Lewis stood at the window of an office in a building across the street from where Atwood had called the press conference. Since it was a weekend few of the offices were in use, and he had chosen a spacious third-floor office for his post since from there he could watch each facet of the operation unfolding below him. There had been several different buildings he could have chosen, but this particular one had a reflective coating on its windows which would render him at least optically invisible to casual onlookers.

Of course, a trained operative from either side would be able to detect him with various types of equipment, but he doubted anyone would even be looking. Givens' people were still in disarray after her kidnapping, and the militant faction of his own people were simply not as efficient as they had been with him at their head. To his disgust, none of his backdoors into the Dominant's computer networks had been discovered and disabled. Using them, he had discovered that his former superiors barely paid any notice to Mark and his growing coexistence faction. They were not considered a threat. That was a mistake on their part, but he found it a useful one.

He glanced at his watch. Ten-twenty. Mark should be here at any moment with Givens. His former protégée had now had nearly eighteen hours in which to make his case with Givens. For at least part of that, she would still have been highly suggestible state from the drugs and hypnosis, so Mark would have had an advantage there. Also, the way Mark and his people had 'rescued' Givens from the training house would have gone a long way toward tempering her mistrust. Jason, Michele, and John had played their parts well, lying strategically and messily 'dead' in places where Givens would see them as she was hustled from the premises by Mark, their 'corpses' reinforcing her belief in the rescue.

He had chosen Jason and Michele because Givens had already seen them, and John because his coloring, height and build were very similar to Lewis' own. That way, if Givens managed to break through the hypnotic conditioning he had instilled in her and remember anything of those hours, she would believe that the man who had drugged and hypnotized her had been killed along with his accomplices during the rescue.

He reviewed the entire operation carefully, looking for weak spots, or anything that could link him to it. He had been careful to use only operatives he knew were currently unassigned, and whom he had personally conditioned. They would not betray him. The only possible problem was his ownership of the training facility, and that was already layered so deep that he doubted it would ever be penetrated. If it was, he had flags in place to alert him. Still, it would probably be wise to sell it off. It had been a sentimental purchase, and sentiment was something he needed to restrict to his family.

That made him think of Carlie, and he smiled, wondering how she was coping with the children on her own. He had a feeling she wouldn't have called in help, she was stubborn that way. When he got back, she would need to be 'spelled' from her caretaking duties and indulged a little. He could think of a lot of ways to spoil her, many of which were as pleasant for him as they would be for her.

A message flashed onto his laptop' s screen, bringing his thoughts back to sharp focus. Good. Things were going according to plan. He saw a sleek black van pull up at the west edge of the square, and knew Givens' people had Tom there, waiting for the prearranged time. He looked toward the center of the square, at the platform and small crowd gathered, there. On the platform, Attwood looked nervous, even at this distance. Lewis wondered why. Despite their ineptness, Givens' people weren't so stupid as to shoot him in broad daylight in front of a crowd of reporters and television cameras. Perhaps he feared the Militants. That made more sense, since Attwood had no way of knowing that they were ignorant of today's events.

Attwood looked at his watch, stood, and went to the microphone. Lewis didn't bother to turn up the sound on the small monitor he had tuned to one of the stations carrying the press conference. He knew what Attwood was going to say; after all, he'd written it. It had been carefully crafted to assuage fears, and emphasize a spirit of cooperation and peace. Crowd psychology was a difficult thing, but he felt confident that his words would have the desired effect on those watching the broadcast.

As Attwood spoke, three identical white Explorers pulled up on the east side of the square. Mark emerged from the center vehicle and turned to assist Givens from it. Although she still wore the running shorts and sportsbra in which she had been kidnapped, she looked as coolly collected as if she were wearing Armani. She certainly didn't resemble the dazed, shaking woman he'd left in the cell the day before. Mark spoke to her and she nodded in reply, then they both began to walk toward the platform.

On the other side of the square the door of the black van slid open and three men got out. The center figure was Tom, the other two were Givens' men. They too began to walk toward the platform. Lewis glanced at his watch, saw the second hand sweep toward ten-thirty five, and looked up to see the lobby doors of the easternmost building open. A group of about fifty people emerged. To the west and north a similar phenomenon was occurring. He knew another group would be emerging from the building he occupied. Two hundred Dominants, all members of the coexistence faction, all creating visual chaos in the square. He smiled, pleased. Everything was moving right on schedule.

Sloan saw two men emerge from the van, holding Tom between them. She studied him anxiously, her heart pounding. He looked a little pale, a little dazed, but essentially all right. It was all she could do not to break into a run and fling herself into his arms. The only thing that held her back was the knowledge that if she didn't remain calm and follow the plan, she could put the whole operation at risk.

She heard Walter begin to speak, and looked anxiously toward the doors of the building closest to her. Where were they? Why were they waiting? Just as she thought she would go out of her mind with nerves, the doors opened and a large group of people walked out into the square. From three other buildings, comparable groups emerged. Yes! Finally! Instantly she returned her gaze to Tom, and saw the two men with him slow, looking around uncertainly at the unexpected arrival of so many bystanders.

As the crowd swirled around, Sloan started toward Tom and his escort. If all was going well, a woman who looked a little like herself would be approaching the trio from behind, accompanied by a man who superficially resembled Tom. In fact, Sloan could see the look alike couple, and she hurried to match her pace to theirs so they would arrive simultaneously. Tom looked up and saw her, his face lighting with recognition. She felt herself grinning foolishly, it was so good to see him again!

As they all converged there was a moment of confusion. Sloan ran directly into Tom, and he caught her to steady both of them, the action pulling his arms from the hands of his escorts. Sloan grabbed Tom and held on, resisting the urge to kiss him. Time for that later. Some of Lewis' operatives added to the distraction by running into the guards, grabbing them, turning them away for just long enough for Sloan to pull Tom off toward the group of reporters. She stopped at the edge of that group, shoved a pair of sunglasses into his hands and grabbed her hair, putting it up in a ponytail with a quick twist of the scrunchy she'd carried around her wrist. Tom looked at her, frowning fiercely, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Sloan! What are you doing? We should get out of here!"

Sloan took advantage of his closeness to plant a quick kiss on his mouth, then pulled back a little and shook her head. "No, it's all right, the plan is working. Now put the damned sunglasses on, and at least pretend you're watching Walter."

He put on the dark glasses. Sloan had thought were a silly idea, but they really did make him look more anonymous. Without turning her head, she shifted her gaze toward Givens' men and saw them standing, momentarily at a loss as Lewis' operatives evaporated into the crowd and the men realized they had lost their charge. Then they spotted the look-alike couple running for the trio of Explorers at the east side of the square. As Lewis had predicted, the guards chose to follow the moving targets, not realizing their prey was stationary, and only a few yards away. The couple reached the vehicles, got into one, and drove off. The other two Explorers followed. Sloan knew that all three vehicles bore identical forged temporary license plates, just to confuse things further.

The two guards, seeing their prisoner getting away, pounded back across the square to the black van, which screeched out of its parking place seconds later, giving chase. Sloan released the breath she'd been holding, and caught Tom's hand in hers.

"Come on, this way."

She pulled him toward the building where she knew Lewis was waiting for them. As they got to the door, Sloan looked back and saw that Mark and The Bitch had reached the platform. Cameras and microphones were directed at them, and Givens looked visibly distressed as her gaze moved over the assembled media representatives. She started to shield her face with her hand, then clearly realized it was a lost cause and let her hand fall, shooting a fulminating glare at Walter. Walter returned her gaze calmly and moved away from the microphone to let Mark step up to it. Sloan laughed. So much for the Bitch's precious anonymity. Go Walter!

"What's funny?" Tom asked, looking confused.

"I'll explain it later, we need to get out of the lobby." She moved to the elevators and pushed the button, then thought better of it and turned to the stairs, dragging him with her.

"Where are we going? Why are we still here? How did you arrange all this? Who are all those people? I don't understand . . ."

Sloan paused on a step and put her fingers against his mouth as she gulped for breath, then smiled. "It's okay, Tom. You'll understand in a little bit. Just come on!"

She dragged him up the rest of the stairs to the third floor, and suite 303. Lewis must have sensed them, because she didn't even have to knock, the door opened as they got to it. Sloan moved into the room with Tom behind her, and as Lewis closed the door behind them, she finally gave in to her desire and grabbed Tom, kissing him fiercely. He responded instantly, wrapping her in the strong security of his arms, his fingers tangling in her hair as his mouth covered hers, molding it, his tongue stroking and tasting hers. She shivered and rubbed against him, reassuring herself that he was there, and whole, and safe. Safe . . . she pulled her mouth away from his and stared into his eyes.

"Did they hurt you?"

He shrugged. "Not enough to matter." He moved back a little, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Now tell me how you managed to . . ." His voice trailed off suddenly as he remembered there was someone else in the room with them. He frowned, and turned his head to look at Lewis who still stood beside the door, looking amused as he waited for them to finish.

"Congratulations Dr. Parker, Tom. That went extremely well," Lewis said when he saw he had their attention.

Since he was still in her arms, Sloan could feel Tom go rigid with shock as he looked at Lewis. The next thing she knew he had set her away from him and stepped in front of her, putting his body between her and his former mentor. She felt a surge of appreciation and love at his willingness to put himself on the line for her, and then smiled, remembering Carlie's words about how overprotective Dominant men tended to be. She moved to stand beside him again, putting a hand on his arm reassuringly.

"Tom, it's okay. Really. Lewis has been helping me."

He turned his head and stared at her, shocked, worried. His eyes searched her face as if looking for injuries. "Sloan, what has he done to you?"

Sloan scowled. "He hasn't done anything to me, unless you count annoying the hell out of me with pretty much every other sentence."

Lewis chuckled at that, and Tom's attention swung back to him, his expression a snarl.

"I'll kill you if you've tampered with her."

Lewis returned Tom's glare calmly. "I haven't, Tom. Neither of us are lying to you. Surely you can feel that."

Tom frowned and looked from Sloan to Lewis, and back. "If you've programmed her she wouldn't know if she was lying or not, would she? I don't believe you. Why would you help her unless it furthered your own agenda?"

Lewis was silent for a long moment, then he sighed, and moved forward a few steps, reaching for Tom's hand as he had Mark's a day earlier. Except he didn't just shake Tom's hand and release it. He held it, and stared into Tom's eyes.

"I haven't done this for anyone except my mate in over twenty years, Tom, so understand that this won't be repeated."

Tom looked puzzled, but nodded. Lewis closed his eyes. Sloan heard Tom gasp and under her hand she felt a shudder run through him. What the hell was going on? Before she could do more than wonder, Lewis opened his eyes, released Tom's hand, and stepped back, turning away to stand at the window and stare out at the crowd below. If he hadn't been Lewis, Sloan would have said he seemed distinctly rattled. She looked at Tom, who also seemed quite flustered, though he didn't look angry or desperate any more.

