Chapter 8

I navigated the nighttime suburbs in a practiced, matter-of-fact way. Red-tailed hawks aren't night flyers, per se, but I'd made this trip several dozen times since becoming a hawk. And notice I said nighttime, not dark. Between the three-quarter moon and the wattage blazing up out of windows and from street lamps, it was almost like a second dusk.

My stomach fluttered a little as I homed in on one window in particular, one that was open to the chilly, still night air. The flutter had nothing to do with my rapid descent, either. I'd visited Rachel after-hours a bunch of times, but usually it was something casual. You know, we'd watch a couple of episodes of a sitcom on her little bedroom TV set, or I'd help her with her math homework or whatever.

It may have been my imagination, but there seemed to be something different about the way she'd asked me to come over. We'd all been about to leave the barn to go our separate ways, and Rachel asked if I would stop by. Not the usual, "So, you think you might come by later?" This was more of a pointed invitation; the way she'd asked was almost insisting. So I'd said sure, gone to hunt up a quick meal, and waited for her mom to go to sleep.

(Rachel?) I called down when I was about thirty feet above her house. (Is it cool?) She couldn't answer me, but I saw her waving her red and green Christmas sock out of the window – our all-clear signal. (Coming in,) I said, and I tucked my wings until they were only half-extended. I flared as my controlled fall took me toward the open window, turned on a dime, and perched neatly on top of Rachel's science textbook on her desk.

"Nice landing," she smiled. She was still dressed in her jeans and t-shirt from earlier and was situated on her bed, toying with the new laptop her dad had sent her for her birthday.

I hop-flapped from the desk to the bed, careful not to snag the comforter with my talons. (Thanks. So, what's up?) My usual greeting.

She shrugged and folded her computer closed, I guess to give me her full attention. "I don't know, I've just been thinking. If Erek is on the level – and he always is – we might not have very much time left. And, well, I just thought that you and I should talk now, in case we can't pull off this big mission the Chee are planning."

(Okay,) I said, trying to stay emotionless. It's kind of sad, but I've learned how to tap into the hawk that is a part of me. I was able to draw on the fact that the hawk didn't really care about nervousness or companionship. Some people say hawks mate for life, and I believe that might be true. But if it is, I can assure you it's more of a matter of convenience than love. Hawks don't love. A hawk would not risk his life to try to save his mate's. How many times had I done that for Rachel? Her for me? Beyond counting, at this point. (What do you want to talk about?)

She gave me a look that said, please, don't waste my time being stupid. "Of course, I want to talk about me and you. I'd call you my boyfriend, but that's such a trivial word for what we are, don't you think?" I didn't make a reply other than to nod my hawk head. She stared me down until I looked away – the first time in history a human's ever won a staring contest with a hawk. "We haven't even kissed, Tobias. Not really. Is it crazy of me to want that at a time like this? Don't you want to?"

I hesitated for a short moment – Rachel is impulsive. I kind of think of things for the both of us, sometimes. (Of course I do, Rach. I dream about it. I'd love nothing more.) I didn't even get embarrassed when I said that, either. Rachel doesn't put herself out there very often, so when she does, I always feel like I owe it to her to do the same. (But I can't afford it right now. The team can't afford it.)

She shook her head, surprised and confused. "Why not? What is the big deal? It's not like I'm asking you to stay human forever. I'm not asking that you give up the fight, or your wings. Why can't we afford two hours of being together, as humans?"

I surprised myself. I got a little worked up; even though Rachel was just being honest about her wants, she never stopped to think about what that would do to me. (Rachel,) I said, trying to keep my voice flat and emotionless – easier with thought-speech than actual speaking. (I'm barely holding on, as it is. I live in the woods. The high points of my days are reading the morning funnies with Ax. Well, unless you're around, that is. Most days I'm okay with where I'm at, but some nights it takes everything in me to force myself to stay in my tree. When the night hunters are out and I'm cowering in my little tree, how bad do you think I want to morph human and walk over here? How many times do you think I've imagined running away with you and trying to forget any of this ever happened?)

I could tell she'd never thought about that before, and it's not entirely her fault. I put on a tough exterior around the others; I'm careful to never let them know how lonely I am, at times. "Yeah. But you know we can't."

(Of course I know that,) I said, trying not to get frustrated. (That's why I haven't done it yet. It would only buy us a little time, and at way too big of a price. You're the one person who's ever really cared about me, and I can't even be close to you.)

"You can," she urged. "Just morph to human, Tobias. We may only get two hours at a time, but it'll have to be enough. Just morph, now."

I laughed slightly. (You're too reckless, Rachel,) I made my tone light so she'd know I wasn't dissing her. (So I morph to human and your mom decides to come check on you? How do you think she'd take the fact that there's a kid who is supposed to be dead in your room, wearing checkered bike shorts?)

She was getting frustrated with me now. "I don't really care, Tobias. I care about you, and all these rules you put down are keeping me from showing you that."

For a split second, I considered giving in and morphing. But in the end, my better judgment won out. (You show me in all kinds of ways, and I appreciate it. But us being together, as humans, is not a good idea right now. Not for either of us.) I spread my wings and left through the window before she could try to guilt me into it some more.

A/N – Please don't kill me with reviews lamenting the loss of a romantic moment between R/T. I know what I wrote. Trust me. :D