Castor and Pollux

by Amelia L. Rodgers
©2002 all rights reserved
E mail author
Not to be used without author's permission and not intended to infringe on UFO or CSI copyright.
Dedicated to Carl and Ray.
And a guy named Ed.

The first thing Ed was aware of was the unforgiving heat, the second thing was how oxygen seemed to be in short supply, judging from how hard to breathe it became. Abruptly he lost his balance, slid down the rock face, not understanding where he was or why he was there. Some unseen bird crooned at him from a hiding place as he lost his grip altogether, and cried out as his body hurtled through space. Ex-Air Force he might be, but he preferred to do his flying in planes, not out of them. Fortunately his fall was broken by vegetation.

He took a measured breath, checking that his extremities were not broken, that he could move, pushed his crown of silver hair back, and tried to get his bearings. It was then that he saw the cracked tail of an aircraft, possibly a Cessna. Yes, there was the last four letters remaining, h-a-w-k. Cessna Skyhawk. The cabin was badly burned, and he didn't think whoever was in the cockpit had a chance to still be breathing. Carefully, he made his way across to the fuselage, and saw a charred form that might once have been a man. If he hadn't long been hardened to the shock of mutilated bodies, he might have turned away, retching. However, his eyes had seen people in this state, and even far worse.

Something glittered on its half burnt-half skeletal wrist. A Vertex wristwatch dating back to WWII. . One that belonged to Alec Freeman. Only something beyond his ability to understand was sending him a beacon, and that beacon clearly telegraphed to him that Alec Freeman lived. Without the slightest hesitation he removed the watch from the corpse and clutched it in his hand.

He froze. Someone was moaning. Thankfully not the corpse, complaining of theft. He didn't need anything else but his own internal global positioning system to move away deftly, and follow the sound. It seemed like eternities stretched out on a string like pearls before he saw his goal, but he was a determined, if not patient man.

There the sole survivor was, leg badly twisted, almost completely hidden by the thicket, eyes rolled halfway back into his head. Alec Freeman. Perhaps his old friend, even in his pain, sensed Ed was nearby, because as Ed approached, his eyes opened and focused. Or more accurately, tried to. He was near death, the Australian was, and both men sensed it. In this situation, the alien bacteria in Alec seemed to be sleeping on the job, mused Ed.

"God damn you, you old goat, I told you not to follow me," muttered Alec, never more glad to see the Commander in his life, and fighting tears. He was making as much progress fighting off tears as a three-year-old would have fighting Ali in Ali's prime.

"You tell me a lot of things, I never listen. I stay sane that way, Alec. No, hold still. I'll call for help. Odd, I don't seem to see a telephone box anywhere."

"I'd settle for water, you useless clown," Alec muttered, somehow comforted by Ed's voice, even though his vision of Ed drifted in and out.

"I'd be more than happy to give you Evian or any brand you wanted, Alec, but all I have is this wristwatch. You seem to have lost it. "

"I gave it away to my cobber Roger when he expressed an interest in it. I didn't have any need for it."

"Didn't have any need for a wristwatch you've owned from your air combat days. I see. Didn't have any need for me either, huh?"

"Why are you even here, Ed?"

"You know something? I actually don't know. My last memory is of being in some automobile, and falling asleep. When I awoke, I was here. Where is here, anyway?"

"Somewhere near Albany, my old cobber Roger and I were going to go rock climbing. Poor bastard is gone, isn't he?"

"Long gone. Albany? Isn't Albany in New York? "

"Australia, you Bostonian idiot. We'd flown out of Gatwick, hired the Cessna in Perth and were almost in Albany when we developed engine problems. I should have checked it over in Perth, but I guess after everything that happened, I just didn't care."

"You just didn't care all right. Just didn't care what happened to me."

"Ed, after everything I did, the way I put it all on your shoulders," Alec swallowed, getting precious little moisture, "Going was the best thing I could do for you, after what I did."

"What the hell gives you the right to make decisions about what's right for me? That is what you argued with me about, interfering in your life. So what do you do? You decide that I could do without you. Me without you is like fish without chips. Peanut butter without jelly. Castor without Pollux." Ed began to hunt for branches, and found one he deemed suitable. Then he started tearing off a piece of Alec's shirt, which was already tattered.

"Castor what?" moaned Alec.

"If you hadn't spent all those years dead drunk on pub floors, you might have picked up on the beauty of mythology. Alec, listen, your leg is broken, I have to straighten it out and immobilise it. I can't do anything about the pain. Just hold on. That's an order."

"Just make it quick, damn you."

Ed made it quick, but still Alec screamed, and went alarmingly still.

"You die on me, and I'll kill you."

"Go to hell, Ed."

"Why thank you, Alec, I appreciate that you appreciate everything I do for you." Ed responded with relief.

"You're an idiot to come out here for me after how I treated you and what I accused you of doing, Ed."

"You have a gift for pointing out the obvious."

"Ed, can you forgive me?" Alec asked anxiously.

Ed smiled easily and took his friend's hand. Rough fingers closed over smoother ones for a moment.

"Nothing to forgive, Alec. You can't help being you any more than I can help being me. That's why we get on so well together. Castor and Pollux. They needed one another, and loved one another, so much so that Pollux offered his life in exchange for giving Castor back his."

"Ed, am I going to be all right?"

"That all depends." Ed replied, after a moment of studying the skies, an intent expression creasing his handsome face as he listened to something.

"On what?" Alec inquired wearily. He noticed Ed's mouth had two small sutures on it, and started to ask about it but Ed's enthusiastic shout drowned him out.

"On whether that SHADO Search and Rescue Albatross approaching sees us!" Ed said, jumping up, pulling at his Nehru jacket's Velcro seams, removing it and waving it wildly, shouting at the top of his voice.

The Albatross slowly disappeared over the horizon.

* * *

Ed Straker writhed and moaned, and felt something grasp him, and might have responded with a head butt if it hadn't been for the familiar scent of Emeraude parfume by Coty, and the feel of soft tresses sweep his cheek. It took an enormous effort to open his eyes, but when he did, he gratefully sank against his wife with relief, holding on to her, strength returning with every beat of her heart. She carefully and rapidly pulled the respirator tube out of his throat and he gasped in pain, wheezed, then settled down, accepted the cup of crushed ice from her, consumed a bit of it, the cold soothing the sting in his throat. She kissed his lips gently.

"Claire," he murmured contentedly, feeling safe again.

"Oh my pins and needles, Edward. You're back with us. Oh God. You're back. You frightened us so badly." she told him, taking the electrode discs off his head, and turning off the medical telemetry machines monitoring his brain waves and other vital signs.

"Alec is hurt, dying. I've got to get to him. Get me a telephone. Don't look at me like that. I figured he'd go off like that. What I didn't figure on was that you'd try and cover it up. Just do what I say." Ed's voice was a little raspy.

After her initial shock, she explained what had happened to Alec. She silently gave Ed the note, which she had kept with her. He took it in quickly, but his expression didn't change.

"He's alive. Yes, yes I know the first search party found a burned body with his wristwatch. That's because he wanted to die. He gave it away. I gave it back to him. Claire, don't give me that look. I need nothing less than your total faith in what I say, I was dreaming, but I know that my dream was real, don't make this any harder on me. I don't have much time. Get Zeke, and is Grissom still around?" His voice sounded better which each new word.

"Outside. You're in the critical care ward." Claire sighed.

"I'm taking a plane, and going after Alec. You coming, or staying?"

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Edward Straker."

"Alec is alive, Claire."

"And what if you go to Australia, and it turns out he's dead?"

Suddenly all his confidence drained from his face, and he looked at her, and she regretted she had even asked that question, seeing the absolute pain cloud his eyes and soul.

"A part of me will not come back from Australia, and I'll need you more than ever. You're foolish to believe I'd hate you because you wanted to make everything all right for me. I was hurt when I woke up and you weren't there, but I understood what you did and why you did it," he told her. "I can't imagine anything that would ever make me hate you. So stop worrying."

She sobbed, and he shook his head at her, his expression loving.

"I didn't want you hurt, oh God, I love you so much, Edward. I tried to protect you, but I should have known I couldn't, even though I didn't want you to suffer. I love you and always will love you. Whatever happens, you tell yourself that."

His expression softened and he smiled at her. His smile still had the ability to make her tingle all over. He had several categories of smiling. This one was class sensual, subclass playful, she told herself, and tried not to tear his skimpy hospital gown off and engage in anatomy comparison with him right on the spot. After all, that would be an excellent way to determine how healthy he was. Who cared if it wasn't exactly a test they recommended in medical school? It was hormones versus medical ethics. Medical ethics were coming in dead second, but suddenly they pulled ahead to win in an unexpected upset. Damn.

"Your hair is growing back to how I like it." Ed told her affectionately. She rolled her eyes in pretend disapproval, hiding her pleasure and signalled for the nurse to bring a tray over so that she could remove his IV. Within a matter of minutes, he was in his robe and slippers, and on his feet, speaking crisply into her mobile phone, issuing orders, and then he gave her the mobile phone back. He was halfway out in the hall when Gil Grissom, lightly dozing, heard the activity in the normally quiet, sombre unit and opened his eyes.

"ED!" Grissom exclaimed and came for him with the speed of a meteor hurtling toward earth.

Ed didn't have the opportunity to go into shock, let alone move out of range of the human missile aimed at him. For a full five seconds, Grissom held Ed in a bear hug. Claire stood there and tried to act as if the normally introverted bug-loving criminologist put on a display of uncharacteristic emotion like this all the time. She failed when she saw the dazed expression on Straker's face. Then Grissom let Ed go, and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. Ed squinted, picked an imaginary speck of dust off his blue paisley dressing gown, and cleared his throat. It was amazing how both men were pretending the egg wasn't cracked.

"Come on. I may need your expertise." It was Ed's best Commander voice. That he could still form words was expressive, Claire thought, because she guessed the embrace had possibly cracked several, if not all, of Edward's ribs. She grinned at him.

"Okay." Grissom said, trying to sink into the spotless tiled floor and blend in with the dull light grey walls.

"Grissom," Ed said crisply as the three of them turned the corner and headed for the lift that would take them to where Zeke waited for them.

Claire had explained to Zeke that the tests revealed no brain damage, but Ed still remained in the comatose-like state. She could not explain to him that the blood work done by her on the Commander had revealed that the bacteria was active, and his body had gone into a sort of stasis while it had mutated to heal his concussion. It accounted for his rapid recovery from what had seemed to be an irreversible coma. He was moving and speaking quite normally now. Zeke had expressed faith that Edward would be all right, and she knew Zeke would be pleased to see he'd been right. She also guessed that if Edward was really hiring him on, the first thing to go would be the Ford Fiesta. Gas chambers after the potassium cyanide capsules were dropped in the hydrochloric acid were safer than Zeke's car, or so Grissom had told her.

"Ed?"

"There's such a thing as overdoing your practice of people skills."

"Yes Ed." Grissom said, a little dejectedly.

"But I'm glad to see you too." Ed smiled, and patted Grissom on the back. The criminologist brightened like a child being given a toy. Claire beamed at the two of them. She only hoped that Alec was alive, for Edward's sake. If it had been entirely up to her, she wouldn't care if she never saw the Australian again. She pressed her lips together in an unintentional echo of Ed's habitual gesture when he was annoyed or angry. She wouldn't forgive Alec for what he'd done, no matter what Edward said.

Claire didn't say much on the entire trip on Ed's jet from Gatwick to Sydney where Ed left the jet and crew, located and hired a Lockheed seaplane and piloted her himself. He'd been somewhat dwarfed because he was wearing Alec's leather flight jacket that he'd worn on dogfights, together with one of his own turtlenecks in grey, but had exchanged it for a sports shirt and a windbreaker, jeans, a thick leather belt, and lace up work boots. She came into the cockpit and handed him the cup from the thermos, and a half of a corned beef sandwich. Ed took a sip of coffee, but waved away the sandwich. She bit into it dejectedly. He'd been alarmingly quiet, saying only what was necessary. Ed talked into the radio, signalling his approach to the search and rescue teams, whom he had carefully stayed in touch with, and providing information for the criminologists. Grissom and Zeke had been trading folk tales about insects in the cabin. Grissom suddenly came in, with a tabloid in his hand. Since he was the last person who would be interested in gossip, seeing the thing didn't encourage Claire any. Ed had glanced briefly over his shoulder to see who it was.

"Go and get your harness on, both of you, seven minutes is our ETA at the area of the crash site."

"Ed, bad news." Grissom said.

"Not now, Gil." she urged.

"What now?"

Grissom flipped through it and showed Ed the headline on one page. Exclusive: Harlington-Straker co-executive Alec Freeman, long time partner of Ed Straker, perishes in plane crash in Australia.

"God damn it, if I find the person who leaked information to those buzzards, I'm going to tear them in half with my bare hands. Alec isn't dead. Is that story credited? I didn't think so. Claire, do what you can to find out who was responsible for that story."

"I wouldn't know where to begin, Edward. But I'll ask around, I have some press friends I talk with because of the Foundation."

"Okay you two. Go and sit tight. We're almost there."

* * *

Ed exchanged brief greetings with the SAR crew and the police involved, and as he was showing his credentials, he noted the bodies on the cots wrapped in green tarps, in a makeshift tent. Grissom crouched near one body, taking additional trace evidence, and half listening to what his Australian criminologist colleagues were telling him. The Cessna Seahawk had been hired by two men, Roger Chandler and Alec Straker, and paid for with a platinum American Express card, plus the credit card record had showed they'd bought, food, liquor, and rock climbing equipment and clothing. Almost all of the wreck had been discovered, along with various belongings of the men. They believed the charred body to be Alec's, and had noted he'd been the pilot. The second body, also wrapped in a green tarp, had been discovered in the water, and it was thought it was Roger. Ed went and bent beside the body, looking at Grissom. Claire stayed in the distance, flanked by Zeke, but she listened carefully, tense.

"Well?" he muttered impatiently, noting with surprise that the corpse wasn't wearing a wristwatch. "Where's the wristwatch? You people told my wife that you identified Alec because of it, a standard issue military Vertex wristwatch. Have you bagged it?"

The police officer in charge stepped up to Ed.

"Your wife was quite upset when we finally reached her, Mr. Straker, she may have made a mistake about what she thought she heard me say. We found the wristwatch, but not on this body, which we believe to be Mr. Freeman's. As you can see, Sir, this body was burned beyond clear recognition. We've started DNA tests, blood sampling, and we faxed a photograph of the jaw for dental record comparison to England." he said in the familiar Aussie accent. "With your permission we will do the complete post mortem." He looked at Grissom, not wanting to continue further because of the look on Ed's face.

"Height and approximate weight match, slight differences accounted to the burning of the body. Alec's dental record was faxed through and matches the body's, Ed. The DNA and blood results should confirm identity. I'm sorry." Grissom said, standing up, and handing Ed gloves, indicating Ed should put them on. Claire went white. Up until then, a part of her hadn't wanted to believe it. She walked up beside Ed but he pushed her aside. Zeke was crying quietly, Grissom was professionally impassive.

"Edward." she said softly, wanting to shield him, but helpless to do so.

"Nonsense!" Ed snapped, not having any of it. He pulled on the gloves, marched up to the second body. A hirsute, muscular, tattooed arm dangled from the tarp, on its lifeless wrist was strapped the wristwatch that Alec had so prized. Alec had lost the original one he'd been issued in combat, and as a birthday gift, Ed had an identical watch made for his friend at great cost, not sacrificing any detail. Ed threw aside the tarp. The man's neck had obviously been broken, probably when his body had hit the water and he had multiple bruising. He looked peaceful, but the peaceful features were not those of Alec Freeman.

Ed dropped the tarp and backed away as if the sight of the dead man had poisoned him.

"No." he said firmly, trying to sound confident but his eyes were wild. "This can't be happening."

"Ed, let them do their work. Let them do the post mortem, and send the body back to England when they are through." Grissom said. "I'll check their conclusions, but obviously they found two bodies, and that one is Alec's."

"My people will do it in England with you. Alec's still out there somewhere. You've made a mistake. Alec is out there. Alive. I know it."

"Sir, I know what you've gone through, I saw you on telly. I'm deeply sorry. But this is my jurisdiction, and if a crime has been committed here, I need to follow this case through. All I need to have you do is sign the permit for the post-mortem, but if you don't, I shall file a writ to have it done. I have a job to do."

"I showed you my credentials, damn you."

"With all respect, Sir, I don't want to know why you have that clearance or who your people are. I am sure they are competent. I respect Mr. Grissom. But this is my case. I know this is not a great time for you, but try and understand that." He offered Ed the clipboard with the paperwork and a pen.

"Edward, let him do his work." Claire said, openly crying now. Ed looked at her as if she'd struck him, and marched past her.

"No."

"Edward, please."

The Shado commander paused.

"No. If you want to sign that piece of filth, go ahead. I won't do it." Ed snapped and kept going, without looking back.

In the end, Claire signed it.

* * *

A week later, a private funeral ceremony with closed coffin was held for Colonel Alec Freeman in the Shado chapel. Alec's body was not present, but a large television screen was showing an image with the coffin at Moonbase. In the room as a substitution for it, a life size professional photograph of Alec openly smiling was displayed on an easel. Most of the Shado operatives were attending in person or at Moonbase, briefly sharing a few words about what Alec had meant to them. There had not been enough chairs in the simple non-denomination chapel, so people stood outside the chapel and in the halls, listening to the service being broadcast all through headquarters, in the Shado section of Mayland Hospital and Moonbase and even being transmitted on audio and video to every last Shado installation and vehicle and aircraft throughout the world. The one eulogy everyone was looking forward to was Ed Straker's. Angel had returned, and had established himself as something of an unofficial chaplain for Shado. He introduced Straker as the last speaker. Ed had not been sitting with the mourners during the nearly two and a half hour service, after which he had authorised Alec's remains to be blown into space. Yetunde and Constantine were present, as were Frances, Graham, Yvonne and even Gil Grissom. Claire Straker, sitting in the front row beside an empty chair meant for Ed, felt people's anxious gazes on her. Her heart was beating so fast she seriously wondered if she was having a heart attack. Angel repeated Ed's name, a little louder this time. Finally the entire room hushed as Ed Straker walked in, carrying Alec's leather bomber flight jacket with his RAF medals pinned onto it folded over his arm. The jacket was as creased and lived in as Alec's face. Ed held it like it was a living being. Since the death of Alec had been confirmed, he had not been without it for long. In his mind, for as long as he held it, Alec was nearby, Claire knew.