Tom stared intently at Lewis' back until Sloan tugged on his arm and he finally looked at her. For a moment he only gazed at her blankly, as if he couldn't quite remember who she was, then suddenly he seemed to come back into himself and his expression softened noticeably, his gaze filling with a depth of emotion that took her breath away. He touched her face reassuringly, then walked over Lewis.

Fascinated, Sloan watched them, trying to make herself as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. There were things that needed resolving between them, and she wasn't sure they could do it with her in the room. Or at least she wasn't sure Tom could. Lewis probably didn't care one way or the other. Finally Tom spoke.

"You're upset with me."

Lewis turned and looked at Tom, his expression startlingly angry. Sloan had gotten used to seeing two emotions on Lewis' face. Amusement, and disdain. That was pretty much it for expressions. Anger was a new one. Lewis crossed his arms and stared at Tom for a long moment.

"Of course I am. You betrayed us!"

Tom held his gaze. "No. One cannot betray a cause in which one doesn't believe, and I never believed in it voluntarily. I was programmed to believe. The cause is wrong. You understand that, or you wouldn't be here today."

Lewis looked out at the crowd again.. "A mistake was made. We should never have gone on the offensive."

"Agreed." Tom said. "Then why are you angry?"

Lewis' gaze was icy as he looked back at Tom. "You know why."

Tom nodded. "I know why. I want to hear you say it."

Lewis glared at Tom for long moment, then he nodded. "Very well then. You betrayed me. You gave them my name, my secrets, my self . . . everything."

Tom shook his head firmly. "I didn't betray you. If you hadn't come after me, they would never have had more than your name and a vague idea of your position in the hierarchy."

Lewis's hand flashed out and he grabbed Tom by the back of his neck, bringing their faces so close their noses were almost touching. "Damn you, you left me!"

Tom reached back to put his hand over Lewis'. "I didn't want to, I had to. You were destroying me."

Lewis flinched and let go abruptly, taking a step back. "No. I would never have harmed you."

"Not intentionally, no. But you kept trying to get inside me, to understand me, and if you had done it as the person you were then, you would have destroyed me, intentionally or not. Can't you see that?"

Lewis looked at him curiously. "'As the person I was then?'" he asked.

Tom nodded, looking a little puzzled. "You're no longer that person. I don't know exactly who you are any more. Lewis is still part of you, but there's much more at the same time. You're someone else now."

Lewis stood there for a long time without speaking, then finally he nodded. "Interesting that you could sense that. You're correct, I'm not the same, just as you're not the same."

Tom nodded. "Exactly."

They were silent then. Sloan could almost feel the tension in the air. The bond between the two of them was still there, despite her, despite Carlie. She suspected it always would be there, though they would not likely act on it at this point in their lives. It was odd, she didn't feel jealous. She'd thought she would, but this wasn't something she could be jealous of.

Something outside the window caught Lewis' attention then, and he turned, all business now.

"The press conference is finished. It's time to leave. We have to do it now, with the rest of the crowd, or we may be noticed. Come on."

He turned off the small television and handed it to Tom, who took it, smiling a little as Lewis shut down his laptop, unhooked it from the telephone line, and picked it up. Lewis caught the expression on Tom's face and lifted his eyebrows.

"You're amused?"

Tom smiled. "Feels just like old times."

Lewis grinned. "It is familiar, yes." He looked at Sloan. "In some ways, at any rate."

Without saying more, he left the office. Sloan moved to Tom's side and they started down the winding flights of stairs toward the parking garage. After they'd completed one circuit of the stairs, Sloan started to notice that Tom was moving more slowly. Halfway down the next flight, she realized he was looking awfully pale, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm. He almost dropped the television set he was holding, and she rescued it as he closed his eyes, swaying slightly.

"Tom?" Sloan exclaimed, concerned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, swallowing heavily. "Nothing, I'm fine. Just a little. . . tired."

From below them, Lewis turned and looked back at them, his eyes narrowing as he studied Tom.

"What did they use on you?" Lewis asked.

Tom shrugged. "Not sure, couldn't pick out anything familiar. Probably a cocktail. "

"Hallucinogens?"

Tom shook his head. "Don't think so. Not that worked, anyway. In the last couple of days they were probably using an anti-psychotic."

Lewis absorbed that information expressionlessly, though Sloan couldn't help a gasp.

"Isolation?" Lewis asked.

Tom nodded. "Yes, for awhile. I lost track of time, don't know how long it was."

Sloan had no idea what Tom meant by that but Lewis clearly did. His jaw tightened. He thought for a moment, then came back up to where they stood and relieved Sloan of the electronics. "Bring him, make sure he doesn't fall down the stairs."

Tom started to object to that but Lewis was already half a flight ahead of them by that time, so he subsided. Sloan pulled his arm across her shoulders, smiling.

"Hey, any excuse to get my hands on you," she joked, trying to take the sting out of Lewis' assumption of weakness. Tom smiled wanly, and let her lead him the rest of the way down. That scared her. It wasn't like him to give in like that.

In the garage, Sloan steered Tom toward the green Outback wagon Lewis had assigned her earlier, and was surprised when Lewis accompanied them instead of going toward the BMW he had reserved for himself. He saw her expression of surprise and answered her before she even asked the question.

"I was going to turn you two loose to lie low until Mark and Attwood finished making things safe for your return, but I think I need to keep an eye on Tom. I suspect these effects are temporary, but I need to make sure they didn't do any permanent damage. Since we'll be traveling together, this vehicle is preferable, as it will attract less attention. It's a little riskier to go in one car, but it's a long drive and this way Dr. Parker and I can take turns at the wheel. "

"What's a long drive?" Tom asked, looking from one to the other of them.

"Home." Lewis replied "You're coming with me. It's safer than any safehouse we could find here, and that way I can attend to you without being away from my family any longer." He frowned absently. "I should have thought to bring a cleanup kit, I can't believe I didn't. I've been out of the game too long. I'll have to put one together on the way."

"What's a cleanup kit?" Sloan asked, feeling lost.

"A kind of interrogators' first-aid kit," Tom replied absently as he steadied himself against the car.

Sloan looked at him worriedly as she dug the keys out of her purse. Even when Ed had administered the conversion serum that had made him so ill, Tom had hidden that from her, not wanting to worry her. For him to be so clearly 'out of it' concerned her tremendously. While driving the Pacific Coast Highway with Lewis wasn't exactly her idea of dream vacation, she was actually glad Lewis had decided to stay with them. Having Tom in Lewis' hands right now was probably the best possible situation. Of course, now that she thought about it, she realized that if even Lewis was concerned about Tom, then things were worse than she'd thought. Her hands shook a little as she unlocked the car. She just hoped Lewis could fix things.

As she drove back from town toward the cabin they had rented, Sloan tried to distract herself from worrying about Tom by thinking of trivial things like the name of the town. She wondered if the town's founders had named it "Weed" that because it 'sprang up' like one, because that's all they could grow in their yards, because they grew a lot of marijuana there, or just what? That line of thought didn't distract her long enough, though.

The fact that they had stopped for the night was really worrisome. Considering how much Lewis wanted to get home, Sloan had assumed they would drive straight through. However, they were only halfway there when Lewis had announced they were stopping. As he'd spoken, his gaze had gone to Tom, and she'd guessed he must be the reason. She'd been concerned even before that, since Tom had been quiet and lethargic, speaking in monosyllables only when spoken to, but the stopping thing scared her. The fact that Tom didn't react to her fear scared her more.

Lewis had gone through the town, taken the next exit, and driven straight to the resort where he'd gone inside and booked a private cabin. She wondered briefly if the place was owned by Dominants, but the New-Agey atmosphere that pervaded the place had made her decide it must not be. She really couldn't reconcile crystals and aura-readings with Dominants. Still, how had Lewis known it was there? Did Dominants go on vacations? For that matter, how was he paying for it all? The big A-frame he'd rented couldn't have been cheap. It could easily sleep a dozen people, and it even had a sauna and spa fed by the hot-spring.

She glanced over at the two bags which had cost her upwards of a hundred dollars, and was glad Lewis had handed her not only a shopping list but also a wad of cash, because between the herbal teas, tinctures, extracts, supplements, vitamins, and various other items, the final total had been surprisingly high. Buying food on top of that would have really cleaned her out. Absently she wondered just where Lewis' money came from. He always seemed to have plenty . . . more than plenty, actually. Just looking at the houses he owned told her that much. She had never realized that being what amounted to a terrorist was a lucrative profession. She thought about her own meager savings and made a rueful face. Obviously she'd chosen the wrong line of work.

Thinking about work reminded her that she wished she had access to her lab right now. She wanted to run a DNA scan on Tom, to make sure he wasn't trapped somewhere between human and Dominant by the serum Ed had given him. She was afraid that was what was causing his lethargy and lack of empathic response rather than something that The Bitch and her minions had done. She'd tried to tell Lewis about her fears when they'd arrived at the cabin, but he'd just told her he would take care of things, and sent her to town to pick up a list of miscellaneous stuff as long as her arm, plus something for dinner, specifically not meat. She knew neither Lewis or Tom were normally vegetarians, so that had surprised her.

She'd protested Lewis' high-handed order immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Tom, especially to go shopping, of all things. She'd been angry with Lewis for even suggesting it. However, when he'd taken her aside to quietly explain that he needed the things he'd requested in order to help Tom, she had started to cave in. The surprisingly gentle way he'd assisted Tom into the house and settled him in one of the bedrooms had made her capitulate completely. It had reminded her just a little bit of watching Lewis with his children only a few days earlier. That was the only thing that had made it possible for her to leave.

Frustratingly, it had taken her the better part of two hours to round up everything Lewis had asked for, plus find something she thought they would all eat. Fortunately the place where she'd found the herbal products had been attached to a natural-foods cafe. Along with some other food and juices, she'd picked up some vegetarian sushi, since Tom usually loved sushi and she hoped it would tempt him to eat. Their earlier stop at a fast-food Mexican place had been less than successful. Another worrisome sign, since Tom usually ate like a horse.

Passing the covered bridge that led into the resort, Sloan felt a huge sense of relief. Almost there. Finally she pulled up in front of the cabin, grabbed the bags, and headed for the door. In the blue haze of twilight the lights from the cabin seemed warm and welcoming, and a faint hint of woodsmoke drifted on the air. She used the key to let herself in, and took the bags into the kitchen, quickly shoving the food into the refrigerator and leaving the everything else on the counter while she went upstairs to check on Tom.

He wasn't in his room. Quickly she checked the other bedrooms. Neither Tom, or Lewis were anywhere to be seen. Her pulse skyrocketed as panic set in. Where were they? Where was Tom? Had Lewis had taken Tom to the hospital? No, that was an absurd thought, she realized. Lewis would never risk such a thing. She forced herself to calm down, and thought about logical possibilities. She checked the bathroom, it was empty. Clearly they were not in the kitchen or the bedrooms. She hadn't seen either of them when she'd passed through the large living-room on the way to the kitchen, either. So, unless they'd gone out for a walk, which seemed doubtful, that only left the spa or sauna.

