§ § § -- June 25, 2001

Many hours later, at Lilla Jordsö's lone airport, Christian and Leslie were warned by a flight attendant to remain seated for a few minutes. By then even Leslie's hopeful mood had dissolved into grumpiness born of fatigue; Christian's temper was on a short fuse and he had to work at controlling it. Even flying first-class hadn't entirely prevented the persistently curious from finding excuses to stop by their seats and do everything from offering shy greetings to asking intrusive questions. It was Christian's birthday all over again: just after leaving Fantasy Island, they'd crossed the International Date Line, and early on Christian had made a wisecrack about getting younger instead of older. Their levity had long since vanished, and now Leslie turned to Christian when the flight attendant left them and remarked, "I think your birthday was better on Fantasy Island."

"No question about that," Christian agreed, scowling. "I'd like to know what they have in mind to get us to the usual official car without being trampled to death."

His answer came a few minutes later when a small contingent of airport security officers boarded the plane and ushered Leslie and Christian off. Two walked in front of the couple, two behind, and one on either side, neatly surrounding them. "What about our luggage?" Leslie whispered nervously to Christian.

"That will be delivered to the car," Christian replied, finding her hand and making a point of interlacing their fingers. "Don't worry, my Rose, I'm used to this. Just follow my lead, and you'll be all right." He winked at her, and she smiled.

They were promptly recognized, and all around them people called out greetings to Christian and peered curiously at Leslie. Christian responded to a few, but he noticed Leslie's growing uneasiness and said, "They know who you are, but you've not been properly introduced to our people since we don't live here. I have a feeling we're going to be corralled for an interview at some point during our stay."

"Don't you hate it?" Leslie asked as they and their wall of security guards walked out of the building through a door off-limits to the public and across the tarmac toward a long black car that sat idling in the summer sun. "I mean…it's just so…"

"It's a hassle, yes," Christian said, "but it's part and parcel of being a prince. As I said, just follow my lead. Right now we don't have to worry about it; we just arrived and we'll need to regroup, then meet the family at the castle tomorrow morning. That's when we'll all present a united front to the media and try to deal with their questions."

Waiting for them inside the car were Carl Johan, Gerhard and Liselotta; the two men greeted Christian and Leslie with warm smiles. "It appears you outsmarted the media after all," Carl Johan observed. "Everything went right on schedule. Security did its job perfectly."

"It did at that," Christian agreed. "If the press knew we were arriving, they didn't get out here in time to catch us. So what's the latest news?" His already-solemn expression became guarded and chilly.

"There's no change in Uncle Arnulf's condition," Gerhard said. "He's usually unconscious, but when he's awake, all he does is ask if you've arrived yet. Each time he wakes and demands to see you, he's a little weaker."

Christian absorbed this in silence, and Carl Johan and Leslie both watched him. After a moment Carl Johan looked at his sister-in-law. "Anna-Kristina told us she called you last evening," he said. "How did Christian take it?"

"It stirred up a lot of mixed feelings," Leslie told him softly, still not entirely at ease. "I think it's going to be an ordeal for him."

"If I see him," Christian said shortly. Carl Johan sighed, with a look that suggested Leslie was in for a siege, and said something to his son and daughter-in-law in jordiska. Liselotta replied softly, surprising Leslie, who had never heard her speak till now. She offered a tentative smile, and Liselotta smiled back, a little shy but with a genuinely friendly look.

"She doesn't speak English," Gerhard explained with a smile. "Not that she wouldn't like to, but her family is still leery of the outside world and most of the Liljefors clan speaks little or nothing other than jordiska. When the baby is born she'll start taking classes."

"Baby?" Leslie echoed, lighting up. "You're expecting a baby?"

"In November," said Gerhard, nodding proudly. Christian raised an eyebrow, offered a quick smile to augment Leslie's congratulations, and then shut down again. Only Liselotta seemed to notice the fact that he caught Leslie's hand again and clung tightly to it.

They soon entered the city proper, and Leslie watched streets and buildings slide by outside the windows, trying to see if she recognized anything from her trip there almost eight years before. Nothing looked even remotely familiar, and the silence in the car was beginning to unnerve her, not to mention Christian's unusual reticence. Her only reassurance came from his stubborn grip on her hand. In truth, she was equally loath to let him go; here on his turf, she felt lost, and he was her anchor, the only familiar thing in this strange world. She began to wish they were back on Fantasy Island.

The car pulled into a garage and descended below street level, then stopped in front of an elevator. "This is where we get out," Gerhard said, primarily for Leslie's benefit. "Far, do you plan to stay or return to the castle?"