Ed Straker genuinely looked like he was being operated by remote control, and only by sheer strength of will was even speaking. They may have been shocked by how thin and white he looked in his choice of Air Force dress blues, ceremonial sword and medals and bars, but no one dared make a comment, or even allow themselves a gasp or hushed gossip. Ed approached the lecture stand, and looked out at them. His resonant voice carried to every part of the room, and really didn't require the addition of the various microphones. He sounded weary. So weary. Her heart went out to him, and she told herself that this was a gesture he sadly had to make alone. Alone. He looked so alone. He draped the jacket over the photograph, touched it briefly, reverently and then went to the dais.

"I shouldn't and needn't have to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that my sorrow is added to yours. However, to assail disbelief, I should tell you about my personal grief. Few men served their country as well and with such loyalty as my beloved colleague Alec Freeman did. He was a combat veteran of World War Two, the Korean War and the Vietnam conflict. Finally he brought his courage and his passion and his determination and expertise to Shado, the first and the best recruit we've ever had. I say with pride that bringing him in was my decision, and probably one of the two best decisions I have ever made. I shall speak of the second before I leave this assembly. "

Claire, in traditional black wool dress with matched veiled hat and accessories, pearl earrings and pearl choker around her neck, shuddered. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the hot tears of pride in Edward, grief for Alec and worry run down her face. My beloved colleague. She had not seen the final draft of Ed's speech, but she did not think Ed would choose to speak in such personal terms about Alec, deeming it inappropriate for the situation. Instead, in his demeanour and in his voice, Ed was at last shattering the usual mask he wore in his responsibility as Shado commander. She imagined that some people in Shado that despised Ed, and both she and Ed were quite aware they existed, that the use of the word beloved was going to feed rumour. What did it matter? If two men had ever loved one another in a dispassionate, non-erotic way, these two had. Ed was finally showing his humanity. But what price did you pay for humanity? Ed was standing there, bleeding in front of them. Did they understand that? Did they appreciate how much he had given, at great cost? Dear God, she never should have permitted this. He was standing there, and he was dying. In front of them. Two men would be buried that day, if she didn't do something about it. Instead, in the horrible days leading up to this one, he had characteristically hidden himself in Shado, and drawn away from her. But not for long, she vowed. I'm not letting you take him with you, Alec. Do you hear me? she screamed soundlessly. He's mine. He has the right to a normal life! Claire forced herself to listen, opening her eyes.

"-and now we have forever lost a genuinely warm, genuinely caring human being. He may have had his responsibilities, both as the co-executive of the studio and chairperson on the Straker Foundation, and as Shado's number two operative, but as all of you are quite aware, his contribution went further than that. He would approach men and women and ask about their families, take the time to joke with them, share a drink with them, comfort them when they had lost colleagues in our never-ending fight against the aliens. He was the salt of the earth. It was often whispered in the corridors that while Alec was fire, I was ice. I can tell you, ladies and gentleman, that in the final analysis I am not ice, that this loss will change my life, that I am not invulnerable to the pain that his passing has brought to us all. Posthumously, I have decided to give him a promotion from Colonel to brigadier general. He wasn't the kind of person who sought to make his way up the chain of command, and he never sought to take my place. As far as I am concerned, he gave his life in the performance of his duty and merits the promotion. As many of you know, he was still grieving for his little daughter Ayomide Freeman when he died. For those of you who seek solace in religion, perhaps it will help to think of him reunited with her in whatever lies beyond this life."

Ed paused, and he actually smiled a little. It caught his audience by surprise, but not Claire, for she guessed what he was about to say. His posture and dignity remained as straight as a steel blade, and his still boyish smile was like lightning illuminating what for most people there was the long and dark, silent night of Alec's absence.

"Despite my personal uncanny experiences with metaphysics and the nature of death, I do not yet know with certainty what lies beyond this life. I admit however, for Alec's sake I hope a pub is available."

For the first time, there was genuine, much needed laughter in the room.

Ed waited for it to subside, and then he bowed his head for a moment. He raised it and looked at all of them, into their hearts and souls and minds.

"I alluded to the second best decision I ever made, and now I will tell you of it. Ladies and gentlemen, I have decided to step down as Commander in chief of Shado."

Finally there were repeated gasps and protests, even people standing up, mutterings, disbelieving whispers. Ed frowned, put up a hand and it stopped like he had pulled a switch. Decorum returned.

"Colonel Gay Ellis will be my replacement in Shado and as the head of Harlington Straker Studios. I have been working these past days on making the transfer of power as smooth as possible, rewriting the Shado charter and bylaws, and I assure you I have every confidence in her ability to continue in my place and so should you all. That is my final command to you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your decency and determination and duty in Shado. Don't think for even a moment that I lacked in appreciation for how much you have all achieved, and I only wish that I could retire at a moment where we could say we finally wiped out the enemy, but I cannot. It is time, high time, for me to pass on the responsibility I was given. You do not know this, but in Alec Freeman's will, he echoed his wish in a note that I walk away from the organisation. Doing so is difficult for me, but this is not a job for someone that cannot give one hundred percent, and I am not a person who could or did give any less and you are all aware that for medical and psychological reasons I haven't been here as much as was required of me. I will certainly be available if I am needed as a civilian, but you are seeing me in my professional capacity for the last time. I would hope you would respect and support me in my decision, but know this, it is final. I will devote myself to the operations of the Straker Foundation in the memory of my deceased son John Straker. Thank you all."

Claire shot up, she knew he could not do this, he must not do this. Shado was his core, if he abandoned it completely, he would die and so would it. This was nothing more than following meekly in Alec's steps, choosing to obey his wishes. This was not a carefully thought out conclusion, this was grief, this was hysteria, this was guilt. She opened her mouth to protest, not caring one whit about the murmurs that rose up in the crowd.

Ed looked at her with horror, he gave a firm shake of the head and she slowly sat down. He relaxed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to stand, and salute the body of our fallen comrade and friend Alec Freeman with me for the last time, and watch the spacecraft carry a heroic pilot on his final flight."

Everyone rose.

Ed turned toward the screen, and saluted perfectly in unison with them. Then he gave the sign for people to sit, retrieved the jacket, took his seat beside Claire and nodded toward Angel. Angel began to sing while on the screen was depicted the coffin being loaded onto the spacecraft mechanically on the surface of the moon. Once that was done, it was fired. Ed closed his eyes, and Claire held his hand tightly, willing her strength into him.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed. .

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home. .

When the rocket vanished, taking forever with it the remains of a much-loved Australian, Angel thanked them and dismissed them. Ed opened his eyes, one hand resting on the jacket, one enfolded in Claire's own hand. People were filing out. Some paused to say formal goodbyes to him. The room was almost empty now, and a few technicians remained to remove the equipment. Alec's portrait was removed to be put in the hall of the studio where it had come from.

Keith Ford shakingly came up to Ed.

"I would think you'd see this as good news, Colonel, so don't look so perturbed."

"Sir. Sir, I-"

"I know, Keith. I know. I also know that you must have tortured yourself wondering why I was so hard on you. Did you?"

"Yes Sir!" Keith looked horrified the moment that the words came out of his mouth. "Sir, no, I mean, no! Sir, I know that, Sir, no, honestly."

Ed chuckled. Claire smiled at Keith.

"Keith, this morning I submitted my resignation to Colonel Ellis and she signed it. It became official right after the ceremony. So I think you can finally call me Ed. We go back a ways, after all. Keith, the reason I rode you so hard is that you always reminded me of me. Perfection was a norm, not something to strive for. Mistakes were not an option. Dedication was what you lived for. You just needed a little guidance. I'm proud of you, Keith. I hope in some small way I helped shape your excellence because when I was nothing but a raw, green student test pilot at Andrews Air Force base, my senior flight instructor did it for me. He died of stomach cancer several years back; we stayed in touch until my Phantom went down over Nam. One day when I brought an jet fighter back to the runaway after manoeuvres in a perfect four point landing, gliding over the concrete and stopping as light as a cloud of perfume, he was standing there when I climbed out of the plane and saluted him. He was always there, and he knew damn well I was the best pilot in his team. My performance record proved it. But he always told me I wasn't good enough. Day after day after day it was the same. You fly like a damn amateur, Straker. You shouldn't be allowed near anything with wings. All I said was that I'd be better next time, and I climbed back into the planes and tried again. And again. And again. Finally when I passed, and was about to transfer out, to go into the astronaut programme, I went to his office."

Ed smiled at the memory.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir."

"Granted. Sit your skinny ass down for Christ's sake, Straker. Whiskey?"

"No thank you Sir. I ship out at 0400 tomorrow. I couldn't be more happy and excited. NASA has accepted me as a astronaut candidate."

"So what did you want to talk to me about, lieutenant?"

"NASA accepted me, why didn't you? Was it too much to even give me a word of encouragement, not even once? You know as a veteran more than the others what we go through here at Andrews to be test pilots in the service, doing the impossible funded by the budget of the simple."

The senior officer grinned.

"That another Strakerism? It's good, boy. You always had a clever tongue on you. You didn't know? Your colleagues talk behind your back, make fun of your Boston accent and your exaggerated patriotism, call some of the things you say Strakerisms. Jealousy, pure and simple. It bother you that you had no friends out here, boy?"

"I applied to Andrews to fly, Sir. Not to be popular. And I'd like an answer. Man to man."

"You'll get it, Straker, man to man. You're the best fucking pilot I've seen in all my career in the service. Without a doubt. You probably flew out of your mother's pussy on the day you were born, that's how much of a natural pilot you are. And you know what I always liked about you? I made your life hell for a purpose and never once did you ever complain. Not once did you ever boast that you were an Eagle in a pen of chickens, when we both knew it. So if you'll allow me to ride on your coattails in a small way, I hope that I played a small part in shaping the hero I know you'll become."

Ed gawked, and then he smiled. Laughed.

"You might have hinted that was what you were doing, you son of a bitch."

"You just called a superior officer a foul name, Straker. But it'll be our little secret. Write me, will you, Ed?"

Ed reached over and shook hands warmly with the man.

"I give you my word, Sir. And my thanks. Even an eagle in a pen of chickens needs a flight plan."

"Oh get out of here, Ed. I've had enough of those Strakerisms of yours, and I hate a bastard who flies better than I do. Dismissed."

"You might remember that, Keith. And Keith, here. Alec was probably closest to you, after me. I want you to have this. Wear it with pride."

Keith was crying without shame, and now he physically trembled as Ed thrust the flight jacket into his hand.

"Sir, you can't leave Shado. It's nothing without you. We've already lost Alec. We can't afford to lose you too."

"The old Eagle is tired and he has to land sometime, Keith. Dismissed."

"Sir-"

Ed took Claire's arm, ignored the astonished look in her eyes about parting with the precious jacket, and marched out of the room.

* * *

"You attending the wake for Alec?" Ed asked, flopping wearily into a chair and loosening his tie. His uniform had been destroyed in the Silk Wood fire, so he had quickly had another made for him. Zeke had driven the two of them home in Claire's Vauxhall and then had gone into the sitting room to watch some television before going to bed. He had moved his surprisingly few belongings into a downstairs room, choosing not to share the suite with Lancaster and Yvonne. Both had gone to Angel's house, where Frances had cooked for a wake to honour Alec's memory. Yvonne had been making noises about leaving or taking some time off. Ed had said he'd respect any decision she made.

"If you go, I will." Claire said, removing her feathered hat.

"I have more important things to attend to."

"Namely?" Claire asked, still surprised he had given the jacket away, but relieved he had done so.

"Packing up his things. Most go to Wanda and his family, a few things go to Reginald. Poor Reginald, I rang him and Lily up, but Lily says he is too far-gone to understand what happened. I don't buy it; I think Reg is in denial. As for Lily, she was hysterical, but I think that was mainly because her idea of marrying a grateful Alec after all the months of caring for Reg for him just went down the toilet. I'm not keeping anything of what's left, do you want anything? If not, it'll all go to charity, and his remaining military belongings can go to the RAF museum."

"No. Edward, do you really have to do this, when your grief is so fresh? No, never mind, why did I even ask? Hang on, let me change real quick and help. Come on, at least get out of that uniform too, all right?"

"Okay, sweetheart. Listen, I know I've been difficult the last couple of days. I'm sorry. I know I snapped at you a few times."

"I wondered what you were so busy with at Shado."

"It might interest you to know I made sure several people got promotions and salary raises, an hour for lunch, twenty minute break times, even one free day a month to wear civilian clothing. Also, the last thing I did was give the go-ahead on the new Cicada class Interceptor aircraft. They're in the planning stages and construction won't commence until next year, but I used my Shado retirement cheque to fund the design of the first five. Alec left me a good part of his money and I used that also, in accordance with his final requests. They each are capable of firing five missiles apiece. They look like regular civilian aircraft on the ground, but they perform like souped up Interceptors in space. I wrote into the bylaws that new fathers and mothers get two weeks of paid leave, I made the chaplain position official, and ironed out some difficulties in the details regarding other matters. It's all set. I think Alec would be pleased with what I did with it. Gay's keeping the drink dispenser and the kinetic mural for old times' sake, but the last day I was in there, she had changed some art, and had my desk replaced, the office carpeted and repainted. It's a soft blue now."

"It sounds like pure unadulterated sacrilege to me." Claire muttered in real disapproval. What on earth had possessed Ellis to accept Ed's resignation from Shado? Claire felt like giving her black and blue eyes to match her purple Moonbase wig.

"She's Commander now. I've been knocked down to civilian." Ed shrugged.

"Civilian husband. A much loved civilian husband."

"I am worried about something," he said, allowing her to lead him upstairs. She sighed. Tomorrow is our anniversary, and he's forgotten. I can't complain and add to his misery.

"What is it, Edward?" she asked as he quickly undressed and hung his clothing away in the wardrobe, and stood there looking for something suitable, dressed in only his underwear. His scars were long faded, except for the one on his mouth, where Alec had split open his lip. Claire had long since removed the sutures. He looked heartrendingly gorgeous.

"Morale. When Alec's death was reported in the papers, and we confirmed identification of the body with his dental records, morale suffered. Gay told me she thought she had sufficient respect, but she wasn't certain at all whether the senior staff was ready to see her take my chair."

"Keith Ford of all people wasn't."

"Ford's just grieving for Alec in general. They were close, sweetheart. Alec was like a much loved older-"

Ed took in a breath, not wanting to cry.

"Edward, sooner or later you have to give in to it. The grief, I mean. Or it'll eat away at you. I've seen you trying to pretend it all away and it has changed you already, this masquerade, as if nothing has happened, as if you never saw the burned body." Claire was deliberately harsh, hoping to prod him into some exhibition of feeling, but he just lowered his voice, impassive.

"Don't start in on me, Claire. I mean it. I'll grieve in my own time and place."

He chose a pair of jeans, which she had freshly laundered and ironed, and a wool checked shirt in brown plaid, but he made no effort to put them on, sitting numbly down in a chair, confused. Claire stood beside him in her slip, kicked off her heels and took him into her arms. He at first tried to push her away, but finally buried his face against her, shaking lightly as the sobs began. She rubbed his back gently, caressed him. He looked up at her, sobbing.

"Promise me, that no matter-"

"I'll never do what Alec did, Edward. He left you alone. That's what it feels like, I know. I felt like that when my brother and then my dear sweet father died, and finally Ryan. Like they hadn't cared. It left a hole in my heart."

"I know. I've seen it when you talk about them, especially your brother."

"My brother was a complete and utter idiot. A complete and utter idiot and fearless adventurer and fool."

"Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse?" Ed managed a thin smile.

"Not unlike you, Straker. So we don't ever do it to either of us, promise? I lost you for a year, and how I managed, I don't know. I won't go through that again, Edward. This world is meaningless without you in it. I thought you had made up your mind to die because Alec had. I was sure when you quit Shado, you would think Shado was all you were or could be."

"Those thoughts may have passed through my mind. I know I have a new life ahead with you. But-"

"But what? Alec wanted this, and you gave him what he wanted. What more can you give him?"

"Claire, did you really say the things to him that Lancaster said you did?"

"Somebody had to."

"And you hit him?"

"Several times. Have you forgotten he pushed Terrilynnn into sex because he couldn't deal with losing his daughter? Have you forgotten he gave you a concussion, which put you in a comatose state for several hours, requiring that I have to put you on a respirator? That scar on your lip didn't walk there, he hit you."

"I interfered in his life with Terrilynnn. He had a right to be angry."

"Alec must have hit you harder than I thought, you're being ridiculous! He practically raped her! She told me herself she was frightened of what he might do if she didn't give in, and then when she realised how wrong it all was, it was too late for both of them. She was the one who decided to go, Edward! She was relieved you called her."

"Claire."

"Don't you Claire me in that tone. This is Mary Straker all over again, isn't it, blaming yourself for the divorce, blaming yourself for the death of your son. Now because Alec is dead, you're all ready to paint him in rosy colours too and carry the guilt for him. Oh my God, Edward, can't you see? Don't you understand? You're giving up, you're not starting a new life, you haven't given the one you have already a chance. Don't I matter any more?"

"How can you ask me these things? You know how important you are to me. Look, I'm tired, and I have Alec's belongings to crate up and send off."

" I'm important? All right, prove it. Start to live again. You haven't eaten dinner. Frances specifically left some ham and a jacket potato stuffed with vegetables for the both of us, and your favourite lemon drizzle cake, or you can have German chocolate, she made that too."

"You eat, I'm not hungry."

"So you are intending to starve yourself again then?"

Ed winced, pulled on jeans and the shirt, ignoring her. She marched out of the room in her hosiery after pulling on a dress, he scowled, untied the laces of his brilliantly polished patent leather shoes and slipped on his ankle boots and came downstairs just in time to hear a loud crash of crockery. Zeke came running in, with Dandelion twitching madly in his arms, squirming to get away.

"What in the blazes was that?" demanded Ed.

Zeke put Dandelion down, and Dandelion hopped over to Ed to sniff him in an identity check, as if this sort of crisis happened everyday. Happy that her master was home, Dandelion started running around in a merry fashion. Ed stared at her.

"I don't know, I was just feeding the rabbits and making sure they had fresh hay and water, and I heard the crash and came running in. Security team didn't get upset, so it can't be too bad."