As Sloan hurried back downstairs it occurred to her that she hadn't once thought that Tom might be in danger from Lewis. She was a little shocked by that. When had she started trusting Lewis so completely? She opened the kitchen door and stepped out behind the house where the small sauna and spa were. The spa, steaming in the cool evening air, was empty. The smell of woodsmoke was stronger out here, as was the slight tang of sulphur from the natural hot-springs that fed the spa. She moved toward the small shed that housed the sauna, and stopped just outside the door, suddenly nervous about opening it although she couldn't figure out why she should be.

Resolutely she put her hand on the latch and pushed it open. It was occupied. Definitely occupied. She understood now why she'd been nervous. Her subconscious had known what to expect, even if her conscious had forgotten. Clothing was generally de-trop in a sauna. Fortunately Lewis had his back to her this time. She registered an odd pattern of small, squarish black marks on his back below his right shoulder blade, before her gaze slid lower, lingering momentarily before embarrassment shifted her gaze to Tom where he lay prone on one of the redwood tiers, a towel underneath him, but nothing on top.

Tom's skin glistened with sweat. It gleamed in the trough of his spine and puddled in small of his back. Just above that was a pattern of small black marks, identical, she realized, to those on Lewis' back. She knew it was a tattoo, the same one they had found on the mummified girl they'd recovered from the desert. None of the other Dominants they had examined had borne those markings, but both Lewis and Tom did. What did they mean? As she stood there in the doorway speculating, Lewis turned to face her, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

"In or out, Dr. Parker, not both," he said drily.

His backside had been difficult enough to ignore. Front was . . . Sloan gulped, stepped back, and shut the door. She didn't remember going back to the house, but the next thing she knew she was inside, leaning against the door frame with her hot face pressed against the cool enamel-painted surface of the kitchen wall. The heat in her face, and elsewhere, had absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the sauna. She couldn't help it. Seeing them there, together like that, she had instantly remembered Tom's damned 'Program Forty-three' story. God, she really was a pervert. A disgusting nasty pervert. She went through the periodic table of elements again. She'd been doing a lot of that lately. Finished with that, she took several deep breaths. Yes, that helped.

Wait a second. Together like that . . . just what the hell was Lewis doing in there? Tom was sick! He shouldn't be . . . Well, maybe she shouldn't jump to conclusions just because they were both nude. Nudity didn't have to mean sex. It was just her prurient nature supplying that idea. Her face got hot again, this time with embarrassment. She'd never realized what a dirty mind she had. But she had to know. She couldn't just stand around and wonder.

She took a step toward the door, and stopped. She couldn't go in there fully clothed, but neither could she go in there stark naked. It just wasn't in her to do that, not in front of Lewis. Tom, no problem, but not Lewis. She dashed to the front room and pawed through her bag, grabbing out a t-shirt. Quickly she skinned out of her sweater and pulled on the tee, then took off her jeans, shoes, and jewelry. Putting her hair up in a quick knot, she headed resolutely for the back porch again. Whatever Lewis was doing, she wanted an explanation.

Lewis waited for Sloan to reappear. She would, of course, once she'd had a moment to get over her embarrassment and her curiosity reasserted itself. In the meantime, he crouched down next to Tom and put a hand on his shoulder, waking him from the half-dozing state he was in. When Tom looked at him, Lewis handed him a cup of lukewarm water.

"Drink, you need to replace fluids."

Tom propped himself up on his elbows and took the cup, draining it quickly. Lewis refilled it from the pitcher on the floor and watched while he drank that as well. The sauna should help Tom's system rid itself of the toxins the humans had been feeding him. His body could probably have dealt efficiently with ordinary sedatives, but psychoactive substances wrought havoc with a Dominant's highly sensitive nervous system. After years of working with them, Lewis had dosage tolerances down to a fine art, but humans had no such expertise and tended to administer drugs in amounts that could cause permanent harm. He could only hope that such was not the case here. While there had been a time when he'd thought he would have to kill Tom, that time was past and circumstances had changed enough that he was glad it had not come to that.

He speculated for a moment what might have happened if he had done so. Things would be very different. He would never have been apprehended or spent those months in captivity, never escaped and been in such a state of mind that he went to Carlie instead of to a safehouse. He would never have seen, or held, or learned to play with his children. Each of those events had contributed to changing him. Had they never happened, he would be that earlier Lewis, not the person he was now. Strange. All this time he'd thought of his new self as a role he was playing, but now he found that it wasn't a role at all. It was part of him. When he'd tried to divest himself of that part of himself, it had refused to go, subtly rebuilding itself with each passing hour. He was both Llyn, and Lewis. Not one or the other. Both, inextricably fused.

Had he killed Tom, not only would he be different, but Carlie would likely be either a gibbering wreck, or dead, and his children would be growing up without the warmth of a family, something he would never have even considered or cared about before. He had no doubt that Marga would eventually have taken the children from Carlie, considering that her innate humanity rendered her an unfit parent. Given Carlie's extreme reactions when she had been held captive and separated from the children, he doubted she would have survived very long.

No matter what he'd felt at the time, after considering all the repercussions from Tom's actions, Lewis could admit that he was pleased by what Tom had done, rather than resenting him for it. There was still a part of him, his pride mostly, that smarted when faced with the realization that Tom had left him, but he had learned that pride was not something one should indulge too deeply.

Hurt pride was definitely part of his reaction, but there was also something else, something he really didn't want to think about, but he knew he had to face, and to face as the person he had become, not just as the partial-person who he had been before. He needed to resolve his feelings for and about Tom. Carlie had understood that. It was why she had sent him with Sloan. She might not have understood all the facets of those feelings, but she had known they were there.

He looked toward the door as he sensed Sloan nearing the sauna. She radiated a peculiar mixture of determination, embarrassment, and sublimated arousal. Lewis glanced back at Tom to see if the younger man had sensed her at all, and could detect no sign of response. Not surprising actually, since empathy was the function most affected by both drugs and sensory deprivation. Lewis had been through this process himself, both voluntarily as a personal experiment, and involuntarily while in captivity, and he remembered how the mind sometimes shut down those functions since it was too painful to keep trying to reach out, and failing.

The sauna door opened, and Sloan stepped in. He was amused to see that she was wearing clothing, though granted, not a lot of it-- just a t-shirt, and panties. Even so, it told him how uncomfortable she still was with him. He almost laughed aloud at that. For the most part he still couldn't really understand what it was Tom saw in her, but then, emotions were seldom rational. He was sure that none of his former associates would understand why he had withdrawn from 'the fight' to live with a woman whose nature, if not her genetics, was human; why he not only allowed, but reveled in the affection of his mate and children.

Sloan stood just inside the door and Lewis nodded to acknowledge her, and waved her toward the redwood decking next to Tom. She edged past him nervously and sat down near Tom's head. Tom didn't move. With his lassitude amplified by the heat, and his senses dulled by drug reactions, Lewis didn't think he was even aware of her presence. He was barely aware of Lewis. Lewis stood up.

"Did you get the things I asked for?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, her focus almost completely on Tom. "Everything's on the counter, except the food. That's in the refrigerator." She reached out, a little hesitantly, and put her hand on Tom's shoulder, her fingers fanning out over his sweat-slicked skin.

"Good," Lewis said. "I need to get to work with some of those things. You stay here, watch him, let him know you're here, let him feel you. I want him to start trying to reach you, empathically. He'll be more amenable to attempting that with you than with me."

Sloan looked surprised. "You think so?" she asked uncertainly.

Lewis smiled at her, feeling oddly compassionate. "At this point, yes. He's bonded with you now."

She brightened visibly at that, and the surge of pleasure she felt was quite intense. Tom stirred a little, lifting his head.

"Sloan?"

She smiled, and moved her hand up touch Tom's head, her fingers stroking through his damp, short-cropped hair. "I'm here, Tom. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He reached up and found her hand, twining his fingers through hers, then let his head drop to the towel again with a sigh.

Sloan looked up at Lewis with lifted eyebrows. He nodded.

"Good. Like that, touch him, connect with him."

"Ah. . . in what way?" she asked cautiously, clearly wondering how far she was allowed to go.

Lewis grinned. "In any way he wishes. What he needs most of all right now is to feel, to be immersed in sensation and awareness. He has to know that when he reaches out, there will be something there for him to feel."

He suddenly remembered what it felt like to be desperate for sensation, and had to suppress a shudder. It hurt. He'd denied that to himself when it had happened to him, but this brought the pain back almost unbearably. Tom stirred, looking around. Lewis realized he'd let that feeling leak, and moved quickly toward the door.

"I'll be back to help you move him in a few minutes. He's almost reached his limit here, but I want him to sweat out as much of the toxins as possible. Get him to drink more water, keep him hydrated. You should probably do the same yourself."

He left without bothering to wait for Sloan's response. He knew she would take care of Tom, and he had to get out of there. The memories that stirred within him were too raw and bitter to be easily contained, and the last thing Tom needed right now was more pain. The night had cooled down considerably, and the cold air on his damp skin made him shiver. He stood there letting the cold soak into him, letting it distract him from his thoughts. He needed to be clearheaded. He had work to do.

Tom watched Lewis leave, and wondered if he had imagined that flash of distress he'd felt. It could well have been, since his empathic senses were almost completely inactive right now. He remembered Lewis had long ago told him empathic shutdown was a common side-effect of certain psychoactive drugs.

He deliberately tried to focus, tried to feel something from Sloan. Nothing. He was sure he'd felt a flash of pleasure from her a few moments earlier, but there was nothing now, and he could have imagined that too. While he had been captive, the numbness had actually been a relief, but now that he was free the absence of those perceptions made him feel crippled. His fingers tightened on Sloan's and he looked up at her, just to be sure he wasn't imagining her presence. She smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, which were worried.

"So, you're 'fine,' hunh?" she asked, squeezing his hand in return. "You're such a rotten liar, Tom. Even Lewis is worried about you, so you must know I'm not going to buy that bridge."

Tom shifted onto his side and propped himself on one elbow so looking up at her didn't make his neck hurt. "He's not worried about me. He never worries about anyone."

"Then why didn't he leave us behind?" Sloan asked reasonably. "Why did he stop here for the night? He'd never have stopped if he wasn't worried about you, he'd have driven straight through to get home."

Tom tried to envision a world in which it mattered to Lewis where he spent the night. He failed. "Home is that important to him?"

Sloan nodded. "Ever since we left, he's been champing at the bit to get back home to Carlie and the kids."

Tom shook his head slowly. "Are you sure it's him? Maybe he's a clone. His hair is different."

