She doesn't return it. Instead, she stands and rakes me with another curious look. She turns away, heading to the bedroom.

"Alright… Let me get my things."

I look around the small room after she's gone, studying every detail. I have a strange feeling we won't be coming back for a very long time-if ever