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Nothing ached the next morning. Even the shaking was gone, and judging by the amount of gritty sweetness coating his teeth, Meg had slipped a few glucose tabs under his tongue as he slept. 'She's too light to make my back hurt. She moves with me. Fits with me. And apparently, doses me.' Reflexively, Randy felt himself twitch, then rise, and he smiled even though he feared he'd spoil Meg if he kept after her. She turned in his arms, pawing blindly against him as she slept, a satisfied half-smile on her face. A slight shiver caused her to press in closer, and Randy thought he'd rather die than give up feeling the rise and fall of her backbone between his fingers and her breasts against his chest. He fished for the blanket Meg had pulled over him when she'd brought in the ice chips, and found it bunched at the edge of the bed. He covered her enough for decency, and settled himself comfortably around her.

A few hours later, surprised by the stillness of not just the room, but her mind, Meg stared directly into the hollow, black eyes of one of the skulls in Randy's tattoos, and felt nothing. She followed the contour of each muscle, nearly touching him, eying each sinew in his arm, tracing their outlines down to his wrist, the creases in his palm, how each finger bent and how she bent with him, willingly, last night. His breathing was peace against her, as was the blanket, and she knew it wasn't only her trust between them in bed, but his. Hooking the blanket around her leg and shoving it away from her, she pulled his arm in closer.

It was hours more before they woke up, both hunting for a kiss before any words could be said.

Dave was not known for subtlety. He'd left the front door unlocked, told Meg he was coming back, left a note with specific directions regarding clothing, and was overall very clear about what he did not want to find when he came back to check on them. His texts and calls had gone unanswered, which he'd expected. Meg was notorious for ignoring her phone, and Randy's battery had probably long since died. Pressing on his car horn firmly enough to hopefully alert them both to his presence without irritating the neighbors, Dave parked his car and proceeded to bang loudly on the front door before opening it.

The entire first floor was dark and soundless. It was like walking into a vacuum; nothing moved. The air was cold, sound died as soon as it crossed the threshold of the door. Dave felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 'Something's not right. I fucking told her to call me, and if they ended up at a hospital I swear to God I'm going to give them both a real reason.' His thick legs propelled him through the lower level of the house. He checked the den, then the kitchen, each scenario he considered worst than the last, not stopping to consider that even at the early afternoon hour, Meg and Randy could still reasonably be asleep or in bed.

Finally banging the bedroom door open in a dead panic, Dave let out a howl that propelled birds from the pool deck, sent Meg into a shrieking fit of laughter, and caused Randy to let loose with a string of rapid-fire-fuck-you's.

Blankets and clothing long forgotten but a nest of pillows built at the headboard, Randy now lay on his back in the middle of the bed, one arm behind his head, one arm across Meg, occasionally sliding his hand down to trace circles over the curve where her lower back arched up into the spread of her hips, or to circle the low dimples flanking the crest of her spine. He propped one leg up between her and the door, as if to shield her from what might come in, his other leg simply relaxed on the bed.

Meg, after much coaxing on his part, laid low over Randy. She balked, first because of the thought she'd be too heavy, earning a laugh from him, then because she didn't want to hurt his back, but his easy smiles and protestations that he couldn't kiss her from across the bed won her over. No matter how long she stayed on top of him, her skin never warmed, and she adored the contrast – his heat, her chill. She positioned herself so her hips dropped between his, and every stroke he laid over her lower back earned him an appreciative swirl or press from her. Coupled with her hands trailing across his stomach, tracing the various concave and convex lines of his body, Randy was beginning to feel things knot together and untie themselves simultaneously.

"You're lucky I can't reach lower, Meg. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"Ran, from where I'm at, I have every idea what I'm doing to you."

The fire that had returned to her voice traveled straight between his thighs, and the throaty moan that followed nearly wrecked Meg without any further touch or motion on his part.

"Tell me what I did to you last night."

The question was both abrupt and loaded, the tone was heavy, and as much as Meg knew Randy wanted the skin-soaked answer, the way his eyes searched hers told her he also wanted the answer that bared her history as much as her body. She planed her hands across his chest, pulling herself up, pressing her hips firmly up against him, and stretched a ladder of kisses up his stomach, then neck, to his mouth, warning him to silence.

"You told me – and showed me – I'm safe here. I'm safe with you. And you let me show you that you're safe with me. That you know I won't hurt you." She paused. "And you were...it was..." Meg didn't know how to say what needed to come next. 'How do I tell you that you didn't hurt me? That it was right? That it feels like it's supposed to – and not like it's not supposed to?' She shook her head. "I don't know how to say it, Ran." Meg leaned in and kissed him again, gently, not knowing if he was upset, disappointed, hurt, or just sick of it all.