"It's called 'dye', Tom. He's also been wearing brown contacts half the time, but they don't make him someone else either. It's still him. Be honest with yourself, you know it's him."

Tom nodded. He did know it. It was just hard to believe. He frowned as he remembered something she'd said a few nights before he'd been kidnapped. "You were right."

"Of course I was," Sloan said, grinning. "Now, what exactly was I right about?"

Her voice was light and teasing. It was strange not to feel that echoed by her emotions.

"Before I was taken, you said Lewis had changed. I didn't believe you."

"Oh that. Yes, I was right about that, too. But don't get too weirded out, in most ways he's still the same old annoying Lewis he always was."

Though Sloan's voice held irony and a hint of amusement, he'd felt a tiny tremor go through her when she spoke of his former mentor. Tom stared at her, trying to sense what she was feeling. Was it fear? Had Lewis hurt her in some way, or done something to her while they had been together? It came to him that something else might have made her shiver. Sloan and Lewis had been together in the training house for several days. Sloan was clearly more comfortable with Lewis than she had ever been before. Comfortable enough to come out here in next to nothing . . . .

Tom felt a sudden stab of jealousy. He needed to know she was his, to reassert his claim on her. He needed to feel her physically, to find reassurance in her touch and her response if he couldn't feel it any other way. With a surprising surge of energy, he shifted his grip from her hand to her wrist and pulled her down to him. She made a startled sound but yielded, and her lips opened against his as he kissed her. She tasted as he remembered, the unique flavor of her mouth stirring him. He shifted his mouth to kiss her eyelids, her cheek, and tasted the salt of her sweat, her moist skin cool against his lips in the heat of the sauna.

Instinctively he kept trying to feel her desire, trying to feel her need, and failed time after time. Frustrated by his own inability to do so he moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her harshly, his tongue searching out a response. She made a soft sound of pleasure in her throat and shifted position to make their contact easier. Her hands came up to touch his face, his chest, her fingers stroking his skin, sending shudders of sensation through him. At her full and unequivocal physical response, his jealousy receded, taking his sudden burst of strength with it, and he slumped back with a sigh.

Sloan followed him, tasting him as he'd tasted her, her hand urging him over onto his back. Her scent was strong and aroused, her nipples tight beneath the sweat-soaked shirt she wore. He lifted his hand to her breast, molding it against his palm, feeling the soft weight of it. Her hands moved on him, growing bolder, moving down his chest to his flanks, then brushing lightly over his sex. The heat of the sauna and his debilitated state interfered with his response. Sloan must have understood, because her hand moved away, back to his chest, and her kiss softened, became less demanding. After a moment she lifted her head, and put it against his shoulder with a sigh that sounded very contented. Tom touched her face.

"Thank you,"

She looked up. "What for?"

"Getting me out. I don't know how much more I could have stood."

Her eyes teared, and she put her hand over his. "Tom, how could I not? I love you."

He tried to shape the appropriate response to that, and found he couldn't. He was afraid to. What did he know of love? How could he assert he felt it when he didn't know if he did? He cared for her, more than anyone he had ever known, but did he love? Was he capable of it, after his upbringing? He still didn't know. Sloan looked at him with understanding in her eyes, but before he could figure out what to say, the door opened and Lewis stepped inside, wearing a pair of running shorts, but nothing else. Tom was surprised that Lewis had made even that concession to Sloan's sensibilities.

"Time's up in here," Lewis said succinctly.

Tom sighed in relief, both at the timely interruption, and the fact that he was being released from the sauna's intense heat. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if you were planning to serve me for dinner. I think I'm about done."

Lewis grinned. "I don't think Dr. Parker is interested in sharing that particular meal, Tom."

Tom chuckled. Sloan gasped, and Tom actually felt a flicker of her outrage at that statement. He hadn't imagined it earlier. He was starting to feel again, but only the strongest feelings, and only when he wasn't actively trying. Pleased by the realization, Tom swung his feet over the side of the bench and levered himself into a sitting position, then tried to stand. His knees gave, and Lewis stepped in quickly, catching him. Tom put his arm across Lewis' shoulders for support, embarrassed by his own weakness.

Lewis' joke had stirred memories, though, and between that, and the sensual touching he'd been exchanging with Sloan moments earlier, Tom felt strangely sensitized by the feel of Lewis' bare, sleek skin against his. Perhaps it was just as well he was not completely recovered. He knew a response to Lewis would probably trouble Sloan tremendously, even if it was purely autonomic. And, he wasn't entirely sure that was all it would be. It was disconcerting that even with how he felt about Sloan, and with her standing only inches away, he could still be affected this way just by Lewis' presence. Clearly Sloan had been right about more than one thing, that night. There was an emotional bond between himself and Lewis which he had failed to take into consideration.

Lewis slanted a look at Tom that said he'd felt Tom's reaction. Tom was glad that his face was already flushed from the heat, because otherwise his blush would have betrayed him to Sloan, who was watching him anxiously after his display of weakness. Lewis didn't comment, and after a moment he let his arm settle around Tom's waist as he steered him toward the door. The touch was impersonal, yet somehow intimate.

As always, Tom found himself wondering what Lewis felt. Even if all his senses were intact, Tom knew he wouldn't know the answer to that. The only time Lewis had ever allowed him to feel anything beneath the surface had been that brief and overwhelming moment of empathic contact a few hours earlier. He knew that would not be repeated. He frowned suddenly, wondering how he had felt that, with his empathic senses dormant as they were. The thought stopped him in his tracks, and he almost slid from Lewis' support as the other man tried to continue forward. Lewis shifted his grip to resume Tom's weight, and looked at him.

"Is something wrong?"

Tom shook his head, unable to figure out how to ask the question he needed to ask, and unwilling to ask it in front of Sloan, in any case. "No, nothing. Sorry, just dizzy."

Lewis' eyes narrowed, sensing the lie, but for whatever reason, he didn't call him on it. Sloan opened the door for them and they stepped out of the sauna into the cool night air. The sky was ablaze with stars and Tom stared up at them, wondering what they looked like to Sloan. He remembered the clarity and color of human vision he'd briefly experienced after Ed's serum had taken hold. Without the addition of his normal infrared and ultraviolet ranges, everything had seemed so much sharper and cleaner. Though his own vision was more efficient, it somehow seemed less desirable. It would be nice, sometimes, to be able to see the world more simply at will, to screen out the shifting auras and ripples of his additional range. He shivered as a breeze stirred, and Lewis guided him toward the redwood tub that steamed under the open sky. Tom wrinkled his nose at the sulphurous odor of the water, but Lewis nodded firmly toward the liquid.

"In, all the way," he ordered.

Tom knew better than to balk, not in his weakened condition. Besides, the mineral-laden water would rinse the stink of drugs and captivity from him. He started to step over the raised lip to get in and wavered, this time his dizziness wasn't feigned. He felt Lewis' hands on his chest, and Sloan's hands on his hips, and between them they guided him in. The water was hot, but not so hot as the sauna, and felt wonderful as it closed silkily around him. He ducked briefly beneath the surface to let the water sluice the sweat from his face and scalp, then pushed back up and let his head fall back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed.

A moment later a quiet whisper reached him, and he opened his eyes to see Lewis standing a few feet away with Sloan, leaning close, his hand on her shoulder, his mouth almost against her ear, his voice too low to make out words over the soft sloshing of the water in the tub. Sloan listened, nodded, and Lewis turned away and went back into the cabin. Tom frowned, but read no shift in her body temperature that would indicate an arousal flush. Sloan's expression as she slid in beside him also helped allay his momentary suspicion; it was warm, and loving, and completely open.

"Lewis said ten minutes, max, and he'll be back to help me get you out," she informed him as she slid over next to him, putting her head against his shoulder.

Tom let his eyes close. He was in an odd state, tired, but not sleepy. He relaxed, enjoying Sloan's closeness, the soft sound of her breathing, the touch of her thigh moving lightly against his with the drift of the water. He turned his head and rubbed his nose against her hair to catch a hint of her scent rather than the stronger smell of the water. He pulled her closer to him, wanting just to touch her, and laughed softly. Sloan lifted her head.

"What's funny?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not funny, pleasurable. This just feels so good."

Her expression softened and he ached to be able to sense what he knew she was feeling, that sweet, strange tenderness that he craved. He stroked her shoulder, wishing he could feel her skin instead of wet fabric, but he understood her shyness around Lewis. He kissed her briefly, then sighed again, and let the moment just exist.

It seemed like only seconds had passed when he heard the cabin door open again, and knew Lewis was there again. Tom opened his eyes and looked up, surprising the other man with a strangely wistful expression on his face that was gone before he could really be sure he'd seen it. What was he thinking, Tom wondered? Something about him? Or did the scene remind him that his own mate was still far from here? He would probably never get the answer to that question. Lewis put down whatever it was he'd been holding, and stepped forward.

"Dr. Parker, if you would assist me?" he asked formally.

Sloan nodded and stood up, and between them they helped Tom out of the tub without incident. As he stood there dripping and shivering, Lewis bent and picked up the things he'd brought out, which turned out to be a large towel for Sloan, and a terry-cloth robe for Tom. Sloan wrapped herself in the towel, which Tom approved of, since her wet clothing clung to her like a translucent veil, emphasizing rather than hiding her body.

As he pulled on the robe, Tom could smell Lewis' scent on it, as well as a female's. It wasn't Sloan's scent, but it was slightly familiar. Since it was Lewis' robe, then the scent was probably Carlie's. Somehow that made it seem too intimate a gesture for Lewis to let him wear it, though Tom wasn't sure why. Lewis was very practical, and since Tom had only the clothing he'd been wearing, it made sense for him to borrow other things from Lewis. Trying to sort out his feelings, he let Sloan and Lewis take him into the house.

Sloan went to shower, and Lewis sat Tom down at the kitchen table and pulled a chair over next to his so he could administer a series of perception tests, which Tom performed well, though he was clearly tired. It was obvious from the results that Tom was starting to slough off the effects of the drugs. His gaze was sharper, his movements more coordinated. Lewis nodded, pleased by his progress, and handed him the tumbler of systemic purifier he'd put together. Tom looked at the murky liquid and sniffed it suspiciously, lifting his eyebrows.

"Does this taste as bad as it smells?"

"Probably. Drink it anyway. You need it."

Tom looked at the glass for a long moment, and sighed. "Sloan showed me a movie once, about a woman named 'Poppins'. She gave rewards for taking unpleasant medication."

Lewis chuckled. "Sloan and Carlie apparently have very similar taste in films." He got up and went to the counter, picking up the bottle of ginger-echinacea lemonade. "Here, you can have this when you finish that."

Tom grinned. "I never thought you'd resort to bribery."

"It's not bribery, it's manipulation," Lewis said in mock-offense.

"Of course," Tom said drily, lifting the glass. He took a deep breath, and started drinking. After three big gulps he paused, gagged audibly, and shot Lewis a filthy look.