Carl Johan hesitated a moment, took in Christian's forbidding expression and Leslie's open nervousness, and said, "I think I'll stay. Your uncle's off in some other universe, and your aunt looks a bit frightened. If you and Liselotta will take care of the evening meal, I'll see if I can draw them out a little."

Gerhard nodded, spoke low to Liselotta and helped her out of the car. Carl Johan followed, and Christian came to life enough to release Leslie and usher her out ahead of him. Once outside the car, he promptly reclaimed her hand, but said nothing. The elevator ride was eerily quiet; Carl Johan watched Christian and Leslie in concern. Christian seemed to be closed off, and Leslie couldn't meet anyone else's eyes, partly from nerves and partly from skittishness at Christian's black mien.

Gerhard, to his credit, tried to set Leslie at ease. "This place used to belong to Uncle Christian, Aunt Leslie," he said. "We cousins often came out here to visit him and relax a bit. Liselotta and I haven't changed it much since he sold it to us, except that we had to bring in our own furniture. You two can sleep in the room Uncle Christian had."

"That sounds good," Leslie murmured, clearing her throat and glancing around the living room as they all stepped inside. "Um…Gerhard, I hope it's not an imposition, but if you don't mind, I'd like very much to call my father and let him know we arrived safely."

"Of course, go right ahead," said Gerhard. "The telephone is in the kitchen." Leslie smiled her thanks, gave her hand a gentle tug and bit her lip when Christian immediately let go. She cast him a nervous glance over her shoulder, but he had already drifted towards one of the large windows in the room, staring out with a scowl.

In the kitchen she put through her call, and was relieved when Roarke answered. "It's good to know you're there safely, child," he said warmly. "How is Christian doing?"

"He's in a terrible mood," she admitted, "and to tell you the truth, it's scaring me half to death. They say Arnulf's gradually getting weaker and that all he does when he's awake is ask for Christian. And you can imagine what Christian thinks of that."

"Indeed," said Roarke. "I can offer only this advice, sweetheart—just be there for him. Even if he seems to be shutting you out, he still needs you, and he'll be grateful that you're at his side. He may be unable to show it just now, but trust me, he's glad for your presence."

"I hope so," she said with a sigh. "Thanks, Father…I feel better just talking to you."

"Good girl," said Roarke. "Keep me informed of your plans if you can. I'll watch the news myself when I am able, but if you and Christian find yourselves obligated to stay for very long, please do contact me."

"I will," Leslie promised. "Take care, Father, and I love you."

"Say those words to Christian, sweetheart," Roarke suggested gently. "Believe me, he will be very glad to hear them. I love you as well, child, and give Christian and his family my best wishes."

When Leslie hung up, she pushed her hands into her pockets, let her head hang and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. For the first time, she wasn't certain that even she could alleviate Christian's torment. She stood battling back the sting of tears, unwilling to lose control in front of her in-laws, and frightened by the fact that she was nervous about going back in to face her own husband.

Then someone tentatively touched her arm and she started, sagging with some relief and embarrassment when she recognized Liselotta. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged; Liselotta grinned and said unexpectedly, "You eat?"

Leslie blinked. "You speak English?"

"Only little words," Liselotta said. "Not be afraid, Leslie, okay?"

"I'll try," Leslie said, then dredged up some of the very few Swedish words she could remember her grandmother using. "Tack så mycket, Liselotta."

"You are welcome," Liselotta replied, beaming.

Gerhard came in and smiled quizzically at them. "Are you all right, Aunt Leslie?"

She shrugged. "I'll probably survive. What's happening out there?"

"They're talking a little," Gerhard said, "although it's mostly my father who's doing the talking in fact. But I think Uncle Christian really needs you, not far."

Leslie had to smile. "Thanks, Gerhard," she said softly, and Gerhard smiled back.

"We'll be in here if you need us. If you have to, send my father home…it might be the best thing for Uncle Christian." He grinned at her and she giggled.

Slowly Leslie ventured into the living room, still nervous and finding herself taking the chance to study the room. So this had been Christian's domain till about six months before. She tried to picture him in here and was surprised to realize that it was very hard to see him at home in this place. She became aware suddenly that the low voices had ceased, and she blinked and focused on Christian, who slouched on the long leather sofa, glaring at something only he seemed to see.

She met Carl Johan's gaze, and the older prince stood up then, shaking his head. "He's very angry," Carl Johan said quietly. "I can see his mood is frightening you, and I can't say that I blame you; I've never seen him react so to anything having to do with our brother. Is there something else I don't know about?"

"He's had some emotional trouble over all this," Leslie said, risking another glance at Christian. "It's a long story. Maybe once Arnulf finally has his chance to talk to Christian, things will get better."