"Tell me I didn't hurt you. That it felt good. Tell me it was right, Meg. Please?" The quaver in his voice was unmistakeable, and Meg pulled back to see an incredible depth of fear and hurt in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Randy. Listen to me." Meg laid fully over him, pressing her face next to his. 'I know better, right now. You're hurting, and not in the way where you want me in your face like that' "You listen to me. Right now. You didn't hurt me. Do you understand...Randy..." Meg exhaled so heavily into the mattress that Randy could feel a weight come off of her that neither realized she'd been carrying. "Randy, I haven't felt anything in so long...it felt right, and I wanted to do that since we were at the bay, but I didn't know I could. Now I can. So please. Please. Don't do that to yourself. This is right." Slowly, she tilted just enough to kiss a short, slow row down his jawline, knowing he'd guide her into the rest when he was ready.

The arm that was around Meg's back snaked up to her shoulders and moved her up to kiss him, the fear in his eyes replaced by something much more cloudy. Meg obliged him, then settled back between Randy's legs, gyrating left and right as she adjusted her position lower, watching his eyes close again and his face ease. Seeing the tension drain from him, she continued – there was, after all, a question she didn't answer.

"You felt like sunlight, Ran. Warm and simple. I could relax. I could let go. I could trust you – what I saw, what I felt, it was there. It was real. No pretense. You wanted to feel me. I was there with you because I enjoyed it. And I know you aren't going to hurt me." His fingers were at it again, tracing up and down her spine, a violin's bow in search of its instrument, and Meg couldn't decide if she wanted to push down against his hips or up into his hands. 'Sneak tactics.' She smiled, thankful for his closed eyes, and adjusted her hips one last time, leaving her hands against his stomach, playing with the outlines where shadow crossed striation.

'Everything's okay. She didn't leave. She's not afraid of me. I did this right, so far. I wonder if-' He didn't have time to finish his thought; Meg, in a single deft move that left her no time to adjust or reconsider, ground her hips deeply against his, rose over him, and dropped down. Her knuckles flew up to cover her mouth, her head ducked down to her shoulder, and Randy flew half-up to brace her by the shoulders before she curled entirely forward over herself, though she refused to let him up from his back.

"Meg, what are you-"

She slammed her hand over his mouth, never looking at him, but instead started a series of slow, rise-and-fall movements in his lap, dragging her hand away from his mouth and up the back of his neck, silently directing him to look.

Randy thought he must have died in the night. Dave had come in and beat him to death for being in bed with her, or Joe had fought him and won, maybe a rib had punctured something vital, but for all of his efforts in finding Meg he'd somehow been rewarded with heaven and was watching it in his lap, revealed inch by inch, then disappearing just as slowly. His hands floated over her hips, fingertips walking the ridges of her ribs, thumbs pausing just at the underside of her breasts, and it was there an awareness of his apprehension pulled half a smile from behind Meg's hand, which finally dropped from her mouth.

"Nervous?" She never stopped moving on him, only now her rhythm changed, a slight slide forward when she settled to his base, and it made his thighs clench in a way he couldn't have predicted.

Emboldened, thumbs became hands, and Randy smiled at how well she filled his palms. Meg slid her hands across his, pressing him closer, encouraging him.

"I...yeah, Meg." Cautiously, he rolled his thumbs, stretched and tensed his fingers, and was rewarded with a series of tones that were almost musical and a series of movements that were the definition of ethereal. "Why are you doing this for me?"

The half-smile didn't leave her face; she merely stopped the slight forward slide and added a deeper, reverse drop to the swirls her hips were already engaged in. Randy continued clenching his thighs and added 'dizziness' to his list of Meg-induced symptoms.

"Meg..." The edge in Randy's voice was unmistakeable, the tension in his fingers increased across Meg's breasts, summoning more tones down from heaven's gates and out of her mouth, and he realized he'd never once moved to meet her. He'd watched each hot bead of sweat well up and trail down her skin, felt her burn his nerves down to their bases and through him, and couldn't see anything else besides the diaphanous woman on top of him. It was harder and harder for him to breathe, not because of any pain in his ribs, but because it took his attention away from what she was doing, wasn't doing, might do, and from the strange, crushing feeling that was building and then shooting randomly across his body. Normally not one to prolong the moment, Randy found himself trying to will her to help him wait, suddenly wanting her to fall apart with him, rather than after or not at all, regardless of her original intention.

"No, Randy," Meg panted, "No, you don't. Or...yes, you will." She left his hands where they were and dropped hers lower, one in front and one behind, determined to both give him something to watch and feel while she moved. His eyes snapped forward; the idea of Meg's one hand on herself, working in the smallest of circles, and her other cupping him in her deliciously cold fingers; his hands on her breasts, apparently as she wanted, since she'd left them there, and her hips, still moving, rocking – he was ready to sing her name, cri de coeur, couldn't help himself.