Claire came marching out of the kitchen. There were string beans stuck to her dress and ham gravy smears on her hand.

"Okay, Edward. You don't eat I don't eat. I just threw our dinners out the window. Now I'm going out to Alec's house to pack everything up and after that I'm going to bed. Zeke, can you get me some boxes and packing tape and cord, and help us?"

"Sure thing. Let me put the bunnies to bed first." Zeke said and started off with a protesting Dandelion in his hands after deftly catching her in mid-run.

"Let me get this straight, you threw our expensive Royal Worcester china plates out the window?"

"Damn right I did. You've lost eight pounds in less than a week. I don't intend to eat anything until you do. If you'd decided to wear sackcloth and ashes and live on coffee just because that over testosteroned Australian friend of yours got himself killed trying to climb rocks at his age, then so will I."

"You're being impossible!"

"Shut up and come pack boxes."

"I thought I left flying saucers behind me, and you toss crockery I bought around like it was a Frisbee."

"I threw plates, not saucers, but if it makes you feel better, I'll throw the entire service for eight out the Palladian windows!" she screamed at him. He actually backed away at that, and as she departed, he wondered whether to tranquilise her with an elephant gun or to follow her. This was a side of his loving wife he would have preferred not to discover. He hadn't taken seriously what Alec had said about her having the makings of a boxer, and he didn't particularly want to check that out by making her angrier, thus splitting his lip again. He followed her out.

* * *

Zeke settled Dandelion in her pen, only to have Fiver and Hazel sniff him, wanting to get into the action. After a moment of thought, he managed to pick up all three bunnies and bring them, wriggling and twitching away, to the house where Ed and Claire were packing things away in silence after he stuck the items needed in his pockets. He figured they needed something to distract them from the thankless job and the row they were having.

* * *

Ed was kneeling, folding some of Alec's clothes into tissue paper, and then placing them into a box marked OXFAM while Claire was packing away Alec's items from the bathroom into another box, tossing away his medications and half empty shaving potions in the rubbish.

"What are they doing here, Zeke?" Ed said in surprise, as Zeke put down Hazel, who managed to find the tissue paper, and decreed it a rabbit toy, pouncing on it, while Dandelion not surprisingly hopped over to Ed, pushing his nose against Ed's hand for petting. Claire couldn't help it, she smiled at the sight. She didn't notice Fiver start to chew on the cord of the electric razor, but Zeke did, and quickly grabbed it and placed it in the box. Fiver gave him a 'why did you ruin my fun' stare, and nipped him gently, firmly letting him know that Zeke was below his station and was never to deny a Straker rabbit a toy, and went off to investigate Claire, and found a string bean, in fact several string beans, and a bit of potato. Potluck! Much better than bunny blocks. Claire stared at Fiver, grinning, and allowed her to lick off the ham gravy as well. She was apparently a living bunny treat dispenser now. The other two caught a whiff of the remaining food and hopped over to see what was left.

"They didn't want to go to bed, Sir. So I thought they could roam around the house. Exercise is good for them."

"All right. I haven't seen them in a while, I confess I missed them."

He misses them, but he forgets our anniversary is tomorrow, Claire grumbled to herself.

"Hmm?" Ed said.

Zeke, a man who didn't miss much, heard what she said but didn't say anything in response.

"Nothing, I was talking to the bunnies. Zeke, could you see if there's any edible food from what I threw out and bring it here for them? Someone might as well eat tonight," she added, with a look at Ed, who simply took another suit down from the wardrobe off its hanger and folded it into tissue in silence, still avoiding his wife's gaze. "And don't forget, Frances left a plate for you."

"I know, Ma'am, I ate every last bit of it, and German chocolate cake as well, with a huge glass of milk. It was delicious. Watch this rascal Fiver now, Ma'am, or it'll have that razor for sure. Only one eye, my black behind, it gets into mischief easier than a rabbit with both eyes does." Zeke chuckled, and went off.

"I guess this isn't a good time to tell you he's right about Fiver, Edward." Claire said, petting her. Fiver sat sprawled out, acting like it was her rightful due to be eternally petted, but her one eye watched Ed.

"Hmmm." Ed said, folding a sweater.

"She chewed the case of your laptop computer, and gnawed one of the CD-ROMs. Luckily it was only our property tax payment schedule on the disc, and I had it on paper. The property taxes on Silk Wood Manor have gone up quite a bit, you know."

"She did what?"

"You heard me."

"I wondered why it looked all bent. Can't you watch her more closely while I'm at work for goodness sake?"

"Me? These bunnies don't give a whit for what I do, Edward. Edward, if you don't pet Dandelion, she is going to spazz out. All these bunnies, which the vet said would never tolerate people, are all playful and loving and happy, and it's because of you. They like you."

"I think they like the tissue paper better," Ed replied, and snatched it away from Hazel. Hazel took this as a go-ahead to jump on Ed to retrieve it, and Dandelion, who had returned to Ed after grooming herself to be spotless after the string bean caper, started pushing against Ed's hand with her nose again. Naturally, Fiver was now inspecting the box labelled OXFAM as a possible Silk Wood Manor for a bunny, and with a quick push from Claire when Ed was not looking, Fiver hopped into it contentedly and burrowed into a wool suit. Ed, having finished his work, sealed the box with tape. Claire just snickered when it began to thump.

"BLEH! God damn it!" Ed cursed.

"Edward! Did you seal that poor bunny in that box? Open it and let her out for heaven's sake!"

"I didn't even see her go in there. OW!" he added when Dandelion, tired of trying to get across to Ed that she wanted petting, decided to take matters into her own paws and nip him lightly. Ed ignored her and tore open the box. Fiver was chewing on a suit sleeve, not at all disturbed. Ed groaned and took her out of the box.

"I don't think that suit jacket is suitable for donating to Oxfam now, Edward."

"Well, " Ed said, looking wearily at the suit which was now suitable more as a bunny toy, "Alec never looked that good in it anyway."

Claire chuckled.

"Maybe we could get your tailor to size it for Fiver. She could wear it with a frilly blouse."

"And give her sunglasses as an accessory?" Ed petted Fiver, earning him a dirty look from Dandelion.

"No, Edward not sunglasses. She was Alec's favourite rabbit of the three. Alec wouldn't want her to make a spectacle of herself." Claire teased, giggling. Ed just stared at her, fighting off a grin. The grin appeared anyway, and then to Claire's distress, sorrow. Claire went over and held Ed, who suddenly sobbed hard against her. She held him for a long time, listening to him gasp between his cries, and it was breaking her heart. Even the rabbits settled down, seemingly knowing something was terribly wrong.

"I couldn't stand to lose you too. Don't leave me, please don't leave me. I have nobody else in the world now but you. I couldn't stand to go on alone without you."

"My precious Edward, I will never leave you. No matter what. I love you. Darling, I love you."

"Don't you understand? Everyone I've ever allowed myself to love and trust has gone away or died. Is it going to be you next? My God, I couldn't stand it!"

"Hush darling. I'm here. Nothing can harm me now. You know that."

"The bacteria didn't help Alec," he said bitterly. Claire sighed.

"I know. He burned so quickly, so there was nothing living they could exist on, when his cells died so did the bacteria. Darling, don't think about that now. Come on, with me, come up to bed."

"I want to finish this, please. I want to get this over with."

"All right. All right, my love. Let me get you a drink of water, okay?"

"No, don't go!" he cried in alarm, " Everyone I trust and care about leaves me. Please, just hold me a while."

"Edward, I am your wife, I will never leave you, I will hold you for the rest of our lives."

Ed leaned against her, catching his breath.

"I need you so much."

"I need you too."

* * *

Zeke came back after several minutes rolling in a campaign table, and he noticed with pleasure the two of them were sitting side by side, still wrapping things, and he could see Ed's eyes were red. Grief was cleansing, he thought. A cry was what Straker needed.

"You brought covered dishes and a vase with a carnation in it, Zeke? Seems a little unnecessary for a rabbit's dinner. You've been gone a long time, what were you doing anyway?" chuckled Ed.

"I brought their food in a plastic dish, and just on the odd chance the two of you might be hungry, I sliced up some more of that ham for sandwiches on rye rolls, with some lettuce and pickles and mustard, and I started the coffee, it'll be freshly brewed in a minute. Why don't you two take a break and eat with me? I'm going to have another slice of that German chocolate cake, there's plenty to go around."

"Ummm. That ham smells good, doesn't it, Edward?" Claire said, looking gratefully at Zeke.

" Smells mighty good. Gotta put some meat on those bones, Sir, gotta take care of your health. After all, you and Claire here are the parents of these here rabbits."

Ed held up the tattered jacket. Zeke guffawed.

"Guess they need more discipline, Sir."

"More discipline? They're juvenile delinquents. Where have we failed as parents?" he wailed. Claire laughed. She leaned across and kissed Ed. Then she looked at him wistfully.

"Eat at least one sandwich, please, Edward?"

"All right. I guess I am a little hungry," Ed admitted reluctantly. Claire smiled in relief.

* * *

On the freshly made up four poster bed in the upstairs master bedroom, before he had gone into the kitchen to prepare their meals, Zeke had left one of the many catalogues that Claire sent for, especially around the holidays. Inside this one gift catalogue, Zeke had used a paper clip to hold the page that mentioned the seventh anniversary gift was traditionally a gift of wool or copper. He'd left Ed a scrawled note saying 'You might like to see this.' Z.

He figured that his boss was nothing less than a traditionalist. He had hidden the catalogue inside Ed's perfectly folded pyjamas, a task which Lancaster usually did, but Graham was at the wake. Zeke figured Lancaster didn't have his priorities laid out perfectly no more than he did Straker's pyjamas. You didn't serve the dead. You served the living. And serving meant reminding the master in a subtle way that he and his wife had some celebrating to do.

Maybe it was time for that Lancaster to be assigned to something else in Silk Wood Manor, Zeke had thought. He hummed and plotted while he handed Claire her sandwich, and then Ed his.

"Something smells good," a familiar voice said, pushing the door open and looking in tentatively. "Gil, why aren't you at the wake? If only to keep Lily from marrying Reginald because she thinks Alec left him a lot of money." Ed chuckled. "Haven't you eaten?"

"No, not exactly. I was in the garden, inspecting bugs, and it started to rain so I thought I better come on back before it stormed again. Is there enough dinner for me, Zeke?"

"Plenty, Mr. Grissom, plenty."

"You okay, Ed?"

"No, but in time, well." Ed shrugged. Claire looked solemn.

"Don't let me interrupt your dinner. I actually came to say goodbye, I'm leaving first thing in the morning."

Everyone I trust and care about leaves me, Claire thought, the echo of Ed's words in her head.

"I know, Gil. Sit with us. If you value your clothes, don't sit near Fiver." Ed smiled, showing him the tattered evidence.

"I thought I was done with investigating cases with rabbits as the unsub." Grissom said, letting Fiver sit in his lap to smell the raindrops on his shirt.

Zeke had disappeared and came back with four mugs and a fresh decanter of coffee, plus cream and sugar. They ate and drank in contented silence, but Claire watched Ed eat with growing worry and dismay. He still looked so very alone.

And lost, so lost, she thought. At least Alec has peace now. Ed has very little, for all I can offer him.

Grissom looked at her, guessing her thoughts. How far was Ed Straker from perishing in a new and more horrifying abyss?

* * * "Are you absolutely sure of this, Mackley?"

"Take a look at the photographs, Sir. And we had people positively identify the body, his wife, and even his sisters. Do you want me to ring the Strakers, Sir?"

"God, no, man. And cause Ed Straker even more grief than he already had to go through after we identified that body as being Freeman's? He's suffered enough. He doesn't need to find out his best friend murdered an innocent man in cold blood, and we can't prosecute with Freeman dead, no matter if it is his gun and fingerprints or not. But listen, that criminologist friend of his, Grissley?"

"Gil Grissom, Sir. From Las Vegas, in the States."

"His number is in the case file. He'd be back in the States by now I should think. Fax all these materials to him and have him look them over. Then tell him I want him and a partner of his choosing to come to Australia without telling Straker. Explain the need for secrecy. Don't accept no for an answer."

"Yes, Sir, I'll get straight on it."

"I want to close this God forsaken case, Mackley! And I want to know who leaked information on my case to those bloody gossip sheets!"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Ian Mackley did as his superior asked. Then he went home, kissed his wife Julie, and when she and his two infant daughters had gone to sleep, he crept out of the bed, reached inside his desk to where a key was taped underneath a locked drawer, and used it to open the drawer. A envelope full of Euros was in there; along with a phone number he knew would connect him to the Mirror. He had gotten quite a packet for providing information to them about Freeman being killed, and convinced Julie he'd gotten a raise at work. Now, with this new information that Freeman had killed Roger Chandler's wife, he might finally be able to move out of Australia with Julie and Toni and Alison, and into England at last, live the good life, Bentleys and champagne, quit his job, which had gotten him nothing but worn out shoe soles.

He dialled the number.

* * *

Ed Straker smiled slightly to himself upon finding the catalogue, and while Claire was sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair, he deftly pushed it under the mattress. For a moment, he looked at her, his gaze steady. She caught his reflection in the looking glass and smiled, her eyes luminous. Without a word, she put the brush down and got into bed, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. She let his hands move hungrily over her body, impatient to have skin against skin. A few gasps later, they fitted their bodies together in a rhythm that was older than time itself. Exhausted but content, they fell asleep. Outside the Palladian window, the moon hung full and glowing in the English sky, the night full of secrets.

* * *

He had to know. They had told him such things were not told to the white skinned, the Kartiya, but he had to know, he longed for it with every pore, every bead of sweat that fell down his face as he sat with them around the fire. It took quite a bit of doing to not let their face paint or the white around their pupils intimidate him. So when they handed him the clay bowl, he drank from it in a heartbeat. The unmistakable crackling of fire melded with the sound of a lone didgeridoo. Part of him was aware it tasted like rotting fish mixed with warm vomit, but it didn't matter. Castor and Pollux, that was all that mattered. Then he allowed them to strip him of his clothes, and paint his body, and they led him in a ritual march. Colours began to speak to him, and he could hear surfaces, and there was no going back, but he had to know if his beloved friend was all right. That was all that mattered, not the thorns piercing his feet, not the liquid turning his stomach to fire, not that he had only minutes, maybe an hour at most to live. He just listened to his heartbeat, and he marched with them as they sang.

Claire was there, with a terrible outlook, clothed with the Australian sun, wife and mother and goddess and demon and spirit, and she stepped in front of him, and part of him saw that she was as naked as the day she'd been delivered from her mother. She was holding something and it was looking at him, and she indicated he should hold out his hands. There was a terrible sharp pain, and blood mingled with the body paints. He fell. Death awaited him. It beckoned to him. One thing mattered, that he knew. So he looked. And he cried out, he screamed, he caterwauled, he moaned. Because he could see his beloved friend. And his beloved friend was burning. Castor and Pollux, one gave his life for the other, and to see his friend one single time, he would give his life. But he was burning. Burning. Burning. He had loved. Now he would never love again. He pleaded with her to send him back, but she only sat cross-legged in front of him, waiting. He cursed her; she did nothing, her face impassive. A white, slim radiant door opened, and he longed to enter it. But he couldn't move. She said something to him in an ancient dialect that he didn't understand. There was a rush in his ears.

"He awaits thee. He longs for thee."

But he could not go back, the pain was too horrible, it crushed him.

"I can't go!" he screamed at her. And he turned his back on her, and he burned.

* * *

"ALEC!" Ed screamed, sitting straight up. Claire jumped, looking around, and hit the alert button near the nightstand that would summon Lancaster, but it was Zeke that practically made a hole in the master bedroom door to reach him. Ed looked around, and his breathing finally quieted. Zeke switched on more lights. Even trembling with the memory of the nightmare about Alec, he had to chuckle at the boxer shorts Zeke wore. They had little houses on them, with palm trees. Suddenly Ed was filled with a new sadness. Nate. Zeke wasn't all that different from Nate. It was eerie, and he should have recognised it before, but he hadn't.

"Sweetheart, it's all right, I'm here. I'm here," Claire said, rubbing his hand. Ed relaxed a little more.

"It's okay Mr. Straker, you had a nightmare. You want me to get you some hot milk, help you to sleep?"

Graham Lancaster entered and was knotting the sash in his robe with one hand, his Luger in the other, and he was followed by Yvonne, who took in the scene and gave the all clear to the night shift security team on her walkie-talkie.

"I hate hot milk, Nat-Zeke. You ever taste hot milk?"

"Yeah, tastes mighty bad, but I never could convince my mother of it. Some things are mother things; you don't mess with mother things. It's an old cure-all, Mr. Straker, like chicken soup. You want some chicken soup? I kill the chicken for you if you want."

Ed chuckled.

"No thanks. I'm fine, I'm fine, just was having a bad dream."

"From the way you screamed in your sleep, the bad dream was having you." Zeke sat on the edge of the bed casually, inspecting Ed for damage. Claire noticed the bed sank a good five inches.

Graham muttered something under his breath, and Claire stared at him.

"Edward is fine, you both can go now," she said icily.

"Very good, Ma'am." and Graham and Yvonne slunk away.

"I think I need to relearn how to shoot a gun."

"Relearn?" Ed echoed, reaching for a pitcher of water, but Zeke rose and poured water for him.

"You understand, I'm not much of a violent person, unless someone harms my kin or my friend. But I'd like to relearn. I didn't last long in the army, didn't like my rifle much. Was a conscientious objector, but I never mentioned it. Causes problems. I signed up anyway."

Ed laughed.

"Why on earth did you do that?"

"To send some money home to my wife, and for glory. Wasn't a good decision. I was lucky though, my C.O. liked me and sent me home with an honourable discharge. I learn fast though, Mr. Straker. Maybe you could teach me. Seems like Mr. Lancaster should have had two hands on the butt when he came in here, if you ask me. I'd like to be bodyguard for you and the missus. I like you." Zeke shrugged.

"I like you too. But any intruder sees you, and you wouldn't need a gun. You could just snarl at them, they'd run." Ed pointed out. Zeke cackled.

"You should be going to sleep again, now."

"No, no, nearly eight. Might as well go down to breakfast. I have a long day ahead of me. You cooking me breakfast, Claire?"

Claire sighed. So much for her anniversary.