"I hope you can reach him," Carl Johan said. "I doubt I can do any good; he barely speaks to me. Let my son and daughter-in-law know I've gone home, if you will." She nodded, and he bade her goodbye and took his leave.

Leslie turned then and gingerly settled onto the edge of the sofa, leaving about six inches of space between herself and her brooding husband. The intense scowl on his face nearly made her chicken out, but at the same time she realized she didn't want to leave him all alone in here. "Christian, my love?" she ventured at last.

The timidity in her tone got through to him; he turned to her and sat up with a jerk that startled her so badly she reared back. Christian saw it, and stared at her in alarm and remorse. "Leslie…oh Leslie, my Rose, I'm so sorry…please, come here." Without hesitation she nestled against him, and he held her close, trembling again. "I'm scaring you, aren't I? I just can't believe my own reactions to being here again. Maybe I could enjoy it if I didn't have to deal with Arnulf, but…" He groaned and hugged her so hard she gasped in protest, making him curse at himself and apologize a little frenetically.

"Christian, please," Leslie said, drawing back and staring at him. It was fear for him, rather than of him, that drove her now. "It's all right, my love, it's all right. I told you I'm here for you, and that won't change. I love you, Christian, don't forget that."

"I'm glad someone does…I'm beginning to hate myself," Christian muttered.

Shocked, Leslie shook her head at him. "Christian, my darling, look at me, please." She waited till he had finally focused on her before speaking again. "Don't torture yourself like this. You're entitled to be angry and confused. After Arnulf's mostly given you the cold shoulder all these years, and tried to control every aspect of your life, and even used you to get what he needed for himself without thinking of the effect on you…don't you see? It's not a crime to be as conflicted as you are. Maybe you don't owe him anything, and I'm inclined to agree. But on the outside chance that he wants to make his peace with you, don't you think it's worth giving him the opportunity?"

"Do you really think that's what he wants to do?" Christian asked doubtfully.

"The only way to find out is to go see him," Leslie said. "I promise, my love, I'm not going to leave your side for a minute—not unless you tell me to." She was encouraged when he unexpectedly cracked a tiny, sour smile, just for a second or two. "I know there's still that shame in you, but trust me, my love, you wouldn't be the first person who can barely tolerate a sibling. The only shame would be if you refused to give him the chance to try to explain himself and extend that apology he owes you. If you can see your way clear to doing that, then you have nothing to be ashamed of at all. Do you see?"

Christian sat in silence for a moment, still holding her possessively, processing her words. Leslie waited quietly, tipping her head forward at one point and kissing his cheek; that got her another small smile. "I think," he said at last, "I'm beginning to be convinced. If you're there with me, it'll be less of an ordeal. All right, my Rose, I'll see him—but not until tomorrow. After all the traveling and the assorted shocks, and my emotions all but making me sick, I think we both deserve a break." At her nod, he finally smiled for real and gave an enormous sigh. "I also think you're too good for me, my darling."

"I am not," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just good for you."

Christian peered at her and grinned. "You are that," he agreed. "You certainly are that. What happened to my nephew and his wife, anyway?"

"Presumably they're cooking," Leslie said, relaxing against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I'm afraid they're going to be eating alone. I'm too tired to eat, and I know that clock over there says it's almost ten, but all that sunshine is confusing the heck out of me."

"It's midsummer," Christian told her. "The solstice has just passed and it's a time of very long days and very short nights. If you're not used to it, it'll rob you of a lot of sleep. There are so many windows in this place, I had to install blackout curtains in order to get any decent rest, and I hope Gerhard and Liselotta had the sense to leave them up. I can cope with it, but you, my poor Rose, you've never encountered this before, have you? Actually, you're in for a treat, once we've rested and had a chance to pull ourselves together." He yawned, making her immediately follow suit and prompting a soft laugh from him. "I see we're of the same mind again."

"Thank heavens," Leslie murmured, closing her eyes; she was a little lightheaded, and sleep was stealing over her in spite of herself. "I love you, Christian…"

He smiled drowsily and stroked her hair. "I love you too, my Leslie Rose."

About twenty minutes later Liselotta came in to announce that their late supper was ready, only to find Christian and Leslie sound asleep in each other's arms on the sofa. Christian had rested his head atop Leslie's, and even in his sleep he still maintained a firm grip on her. She looked peaceful, very much at home in his embrace. "Gerhard?" Liselotta called.

Gerhard came out, spotted his aunt and uncle and chuckled. "They're worn out. I should have remembered that. I don't think they'll be eating tonight. If you'll put out the food, I'll tell them to go on and get some proper sleep."