"There's dirt in this!" he accused, scraping his tongue against his teeth like a cat eating peanut butter.

"Not dirt," Lewis explained. "Activated charcoal. It will help your system filter out all the remaining contaminants."

"Have you ever tasted this stuff?"

Lewis nodded. "Actually, yes. Several times. I've found this combination of ingredients effective at speeding recovery. It's unpleasant, but drinkable."

Lewis had gambled that Tom wouldn't be able to resist the unspoken challenge, and he was right. Tom drained the glass, then grabbed the lemonade out of Lewis' hands and chased the purifier with the more palatable liquid. Finally he put down the bottle and sighed.

"I suppose you expect me to thank you?" his former student said, sounding anything but grateful.

"Not yet. Perhaps after you feel the effects." Lewis studied Tom closely, and listened for Sloan. He could hear the shower running upstairs, knew they had a reasonable length of time in which to talk without Sloan's presence. He asked his question. "You lied about something out there. Why? What didn't you want her to hear?"

Tom stiffened and for a moment Lewis thought he would refuse to answer, but finally he answered the question with a question.

"How did you do that, earlier? How did I feel you when I can't feel anyone else?"

Lewis went still. He had thought that perhaps Tom had been too drugged to realize what he'd done, but apparently not. He studied the younger man for a long moment, then shrugged with studied nonchalance.

"It's an ability I have, a mutation of a mutation, if you will. I can force rapport on someone else, if they're sensitive to begin with. It's not a particularly useful ability and I rarely utilize it, but it seemed the most effective way to convince you at the time."

Tom stared at him, his gaze unreadable. "Can you control what I feel? Tell me anything you want?"

Lewis shook his head, for some reason compelled to be honest. "No, I can only give what I feel, and feel what the other feels. It's not controllable, which is why I rarely use it. In general I prefer that others not know what I'm thinking, or feeling. Frankly, I've found only one situation in which it's even comfortable to use." Thinking of that circumstance brought Carlie to mind, and Lewis wished he were home. If he'd thought Tom could have waited another ten hours, he'd have far preferred to drive straight through. Ultimately he hadn't been able to justify the possibility of causing permanent damage to Tom by indulging his own desire to be home sooner.

Tom sat up straighter. "I felt something, just now."

Lewis lifted his eyebrows. "It's probably the purifier."

"I meant an emotion," Tom clarified seriously, though Lewis sensed amusement beneath the surface. "It was just a flicker. Hard to identify, but it seemed like desire, or need."

Lewis kept his face impassive, and glanced up at the ceiling. "Dr. Parker has a very noisy mind."

Tom stared at him, then slowly smiled. "She does, but it wasn't her I felt."

Lewis looked back at him evenly. "Perhaps an animal outside."

"An animal? Genus Homo, species Dominant, perhaps? Lewis, admit it. I felt you. I recognize the way you feel, especially after this morning. I can tell when it's you."

Lewis sighed. There was no point in arguing, the other man was right. He nodded. "Yes, it was me. I want to be home, that's all."

Tom grinned, pleased to have won the round, then just as suddenly, he sobered. "I always wondered what it would be like to be inside you."

Lewis stared at a spot in the pine paneling that walled the kitchen, noting absently that the pattern of one particular knot formed a kind of wizened face with a hooked nose. "Now you know."

"Yes, in one way."

There was only one way to interpret that comment. Lewis deliberately caught the feelings that it brought to the surface and shoved them down deep once more as he shifted his gaze back to Tom, sharply, his gaze narrowed. "The only way you ever will," he said quietly.

Tom nodded. "Yes, I assumed that. You would never make yourself vulnerable to someone that way."

Though his impulse was to stand and pace, Lewis controlled it and deliberately slouched in his seat, pretending ease. "Excellent analysis, Tom. You were always one of my best students."

Tom apparently sensed an opening, and went for it. "Why does vulnerability frighten you?"

Lewis fought his fear down again, and deliberately reversed the question. "Doesn't it frighten you?"

The other man nodded. "Yes, but not the way it does you. Sometimes there's pleasure in it. You taught me that, so at some point you must have known it yourself. You just don't want to acknowledge it."

Unable to stay seated any longer, Lewis rose smoothly and went to the refrigerator, taking out the food Sloan had brought. It gave him an excuse to move that wasn't an admission of unease. He put the food on the counter and closed the refrigerator door, then turned to find that Tom had followed him. The younger man leaned forward, putting his hands against the refrigerator door on either side of him, caging him. Lewis knew he could move the other man easily, especially in his weakened condition, but he didn't want to hurt him. Couldn't hurt him.

"Tom, move." He made the words an order without raising his voice.

Tom shook his head. "No. I need to know why I was important enough that you risked your anonymity to help Sloan free me."

Lewis stared back at him. Tom was so close, so fierce, his emotions a mesmerizing tangle of intensity. He found himself smiling, remembering how that intensity had tasted. "Isn't that obvious, Tom?"

"With anyone else it might be, but not with you. Say it. Tell me. For once in your life, let yourself be vulnerable, it won't kill you."

Lewis shuddered and shook his head. "It might. I learned that lesson well, though I never taught it to anyone else quite the way it was taught to me."

Tom looked at him curiously, obviously waiting for him to continue. Lewis realized that his own subconscious had just neatly set a trap for him. He could refuse to continue and prolong the ordeal, or he could tell Tom the truth, which was a different ordeal in itself. He weighed the options, and realized that he owed Tom the truth. Perhaps in a way, speaking of it would free him from it.

"Do you know who trained me?" he asked Tom.

Tom looked puzzled. "Marguerida, but what has that got to do with anything?"

"Marga was my second trainer. Who was my first?"

"I didn't know there was anyone else. Who?"

"Adam."

Recognition lit Tom's pale gaze. Lewis had known it would. Adam was legendary, even to those who had never experienced him first-hand. Had humans known of him, his name would have been ranked in the august company of Torquemada, De Sade, and Mengele.

"Adam." Tom said softly. "I've heard of him. I didn't know he was a your trainer."

"Few do. He was my trainer, from when I was very young, and I loved him unconditionally, I would have done anything for him. However as I grew older and began to think more independently, we occasionally disagreed as to. . . methodology. He didn't appreciate my questioning his techniques. I made the mistake of challenging him publicly over the necessity of an action. He didn't react then. He waited, and planned, and began to draw me in, favoring me, teaching me the pleasure of vulnerability, as you put it, until he was certain that I trusted him completely," Lewis paused, and looked at Tom, waiting to see if he understood.

"He betrayed that trust." Tom said, proving that he did.

Lewis nodded. "I should have died. I probably would have, but that was when I discovered my unique gift did have one useful facet. I forced him to feel what he was doing to me, from the inside. I made him the victim instead of the aggressor."

"What happened then?"

"I don't remember very much. He left me alive, and sent Marga to find me."

"And Adam?"

"I don't know. I never saw him again. I later learned that no one has. After he left me, he disappeared. I don't even know if he's still alive."

Tom absorbed that and was quiet for a little while, then he looked up again. "It's the same, isn't it? You disagreed with Adam and I disagreed with you. Adam made you trust him and you made me trust you."

Lewis nodded. "As the saying goes, 'history repeats itself.' However, I learned from my history, and I chose not to repeat it. That's why I helped you."

"But it's not the same. Adam betrayed you, and you think I betrayed you. In both cases, you were the victim."

Lewis shook his head. "From one perspective, yes, but if you look at the situation through Adam's eyes, I betrayed his trust by disagreeing with him, which is exactly what you did with me. Once more, the same."

Tom pushed away, freeing him finally, and leaned against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "But that means he trusted you first. He must have, if you felt safe enough with him to disagree with him."

Lewis nodded. "Yes, certainly. I loved him, but he also loved me, as much as he was capable of. I can see that now. He gave me his trust first, which in his mind made my 'betrayal' that much worse."

Tom met his eyes challengingly. "And my betrayal of you?"

Lewis considered his words carefully, trying to find the line between not-enough and too-much. "I understand it. You had to challenge me for the same reasons I had to challenge Adam. If things had continued as they were, you would no longer be an individual, you would be an echo of me. In order to continue your growth, you had no choice but to make that separation."

"You make me sound like a rebellious teenager," Tom said wryly.

Lewis chuckled. "There is a similarity, though the consequences are rather more far-reaching. Rebellion is natural as a child matures, and given the way we were raised, this was the only rebellion possible for us."

"True." Tom studied his face carefully. "It's strange, this trust thing. You gave me that, too. I felt safe with you. I knew you wouldn't harm me, just as you knew you were safe with me. You even said as much. I stood there with a gun in your face and you told me I couldn't hurt you, and you were right. Do you have any idea how angry that made me?"

"I think I have some idea," Lewis said drily, remembering. "But I was wrong. You could hurt me. You already had, and you continued to do so. At first I wanted to hurt you back. For a long time I wanted that. It wasn't until Sloan came to me that I realized you were as trapped by the pattern as I was. The only way through it was to break it."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Outside the pattern, and aware of it. From here, I believe we're both intelligent enough to avoid falling into it again. We can break this chain."

Tom nodded, quiet for a moment, and Lewis waited, sensing there was more to come. Finally Tom looked up.

"There's one more thing, something I have to know."

Lewis knew what it was. It was obvious. It was the natural question for him. He relieved Tom of having to ask it. "Yes. The nature of it may have changed, you have someone in your life now, so do I, but that doesn't change the basic fact." Lewis hesitated for the first time, it was very difficult to say what he felt, so he modified it. "You are important to me."

It was enough. He felt the flare of pleasure and satisfaction from his former student. It wouldn't have been enough for Carlie, she had more human needs, but for someone else who had been raised as he had, it was enough. He didn't have to ask the same question of Tom. He could feel the answer.

Tom turned and started unwrapping the cellophane from one of the rolls of sushi Sloan had bought. "Hungry?"

Lewis nodded, recognizing the end of the conversation, relieved that it was over, and with such relative ease. He opened a cabinet, got out some plates and set them on the counter.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask, you know," Tom said casually.

Lewis turned, surprised. "What?"

"A minute ago. I would have asked that, eventually, but I hadn't quite gotten to that one yet. I had something else in mind."

"And that was?" Lewis' curiosity was definitely provoked. He rarely misread anyone he knew as intimately as he knew Tom.

Tom grinned. "I was going to ask about that time at the training house, when it was just you and me. Was that training, or something else?"

It took Lewis a few seconds to make the necessary connections, then he remembered, and started to grin. "You've been wondering that all this time?"

Tom nodded. Lewis chuckled. "I imagine that must be really irritating, not knowing."

"I think that sums it up pretty well," Tom agreed. "So, what's the answer?"

Lewis started to portion out the food, ignoring the question. As Tom realized he wasn't going to reply, Lewis sensed both amusement and irritation rising in him. Lewis waited until the irritation outweighed the amusement, and then moved, pinning Tom against the counter. He enjoyed the flash of surprise in the younger mans' eyes as he held him still with a hand behind his head, and brushed his mouth across Tom's, lightly at first, then more firmly as he responded.