"Guess I'll go burn some eggs and bacon for everyone." she suggested, and grabbed her robe dejectedly and went out in her bare feet.

"You find the catalogue?"

"I did indeed," Ed answered and pulled the catalogue from underneath the mattress. "You think I actually forgot that today I celebrate seven years of marriage with Miss Grumpy who just left?"

"Oh, you mean you knew?"

"I knew. I also heard her comment about the rabbits, I just figured I'd let her stew a while."

"That's not good manners to say rabbits and stew in the same sentence, Mr. Straker." Zeke grinned, handing Ed his robe. Ed chuckled.

"Call me Ed, okay? Oh, and look." Ed unscrewed one of the finials on the poster, and withdrew a sparkling object on a shimmering chain. It was antique platinum filigree in the shape of a flower, with a centre round-cut diamond flanked by tiny pearls and smaller diamonds.

"She didn't find that? My wife, now my wife, she could smell jewellery on me with the ease of the way she could smell beer on my breath. Of course, mine was only Avon. That's mighty gorgeous."

"Claire likes delicate jewellery, so it's not all that sensational and flashy, but knowing her, well." Ed smiled. "I asked my jeweller to place a bid on it at Christie's and to bid as high as he needed. It's Edwardian style, and all I did was have Garrard's put an platinum back on it so that I could have it engraved." He slipped it into the pocket of his robe and replaced the finial.

"It's going to be a fine day, Ed. Oh, almost forgot, Mr. Grissom said goodbye and asked for me to keep an eye on you. He told me to show you something in the garden."

"One of his bugs?" Ed asked with amusement mingled with sadness at Grissom being gone. He walked barefoot beside Zeke, practically invisible next to the man's mass.

"I will show you after breakfast, and I better go see to the bunny's breakfast too, you know, those bunnies are divas."

"Tell me about it," Ed said with a dramatic groan. "Zeke, you know we got rid of that car of yours?"

"We all come to a sad end, maybe in another life she'll be a Cadillac, but I doubt it. I like the Vauxhall, damn fine car."

"Yeah, well if you're going to work for me, not only do you need a new car, you need new sleepwear. Where exactly did you get those boxers?"

"Where else? Mother-in-law."

Ed chuckled as they started toward the kitchen and then they heard a squeal and a loud scream. They ran back upstairs and to the servant's quarters, where it had come from. Graham was livid, Claire was in a corner, sitting on the stairs, holding a transfixed Fiver, and Yvonne came out, looking frightened.

"With all respect, Sir, when are you going to lock up that thing? It got out of its pen and pissed on my pillow, this is uncalled for! Mrs. Brisby is right! Stupid thing should be blasted full of holes and cooked for supper. If this Negro did what was expected of-"

Ed locked eyes with Graham and went still, a bone chilling, malevolent still, and Lancaster went silent. Zeke just shrugged.

"This Negro obeyed Mr. Straker's order to allow the rabbits in the house, to let them play, and not lock them in no pen at night, they are family now. Rabbit has the same plumbing as you or me, Mister Lancaster. Rabbit has to pee sometime. No class system to speak of in rabbits, but maybe you know better?" asked Zeke mildly, going over to Fiver, and gently petting her.

"Claire," Ed said icily, finally taking his eyes off Lancaster, "What happened?"

"I came upstairs to ask Graham if he and Yvonne wanted to have breakfast with us for once, and as I came upstairs, he had Fiver by the ears and threw her out and she was squealing in pain, and I just screamed," Claire sobbed.

"You injured this rabbit?" Ed asked evenly.

"Sir, it nipped me, took me by surprise, I didn't know what I was doing."

"It nipped you?" Ed echoed and looked at Yvonne for a moment. The woman flushed from her toes to the roots of her hair, not saying a word but singing like a canary on sodium pentothal on body language alone. Ed went to the wall, where a phone was, and dialled the number to connect him to the security centre.

"Walton, this is Straker. Bring me today's closed circuit video of the camera in the servant's wing immediately. Immediately, Walton. If I have to wait a second longer than two minutes, you're fired. Understood? Good. I'll be in the sitting room."

"You had a live camera installed in our wing?" Graham gasped, indignantly. Ed hung up, and put out his hands for Fiver. Fiver was still shaking. Ed cradled it, speaking to it gently. It sniffed Ed tentatively, white showing all around its single eye.

"Come with me both of you." Ed's voice was like a pistol shot. Lancaster actually gulped.

"You know the design of a school tie, but you don't know enough not to harm a helpless creature that has one eye less than you do. You may have book learning but you have no knowledge. I feel sorry for you," Zeke said. Graham glared at him as they marched into the sitting room. Ed kissed Claire on the forehead and settled into his favourite chair with the rabbit. Within seconds, Walton came practically galloping in like a racehorse with the tape.

"Put it in the player, and run it back about five minutes. Stop it when I tell you." Ed ordered. Walton, giving a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to be sacked, did so. It showed Lancaster and Lane walking into their room leisurely, and Lancaster stopping suddenly.

"Do you smell that odour? Urine! Bloody hell, it's on my bed, if I-"

On the screen, Fiver came playfully out from behind a chair, sniffing the air. Lancaster grabbed it by the ears and it screamed like it was being killed, kicking and writhing for all it was worth, fighting valiantly.

"Gray! Don't, Straker will have your head, the vet said you don't pick them up by the ears ever!" she said shrilly.

"By God, that tears it! I'm throwing this worthless thing down the stairs and I hope it breaks its fool neck so the Brisby woman can cook it." Lancaster moved out of camera range with it but they heard its cries and Claire screaming.

"Turn it off," Ed said calmly. "That's all, Walton, you're free to go back on duty now."

"Thank you, Sir," Walton said, and happily took the tape and left. He might have been a security man, but he had a sensitive stomach, and he felt bloodlust in the air. You didn't spit in the wind, you didn't eat at cafes named Joe's, you didn't fart in elevators and you never abused the Straker bunnies. Some people never learned.

"You were going to kill it! You filthy, deceitful little man! It didn't nip you at all!" cried Claire, and made a move toward Graham. Zeke caught her by the arm gently.

"Violence isn't the answer to violence," he said softly.

"Commendable thinking, Zeke," Ed said quietly. "Would you take Fiver for a moment, Zeke? She's settling down, and her ears seem all right, but for safety's sake I'll ring the vet and have him come round."

"Sure, he starts rounds soon, he could come quick." Zeke added, taking the rabbit gingerly. Fiver didn't seem to appreciate being separated from Ed, but didn't kick after smelling Zeke.

"Sir, I'm terribly sorry. I was alarmed, I didn't know what I was doing," Lancaster explained.

"Violence isn't the answer to violence. As I told Zeke, it's a commendable thought on paper. But violence sandwiched by lies - get on your feet, Lancaster."

"Sir, I-"

"On your feet. I don't recommend you make me say it again."

"Sir, you have to understand that he-"

"Lane, you'll speak when you're spoken to and not a word more."

"Sir, I acted abominably, please accept my resignation." Lancaster said, standing.

"Apologise to my wife, and apologise to Zeke."

"Mrs. Straker, please accept my apologies, and you, Mr. Morris."

"Now apologise to the rabbit." Ed said calmly. Claire's eyes widened. Zeke grinned from ear to ear in appreciation. Yvonne covered her mouth with a hand. Lancaster gawked.

"You must be mad!"

"You heard my husband," Claire said regally, understanding that Ed was going to teach Lancaster the lesson of a lifetime. And what a brilliant way to cut the snobbish ex-Army captain down to size, making him, well, making him kiss furry ass, she thought with glee. And in front of everyone.

"I am NOT apologising to any damn animal. If you don't accept my resignation, then I quit," exclaimed Lancaster, arms folded, nose in air.

Ed did something strange. Ed removed his robe. Zeke and Claire and Yvonne all looked at him in puzzlement. As good a body as Ed had, it seemed a strange time to have a fashion show. The puzzle was soon solved.

Graham Lancaster stood there, nose in air. With one well executed and astounding martial arts blow that would have merited him a standing ovation from Alec Freeman, Ed Straker broke that aristocratic nose with a audible crunch. Claire gawked. Zeke sat down with the bunny, looking like he was about to witness a command performance ordered by the Queen of England. Even Fiver seemed to appreciate the scene. Lancaster understandably was yelling, holding his nose and spraying blood with every movement.

"You broke my nose! You actually broke my nose! Nobody does that to Graham Lancaster and gets away from it!" bellowed Lancaster, looking like he had just come off the battlefield. Ed calmly stretched his fingers, and balanced on both of his feet. He looked no more violent than one of the garden ladies pouring tea and discussing the best way to get rid of the pesky aphids on their prize roses. But his eyes. Oh, those eyes. A man would gladly sell his soul to not be under that glare. Claire bit her lip. She should interfere, after all, she was a doctor. She looked at the happy nose-twitching Fiver, who seemed to appreciate all this was for her. Stop it? Nah, Claire thought, and sat back and crossed her legs and regretted no popcorn was on hand.

"Oh? They don't? Fine, Lancaster. As my friend Alec might say, you want a piece of me? Come get it. I suggest you do it before you run out of blood."

Graham Lancaster made a very, very, VERY stupid decision. He came at Ed Straker. It was comparable to Adam accepting the apple from Eve. It was comparable to a sloth on sedatives trying to outrun a gazelle on speed. It was plain old fashioned dumb with a capital Old English font D.

If Ed Straker had been able to see the security personnel in the video monitoring room at that moment, equipped with video screens getting images from cameras which made a record of every room in Silk Wood Manor as well as the grounds and surrounding woods, he wouldn't have been amused. Because to a man and to a woman, they were all gathered around Camera 12, which was focused on the sitting room. And they were hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling and in joyful hysterics that finally Straker was giving the snobby butler a taste of his own medicine. It would have been an excellent time for anyone to break into the property. Fortunately no one did.

Graham Lancaster went flying. Ed Straker didn't even break a sweat. Lancaster crashed into a nearby table.

"That had to hurt," Zeke said contentedly.

"You look like you're enjoying this. I thought you once told me you were against violence."

"This is different. Mr. Straker is defending a lady's honour," Zeke said to Claire, petting Fiver. Claire grinned. Then she gave a startled gasp. Lancaster had actually gotten up and managed to whack Ed hard enough so that Ed fell backwards against the wall-mounted television set, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. Zeke started to get up, but Claire reluctantly put a hand on his and shook her head. Zeke nodded.

"Nice one. I think it's time to disappoint my martial arts sensei, and go back to the streets of Boston."

"Go back to the streets of Boston?" Claire echoed, and then her eyebrows raised to the cathedral ceiling as the icy, contained, stoic, intellectual, serene academic Ed Straker suddenly transformed. Into Alec Freeman. Punch after punch after punch connected to the point where even Mohammed Ali might think at least twice before dissing Ed Straker's mother. The last blow flattened Graham Lancaster. He showed no signs of life. Just to make sure, Ed prodded him with a slippered toe.

"Lane. Drag him upstairs, stick him in a cold shower, pack his bags and get him the hell out of here in a taxi. Tell him he's fired. Up to you whether you want to share a taxi with him or not, but if you go, and you change your mind, don't expect me to welcome you back. Zeke, you'll assume his duties, effective immediately. Claire, ring that vet. Oh and Claire, I think I split my lip. Again. So you'll want to find your medical bag," he added, looking at the blood on his fingers after he gingerly touched his swollen lip.

"Idiot. Complete idiot. Does your hand hurt?"

Ed let out a pained breath he hadn't been conscious of holding in.

"Not too bad. How's Fiver?"

"Fiver will live. Let me see that lip and that hand. What did you mean by going back to the streets of Boston?" she said, hurrying to the Great Hall closet to get her bag, and she came in, opening it. Zeke was on the phone, speaking to the vet, petting Fiver in his lap. Lane was dragging Lancaster upstairs. In the video room, people were patting each other on the back and reluctantly assuming their posts. They had never cottoned to Lancaster. Zeke on the other hand had insisted on meeting each and every one of them, Zeke was good people, as the cheerful American security operative and video expert Walton put it.

"You don't get born of a British mother and a American Bostonian father and speak with the most outrageous accent at age six without being called a sissy and having your clothes torn and your lunch money taken away from you on a daily basis by the resident bully without doing something about it. And what I did about it was hide my tears from my mother and father, and go to the public library and announce to the librarian that I wanted to learn to defend myself. As fate and fortune would have it, she may have had the proverbial tortoise shell cat shaped glasses and the neck chain, but she also had a husband that had a brother that had the same thing happen to him at that age, only he was Orthodox Jewish, and had ringlets and became a rabbi who reluctantly adopted a goyim. By the time I was seven, I had developed a taste for potato pancakes and I had blackened both eyes of the bully as well." Ed grinned. "And I repaid him for his lessons by teaching his young daughter Miriam Goldstein long division. His gorgeous dewy-eyed daughter, whom I fell toe curlingly in love with." Ed repeated dreamily. " She never fell in love with me back alas. Ah, Miriam, I wonder what happened to her. Maybe she's still in the phone book. Get my mobile for me, would you, Claire? OW!" Ed said when Claire teasingly rapped his shoulder lightly.

"Upstairs, Ed Straker, my darling heroic defender of rabbits. I have to suture your lip."

Ed Straker complained all the way up the stairs.

* * *

Later, a small flesh coloured butterfly bandage applied to his lip, which happily didn't need a suture after all Ed showered, groomed himself and dressed, and while Claire did the same, he went downstairs again. The vet had finished examining Fiver, and luck had been with the valiant creature. Her ears hadn't been harmed, just her ego. After again expressing his astonishment at Fiver's behaviour, and in turn astonishing Ed with his bill, the vet had left, muttering something about sheep with broken legs. Which had saddened Ed, reminding him of how much Alec had hated sheep. Zeke had turned up again, playing with Dandelion, Fiver and Hazel, and upon seeing Ed, he beamed.

"You sure look nice, Ed."

Ed looked down at his dark blue linen Ralph Lauren suit, his paisley silk tie in pale yellows and blues, his simple square textured gold cufflinks and his paler yellow handkerchief. He fitted a carnation from a nearby vase into his buttonhole, and smiled. Civilian, he thought. How extraordinary. I'm a civilian. He stared into the great hall looking glass. What do you think of the new civilian, Alec? Can you see me? Should I have warned you? What kind of life can I possibly have without your gentle horseplay, without your guidance? How could you possibly think that your absence would be the best thing for me? How? How wrong can a man be? You pulled out all the stops when it comes to being wrong. Now I'll never hear your voice again.

Ed turned away from the looking glass bitterly and pushed his grief aside.

"Hope Mrs. Straker thinks so. What is this thing Gil wanted me to see in the garden?"

"Come on, I'll show you." Zeke replied, guessing whom Ed wanted to see beside him in the glass.

* * *

They walked through the garden, toward the thick woods, and Zeke pointed to a cocoon dangling from a branch.

"He said to remind you that nature knew best. Said that if you try and speed up the process of nature, in your case trying to deny your grief, you end up destroying the caterpillar's metamorphosis into a butterfly, you end up destroying yourself, you let the abyss win."

"Butterflies live very abbreviated lives," Ed said after a moment. He gently touched the living silk sculpture that was the cocoon.

"So do humans, Ed. That's why we have to make the most of our lives. This Alec of yours is in paradise, like my little girl, like my wife. They've laid their burden down, and we've got no business picking it up again in grief. I honour them by living, with every breath I take. That's the way you have to live, for your lady and the people who love you. You aren't alone."

"I didn't know I could hurt this much and live, Zeke," Ed responded quietly, tears blurring his vision.

"I know, I visited that abyss too." Zeke took a step and lay a hand reverently on Ed's shoulder. Ed looked up, clear blue eyes wide, astonished, uncertain. "Ed, I know. Look, I know I'm not your Alec Freeman any more than one snowflake is the same as another. Way I see it, you bought my baby a few more months of life. For that, something bigger than you or me put me here, maybe to be your friend. Put Mr. Gil here too, to learn from you and teach you as well. Just wanted you to know, you need me, you're guaranteed I'll be here. I got big shoulders, big ears, big, like the rest of me."

Ed gently took Zeke's hand off his shoulder and squeezed it fondly.

"The biggest thing about you is your heart. Come on, I'm about to take my wife of seven years out on the town, and you're driving."

"Sounds nifty to me." Zeke smiled, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket and handing it to Ed. They walked back to the manor together.

* * *

Zeke ignored the looks he was getting at the little Italian restaurant Stomaco Felice, and studied the dessert menu after putting away a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs. He was seated close enough to Ed and Claire's little corner table to be able to keep anyone from approaching Ed. There were a few people who kept giving Ed glances, wondering if he was really the Ed Straker that had survived Hiram and Jerusha March, or if he just looked like him. Claire was amused, and wondered what they'd say if they knew not only was it Straker making a rare public appearance, but that he owned the little family run restaurant.

Ed was holding Claire's hand while he too studied the dessert menu. He had opted for Beef Carpaccio as a main course while Claire had eaten rack of lamb, both delicious.

"I'm leaning toward Espresso granita as my sweet, what about you?"

"I'm thinking of sweeping all the plates and candles and flowers on this table, and having you for dessert on the red and white chequered tablecloth."

"I'm not on the menu." he chuckled softly.

"Edward, has anyone told you how gorgeous you are? Or how much I love you?"

Ed signalled the waiter, and ordered two Espresso granitas.

"As a matter of fact, yes, several times today."

"Who?"

"You. How come I haven't seen that little black number on you before?"

"It's new. You like it?" Claire said, looking at her sleeveless black velvet and silk sheath dress with a low cut v-neck.

"No." he responded flippantly.

"No? Why, Edward?" she sighed dramatically.

"It needs something." Ed produced the diamond and pearl necklace from an pocket in his trousers and she gasped as it caught the light. He chuckled, seeing Zeke over her shoulder give him the thumbs up sign and then go back to devouring his dish of chocolate ice cream. She studied the back of it for a few seconds, touching the tiny engraved letters as if they were alive.

To my precious Claire on our 7th anniversary With all my love, Ed

Then she leaned forward so that he could fasten it around her neck.

"When did you get it? Oh Edward, it's wonderful, you're wonderful," Claire proclaimed tearfully, kissing his hand. He smiled, pleased at her reaction.

"I managed to-" Ed's explanation was cut off by the urgent beeping of his mobile phone. Claire's rapturous expression dropped off her face as if it was weighted by an anvil.