His back arched off the bed, Meg smiled, eyes half-lidded, dishwater winter afternoon light flooded the room, she whispered, "Let go," and he thought if he wasn't dead already he was about to be.

It was that moment, Randy's hands at least having the good sense to stay where they'd been for most of their escapade, that Dave slammed the door open, his bellowed "Hello?" turning directly into an "Oh!" that seemed to carry on for miles and up through octaves that didn't exist before he'd tried them.

Meg never stopped moving, kindness preventing her from torturing Randy by refusing him his release, and Randy shot up towards her, trying to cover her and hunt down the blanket he knew he'd had earlier. Part of him wanted to lunge at the door and attack, part of him knew anything he did now would hurt Meg by moving too fast and too soon. He screamed at the person in the room, who screamed back at him and then ran; all of it was too much, and it all suddenly stopped when Meg's cool hands wrapped around his face and her body pressed into his. His arms nearly crushed her when they closed around her, but it was all he had to offer until his body, still well aware that her hips were moving, offered the rest.

"Next time, we gotta make sure we lock the door. I think Dave has a concussion."

"Good, maybe he won't remember what he saw."

"Nah, Ran. Your ass is amazing."

Groaning, Randy dropped his head down to her shoulder. "Which one of us gets to deal with him?"

"We both have to. You know that. But, I've known him longer. I'll go first. You go shower." She carefully extricated herself from his lap, both of them hissing as she moved, Randy peppering her with kisses the entire time.

Dave had charged into the room, charged nearly up to the bed, close enough to get Meg to start outright laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and then turned around to leave so fast he'd run into the narrow edge of the door, banging the side of his head hard enough to stagger himself into the door frame. Woozy, Dave managed his way back to the den, dropped his head into his hands, and waited for the aftermath to find him.

Vaguely, the sound of a shower registered with him, and then a light set of feet padded down the hallway. 'At least it's Meg. I can chew her out and not get punched.'

"Let me get you something frozen before you start in on it. I know, I know." Meg's hair was hardly tamed by the ponytail she'd thrown it into, and Dave rolled his eyes even though it made hot pokers shoot through his skull.

Returning to the couch with a badly freezer burned cold pack in hand, along with a kitchen towel, Meg pulled her oversized shirt lower before she settled near Dave on the couch.

"Look. I read the note, I know better, I know it's everything you told me not to do, I know it's everything you told him not to do, and I'm sorry you walked in on that. I'm even more sorry I laughed – it was just one of those nervous reflex things where I didn't know what to do and there wasn't any way to stop it so I just-"

"Meg, he loves you."

"Jesus fuck, you're the second person to say that to me."

"And the first one wasn't Randy, was it?" Dave adjusted the towel against his face.

"No. Joe, actually, but I don't think he had the same mind as you in saying it."

"Meg, he's evil. You need to just leave that alone."

"Yeah, I fucked up there, too. I left with him because Randy beat the shit out of him and I was worried there was gonna be a problem because of the surgery – not because I was trying to get with him. I didn't sleep that whole night. Didn't let him touch me, either. Not that way, anyhow. Just laid there and stared at our reflection in the mirror. He dropped his arm over me, and it felt...wrong. Like I was pinned there, but not the right way."

"He's still with his fiancee."

"That, too. I don't know what he's playing at. Randy said something about a phone call setting that whole shitshow off, but we didn't talk about it. Honestly – I still do want to talk to Joe, because I have a lot to settle out with him. He fucked me over, and I want him to answer for that."

"There's the bitch I know and love." Dave chuckled wryly. "But you know that's a bad idea."

Meg picked her nails, silent for several seconds. "I want my job back."

"Maybe."

Meg's head shot up. "Don't fuck with me, Dave."

"And don't say a word to Randy, either, or I'll pull the offer so fast it'll set your ass on fire. Speaking of which, I do not ever want to see your ass again. It's bad enough I have to see his in a professional capacity. And since I had to look at it, what the fuck did they do to you at Oechsner?"

Meg sighed. "I'm only letting you get away with that because I know how you mean it. And because I don't know the answer. That's a question for Randy. I don't know anything. He's got the files. Police, fire, ambulance, hospital, medical, whatever. I haven't asked to see them, and maybe...maybe I don't want to. I can let him touch me. I don't want to change that."

Dave pulled her over to him, laying her across his lap in as brotherly a father-style hug could be. "Then let it lie, Meggie. Let it lie. If he's willing to forget and overlook, then you don't need to pry and know."