The emotional response was as good as the physical, the startled pleasure, the acceptance, the quick flare of need. The kiss deepened mutually into a slick slow stroke of tongues that was difficult to draw back from, but finally he did, suppressing a sigh. It had gone as far as it could go.

Tom stared at him, and licked his lips. "I guess that answers that question," he said huskily. "It's a good thing Sloan takes long showers. I don't think she would understand."

Lewis drew back, grinning. "Sloan has been standing in the hallway eavesdropping for the last ten minutes."

A startled squeak from the hallway confirmed his words, and Tom's eyes got wide. He started to go to Sloan, but Lewis caught him by the wrist and held him, then looked at the door.

"Come in, Dr. Parker."

Sloan sidled in, her face a shade of fuschia that contrasted strongly with her pale blue shirt. She wouldn't meet his eyes, or Tom's. Lewis held out a hand to her, and she shot him a suspicious look, but put her hand in his. "Tom, in this, I think you've underestimated her." He transferred her hand to Tom's care and spoke quietly. "You do understand, don't you?"

Sloan nodded. "Yes. I think I do." She looked at Tom, her eyes searching his. "I'm not bothered, really."

Lewis chuckled at the blatant lie, knowing she was very bothered, but not quite in the way Tom might have assumed. Sloan's color rose again, but this time she glared at him.

"You just shut up. I've had enough of your double-entendres!"

That made him laugh outright. "Stay, you both need to eat, I'm going out."

After Lewis left, Sloan looked at Tom, feeling the need to explain. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I was going to come in, then I realized that you guys were talking. I decided I shouldn't interrupt, and I was just going to wait until you were done, but I couldn't help but hear some of it. I really didn't do it on purpose."

Tom chuckled, and moved to kiss her. She hesitated for a split second, and Tom frowned.

"It does bother you," he said, disappointed.

She shook her head firmly. "No, it doesn't." She took his face between her palms and kissed him softly, despite knowing that Lewis' mouth had just been there. Tom responded, tasting her, teasing her, and when she finally drew back, her breathing was fast, and a tight ache spread below her navel. "It doesn't bother me at all," she reassured him huskily.

He stared into her eyes, and finally nodded. "Good, because it shouldn't."

She smiled, pleased that he had taken the trouble to reassure her. She noticed the plates, and nodded toward them. "Lewis said you should eat."

"No, he said we should eat," Tom corrected her, looking at the assortment of food on the plates. "No meat," he commented with a slightly disgruntled expression.

"Lewis said just vegetables tonight. He didn't say why."

Tom nodded. "He never does. It's very annoying."

"He has a lot of very annoying traits. Thank goodness you only have about half as many."

Tom started to protest that, but she laughed and put her fingers against his mouth to stop him. "Don't bother to deny it, you know it's true. Fortunately you make up for it in other areas."

He subsided grudgingly at that, and picked up their plates, heading for the table. Sloan followed and sat next to him, eating a few pieces of the sushi herself, and sneaking the rest of her share onto his plate when she saw he was wolfing down the food as if he hadn't eaten in a week. Maybe he hadn't. She felt a pang of distress at that thought, and he looked up, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really," she started to say, then she stopped and stared. "You felt me?"

He considered that, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Yes. I did. It's coming back."

A surge of relief went through her. "Thank god! I was worried that it was something Ed's serum had done to you."

Tom shook his head. "No, the gene-therapy serum didn't seem to affect my empathic abilities at all, even before I reverted."

Sloan considered that thoughtfully. "Interesting. That seems to indicate that the ability isn't genetically linked to being a Dominant. Does that mean some humans have it as well?"

"I've always thought you were remarkably empathic, for a human," Tom said softly.

Sloan blushed, somehow more pleased by that statement than she would have been by a more ordinary compliment. Maybe it was because it gave them something in common. Tom finished the last of his meal, and reached across to take her hand.

"Let's go to bed," he said, his voice low and intimate.

She studied him for a moment, trying to determine his mood. In the sauna he hadn't responded sexually to her tentative caress. At the time she'd put it down to exhaustion, but the smoky warmth in his eyes now told her that might not be the case any longer. The nasty gunk Lewis had mixed up for him, combined with food, seemed to have made a huge difference. Sloan was certainly willing; and after all, Lewis had said Tom needed to be 'immersed in sensation.' She stood up, and led him upstairs to the room she'd claimed for them.

Tom dropped the robe and slid into bed with a sigh of pleasure. Sloan unzipped her jeans, stepped out of them, and placed them on a chair. She glanced at Tom and saw he was watching her through half-closed eyes. She turned away with a smile, and removed the rest of her clothing a little more slowly, teasing him a little just to see how he would react. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse, taking it off, draping it over her jeans. Her bra came next, joining the shirt. Finally she hooked her thumbs into her panties and started to slide them down, then stopped, and left them on.

"Sloan," Tom said warningly, the way he usually did when she was about to do something dangerous.

She laughed and skinned out of her underwear, then moved over to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. "I was just trying to take it easy on you. You're not recovered yet."

He reached for her and pulled her down across him. "I'm tired, not dead," he told her succinctly, then found her mouth with his.

It seemed like forever since she'd been close to him like this, and the suggestive glide of his tongue in her mouth made her shiver with need. She shifted position so she was straddling him. There was no doubt about his response now, she could feel the hard length of him against her belly where they were pressed together. Sloan arched against him, sighing into his mouth, and his hands came up to her hips, caressing, cupping her buttocks, then straying lower.

She went still as his fingertips grazed the soft, damp folds between her thighs, parting her, stroking lightly. She lifted her mouth from his and dropped it to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe before stopping to whisper her request for a more intimate touch.

She felt him smile at that, and he gave her what she'd asked for, a finger circling the entrance to her body, then pushing up into her. Her hips bucked harder against him, her body working to find release as her need built higher. Tom turned his head and caught her mouth again, kissing her slowly, languidly, in delicious contrast to the rhythm he was building between her thighs.

A tiny quake shook her, and she realized with a shock that she was much closer to finding release than she'd thought possible so quickly. She got her knees under her and lifted herself over him, feeling his hands shift to her hips as she reached between them to hold him while she sank down and took him inside.

She moaned and shuddered as he filled her, over the edge instantly, her body pulsing in long, aching waves of pleasure. He gasped her name, his hands tightening on her hips, holding her hard against him as he pushed upward. After a long, long moment, he slowly relaxed back with a sigh. She slid down against his chest, nestling her nose into the curve of his neck and shoulder. He lifted his hand to stroke her hair.

"I guess I'm more dead than I thought," he said after a little while, his voice rueful.

She lifted her head and shook her finger at him. "Don't you dare apologize. I loved that!"

He looked puzzled. "You did? Why?"

She grinned, and leaned down to kiss him. "Because, silly, you weren't in control for once. That makes me all mushy inside."

He stared at her, if anything, more mystified than before. "Mushy?" he asked.

She sighed. "You wouldn't understand. Just believe me, I liked it."

He looked up at her, and the bewilderment faded and he smiled. "I do believe you. I can feel it, just a little." He reached up to stroke her face with gentle fingers. "I missed sleeping with you. I missed having you curled up against me, what did you call it . . .?"

Sloan smiled, feeling a surge of tenderness. "Spooning, because we fit together like two spoons. Yes, me too." She reached over to the night stand and clicked off the light, then nestled back against him as he turned onto his side. It was good to have him back.

Carlie put down her book and glanced at her watch. It was just after eleven, which meant Llyn would probably be home fairly soon. She was feeling as impatient as he had obviously been when he'd called that morning to tell her they were about to head out. He'd sounded extremely frustrated by the late start they were getting, making surly comments about Sloan and Tom's 'reunion.' She smiled, wondering how those two would appreciate becoming designated babysitters while she and Llyn indulged in their own reunion. Of course, since the little ones were fast asleep, there wouldn't really be any need for babysitting duties until morning.

Still, it was good to know things had gone well, and that Tom was safe. She'd read about the press conference on the Web, and figured Llyn must have had something to do with it, though she hadn't exactly figured out what. The Coexistence faction was being credited with the woman's rescue, which would be a huge step forward for them. She wondered briefly how the woman had gotten kidnapped to begin with. She had a feeling that Llyn, no, Lewis, might have been involved . . . but she really didn't want to think about that.

The wind rustled the trees outside the window, and the sound made her nervous. She sensed nothing though, not even the stray cat she'd taken to feeding, or the local racoon family. Funny how being alone in a big house could make you jumpy. For a moment she wished she hadn't sent Paul and Daniel away, telling them Lewis would be home 'soon'. It hadn't really been a fib, just a slight exaggeration. Eleven hours had been soon, in relative terms, and she'd been tired of feeling like a prisoner in her own home. She settled back down with her book and started reading again, stifling a yawn. There was no way she was going to let herself fall asleep before Llyn got home.

A car drove slowly by on the road outside, pausing for a moment in front of the house. Carlie almost got to her feet, thinking it might be Llyn, Sloan, and Tom, but she didn't feel any familiar presences, and the car moved on. She sighed in disappointment. She should have known it wasn't them. They'd have had to be breaking land speed records to have made it home this fast, and Llyn never broke the speed limit. He said it attracted too much attention. She tried to concentrate on her book, but the letters blurred. The fact that it was a dry-as-dust textbook didn't help any. She yawned again, and closed the book, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, just planning to close her eyes for a little while.

Carlie woke with a start, her empathic sense warning her that there were strangers near the house. She looked at her watch automatically, and frowned. It was pretty weird for anyone to be calling at midnight. For a moment the only thing she could think was that Llyn might have had an accident and the cops had come to notify her, then she got ahold of herself and reached out empathically. Even after all these months, she rarely thought to use that ability right off the bat.

A quick scan told her it was definitely not cops, or at least she was pretty sure they weren't. She sensed three human males, all radiating strong excitement and nervousness overlaid with the hazy pall that came with drunkenness. Great. Drunks on the loose. She was no fool, she knew how nasty drunks could get. Just because she lived in a nice house in a quiet town now didn't mean that she should pretend it was Disneyland. Again she regretted convincing Paul and Daniel they could leave. Though she wasn't really afraid, having them around would be handy.

She waited, wondering if the men would leave, hoping they would. After a little while she felt their excitement increasing, and felt them coming nearer. That did it. She reached for the phone to call Llyn for advice. Before she'd met him she would automatically have called the cops and let them take care of things, but Llyn wasn't very fond of the police. The connection went through and she keyed her number into the pager system. Just as she finished, the line went dead. She stared at the phone, then slowly put it down. Not good. Very not good.