"You brought that thing with you?"

"Habit. Can't get used to being unemployed. Besides, aren't you on call from Mayland, isn't yours in your purse?"

"I didn't bring it today, no, not on our anniversary."

"Claire-"

"Oh just answer it, Edward." Claire sadly let go of his hand, and he reluctantly took the mobile out of his pocket. Not a smart move, Straker, he told himself.

"Straker. What? Wait. Who is this? Terrilynnn? Yes. Stop crying, I can't make out what you're saying. What? No, no, it's fine, calm down now, what's happened? No, of course I won't tell your brother. What is it you don't want your brother to find out? Come and get you? Sure, where? WHAT? Oh my God. Yes. No, no, it's all right, I'll be there in about ten, twenty minutes, yes, I swear it. No, don't worry, I have a GPS in Claire's car, we'll find it. Yes, Gloucester Place, yes. Sit tight, Terry, you did the right thing, I'm coming." Ed stuck his mobile back into his pocket, stood up, put on his jacket.

"Edward, what is it?" Claire said, standing with him.

Ed was calling for the waiter, pulled out his wallet, shoved his credit card at him, hurriedly signed the credit slip when the waiter returned with his American Express, threw some pounds down for the tip and then he signalled to Zeke.

"Give me the car keys. We have to go. NOW." Ed grabbed the keys and zipped through to the front of the restaurant, Zeke and Claire at his heels, Claire gasping when Ed made a mad dash across the street to the parking lot, nearly being flattened by a lorry that ground to a halt to let them pass. The lorry driver expressed himself in some colourful words until Zeke silenced him with one look. They piled into their car, and fastened their seat harnesses. Ed had his customary grim expression on, mouth a unforgiving slit.

"Damn it, Edward! You nearly got us all killed! What's going on?"

The Volvo tyres shrieked their disapproval as Ed pulled out of the lot like his life depended on it. He punched some buttons and the built in GPS screen rolled out and into place. Ed fed the on-board computer some information.

"What's going on? I'll tell you what's going on. Terrilynnn. She just called me from a Regent Park sexual health clinic. She was about to abort Alec Freeman's child. Only she couldn't go through with it. My God, my God, my God."

"Man, it's the season for trouble," commented Zeke, being flung around at high speed as Ed pushed the little green Volvo for all it was worth. He was beginning to regret he'd eaten so much ice cream.

"Oh Edward, that poor woman is all alone, what's going to happen next? Pins and needles! When will it all end?" Claire sighed.

Ed, violating every traffic law in London, had no answer. All he could think about was a child, a child waiting to be born. Alec Freeman's son or daughter, carrying his genes. A part of his dearest friend surviving after death. Butterfly emerging new from the cocoon of grief. Hope. Promise. New life. Alec Freeman had left a gift behind, a means to soften the pain of his absence. Terrilynnn, infected with Alec's alien bacteria that had two hosts now. Mother and child.

* * *

Damn, he'd lost it, where could he have lost it? Hard to think. Water almost gone now. He should have listened to them. What a particularly miserable place to die. Well, get it over with, damn it. Die, die, die, die.

* * *

Ed Straker whimpered in his sleep, repeating the word die, die and Claire gently stroked him, whispering to him, until he opened his eyes, let out a breath.

"Was I dreaming again? What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"How is she?"

"Sleeping, the last time I looked," she replied, caressing his cheek.

"Claire, about today, I'm sorry about the phone. I would have said something earlier but I have to admit, the business of getting Terry here exhausted me."

"I know. I'm glad you had it now, poor Terry, I'm glad we'll look after her. I'm just worried about what the bacteria will do to her, Edward. We have to tell her so that she can make an informed choice."

"You said if she was carefully watched during the pregnancy, that the diabetes wouldn't be that much of a risk to her and the baby. Now we have the bacteria to worry about too. My God, she's going through this alone, how do we tell her about the bacteria? Having a child without a father is tough already."

"We have to tell her, Edward, we have to just hope she's strong enough to get through it. If she decides to go ahead with the abortion, it's better than it be now, early in the pregnancy."

"Yes, I know, I just, oh, never mind." Ed's eyes were sorrowful.

"You're wishing Alec was alive, and knew he had another child, waiting to be born. Edward, you were crying in your sleep again, I'm worried about you. What were you dreaming, my darling?"

"Nothing important, I was in some wilderness, wanting to die, hoping for it to happen quickly. Claire, I'm fine, I intend to take Zeke's advice and live life as fully as I can. The nightmare isn't a sign that I want to give up. Claire, sweetheart, I love you. I'm so sorry I ruined our anniversary."

"I never got my dessert, Edward." she smiled, slipping her arms around him, he felt warm and smelled faintly of cologne, his usual lemony scent.

He grinned at her.

"I have a feeling you don't mean the Espresso granita."

"Nothing is sweeter than you making love to me."

"Terrilynnn is across the hall, what if she hears us?"

"Edward, she's pregnant, I have the feeling she won't be shocked at what she might hear." Claire chuckled.

"You smell good, lovely lady. I haven't decided whether I like the Tresor or the Emeraude best."

"You may not have decided, but I have, which is why I wore Tresor. Tresor generally puts you in a passionate mood. With the Emeraude, you're more content to just hold hands and cuddle, and that isn't what I have in mind." She started unbuttoning his pyjama top with a mischievous grin, rubbing the sparse golden hairs on his chest. He regarded her with pretend distaste.

"Oh, you've been conducting a scientific experiment, huh? It's late, what if I simply turn around and go back to sleep? That'll throw cold water on your little theories of seduction, Mrs. Straker," he decreed, while drawing closer to her.

"I'd have to rely on my own meagre abilities and not on the perfume to make you change your mind," she said, kissing him just below the ear. He grunted a little, closed his eyes, letting the slow arousal erase his worry and grief, and he took her into his arms, lowering the straps of her nightgown. She slipped it off, he pulled off his pyjama bottoms until skin met skin, he cupped her breasts in his hands, drawing a faint groan from her when he finally moved into her, slow and steady at first, then almost desperately, their moans merging.

* * *

Later, he relaxed after the lovemaking and lay quietly, watching her sleep. Satisfied that she wouldn't be disturbed, he got up, showered, put his pyjamas back on and donned his dressing gown, and was startled to hear her speak as he came into the room.

"Raid on lemon drizzle cake, or checking on Terry or both?" she asked, her eyes opening, her voice husky with sleep.

"Did I wake you?" he said sheepishly, tying his sash.

"No. I'm getting better at sensing when you sneak out of bed. Come on, let's go see how Terry is together." she chuckled.

"Lemon drizzle cake and coffee sounds like a good idea too, " he said, watching her sit up and put her nightgown and robe on. The two of them went arm in arm across the hall but Terry's room was empty. Ed's heart began to pound in dismay, until they could hear the television screeching out some advertisement for MacLean's toothpaste. "Terry, you up?" asked Ed, entering the larger sitting room downstairs.

"Oh Ed, I didn't wake you two up did I? I couldn't sleep."

"Watching advertisements? Terry, that isn't good for the baby. Might stunt his or her growth." Ed grinned, seeing that she'd taken advantage of his satellite TV system. Terry chuckled, and switched off the remote. The cabinet concealing the television swung back into place.

"Edward woke me up with the munchies," Claire informed her, drawing a indignant look from him, "I'm going to get us all cake and coffee, what would you like? We have lemon drizzle, German chocolate and pineapple upside down cake, but we can-."

"All three, of course. You sit, ladies, I'll handle this." Ed announced regally.

"Watch out for Dandelion, she may be on her early morning Olympic bunny run." Claire reminded Ed, and Ed gave her the horrified look she'd expected.

"That spoiled rabbit is worse than a three year old."

"And you certainly would know about spoiled three year olds, Edward, having a snack at five in the morning." Claire teased.

"Hmm, where's that address book with the divorce lawyer's number?" Ed asked, as he disappeared out the door. Claire threw a embroidered silk pillow at him, but it missed him. Terry sighed.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked. Terry began to weep.

"I'll never be able to do that, my baby will never play with her father, oh, Claire, my husband died, he didn't want any children, and now, the idea of raising a child alone frightens me so very much. I don't think I've ever felt his way, not even when he died."

"How I envy you. I can't give Edward what he wants most in life, a son or daughter. Listen, my husband Edward can be a intimidating old grouch sometimes, but his soul is that of an angel. You're carrying his best friend's child. You don't need to worry about a thing, you have us. Your brother won't be able to get anywhere near you, believe me. My Edward will see to that. Not even Mother Nature can do as much destruction to someone as Edward does to anyone who hurts someone he cares for. Edward's a walking storm complete with lightning strikes when he's pissed off."

"I saw a little of that, when we first met, thought he was a rude son of a bitch, sorry, but I speak my mind and tell people the way I see things, and I didn't know how Alec could have him as a friend, thought he was just as arrogant as my brother. Afterwards, he spoke to me so gently, with such kindness in his voice, I had trouble believing it was the same man."

"Edward's bark can be just as bad as his bite but if he was as bad as some people have always made him out to be, I would have never agreed to love him and be his wife. I came all the way out here from San Francisco with my friend Ryan to find him, I didn't know I'd fallen in love with him, I just thought he desperately needed someone to care about him. Alec knew his soul, was able to see through him even when he was throwing his weight around."

"I guess I have to get to know him. I have to admit I was surprised at the way he called me, and told me about Alec, about Alec's drinking, told me what had gone on in Alec's life, his failed marriage, his little girl, and then I could hear his sorrow when he finally told me-" she began to sob again, "called me and said Alec had died. Tried to get me to take the house. I said no. He said if I ever needed anything, ever needed someone to talk to, that he insisted I call him, said he was grateful for what I did, that last night I was with Alec, asked me to keep in touch."

Ed had come up with a tray, but he'd overheard Terry, and he hesitated, staying out of sight, listening.

"I never could imagine Alec behaving like he did, even if he was drunk, the way he hit Edward, practically raping you like-"

"Oh goodness, Claire, it wasn't that way, I knew what I was getting myself into, I didn't fall off a turnip truck. I'd cooked him dinner, and he kept watching me, hardly saying anything, drinking heavily, we started kissing. He asked me to go to bed with him, said he was attracted to me, that he needed someone, someone to remind him what life felt like, how good it could be, begged me not to turn him down, told me he was at the end of his rope. Claire, as much as I hate to admit this, the idea of someone thinking I was attractive at my age, well into my forties, someone wanting to have sex with me, it both scared the dickens out of me and thrilled me at the same time. I know I look a whole lot older, Alec thought I was closer to his age, sun and cigarettes will do that to you. I gave up both. I'm no porcelain pushover, I'm made of the same granite as Alec was. I let him seduce me, make no mistake about it, and drunk as he was, " Terry flushed a little and looked at the Persian carpet, "he was all man. I thought my sex life was finished. It wasn't. I fell for Alec that night. When he left without saying goodbye, I told myself that as much as I wanted him, what he'd given me back was enough. It made me a woman again. My brother Alan makes me feel like I don't have a brain cell in my head, simply because I'm a little overweight and have diabetes. Alec made me whole again."

"Oh pins and needles, you sounded so hysterical when you told me about it, I assumed-"

"You assumed he'd practically raped her. Which was ridiculous, even if he was that kind of man, he wouldn't need to. Women were drawn to Alec like moths to a porch light. He had his pick of them," Ed said evenly, coming into the room, and setting the tray down and sitting beside Claire. "How do you like your coffee, Terry?"

"Black, please, Ed."

"Listen, I want you to know what kind of man Alec Freeman was, I want to tell you about the baby's father." Ed's voice broke at the word was, and he poured coffee for Terry to hide his discomfort, offered her a slice of pineapple upside down cake, forgetting about her diabetes for the moment.

"I only knew him for a couple of days, but I think I know what kind of man he was."

"I gave him that house. In his will, he left it to you," Ed informed her. "You refused it before, Terry, but you can't now. Please. Alec wanted you to be there. He'd absolutely want me to make sure you were taken care of, especially now with the baby coming. You can't go on with that brother of yours dictating how you live your life. We'd be right here, just a few yards away, I'm wealthy, we'll handle your expenses. It'll be nice for Claire here to have someone new to have girl talk with. I'd love to see, well, to see-" Ed turned away, still having trouble managing his emotions. Claire took his hand in hers.

"It would mean everything to us if you let us help raise Alec's child. My husband couldn't stand it if you decided to turn him down and disappear, the way Alec did to him," Claire informed her softly. "If you understand what it means to love a man so much you don't want him hurt-"

"I thought a long time about it. I'll stay. My brother will have a fit, but my life is my life. You need to let me have some way to repay you for my expenses, I won't take no for an answer. I could clean, or cook? I can sew, I can do most anything. Ed, no, I'm afraid that cake would screw up my blood sugar something fierce. You have it, you need to put some weight on that body of yours, Ed." Terry chuckled. "You're a stick with big blue eyes. You need meat on that cute little butt of yours, hon."

Ed made an exaggerated show of blushing and looking over one shoulder to try and see his posterior.

"I'm going to like having you around, Terry." Claire chuckled, hugging the woman. The two of them giggled like schoolgirls.

Ed looked at himself, then at the slice, this time genuinely embarrassed.

"What was I thinking? I'll get you something else. Croissant, maybe?"

"You sit, I'll find something myself. I've already been enough trouble, interrupting your anniversary dinner."

"Help yourself Terry, just watch out for renegade bunnies." Claire suggested. Terry laughed.

"Speaking of renegade bunnies," Ed said, watching Hazel come out of a corner, sniffing the air. He got up, crouched and approached her.

"Oh how precious she is! Alec told me he thought that criminologist fellow had put a dent in your brain, the way you'd suddenly adopted pet rabbits, but he said you had a little feisty one-eyed one he liked."

"He's talking about Fiver. Hazel, come here, come here, sweetie," Ed cooed to the rabbit, picking her up.

"Sweetie?" Claire echoed, folding her arms, pretending jealousy. Terry grinned at her. "How is a wife supposed to compete with your affections for that lump of fur?"

"Gosh, I don't know, maybe the same way you competed with my affection for Alec? When you knew perfectly well that there's enough of me to go around?"

Claire gawked at him, opened her mouth to make a impassioned denial, but Ed's steady vivid blue gaze made her realise there was more than a germ of truth in it. A little shaken, she stuffed her mouth full of German chocolate cake. Ed grinned slightly, put Hazel in Terry's lap, and the rabbit looked a little startled, but Terry's expert petting made her change her mind. She sprawled out on Terry's lap, to Terry's delight.

"Oh you beautiful little baby," Terry said to it.

"Claire, come help me locate the other furry juveniles, and get Terry something kosher to eat. You sit and spoil Hazel, we'll be right back."

Ed led Claire out of the room, and she swallowed the bit of cake she was chewing.

"You've got frosting on your lips, sweetheart." he smiled.

"Edward, I don't know what to say. I did resent your bond with Alec."

"Enough to eagerly jump to conclusions about what he might have done the night he slept with Terry," Ed said quietly, still holding her hand lovingly. "You were quick to judge him, but I know you tried to protect me. The fact is, Alec misjudged me just as unfairly too, thought I was interfering in his life, and all I was trying to do was stop him from getting involved with a woman long before he was ready. He hurt me, Claire, and he knew just how and how much to do it. I can't blame him, grief is a horrible thing to go through. It never fades completely, but it gets easier to live with. Alec had seen people suffer and die, both in the war, and in Shado, but Ayomide's death was different. She was part of him, and she adored him. A child's love for a parent is a powerful thing. And what happened? She died, when it was me the murderer was after. To make things even more complicated, I denied him Terry. I buried myself in work when I lost my wife and son, when Ayomide was lost to him he buried himself in his masculinity, in his sexuality. That doesn't make him a bad person. That makes him human. Being worried I might care more for Alec, might forget that I have you in my life now that Alec is gone, well that makes you human too. Only it won't happen. My eyes are opened, Claire. I'm not that afraid to let myself be loved and love."

"Edward, you are loved. You're loved and cherished and treasured. You mean everything to me. I was just afraid you'd let yourself go, separated from Alec."

"I won't fall into the abyss as long as you hold me," he smiled. "You've been my life line I hold onto for a long time now. I love you."

"Edward, remember, she may choose to abort that child. You may lose the last link you have to Alec. I can't stand to see you in pain, when you're already hurting, grieving. "

Ed looked grim.

"I'll deal with that if it happens."

"We'll deal with it, my sweet Edward. We'll deal with it together. Besides, from the way she acted with Hazel, I don't think she could bear to kill anything small, even if there's a possibility it may harm her."

"The bacteria has saved us. I'm praying it won't harm her or Alec's child. We'll tell her tonight, give her a chance to get settled, we'll tell her together. Come on, let's find Dandelion and Fiver before they chew up Silk Wood Manor."

* * *

Gil Grissom was bent over a microscope, carefully examining a lace and nylon brassiere with ample cups. Ample cups was a understated way to put it.

"I think I've figured out how the victim was killed," Warrick said languidly at his side. Gil didn't raise his head, but made an adjustment to the microscope.

"David already concluded the cause of death was suffocation, Warrick."

"Slingshot."

Gil raised his head and elevated an eyebrow. Warrick stabbed an gloved finger at the bra.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"That thing can't be anything but a slingshot."

"This thing is full of epithelials."

"Your cups runneth over?" quipped the younger CSI, deadpan.

"Just an educated guess, you understand, but I'd say you're hanging around Greg too much. Actually, there's adhesive residue on the inside of the cups. To secure the false foam breasts. The she was a he, as David discovered."

"Holly came from Miami, FLA, hitch-hiked her way across the USA, plucked her eyebrows on the way, shaved her legs and then he was a she. Take a walk on the wild side," Warrick intoned. Gil raised his eyebrow a millimetre higher. "It's a song, Grissom."

"A song by the Velvet Underground. Referring to Andy Warhol's colleagues in the Factory, I know, Warrick."

"I'm impressed."

Gil scraped the skin cells into a tube. Then he put the bra into the plastic evidence bag.

"I'll be equally impressed if you give these to Greg."

Gil's mobile phone rang and he took it out, peeled off one glove, then the other, and placed them into a bindle. Warrick took the evidence, and started to go out, but then he turned around to ask a question.

"Grissom. Yes it is. Who's calling please? Yes, I will."

"Somebody put you on hold? On a mobile phone? That can be expensive, man."

"Call from Australia. Superintendent Mills wants to talk to me about the Freeman case."

"That one you worked for Straker? Fellow who sent us that big food basket?"

"Yes, Warrick. Get that evidence to Greg, Warrick. Yes. Hello, yes, I can hear you. Further developments? Fingerprints? That doesn't make any sense. Yes. I see, actually I agree, no need to disturb Mr. Straker further without checking this out. What? All right, yes I will, yes. As soon as I can. Goodbye."

Grissom hit the end call button and frowned, stuffed the mobile back into its holder.

"Something wrong?"

"I'll say. A dead man is being accused of a crime. Warrick, handle this case for me. I'm taking more of that leave I've accumulated. I'm headed to England again."

"All this for that Straker guy?"

"He's a friend, Warrick," Grissom said, walking to his office with Warrick at his side. Grissom sat and dug through some case files until he got to one manila envelope with Freeman marked on it. He studied the papers and various contents that were in it through his magnifying glass.

"He must be some dude, that Straker."

"He is, Warrick," Grissom said, without raising his head.

"What's he like?"

"Goodbye Warrick." Gil responded. Warrick sighed and went through the door. Gil looked up, smiled a little, then his forehead furrowed as he studied the copy of the dental records. Finally he picked up the phone and dialled his travel agent.

* * *

Claire Straker scrunched up the blankets around her, then stretched, turned over on her side and reached toward Ed for added warmth. When her fingers touched only the cool sheets, her eyes flew open in a panic. She sat straight up and turned on the lamp, heart pounding. Jumping up, she grabbed her chenille robe and then the phone. Desperately she dialled security. The storm raging outside the window appropriately echoed her deepest fears. Had the abyss claimed Edward so completely that he'd take his own life? No, thank God, his Glock remained in the drawer.

"This is Mrs. Straker, did my husband leave the premises?"

"No Ma'am. He's at the Freeman house, with Mr. Morris."

Claire didn't bother to say goodbye; she hung up and, pulling on her robe and sticking her bare feet into slippers, she raced down the stairs two at a time. By the time she had reached the Freeman home she was drenched, making a drowned rat look as dry as the Sahara. The door was open, and Zeke was just inside.

"I'm mighty glad to see you, Claire. Ed, well, I think he needs you."

"Why on earth didn't you tell me Ed was out here?"

"You were sleeping so soundly. Besides, I didn't know Ed was gone until I woke up and peeked in. Then I called Jerome, who works the graveyard, and he said Ed was out here. So I just came to make sure he wasn't alone. But he said he didn't want company. He needs to do some grieving alone, bad as it is."

Claire sighed, nodded and went further into the house in search of him. She found Ed in the room that had been Alec's bedroom. Dust had made a faded recording of where the furniture had been. Ed knelt in the middle of the room, bent over, arms wrapped tightly around himself, sobbing. His pyjamas were moulded to his slim frame from being damp. His feet were muddy and bare.

"Oh Edward." she said softly.

He looked up. The expression of desolation on his face was like a blade passing through her heart.

"He's out there, Claire. I see him in my sleep. He needs me. He's out there, and he needs me. He isn't dead. I feel it. I feel it."

"Edward. He's gone. You saw his body. You have to let him go. He wouldn't want you to be in this pain."

"I can't stop dreaming about him. He needs me. He's my friend. I can't turn my back on him."

"Edward." she said gently, helplessly. She knew the process of grief was healing. It was just unbearable to watch unfold in this man that she loved with her whole being.

"I can't let him go. I can't, I can't. I can't stand it anymore. It's killing me."

Claire bent and embraced him, and allowed him to sob against her, as he held on to her as if he was afraid she might go. Claire was well aware that even after seven years, he still feared that very possibility, expected it. After a moment, he looked up at her through swollen and reddened eyes.

"There's nothing left of him. I didn't keep anything. Nothing. Nothing. How could I do that? Nothing defined him more than that jacket. I wanted it so badly. It was his favourite possession. It brought me some peace. And I just gave it away to Ford. Must I give up everything? My wife, my son, and now Alec? That jacket was mine, it should have been mine. Oh God, Claire. I have nothing left. Nothing. He wasn't supposed to die without me. It isn't fair. It just isn't fair."

Claire took a deep breath, watching his anguish was like someone had taken a red-hot branding iron to her soul. This man had given everything, without complaint. He had received very little in return. Alec dying had been the final and most unkind straw to threaten to break this gentle camel's back. Water could wear away even the most sturdy of rocks, she thought, and he's drowning.

"Come home, Edward. Come on, my precious darling. You'll get sick. Come home for me, please?"

He slowly rose, exhausted, leaned on her, and she led him back into the manor. Zeke followed, and while Claire got the wet clothes off Ed and cleaned his feet off, Zeke poured brandy into a small tumbler. When he came upstairs, Ed was in dry pyjamas and in bed, looking more like a pale sculpture than a living body. Claire was dry and at her dresser, unlocking and rummaging through her jewel box.

"Ed, drink this brandy, okay?" Zeke said.

Ed shook his head faintly.

Zeke gently placed it in Ed's hands. There was no fight in Ed, and he lifted it to his lips in numbed hands, sipped, winced as the alcohol burned his throat, paused and then drank what remained in a single gulp, alarming Zeke. Ed let the glass fall, and the last drops trickled out on the pillow.

"Bring the bottle up, Zeke." Ed said, apathy in his usual vibrant and assured tone of voice. Zeke's eyes fell on Claire. She had found what she was looking for, and shook her head firmly at Zeke. Zeke left, slowly closing the door behind him.

Claire picked up Ed's limp hand, put something that felt hard and cold in it, and then forcefully closed his fingers over it. He looked up at her, she was smiling faintly. Puzzled, he opened his hand. His face contorted with waves of emotion. A tarnished medallion on a thick chain lie in his hand, the tarnish almost obscuring the image carved into it. The chain was knotted in places, and it was broken.

"How? When?" Ed whispered, warm fresh tears moistening his face.

"In the plane wreckage. They'd left it out of his personal effects because they hadn't found it yet when they gave his effects to us." Claire got into bed and slid next to him. He leaned against her, seeking the comfort of her touch.

"Saint Jude. I presented it to Alec once when he jokingly claimed working for me was nothing short of impossible. How long have you had it?"

"Long enough. I thought eventually you'd regret giving all of Alec's things away. So I kept this, hid it away, was waiting until you were a little stronger to give it to you. If you want, I will have the chain repaired for you, so you can wear it."

"No. I want it like this for now. Claire, you don't know, you don't know what this means to me. Thank you. Thank you."

"Edward, I know what he meant to you. I may have been uncomfortable with how attached the both of you were. I know when I have screwed up, and I screwed up. Maybe he would have eventually dealt with what he did. Maybe not. I just want you to know I'm glad he was in your life. If there were any way to spare you this pain, I would. I love you Edward. I hope that gives you strength to go on. In a matter of months you'll be able to spoil his little boy or girl rotten. Alec left, and without knowing it, he left a little piece of him behind. Terry and his baby need you now. I need you now."

"I adore and love and cherish you, and I always have, Claire. The intensity of it scares me sometimes. I think I've searched my whole life for someone to walk beside me, for someone to come home to, to be a balm on my loneliness. Once in a while I look down at my wedding ring just to make sure this peace and happiness I feel hasn't been just another wistful daydream."

"I never have read in the New England journal of medicine about a daydream lasting seven years." She smiled. She was rewarded by a faint chuckle from him. "Come on, darling. Go to sleep now. You have those appearances with me for the Foundation to do later on today. They want photographs. You need to look rested, my handsome husband."

She was gratified to hear some of the annoyed Commander in his reply.

"Can't you handle it alone? I hate these damn press junkets."

"They want to see you. If this program I told you about is going to work, you have to stand behind it. For the children, Edward." she reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, laying back down, after he hung the medallion over one of the finials on the poster bed, tying the two ends of the chain together temporarily until he could fix it. She smiled and covered the both of them, and turned off the lamp. Exhaustion eased passage into sleep, and dreamless hours slipped by.

A little later, Ed sleepily opened his eyes. Claire was curled up asleep tightly against him, and he sat up somewhat. He reached over and stroked her brunette tresses. Dawn was breaking over the manor; the sun was streaming through the magnificent Palladian window. He sighed. Generally he loved to watch the beauty of it take shape.

"Alec, it's Ed. Can you still hear me?" he murmured softly, and sighed again. Ed turned briefly to check that the medallion was still hanging there, knowing the urge to reassure himself was ridiculous, but not caring much. His eyes widened. Somehow, the sunlight had streamed over and illuminated it. He watched it glimmer until the morning light changed position and the glow faded. Ed looked thoughtful, and scooted back under the comforter against Claire.

"You always were a show off, Alec, old friend." Ed intoned, and closed his eyes. When he fell asleep again his mouth was curved in a faint smile.

* * *

Warrick Brown returned from presenting the evidence to Greg, who as usual had been moaning about being swamped with work when he wasn't boasting about his latest girlfriend. He spoke briefly to Nick and Catherine, who were examining photo slides. They nodded, waved at him and he walked on, seeing Grissom's empty office. He paused, looked both ways, and then snuck in. Turning on a lamp, the hazel eyes that contrasted with his dark skin and head full of short frizzy hair fell on the telephone. He lifted the receiver, hit redial, waited. He picked up a ballpoint pen. The person on the other end of the line answered and he grinned.

"Yeah. This is Crime scene investigator Warrick Brown of the Las Vegas Police Department. I understand my supervisor Gil Grissom booked a flight to England through you recently? Could you give me the details on what you set up for him? Las Vegas to New York, New York to Heathrow? I need to be on the same flight to Heathrow. For a case? Uh, yeah for a case. Yeah. Okay, yeah, yeah. When? Man. Okay. Hang on, I'll give you my bank debit card 411." Warrick put down the phone and pulled out his wallet, read out the numbers on his card. "You got that? Cool. Thanks for your help." Warrick hung up and scrawled some info on his wrist with the pen. A hand descended on his shoulder and he jumped.

"Man, you scared the hell out of me."

Dr. David Robbins, one of the senior coroners, grinned at Warrick, as he leaned on his crutch.

"You're the one with the gambling inclinations, but I just bet Grissom is going to feed your black butt to one of his tarantulas for handing his case off to Catherine and Nick." the older man informed him.

"Come on, David, aren't you curious about this Straker guy, just a little? What kind of dude draws Gris to England like a magnet? Man it usually takes an act of Congress to get him to take time off."

"How long before you have to catch a plane to join him?"

"I got two hours, enough to head to my crib, pack a bag, grab my passport and pick up my airline tickets. Why?"

"Observe and learn, Luke Skywalker. I am going to show you the ways of the Force." David said, moving over to Grissom's files. Warrick grinned and eagerly watched him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope." Warrick said.

"Funny, you don't look like Carrie Fisher," the bearded physician said, and pulled a manila file folder that had the word Lepidoptera printed on its label. Warrick remembered that meant butterflies and moths, and was puzzled to see newspaper clippings in it as the coroner brought it to Grissom's desk and opened it. David located and found a brochure. He unfolded it and tapped a colour photo printed on it. Warrick looked with trained CSI eyes, and saw a late forties, early fiftyish extremely attractive man in a expensive navy blue suit, red tie that looked like silk, white shirt, white handkerchief, plain burnished gold cufflinks and black socks and black patent leather shoes. Warrick estimated his height at just below six feet and his weight around one hundred and fifty pounds. His hair was silver, and styled simply but flawlessly. His mouth was perfectly shaped, revealing a hint of a smile. His nose suited his fine cheek-boned, distinguished looking face, and his vivid blue eyes showed a keen intelligence. His hands were serenely arranged on top of one another. He was reed slim. There was a hint of impatience in the expression, but no nervousness in front of the unforgiving lens. He looked like a model on some New York or Paris catwalk. He was seated on a stool against the kind of background you often saw in posed portraits. Warrick had the immediate feeling that this was a man you crossed at your own peril. Small print underneath the photograph identified him as Edward Straker, CEO of the Straker Foundation, the non-profit charity he'd set up with his wife Dr. Claire Straker to meet the needs of unfortunate children.

"So what about this rich dude is making Grissom chalk up the frequent flier miles? Straker doesn't look the type that would interest him. Straker like bugs or something?"

"Check this out," David told him. It was a newspaper-clipping showing the same man. He looked dramatically different, gaunt, sickly, the blue eyes lifeless. Warrick skimmed the article that described him as the sole survivor after a year of torture by two serial killers in England. He was speaking at a press conference.

"Whoa. Straker was a vic. "

"To put it mildly. And don't be so quick to use past tense. What he went through is something you just don't completely get over. It leaves you with phantom pain. The incident, like my leg, might be long gone, but the pain is still there. That this guy hasn't put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger is a miracle in itself. Okay, show and tell over, pick up your milk and cookies, kids, and go home. And Warrick? You ever tell Grissom I showed you this folder he keeps hidden, expect me to cut open that fine Negroid skull of yours and weigh your brain. While you're still breathing. Now go my son, bask in the saintly presence of Grissom and Straker and sin no more." The coroner stuffed the contents of the folder back in it, and put it back where it belonged.

"Thanks, doc." Warrick smiled. David smiled back. Warrick went toward the door.

"Hey, Skywalker."

"Yeah?"

"Be sure to tell me everything that happens. And don't forget, you owe me for this."

"You're the best, doc."

"Yeah, right. Now if I could only convince my wife of that, she might not insist on her mother staying for the weekend."

Warrick laughed and headed off, more than a little excited. United Kingdom, here I comes, he thought.

* * *

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this." Ed Straker announced.

"Good to see you in such a cheery mood, boss." Zeke said, from the driver's seat of Claire's beloved green Volvo sedan. They were headed to London.

"Shut up Zeke, or I'll rearrange your face."

"Edward Straker, don't you start picking on Zeke." Claire chuckled, and Terry, seated next to Zeke in the front, turned and rolled her eyes at Ed, who sat in the back alongside his wife.

"Ed hon, you know Zeke could bend you in half without really trying," Terry said.

"Good. Then I'll need a room at Mayland and won't have to pose for any photographs." Ed crossed his legs, resting a hand on an ankle. Claire mused to herself that her hormones were doing cartwheels. Ed was in a pristine beige Armani suit, blue pinstriped Turnbull and Asser shirt and a jaunty blue bow tie. His Burberry trench was across his lap. Ravishing wasn't a good enough word for how he looked. For once he had on Bulgari men's cologne in lieu of the usual lemon. She contemplated the possibility of attacking him right there and then. What was the point of having a sexy husband if you couldn't do what nature dictated? She reached over to hold his hand and he pulled away moodily, producing his aviator sunglasses and hiding behind them.

"You're the most stunning looking grouch of a husband I've ever seen," she said, admiringly.

"You're doing this to me," he countered, not a bit taken in by her adoration for the moment, but fully aware of where the sight of her in a form fitting cobalt blue suit with a white lace blouse was leading his thoughts.

"Doing what?" replied Claire, batting her eyelashes at him to no avail.

"Don't play the innocent with me, Doctor. You're throwing this Christian to the reporter lions, and you know it."

"Fine, Edward go ahead, pout, you big baby."

"Is he always this way?" Terry wondered.

"No, just when he knows he's going to have to make a speech in front of a audience and be photographed by reporters."

"You have such a cute little pout there, hon."

"Shut up, Terry," Ed replied.

"Oh now you're being rude to both Zeke and Terry?" chuckled Claire. Ed lowered the sunglasses just enough to give her a superior look, then he shoved them back in place. Terry laughed. Zeke grinned and hummed some tune no one recognised.

* * *

A few hours passed, and Ed made his way back wearily to the car after his fifth appearance at a charity function as representative for his Foundation.

"What now? I've had so many flashbulbs pop in my face I'm dizzy," he announced, getting in and fastening his harness. "Besides, I'm starving."

"Last event of the day, sweetheart. Luncheon at Sutton Court. You'll actually get to meet kids and the families that are taking them in for a month. We hope to have several permanent adoptions come out of this. "

"So the poor devils get to see what normal life is like outside of their prison for a miserly four weeks and then go back to their cold dormitories and colder fish and chips?" Ed asked. "How delightful."

"Edward, it's the same as a temporary foster home, only it creates a possibility that the couples won't want to give the children up at month's end, if they're lucky."

"And if they're not?"

"Then they take memories and presents back with them, at the very least, and they have someone out in the world to keep in touch with." Claire sighed, knowing how flimsy that sounded.

"Ed, it might sound like a bad thing, but I grew up tossed from one foster home to another. Mostly cause people wanted the money that came with me. When it ran out, I got bounced to the next one. Stayed that way, until I turned fifteen and ran off, never looked back," Zeke confessed.

"I must admit I never thought about what it would be like to not have parents while I was coming of age in Boston, or to be turned away by them. I just can't imagine what would be going on in the head of a person that didn't love their own child," Ed told them.

"You a Beantown boy, then, hon?" Terry wanted to know. "You don't have the accent."

"'Bo-an eand bread in Boahston yea-es May-am '" Ed responded, in an accent that could have curdled milk. Claire winced. Terry laughed at him and then smiled widely.

"My little one is going to be covered with hugs and kisses," Terry said dreamily, patting her still fairly flat stomach. Ed smiled at her.

"Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"It makes no difference to me, but it would be nice I reckon, to have a son I could christen after Alec. I'd name him Alec Edward Fillmore."

"Why do I get second billing?" Ed teased. Terry grinned at him.

"Because the world doesn't need another Edward the grouch," Claire informed him. He feigned shock and hurt. Dramatically he turned away from her, and folded his arms.

"Oh now that was plain mean, Claire sweetie." Terry laughed.

"Sweetie? Didn't you know, Terry? My wife may seem lovely and angelic but believe me, she is pure evil."

Claire giggled and crossed her legs. Ed looked at her intently, and calmly reached over and laid his hand on her stocking clad knee. Claire smelled trouble. He moved it upward until it disappeared under her pleated skirt. She hit him, and the hand retreated back in place on her knee. They grinned at each other.

"She sure does have some mighty pretty legs, that lily white lady of yours," Zeke commented, watching what was taking place in the back seat, using his driving mirror. Claire made a show of blushing, knowing Zeke wanted to taunt Ed with the race thing again. Ed had told her about Zeke teasing him while he was in hospital.