Carlie reached out and could feel that the two men had gone around to the back of the house. That didn't surprise her, since that was where the phone-lines connected. Suddenly the lights went off as well. She still didn't feel too frightened. The guys were pretty drunk, and probably wouldn't be able to get into the house since the doors were locked, and the windows didn't lend themselves to smashing, as she'd discovered firsthand.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized that not only was the den window open, but several others were as well. While bulletproof glass might have kept them out, ordinary screens would present no barrier at all, and she didn't have time to run around and close them all, not with them this close. All she could think about for a moment was that Llyn would chew her out royally, not only for letting Paul and Daniel leave, but for leaving the house open.

She got to her feet, knowing she couldn't wait for Llyn to figure out the land line was dead and try her on the cell, and she didn't like the odds at all. She might be stronger and smarter, but she also had the babies to worry about. She was taking no chances where they were concerned. Picking up the cellular phone just in case Llyn called, Carlie walked grimly toward Llyn's office where he kept the weaponry locked away. Though she hoped it wouldn't come to it, if she had to shoot one or more of them, she would. It would be a clear cut case of self-defense.

Going to the weapons safe, Carlie turned the dial on the lock, glad that Llyn had used such an antiquated lock system. An electronic lock wouldn't have worked with the power off. Of course, he had anticipated that. She hesitated for a moment over which weapon to choose. Llyn had given her instruction on several different models, and thanks to her superior sight and reflexes, she'd gotten very good. However, she was well aware that there was a huge difference between a paper target and a living being. The .22 might not stop them. The .45 probably would, but she had to be sure. Quietly she picked up the 9mm. automatic, grabbed a clip off the top shelf, loaded it, then released the safety.

That done, she realized there was one other thing she had to do. It was the only way she could think of to ensure her children's safety, if anything happened to her. She turned on her cellular phone and dialed the sheriff's's department. The dispatcher answered, and Carlie quickly gave her address and outlined the problem. The woman told her to leave the connection open, assuring her that help was on the way. Carlie complied, putting the phone in her pocket so both of her hands were free.

Tilting her head toward the door, she 'listened' for a moment. She could faintly hear the men's voices as they whispered outside the den. Damn. They'd found the open window. She picked up a second clip for the gun in the other, then closed and locked the safe. There was no point in arming the intruders too, if they managed to get this far. A loud noise from the den as they ripped the screen sent her out the door and sprinting for the back stairs, but she stopped halfway up.

Though her instinct was to stay close to her children, It would put them at higher risk. She was sure she could handle the intruders, but better safe than sorry. Adrenalin surged through her as she frantically launched a thought at Luke, hoping he could understand her. She'd been working to get him to stop 'hiding' and now she was trying like hell to get him to not only reverse that, but to include his sisters in the game too.

//DANGER-QUIET-HIDE, LUKE! YOU, ARIAN, SORCHA, HIDE!//

She sensed a response, it seemed positive, but it was impossible to tell. She prayed he'd understood. Asking a toddler, even one as bright as Luke, to do something like that was nearly hopeless. She would just have to keep the intruders away from the second floor. Quietly she eased back down the stairs and over toward the door to the pool. It was dark there, and the stairs afforded some cover.

The intruders weren't even trying to be quiet now, talking loudly as they pawed through things in the den, discussing the value of the furnishings, the television, the stereo, and the art. The police had supposedly caught the theives behind the rash of burglaries that had plagued Timber Lakes lately, but either they had the wrong people, or this bunch was taking them for role models. Random splashes of light indicated that one of them had a flashlight, and a loud crash told her they'd broken something, probably the raku vase she'd bought at a local art-fair. They laughed uproariously at that, which made her angry. It hadn't been worth much, but she'd liked it. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Llyn had always told her that emotions clouded judgement, and made one make irresponsible decisions.

From their comments, apparently the intruders figured that the house would yeild rich pickings. It was clear that their visit tonight wasn't random. They'd come here deliberately, maybe even been watching the house. She remembered the car which had driven by earlier, how it had slowed, then gone on. Had that been them, checking to see if anyone was home? Her bodyguards' distinctive black jeep had sat outside the house for days, but with that gone, it probably looked as if no one was home. They might have assumed the lights were on a timer and didn't realize the house was occupied.

She kept her silence. If all they did was go through the ground floor rooms, she would let them. Posessions were replaceable, and not worth defending, but if they started to go upstairs, that would pose a threat to her children, and that she would not allow. She knew she was capable of causing harm. She'd done it before, though it had been a long time ago, she'd been only seventeen. One of the rich white boys from her school had asked her out, and she'd been delirious with delight, thinking she'd finally broken the popularity barrier. He'd taken her to a movie, and afterward he'd tried to get her to put out, saying she 'owed' him for the movie.

When she refused, he'd tried to force her. Though she hadn't understood it at the time, her Dominant's strength had saved her from being raped. Carlie had learned for the first time the full extent of her strength and the rage that could fuel it. To explain his injuries later, the boy had told everyone he'd been mugged by three guys. She'd let him get away with the lie, knowing no one would have believed her in any case. But she knew the truth, and it had been a private pleasure to see his scarred face and know she'd done that. She'd do the same or worse to these, if they posed a threat to her babies.

Lewis felt his pager go off and instinctively tensed before remembering that it wasn't going to be an incoming assignment. He unclipped the pager from his belt, checked the number, and smiled in recognition. It was Carlie. She probably wanted to know when he was going to be home. It was nice to know that she was feeling as impatient as he was. He never would have thought that a few days separation would be so difficult. He steered the car to a halt on the shoulder of the highway and got out his cell-phone. From the back seat he heard a soft murmur from Sloan as Tom leaned toward Lewis, disturbing her sleep.

"Why are we stopping?" Tom asked quietly.

Lewis shook his head. "Carlie paged me. She probably just wants to know our arrival time."

Tom nodded and sat back, resettling Sloan against his shoulder. Lewis dialed and waited as the connection went through and the phone began to ring. And ring. And ring. Odd. Carlie should be picking up the phone, after all, she'd paged him. He hung up and tried again, with the same results. Maybe there was something wrong with the phone at the house. Curious, he dialed his own fax number, with the same results. Just a continual ringing. He hung up again, frowning. His fax machine should have picked up and tried to receive. Something was definitely wrong with the phones. Maybe she'd forgotten and put in the land-line number instead of the cell-phone number when she called. After all, it was late, she was probably tired.

He tried her cellular, and got the 'not answering at this time' message. His frown deepened to a scowl. Why would Carlie have asked him to contact her, and then not be available? He couldn't think of any reason that didn't involve some sort of trouble. His pulse rate picked up despite his resolve to remain calm. Perhaps one of the children was hurt, and they were on the way to the hospital? No, that wouldn't affect the phones. Maybe there was a fire? If so, then Paul and Daniel would know. He hit the autodial he'd programmed for Daniel's cellular and waited impatiently while it rang. It took four rings before it was answered, and he could hear the loud music and talking in the background, like a party, or a bar. It certainly didn't sound like anything that he should be hearing at his house.

"Daniel, what's going on at the house?" Lewis demanded succintly, not bothering with a greeting.

There was a long pause. Finally Daniel replied, uncertainly. "Sir? I'm not sure I heard you correctly, could you repeat that?"

"You heard me. Carlie paged me and now the phones are out and she's not answering the cell. What's going on?"

There was another long pause.

"We're, ah, not at the house, sir. Carlie told us you called, said we could go. I'm sorry sir, we didn't realize she . . ." As if knowing that Lewis didn't want to hear excuses, Daniel left his sentence unfinished.

The fingers of Lewis' unoccupied hand curved over the the steering wheel, clenching tightly, wishing it were Daniel or Paul's neck, not hard plastic. How could they have been so stupid? Why had they let Carlie tell them to go? They were better trained than that, they should never have taken instructions from anyone but him. Now Carlie and his children were alone and unprotected, possibly in danger! He battled a flood of nearly overwhelming emotions. Fear, anger, frustration, helplessness. The last was the worst. Though he was fairly close to home, there was no way he could get there immediately, which was what he wanted.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he jumped, shocked, having forgotten he wasn't alone in the car. He turned to see Tom staring at him in concern. Forcing himself to let go of the wheel, Lewis took a deep breath and calmed himself enough to reply to Daniel.

"Where are you now and how fast can you get to the house?"

"I'm in Bellvue, sir, about two hours away."

Lewis clenched his teeth around the need to scream his rage aloud, and hit the power key, ending the call.

"I overheard what you said. Carlie's in trouble?" Tom asked, low-voiced, concerned.

"I don't know," Lewis snapped back, angry, though not at Tom. He knew Tom would know that. "All I know is that the men I left to guard her aren't there, and I can't reach her, and I'm at least half an hour away."

Tom considered that for a moment, then he nodded toward the phone. "Call the police."

Lewis stared, shocked silent for a moment, then he recovered enough to speak. "What?"

"Call your local law enforcement, ask them to go check out your house."

"They're human, what could they do?" What had gotten into Tom? Why was he making such ridiculous suggestions?

Tom looked at him with a faintly ironic expression, and Lewis got the strangest feeling that his former student was amused.

"If nothing else, they can get in the way. Humans have their uses. Call the police. If something really is wrong, that's the fastest way to make sure Carlie gets help and if nothing's wrong, there's no harm done."

"I can't afford to arouse police interest, Tom."

Tom sighed. "Lewis, no one in Timber Lake knows you from Adam and no one who could be a threat to you is likely to be looking for you outside of a seance. To them you're just someone who's worried about his wife, someone they're supposed to serve and protect. Your mate needs help, get it for her. Don't let your prejudices or your paranoia put her at risk."

Lewis stared at him, seething. Humans? To have to rely on humans to protect Carlie was unthinkable, insane, and-- the only logical answer. It rankled. It infurated. It maddened. He turned the phone on and dialed information. Since they lived outside of the city limits, he'd have to call the sheriff's department. He'd made donations to them, just to make sure he stayed on their good side, they should be willing to go check out the house and make sure Carlie and the babies were all right.

Carlie heard the hoodlums move out of the den and toward the front of the house. They poked around in Llyn's office and found the safe, but thankfully were frustrated by its lock. While they were occupied, Carlie moved into the den, figuring they wouldn't look for her where they'd already been. They exclaimed excitedly over Llyn's computer, apparently computer-literate enough to know state-of-the-art when they saw it, but that didn't distract them long. They started looking for more stuff, methodically checking the hall closet, kitchen and pantry. From their conversation she gathered that some people hid valuables in such inoccuous locations. While they were in the kitchen, she moved to Llyn's office, so she could be closer and hear them better.

Thankfully, the babies hadn't made a sound upstairs. Even if Luke hadn't understood her command, all three of them had instinctively quieted in the face of a threat, so they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. She silently blessed those inhuman instincts, knowing they would help keep all three safe. The intruders left the kitchen, frustrated at not finding anything interesting. Carlie heard them move toward the staircase, talking about searching the bedrooms for jewelry or other expensive items, and knew she had to act.