"If you mean any woman in this car besides Terry, I'm going to do excruciatingly painful things to your body with a church key that the Deep South bigots never dreamed of. Now keep your eyes on the road. Do I make myself clear, boy?" Ed said, eyes twinkling. Zeke guffawed, as did the women.

"Yessuh, massa, suh I heers yuh," Zeke joked back, fully knowing Ed didn't have a racist bone in his body.

* * *

The catered luncheon buffet of cold cuts, side dishes and a variety of salads was particularly good, and Ed reluctantly made small talk with the participating couples afterwards, and was grateful that only one photographer, hired by Claire for the event, followed him around taking candids. The photographer was developing grey hair attempting to get Ed to smile, Claire noticed in amusement.

The majority of the couples were young, and fairly well to do, some even on the same scale of wealth as Ed. When it came time for the lucky children to line up and meet their benefactors, Claire was not surprised to see Ed's face finally light up. He looked like a goldfish that had lived all its life in a shallow bowl and suddenly had been released in the lake. He eagerly greeted the children, patting some on the head, tickling others, asking yet others about their studies and where they came from, shaking hands with all. Ed seemed to instinctively know what would please each child. The photographer looked relieved. Claire tried to keep up informal, polite patter with the children's home director Mrs. Sutton, but the elderly woman, who looked like she had escaped from a book by Charles Dickens, seemed more alarmed by Ed's cavalier behaviour toward the children than anything else. Then she saw the woman scowl and mutter to herself, as if she had noticed something badly amiss.

"Is something wrong?" Claire asked. The woman next to her stiffened and whispered a reply.

"I'll say it is. I've had to deal with it before. I won't be sad to see the wretched child go. Heaven help the McDaniels! It isn't anything you should trouble yourself about, Mrs. Straker. I'll handle-"

The door had abruptly burst open, and a whoosh of cold wind came in uninvited with it, drawing irritated mutterings of discomfort from the guests. Then in came a large, somewhat unclean looking dog, Golden retriever mix from the looks of it, Claire guessed. It was wagging its ragged tail like a nuclear powered metronome, and by the time Claire realised where it was heading, it was way too late.

"Bleh!" Ed uttered, startled, as the dog made a beeline for him, placing its mud dipped front paws on Ed's jacket, and trying to lick him. Claire hurried over, and Zeke helped her try pull the friendly beast off Ed, who now had paw prints as part of his attire. Ed looked down at his suit, and then at Claire. Claire willed herself not to laugh, but Terry didn't make the effort, she was in hysterical giggles. All that happened in a fraction of a minute, then before anyone could force the door closed, a small figure dashed in breathlessly behind the dog.

"Molly, no! Here, doggie!" the child called, taking a few steps toward the dog. She had a slight accent Claire couldn't identify any more than the child's gender, because a wool cap and scarf hid hair and part of the newcomer's dusky face, and a pea coat concealed the small body.

The dog turned and bounced happily over to the small child, and it curled up near her, content to be petted.

"What is the meaning of this? Did you go out that window again? Today of all days? Trent, take that creature back outside where it belongs. You, you go and get your suitcase and come right down as soon as you get it. March!" Sutton shrilled. Ed wondered vaguely why she sounded so familiar, and then remembered Mary. He grinned.

"Yes Ma'am," the child said, sounding not a bit repentant and scurried up the steps. Claire had managed to get some club soda, and was blotting off most of the mud off Ed's suit. Ed looked at the director.

"Who was that? I thought all of the children were here already," he added. The director opened her mouth to reply, but a expensively dressed man crossed in front of her. He had a meek looking woman wearing a simple red trouser suit and a lot of diamond encrusted jewellery next to him.

"Kamala is a spirited child to be sure, Mr. Straker. But we have raised three perfectly behaved children of our own, and I know a little about how to discipline a wild young lady such as she. Both my wife and I appreciate a challenge. I'm Lord Fraser McDaniel, of Bridge Castle, and this is my wife Lady Leona McDaniel, you may recall we were seated at your table during lunch." The aristocratic looking man held out a hand to shake like he was doing Ed a favour. His hand was adorned by a thick gold ring with a family crest, and he spoke like each word he uttered was a gift. Ed shook his hand briefly, it was like dipping his hand in dough. Ed decided he hated the couple on principle, having little regard for titles or fat egos. The two of them had both.

"My apologies, Fraser, I met a good deal of people during luncheon. So you're participating in the programme, then?" Ed asked, enjoying the man's discomfort at being called anything less than his title.

"My husband's proper address is Lord McDaniel," his wife announced icily. "I understand you own Silk Wood Manor, and you are merely American, and a commoner. We read about your ordeal in the Times, Mr. Straker. Dreadful business with the Marches. You can be forgiven for not knowing royal protocol."

Ed's icy blue eyes flashed briefly. Claire waved goodbye to the idea of diplomacy, even though she despised the both of them on sight as much as she sensed Ed did. Edward never did get along with fools, let alone suffer them gladly.

"First, I in all likelihood know royal protocol better than you do. Second, I don't recall asking for your forgiveness. Third, I am the proud son of a British mother and a American father who served as I have in the United States Air Force, where you learn that manners don't arise from nationality or title, but common sense."

"Edward, it's almost time for us to go home." Claire smiled up at him.

"Good," Ed responded, taking her hand, making it clear he didn't want to be in their presence one minute longer. The McDaniels stared at him.

As if they'd been paged, Zeke and Terry who had been talking to the children together, appeared out of nowhere and joined Ed. Couples started filing out with the excited children they'd been paired with. Ed smiled at them and waved. The little girl appeared with a battered looking knapsack, and she hugged the dog tightly. Then as if marching to a guillotine in Ed's imagination, she went over and stood in front of the McDonalds, still wearing her cold weather gear.

Dear God, Ed thought. She's actually going to have to go with them? He pressed his lips tightly together, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Come along Kamala," McDonald said in a way you'd call a dog.

"Am I to go with you then?" the little girl said, in a surprisingly adult tone. Claire's heart turned over, and she could tell by the way Ed's hand was trembling in hers ever so slightly that he too was having problems accepting it.

"Yes, of course, why do you ask?" McDonald's wife said, surprised.

"Kamala, you are to go with them, without one word more," Mrs. Sutton said, raising her voice. Claire looked at her husband. He had his eyes tightly closed. Then they opened again, his emotions hid away in an inner fortress, Claire knew.

"I don't think so, Ma'am," the child said, and pulled off the wool cap. Everybody that was left in the room gasped. The child's hair had been shorn like it had been cut by a drunken, one-eyed, one-armed barber. The photographer was taking pictures with the zeal of a woman enduring pre-menstrual syndrome by scarfing down chocolates.

Mrs. Sutton scowled.

"You wretched child!" she shouted and raised her hand to slap her. Ed Straker reached over and took it, holding it firmly in mid-air, no expression at all on his face.

"Edward," Claire whispered desperately.

"Mr. Straker, let go of me!"

"Not until you give up any idea of punishing that child," he warned, his unique voice carrying to all four corners of the room like a crack of thunder.

"You don't understand! She is disobedient! I was stupid to think otherwise of her, with the blood running in her veins from God knows whom. She did this to her hair deliberately! She's plagued by some devil! She's done this before!"

"Mrs. Sutton," McDaniel proclaimed in a haughty tone, "You did not inform Lady McDaniel and myself that the child was this defective."

"Defective?" Claire echoed indignantly. "You're talking about a little girl, not a toaster! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Damn good question," Ed said, smiling briefly with pride at his usually tolerant wife's gut reaction and letting go of Sutton's hand. "I have another damn good question. Why would a child be pushed to such a desperate action as cutting off her own hair?" he asked sadly.

"We withdraw our agreement with you, Mrs. Sutton," McDonald said, ignoring Ed and Claire. He produced some paperwork, thrust it at Sutton, and led his wife away.

"Now see what you have done! Go upstairs! I do not want to see your face for one moment more," Sutton told the girl. By now, her little show of defiance had given way to sobs, and she hung her head. She turned to go.

"Wait." Ed said. Something in his voice shook Claire to her very core. His voice and demeanour was that of the Commander, whom you obeyed without even forming a coherent thought. "Give me those papers."

When Sutton just glared at him, he snatched them from her, and he took a dark blue Parker pen from his pocket. Claire looked at what he was doing, not understanding. Behind her, Terry grinned widely, adding two and two and getting four. Zeke too understood and had quietly slipped over to the photographer and taken the camera, pulled out the roll of film, stuck it in a pocket, and handed the empty camera back to a photographer who looked like Zeke had pulled out his liver. Zeke patted him on the back in consolation. In the meantime, Ed was writing on the paper, folded it and handed it to Sutton. Suddenly the light bulb went on in Claire's head. Three words came into her head.

Oh. My. God.

Ed went up to Kamala and stood there; waiting patiently until she became aware he was there. She looked at his shoes and then up his trousers, to his waist, to his chest, and finally into his eyes as he crouched down and smiled at her, but kept his distance.

"Molly liked you. She didn't mean to mess up your clothes. She just wanted to play."

"I know. She just surprised me. Kamala, I'm Ed Straker. This is my wife Claire. That's our friend Terry and our friend Zeke. I'd like to take you home to live with us for the month instead of the people who chose you. How would you feel about that?"

A full minute went by while Kamala studied Ed in silent fascination like he was a life size porcelain doll, he ruminated in amusement.

"You have pretty eyes for a man. Like blue marbles." she eventually said to Ed. Ed chuckled softly, and stood up. He looked at Claire hesitantly, a infinite amount of emotions crossing his face, a look of question, a look of apology for a rash decision made with his heart and not his head without consulting her.

Claire smiled at him reassuringly and nodded slightly, tears running down her cheeks. Joy flooded Ed's features and he smiled at Kamala.

"Blue marbles, huh? I like that a lot. Is it okay if we take you with us?"

The child's deep brown eyes explored Ed's deep blue ones. Then she gave Ed her knapsack, and went over calmly and took Claire's hand. Ed looked down at the knapsack. Claire grinned at his being demoted to bellboy. She followed Ed and Zeke and Terry out of the room and to her Volvo, holding Kamala's delicate little fingers in her own.

* * *

"Warrick?"

"Gris. Whoa. Small world. Imagine you being on this plane to Heathrow too."

"I'm waiting," Grissom said.

"Look, you're going to England on this Freeman case. I know a lot about England."

"I'm not staying there long, Warrick, just picking up an acquaintance. I'm going to Australia. There have been developments in the Freeman case that were unexpected." Grissom said gravely. "How did you discover what flight I was taking from McCarran? Why are you here on this plane with me?"

"If there's a law against two CSI's being on the same plane, some statute, I missed that particular class," Warrick quipped lazily.

"I'm not amused at all, Warrick. I gave you an assignment. You've disappointed me."

"Come on, Grissom, cut me some slack. Nick and Catherine are handling it."

"I gave it to you." Grissom looked out the window, and Warrick sighed.

"Look, I'm here now. Lemme help."

"If I required your help, I would have asked for it. "

"I wanted to know about Straker."

"Straker is none of your business," Grissom snapped.

"I pressed the redial on your phone. I told your travel agent that I needed to find you. She jumped to the conclusion that it was for a case, and I took advantage of it. I didn't correct her assumption."

"You've crossed the line," Grissom said, turning and looking at him, simmering with anger.

"Okay, dammit, so I did. I was worried about-" Warrick bit his lip.

Grissom raised his eyebrow, watched Warrick steadily.

"Finish the statement."

Warrick looked straight at him.

"Okay, just remember boss, you asked for this. You ran into Straker on that trip you took to observe New Scotland Yard criminologists. Then you go out there again, you stay a long time, you take Catherine with you. Catherine comes back, all I get out of her is that Straker is a good-looking dude. Anytime I even say the dude's name, a look crosses your face. You're fond of this guy. You're changing lifetime habits for this guy. I've known you longer than he has, and you hardly tell me anything. I'm worried that this guy is stringing you along. Look, man, you're the first to admit you don't read people real well in ordinary situations. You've got no people smarts. I was worried about you, okay? I was born with a bullshit detector. Besides, only foreign country I've ever been to is West Africa, brief stint for the Peace Corps, back when I didn't know where life was going to lead me. Be fun to see England. I know all about Australia. I can help."

"You were worried Ed was going to harm me in some way?"

"Yeah. You got real close to this dude in a short time. I was worried he was screwing you over. So if that ain't cool by you, fine. I can deal with it. Go alone if that peels your apple."

Grissom was silent a moment.

"You know all about Australia, you say?"

"Man, okay, no, but I watch The Crocodile Hunter. Can't be much more to know." Warrick said sheepishly.

"I'm gratified to know you don't take that attitude about your job. I hardly think relying on watching a cable show makes you an expert on the continent, Warrick." Grissom smiled just enough to make Warrick sag with relief.

"So I can help?"

"I believe your motivation for following me was a pure one. All right."

"Cool. I brought my laptop. I did some digging on this Freeman cat." Warrick brought out his computer and booted it up, logged onto the Internet, and showed Grissom some sites he'd bookmarked.

"What did you discover?"

"Found his name on some RAF buddy sites. Ex-combat pilot. But he comes up more often on British entertainment sites. He represented Straker at film events, premieres, banquets. Ruggedly handsome guy. Name linked with a lot of ladies."

"Wait. Go back, let me see that picture again."

"Sure, this one? Him laughing at some gig?"

"Can you enlarge and sharpen it?"

"Let me save it and run it through my graphic software. I can blow it up to any size, edit it any way you want. Gimme a second. Say, Grissom, will you buy me dinner? I emptied my bank account buying my tickets, and my wallet is thin right now."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at him again, then signalled the steward. Warrick shrugged, and went back to tapping on the keyboard. Grissom ordered burgers, salads and coffees for them both, and then watched Warrick enlarge the photo of Alec Freeman. His forehead furrowed.

"May I have that for a moment?"

Warrick passed him the laptop. Grissom used the mouse to trace a grid over the bottom half of Alec's face, then clicked to enlarge the area. His eyes narrowed. He pulled out a magnifying glass to see further details. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You okay? You're pale."

"Your assistance may have just solved my case, Warrick."

"Cool."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Kamala asked, looking out the window. She hadn't said a word since she had climbed into Claire's Volvo to go with them.

"Shopping. You need some things." Ed said. Claire had noticed Ed had been humming all the way from the Sutton children's home to the time he had driven to London. He hadn't burst into song, but it was the happiest she'd seen him in a long time. The weather had cleared a little, and Ed had decided to drive.

"I don't have a lot of money," she said sensibly.

"Yes, yes you do. You're my daughter now," Ed said.

"You're just saying that. I'm going back after a month, I have to go back."

"Why?" Claire asked her.

"I can't leave Molly alone, I'm her only friend! I want to go back!" Kamala started crying. Ed hit the brakes, and everyone was thrown forward in their harnesses. Looking behind him to check if the road was clear, he made a wide turn, and went in the opposite direction he had come from, pushing the Volvo to top speed.

"Change of plans. I am about to acquire a dog," Ed decreed. Claire chuckled.

"Edward, stop by the bank ATM. I think that witch may not part with the dog that fast, we may have to grease her palm. Besides, you need a car, and you still have Marchmain's money put away."

"I need a car?"

"They took your car, Ed."

"They did? Oh. Yes. I see." he said bitterly.

"They took the things in the safe room too, Ed. They disconnected the phone system. Constantine called me on my mobile while you were busy at the Foundation. I was going to tell you about it later. I knew you'd be upset."

"I've driven that damn car for over twenty years. They didn't exactly give me a gold watch when I retired, would they have missed one lousy car if I kept it? I guess Ellis is just doing her job."

"Edward," Claire said.

"I need a new car. Yeah."

"It'll be fun, car shopping," Zeke added. "Maybe you can get a Hummer like Yvonne's."

"Maybe I could drive a stinking tank too." Ed said disagreeably.

"Are we going to get Molly?" Kamala said, a little confused.

"I'm not going back to Silk Wood Manor without that pooch," Ed assured her, managing to smile.

"What's a Silk Wood Manor?"

"Darling, it's where we all live. Terry lives in a house on our property too." Claire smiled. "You'll have your own room right across from ours."

"I can get playground equipment put in the garden. Swings, slides." Ed said with enthusiasm.

"I don't like swings and slides."

"She doesn't like the park, hon," Terry said, amused at Ed.

"Any daughter of mine needs to be opinionated, Terry."

"Am I really going to be your daughter?" Kamala asked.

"There's no way I would take you, and then return you back. I didn't set out to have a child again, but I wasn't going to let anyone else have you. I want you as my daughter, and I think you'll come to like us, maybe love us in time. I know all we are is strangers to you right now. I know this is difficult. Why did you cut your hair Kamala? Was it actually you that cut your hair?" Ed asked.

"I didn't want to be pretty. Pretty girls have to be hurt. I didn't like those people. They wanted a pretty girl. They said I was a pretty girl."

"Well, you are pretty, sweetie, what's wrong with being pretty?" Terry proclaimed. "I never go out anywhere without my lipstick."

"Wait a second, Terry. Kamala, why do you think pretty girls have to be hurt?" Ed asked.

"I can't say. I promised to never tell."

"Sweetheart, can you just tell us who you made that promise to?" Claire said. Kamala said nothing, just buried her head on Claire's shoulder.

"Well, don't you worry, sweetie, your hair will grow back," Terry assured her.

"No! Never!" Kamala sobbed.

"Oh Darling, it's all right, hush baby, nobody will make you do anything you don't want to," Claire said, rocking her gently. Ed took his eyes away from the road for a moment, disturbed at the sight.

"We won't talk about it now. Let's just go and get Molly, do some shopping, and go home. I'm exhausted," Ed confessed. His mobile phone rang, and he pulled it out.

"Straker. Hello? Anyone there?" Ed looked at the little screen. Words rolled across it. It said I THINK SHE WAS MOLESTED. Ed turned pale and looked in the driving glass, feeling sickened. Zeke had his mobile in his hand, and was scowling fiercely as he hit end and shoved it in his pocket before anyone noticed he'd had it out.

"I want Molly." Kamala said, still leaning against Claire.

Ed took his sunglasses out of his inside jacket pocket and put them on. He didn't want anyone to see the tears of anguish that suddenly had filled his eyes.