Leaving the shelter of Llyn's office, Carlie moved toward the foyer, suddenly thankful for what she'd always thought of as Llyn's excessively paranoid nature. The battery-powered infrared light which had come on when the power was cut didn't help her visitors see any better, but it certainly helped her, rendering the foyer almost daylight-bright to her eyes. As the first goon set foot on the stairs, she shifted into a firing stance and lifted the gun, sighting carefully.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot," she announced in a calm and authoritative voice.

Instantly their attention, and the bright beam of a flashlight was focused on her. Her stance didn't waver at all. All three appeared to be in their late twenties, all three big men, muscular and tall. Two had dark hair, one was blond.

"Shit, she's got a gun!" The smaller of the dark-haired men yelped.

"So what?" Blondie sneered. "I bet it isn't even loaded. Besides, she can't see if I do this. . . " He shifted the flashlight upward so it shone directly in her eyes.

Her eyes adjusted instantly to the new light source and she moved the gun a hair to the left. "It's loaded. Want a demonstration?" Carlie asked reasonably.

"Fuck that!" The blond said. "Get her!" His voice was surprisingly commanding.

The taller dark-haired one moved toward her menacingly. She fired two rounds, feeling the gun buck in her hand, hearing the sound of it echo painfully in her unprotected ears. Her would-be attacker fell, blood welling from his still form to pool darkly on the floor.

The blond screamed something incoherent, and lifted his arm. The light pinwheeled wildly, then the heavy steel-cased flashlight hit her on the point of her the shoulder, turning her fingers nerveless. As the gun fell, suddenly the men were on her, knocking her to the floor. She fell hard and felt one of them come down on top of her torso, his body slamming into hers with bruising force. The other one lunged across her legs.

Carlie lashed out and felt a satisfying impact as her fist connected with someone's face. One man yelped, blood streaming from his nose. She tried to twist away, and he yanked her back by the shoulder of her dress, so hard that it ripped in his hand. She felt the cold metal of her weapon against her leg and kicked it away before one of them noticed it. She had no intention of getting shot with her own gun. She managed to hit the blond man again, then he lashed out at her, hitting her in the stomach with both fists, driving the air from her lungs in a painful rush.

Before she could breathe again the blond planted his butt on her midriff and pushed down with his full weight. Carlie struggled, trying to breathe, but over two-hundred pounds of pressure was too much to move with just her diaphragm. She couldn't get any air, and her vision filled with a black-bordered red haze. The blackness tunneled inward, reducing her world to a narrow view of angry, hate-filled face, then darkness began to overwhelm even that. Her arms fell limply to the ground, devoid of strength.

The blond man shifted his weight, grabbing her arms. With his change of position she could breathe again. She panted, dragging air into her lungs. The smaller man was sitting on her ankles keeping her legs still. Despite that, she bucked, almost throwing both of them off. The blond pinned her shoulders down with his hands, leaning over to put his face in hers.

"Stop it, bitch, or I'll have my friend go find your kids," he snarled.

Carlie subsided instantly. He'd found the one threat that was guaranteed to work. He grunted his satisfaction at her response, and turned his head toward his friend.

"Find the damned gun, it has to be here somewhere!" Blondie said to the other toughs.

"It would help if I could see!" A voice complained from the darkness. "Who's idea was it to cut all the lights, anyway?"

"Just shut up about that. How's Goose?"

"I don't know, he's not moving. I think he's dead, man!"

'Goose' must be the one she'd shot. There was no sound from him, and she could sense only two living human presences. She felt a fierce satisfaction in that, and to her own surprise, no regret.

"Fuck. Haven't you found that damned gun yet?"

"No, I don't know where it went!" The second man sounded scared. "Let's just get out of here, Eric! This was supposed to be easy! Now Goose's dead, and she broke my nose. This is fucked. Burglary's one thing, but this . . . No way man."

"All right, all right. Go back and get the computer, and the art. I'll watch her."

As the other man moved away, Carlie took a quick inventory of herself, and knew she was basically intact, if a little bruised. The hard shape of the ammunition clip was still in her pocket, painfully digging into her hip where her dress was caught beneath her. She couldn't feel the cell-phone anywhere, it must have fallen out of her pocket. She hoped it was still on, hoped there was help on the way. She tensed, ready to fight again. She was sure she could take Eric, he was big, but she had the advantage of her Dominant's strength. Eric must have felt her shifting because shook his finger at her.

"Ah-ah-ah. Cooperate and we leave the kids alone. Make it hard and we'll go find them."

Carlie sagged back to the floor and tried to sense the babies, wondering if Luke had done as she'd asked. They were scared, feeling her emotions, and those of the intruders as well. With a shock she realized that if the one thug was dead, they had felt him die. She felt tears well up and slide down her temples into her hair. Babies shouldn't have to know about death.

The blond, Eric, laughed, misinterpreting her tears. "That's better. 'Bout time you figured out who's in charge here. Now, what else have you got here that's worth something?"

Carlie tried to think of something that would satisfy them, but there wasn't much. Neither she nor Lewis were much into 'things,' and what they did have was not especially portable or saleable. Eric was apparently irritated by the slowness of her response because he slapped her, hard. She tasted blood.

"Did you forget your kids are at stake here, moron?" Eric growled. "Tell me what you've got. In a place like this, there's gotta be something. Where's your jewelry?"

"I don't have much, not that's worth anything. Just this," she pulled off the diamond and gold wedding set that Llyn had given her and handed it to Eric. It meant nothing to her, it was just a human convention, she had no sentimental qualms about giving it up.

"Oh come on," Eric scoffed. "You guys have enough dough to pay for a place like this and you don't have any jewelry? Tell me another one. Chicks always like jewelry. Where it it, in your bedroom?"

"I don't have any, really," she said shakily. She had to make sure he stayed away from the second floor. What would he believe? A thought came to her and she went with it. "We spent most of our money on the house. We can't afford anything else, not with the babies."

He stared at her, grabbing her chin in ungentle fingers, staring into her eyes as if searching for the truth. She stared back, keeping still. As long as the second man was in the house she had to wait, that was the only way to protect the little ones. His expression began to change subtly, and she could feel his interest changing, feel the stirrings of a less larcenous sort that were building in him. He smiled, an ugly, obvious smile.

"Okay, say I believe you. You're broke. So, what else have you got to offer that'll make me happy?"

Oh god. She'd felt it coming, known what he would want next. For a moment Carlie actually considered offering herself, she could bear it for the sake of her babies, though she wanted to fight, to rage, to rend her attacker into bloody shreds. Even as she thought it, her resolve strengthened. No. She wouldn't do this. She would find a way out . She concentrated on his emotions, and felt the one that underlay the rest. Fear. Fear was the key, fear was his weakness.

"You shouldn't hang around here, you know. I called the police just before you broke in," she said calmly.

Eric sneered. "Oh yeah? How'd you manage that when we cut the phone lines?"

She smiled tightly. "I used the cellular."

He tensed instantly, fear becoming the strongest of his emotions by far. He lashed out, slapping her hard across the mouth again, and fresh blood welled across her tongue, tasting of iron and copper. She swallowed it, though she wanted to spit it in his face.

"You fuckin' bitch! You called the cops?"

From behind her, she could sense the other man's fear too, dominating him.

"The cops? Eric, we gotta get out of here!"

"Shut up, man! We got time, it'll take them awhile to get out here."

"It's been a while, Eric! Come on!"

She could tell that he was torn between continuing his game, and leaving. He wanted very much to hurt her, badly. To use her. Even as that image bloomed in her mind, Carlie suddenly sensed a familiar presence. Llyn! He was close, very close. She'd been so swamped by her own emotions and those of her attackers that she hadn't sensed him as he approached, but he was practically in the house. She couldn't believe she hadn't felt him earlier, his fury was like a living thing, seething and coiling like a dark cloud. Underlying that anger in equal measure were the fear, and pain, and love he felt for her. She took his emotions inside her and made them her strength.

Knowing that with Llyn home she didn't need to fear that the babies would be harmed, Carlie bucked beneath her attacker, wrenching herself away from him. He hadn't anticipated her sudden resistance. He went sprawling across her body as the front door burst open with a concussive slam that shook the foyer. In seconds Carlie was free of Eric's weight as Llyn picked him up and threw him across the room. Eric hit the wall and slid down it like a bag of wet sand, leaving a dent in the wallboard where he'd hit it.

The dark-haired man who had just walked out with his arms full of computer dropped the machine with a loud crash and and headed for the door at a dead run, only to encounter Tom there, his cold fury nearly as intense, if not as hot, as Llyn's. The man then turned and ran the other way, leaving behind his erstwhile leader. Tom took off down the hall after him. As Lewis advanced on Eric's limp figure, Sloan stepped into the house holding a gun in a way that suggested she didn't really know how to use it. She took one look at Carlie and gasped, running over to kneel beside her.

"Oh, god, Carlie-- are you okay? Did they . . . ?"

Carlie read the other woman' s instintive fear and shook her head as she got to her knees. "No. They didn't."

The distinctive sound of flesh impacting flesh caught her attention in the confusion, pulling her gaze back to Llyn, who had hauled Eric to his feet and was holding him there against the wall. Radiating murderous rage, he struck the semi-conscious man twice in the belly. Eric doubled over and threw up. At the very edge of her range, Carlie suddenly felt two new Humans approaching, and knew that the sheriff's officers she'd summoned were nearing the property. Her protective instincts flared. Their presence could be dangerous to Llyn right now, with him in this state. Though at this moment it didn't bother her a bit, she was aware that the law probably wouldn't condone him beating a practically unconscious man to death, self-defense or not. She got to her feet and went to him, a little unsteadily.

"Llyn?"

He turned instantly, his gaze sweeping down her, taking in her bruised mouth and torn dress. Rage flared in him anew, and he drew back a fist to hit Eric again. Carlie put her hand on his arm, summoning calm from someplace deep inside herself.

"No, Llyn. I'm fine. Please, the police are here now. I called them when I wasn't sure you could be here in time. Let them handle this."

His eyes held hers, blazing, electric-arc blue. For a moment she didn't think her words had registered, but then she sensed a minute lessening of his rage, a more coherent pattern to his thoughts. She moved closer, pressing herself against his back, putting her head against his shoulder.

"He doesn't matter, but you do. You're too important to me to risk your freedom over that." She nodded toward Eric.

Carlie felt Lewis' control reasserting itself as he responded to her nearness as well as her words. Finally he exhaled slowly, and deliberately released Eric, who slumped to the ground, motionless but alive. Lewis turned and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Carlie reveled in the discomfort, wanting him to hold her so, as if he were trying to pull her inside himself. She needed it. With the need for control suddenly gone, her unnatural calm deserted her, and the impact of the experience hit her full force. She started to sob, hiding her face against his shoulder, holding onto him as if he were the only stable thing in the world.