* * *

Denise Sutton did the last of her paperwork, and shoved it into the rollup desk in her office at Sutton Court, then went upstairs to her bedroom. It was a relief to get rid of the filthy dark child, only the devil knew who her father had been, her mother spread her legs for anyone willing to part with enough money to give her to get drunk on. And thank heaven she never would see that disgusting dog that always hung around her. She had instructed the janitor to take it in his van and dump it into the Thames. Dogs. They were horrible, dirty horrible creatures. She wondered briefly what it was like to be drowned. What did it matter, dogs never felt pain anyway.

* * *

"Look at her, will you? Poor thing, drenched to the bone like that. Real crime if you ask me. Friendly thing too. "

"She keeps wailing like that, and scratching the van door, must be missing her master. Just terrible, master dumping her into the cold Thames on a day like this. If we hadn't been in the boat at that moment, we would have never seen her. "

"Maybe she wants to relieve herself, dear. Park somewhere and let her."

The van doors opened, and the muddy, wet, exhausted dog bounded out onto the road like something from hell was chasing her. The elderly couple yelled, but she kept on running, not looking back.

* * *

Ed had stopped at a small fish and chip van along the way, and bought coffee and sodas, fish and chips and he got back into the Volvo.

"Are we there yet?" Kamala asked, when he was once again on the road, sipping the tasteless, inadequate brew.

Ed chuckled faintly, he couldn't help it.

"Soon, Kamala. About a quarter of a mile now or so. What in hell?" Ed yelled as he quickly swerved the car to avoid something yellowish coming straight at him in a blur. Everyone cursed as coffee and soda was spilled to and fro. Kamala squealed excitedly.

"Molly! Molly!"

"Edward, that was the dog!!" Claire yelled. "Turn around! Turn around!"

"For the love of God," Ed complained, "What the hell do you think I'm doing! " Ed was hitting the switch for the power windows, screeching the tyres as he punished the Volvo, and took off after the retreating ball of fur. "Kamala, call her!"

"MOLLY!" Kamala screamed at the very top of her voice. Suddenly the dog stopped, tongue and tail awry, and started heading back, and Ed managed to stomp on the brakes once again, and come to a stop. Molly the dog had both smelled and seen Kamala and was now slobbering all over the car doors.

"My poor Volvo, between the way you treat my car like it's a hot rod, and that great big pink tongue out there, it'll never be the same," Clare decreed, loving the exasperation on Ed's face. Ed pinched the bridge of his nose, and then looked at the coffee stains all over his Burberry with the expression of someone about to get a fatal injection on death row.

"Ed, hon, you need a safety course in driving. I think my little Alec Edward is now somewhere down near my butt," Terry scolded with a grin.

"Hey, you want to drive? Be my guest! And people better stop laughing or I'll make you walk home. Everybody okay? All right, all right, brace yourselves I'm about to bring that thing in." Ed said, opening the doors. Everyone moaned and coughed as a great big smelly but delighted dog hurled itself into the car and Kamala hugged it. "This dog gets a bath the moment we all get home."

"Actually, Edward, that might be a good idea for you, too. You smell like fish and chips, and mud and grime." Claire informed him, wondering if he realised just how much he sounded like an ordinary, overworked father.

"Kamala, let Claire hold the dog. You sit up here with me. You're nicer to me than she is," Ed turned, and found himself being sniffed by a wet nose, and he caught another whiff of dog, close and personal, as Molly started licking him with a pink tongue like a sandpaper carpet.

"She likes you," Kamala said, surprised.

"I don't find that particularly reassuring at the moment," Ed answered, but he was petting her.

"Awwww, what a attitude, Edward, doggie likes you!" Claire teased him.

"You know, seven years is a good time to seek a divorce," Ed said, locking the door again, and starting the car up. "Consider yourself a victim of the seven year itch."

"I think that's not you, Ed, I think this mongrel has fleas!" Terry shrieked, recoiling from it, drawing a frown from Kamala.

"Edward, find a vet. We have to do an emergency cleaning on this pooch," Claire said, frowning. "I'm allergic to fleas, and I didn't bring my medications with me."

"I'm taking a vacation after this. A long one. No, make that a vacation for life," Ed told them, powering up the on-board computer.

"My Molly doesn't have any fleas."

"Your Molly needs to practice better hygiene, if she's to peacefully coexist with my pet rabbits."

"Oh they're your pet rabbits now? I thought they were our pet rabbits," Claire said indignantly, feigning displeasure. Ed's mouth disappeared into a warning slit.

"You have bunnies?" Kamala asked, wide-eyed as Molly made a few rotations and then collapsed at her feet, content. She fell almost instantly asleep.

"Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail,." Terry said, drawing a look from Ed.

"Fiver, Dandelion and Hazel. Prize winning bunnies. I rescued them too, come to think of it."

"Three bunnies, me, and now a daughter and a doggie. Very impressive Ed, hon. I bet you brought home beetles and a tadpole in a jar when you were knee high to a grasshopper in Beantown."

"You want to walk to Gloucester, Terry?"

"Edward, that's terrible would you make a pregnant woman walk all the way home?" chuckled Claire

"If her name was Terry, yes," Ed replied, but there was a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

* * *

Leaving Terry and Zeke at the vet with Molly, taking a considerable amount of time to assure Kamala that the pooch would be all right, Ed sank wearily down in a cafe seat with Claire and Kamala. Zeke had made noises about the wisdom of leaving Ed, however one look from Ed told him not to push the issue.

The waitress brought cocoa for Kamala, and coffees for Claire and Ed, managing not to look at how dishevelled the three of them were, not to mention Kamala's pitiful amount of hair. Ed was toying with his spoon, and the creases on his forehead told Claire that not only was he exhausted, he was worried about something. In the meantime, Kamala had settled down long enough to sip her cocoa, watching Ed carefully.

"Penny for your thoughts, Edward." Claire said softly.

"What? Oh. Hmm. Just tired."

"What's troubling you?"

"I'll have to handle this adoption all on my own, Claire. I won't exactly have the advantages of working at the film studio. No clout. Makes me more than a little nervous."

"Edward, things have changed since you attempted to adopt Devon. You're retired. You represent a major children's foundation. You're in a secure marriage. You're financially secure."

"I'm a lousy father. You can count on Mary being helpful with information in that area."

"Someday, Kamala is going to see you through my eyes, and she'll love you. The court will take into consideration what she wants, not the words of a woman who admitted to wanting to make money off telling lies about you," Claire scolded him.

"Kamala, I know you don't trust me right now. I have a good idea why, too. I'll never push you into anything you don't want. If you give me a chance, I'll be a good father to you. I think you'd like being with Claire. Do you think you can give me a chance to show you I genuinely want and love you as my daughter?" Ed said.

Kamala looked at him.

"I will stay with you, but you can't touch me ever."

"Kamala-" Claire began to say. Ed shook his head.

"It's getting late, let's go pick up the dog."

Claire's stomach turned over, recognizing how much pain he was in. How did you look after a child when that child couldn't tolerate even a gentle hug? Ed had been starved for touch since the moment she'd seen him in San Francisco. Was he now going to be prevented from hugging his daughter? Had their decision to take on this troubled nine year old been the wrong one? Who was going to be damaged more if this didn't work out, Ed or Kamala?

Ed left a couple of fivers on the table beside his untouched coffee, and followed Claire and Kamala out, slipping on his Burberry. The vet facility was a considerable distance away, but he felt the need to walk. A light rain was falling, and Ed opened his umbrella to shield the three of them if not from the bitter winter cold, than from the rain itself. His eyes fell on a window. He stopped, peered in. Claire chuckled.

"Go in, Edward," she coaxed him.

The door beeped as they went in. A elderly man in a pinstripe suit came up to Ed and squinted at him from behind steel rimmed eyeglasses. This family didn't look capable of finding their faces with their hands, let alone being capable of appreciating a luxury saloon, but at least it was a diversion from the rainy evening, and not having a single customer that day.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Sir? Bentley Arnage loaded with options. Only one previous owner. You interested in leasing a car?"

"Owning. I haven't had to lease one since I was in the Air Force. Tell me about this one. I'd like to take her out for a test run."

"Certainly, may I see some identification, and your driver's licence please? Also two credit cards."

"I don't see why not. " Ed opened a battered black wallet and passed the man what he wanted, plus his passport. In a couple of minutes, Ed was at the driver's seat of the light blue Arnage, putting it through its paces, while Kamala and Claire sat in the back, Kamala not all that impressed, and Claire watching Ed carefully. She suspected he was bonding with the Bentley already. It was a special relationship, she thought with amusement. Never come between a man and his automobile. She understood maybe a dozen words as the salesman described the car, but the important thing was that Edward was nodding, pausing now and then to ask a question, flicking a switch, picking up speed. She thought woefully that choosing this car would be a more careful decision than choosing his daughter. She looked over at Kamala. Kamala's eyes were transfixed on Edward. She furrowed her brow, and at one point Edward turned his head and smiled at her. Did Claire see a tiny response, like the first sign of a rosebud forming? How could anyone not melt when Edward smiled, anyway? Kamala looked down, her expression troubled.

"Edward, we have a dog waiting for us," Claire said. That made Kamala lift her head expectantly.

"Dog, right, it's going home in your car."

"I knew it." Claire groaned. "If I agree, you clean my car."

"Me? Clean your car? That's what car washes are for, dear," Ed said airily. He winced when she hit him playfully on the head. Kamala's eyes widened. "Okay, back to the dealership we go. Then I buy this car. Then we get Lassie."

Claire chuckled.

* * *

Ed parked the car, and went over to the salesman's desk to fill out paperwork. As he did so, a younger man in overalls with the Bentley logo on them came down the stairs with a box full of brochures. On seeing Ed, he came to a full stop, nearly tripped and several brochures went flying all over the place. Ed got up and started to help the man retrieve brochures. From his effeminate manner, Claire guessed he might be gay, and sat back to watch what happened. It was amusing enough to see what effect her husband had on women, but his effect on men was even more dazzling.

"You're Ed Straker!"

"Uh, uh huh." Ed responded, not appreciating being identified.

"I saw you on television! I'm Ian Martin, I work here!"

"Uh huh," Ed repeated, picking up the last couple of brochures and putting them in the box. He handed it to the man, trying to avoid the man's adoring gaze. Claire thought with delight that Ed couldn't be more embarrassed if his trousers had fallen to his ankles that very minute. The man looked like he was praying for such an occurrence to happen.

"Oh could you please sign something for me?"

"I'm about to sign some paperwork, if you'll excuse me?"

"Edward," Claire said meaningfully.

"What?" Ed snapped moodily, exchanged a look with her, then sighed, and fished out his Parker pen again. He took one of the brochures out of the man's box, scrawled his name on it, handed it to the man. "There."

"Oh this is wonderful, Mr. Straker."

"Glad to oblige," Ed lied and went over and made out the paperwork. He looked behind him. Martin was standing there, looking at Straker like a tourist admiring the Sistine Chapel. Ed gave him a weak smile. Claire turned and stifled a giggle, with Kamala wondering what was going on.

"Will you be making the down payment with a cheque or credit card, sir?"

"Hmm? Oh. Cash. I'm buying it now. Full price."

"Cash?" Both the salesman and the adoring man blinked.

"Umm. Yes." Ed took out the wallet again and handed the man several stacks of bills. The salesman's eyes resembled the symbols on a slot machine as they rolled into place. The admirer looked close to fainting.

"I can't recall many customers paying in cash, Sir."

"I assure you it's real, I didn't print it out in my basement," Ed informed him icily.

"Oh no, Sir. I didn't mean to insinuate-"

"Just count it, give me my certificates of ownership and whatnot, the keys, and let me drive it out of here. I have a dog to pick up."

"But Sir, this is the test model."

"Yes, and I tested it and I like it, so sell it to me."

"Don't you want to choose from-"

"That car. I want that car. Now."

"Mr. Straker?" Ian Martin said helpfully. Claire braced herself for whatever was coming. Ed gave the poor man one of the most discouraging expressions she'd ever seen him give, one that usually froze Shado operatives in their tracks, one that would have brought down the Swiss Alps. All Ian Martin did was smile brightly.

"Mr. Martin?" Ed grunted.

"Have you got a mechanic? Because that's what I do, you see. Do a bit of everything, actually. Good dog walker. Might you be wanting a dog walker?"

"I have a mechanic. No, wait. I don't." Ed replied, remembering that he now didn't have access to Shado's maintenance department. "You any good?"

"The best, Sir!"

"Your wages?"

"Oh, Sir, oh not an issue! Just the pleasure of working for you, oh, just standard, believe me! Enough to buy dinner and a pint and see an occasional film!"

"Wait a minute, you can't steal our mechanic!" the salesman exclaimed, after recounting Ed's money.

"No, it isn't like he's a paperclip I can pilfer. However, if he wants to work for me, he can ring me this evening, and we'll see what happens." Ed dug into his Burberry pockets for his Foundation business card, and handed it to the man. Martin looked ready to break out into song and dance. Ed grinned slightly, accepted the keys, and paperwork hooked an arm around Claire, and went out to where his new Bentley Arnage was parked. He stopped for a moment, looking pleased.

"I've been replaced in your life by a car." Claire sighed dramatically, and winked at Kamala.

"Women don't come with warranties, what can I say. You like her?"

"If I must have competition, I guess it's fortunate she has four wheels and not two shapely legs."

"After you, my dear. And remember, the quality of a car is not in the four tyres, or the size of the hood ornament, but what's under the hood."

They grinned playfully at each other as he opened the door and she slid into the back seat with Kamala, doing up her harness.

"It is a beautiful car. It suits you, Edward. Streamlined and classy and elegant, and latent with power. Colour matches your eyes."

He batted his lashes playfully at that statement.

"I thought for a moment our friend Mr. Martin was going to kick my tyres or take me for a ride." Ed groaned, doing up his own harness. "Okay, let's see what this new toy of mine can do."

* * *

The new toy got them effortlessly to the vet's parking lot and they disembarked to collect Molly. What they saw was Zeke and Terry in the corridor with a dog.

"Where's Molly?" Kamala said.

"Don't tell me that's Molly?" Ed said in astonishment, as the dog jumped up as they approached, tail wagging, tongue lolling, thick mustard yellow fur gleaming spotlessly and smelling of mint.

"That isn't Molly!" Kamala wailed.

"Sure it is, sweetie, haven't you ever seen her all nice and clean? Me and Zeke even got her a brand new collar and leash!" Terry smiled.

"Call her, Kamala." Ed suggested, a little doubtful himself.

"MOLLY!" she blurted out, and the dog bounced and jumped and heaved away at the leash until Ed nodded, and Zeke let it go, and Molly dove straight for Kamala like she'd been shot out of a cannon. Ed jumped behind Claire as his sanctuary.

Claire laughed.

"Coward," she said. Ed grinned.

"Molly! Molly! You're so pretty." Kamala said happily, hugging her.

"It's okay for the dog to be pretty, right? " Ed asked Kamala bluntly. She nodded.

"Edward!" Claire scolded him, startled. Ed shrugged.

"Hey, my daughter has rules, I'm just acquainting myself with them, no harm in that. And I have rules and my rules say no dogs in my new car. Zeke, Terry, you take Lassie here in Claire's Volvo. Kamala, do you want to ride with me or with Zeke and Terry?"

Kamala looked up at him. His heart stopped. He hadn't needed to ask. He knew what she'd say.

"With Claire."

Ed nodded, walked alongside her to the car. Claire saw the pain in his eyes and posture, and looked questioningly at Kamala. She bit her lip and made up her mind about something. She took a deep breath. It wasn't always in her nature to be so blunt, but this needed to be said, she knew. She couldn't let Edward suffer one more minute.

"Wait, Edward, one moment, I want to ask the vet a question about the rabbits." Claire fibbed to him. "Kamala, come with me, all right?"

"Claire, hurry it up, will you?" Ed called as she departed.

She led Kamala back toward the office, but stopped just outside of it.

"Aren't we going in?"

"You're nine years old, Kamala. Do you understand what it means to be rude to someone who has only showed you kindness?"

"You're mad at me, how come?"

"Are you even making an effort to understand how different my husband is from whomever hurt you? Don't you understand what Edward is doing for you?"

"I guess." Kamala looked at the floor tearfully.

Claire gently raised her chin and looked at her.

"You feel hurt, don't you? Do you understand that Edward too feels hurt?"

"Men don't feel hurt! Men are mean!" Kamala blurted back.

"All men are mean?" Claire asked, now crouched in front of the child.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Edward rescued some rabbits, Kamala. The rabbits were so badly tortured and traumatised by someone that the vet didn't think they'd ever recover from it, he thought it would be kinder and more merciful to have them put to sleep. One of them was so badly tortured she lost one eye because it was infected. Edward tamed them, spoke to them, was gentle and caring toward them and now they play like nothing ever happened to them. They even fuss when he isn't around to pet them. Do you know who hurt them so badly, Kamala?"

"Why would anyone hurt bunnies?"

"Because they were sick. A sick little girl hurt them. A little girl just a little younger than you. So all men are bad, and hurt little girls. And all little girls are bad and hurt animals. So maybe you shouldn't play with Molly and our bunnies? Maybe I shouldn't let you touch them? Maybe that should be my rule?"

"But I wouldn't hurt them! Honest, Claire!"

"You think you're different from the bad little girl? You think you're gentle, and loving, and caring like Edward is?"

"I love Molly, I took care of Molly! I like bunnies!"

"So not all little girls are the same?" Claire said, stroking the child's hand.

"I'm not like the bad little girl!" she insisted. "I'm different."

"I believe you. Now maybe you'll think that Edward isn't like the man who harmed you. Maybe you'll come to understand that he is gentle, and loving, and caring, and genuinely wants to take care of you. And that he hurts, even though he tries not to show it, when you leave him out of things. You have every right to distrust men, Kamala, but not forever, you have to open your heart a little, and take a risk. Edward has been hurt, and it took him a long time to trust me, and I'm sure even though he and I have been married for seven years, that he still worries I will leave him, and hurt him. Even a cracked glass can be mended, darling. Miracles are possible, believe me."

"I'm scared!" Kamala wept, and Claire held on to her, tears flowing down her own face. To save both of them, she had to keep her composure. Both of them had been let down so very much, hurt so very much. So much depended on this child learning to love them. Both of them.

"I didn't mean to upset you, but Kamala, I'm afraid too, and so is Edward. This has been a very difficult time for us. His best friend died, he's grieving, and he feels very lost. He gave up his job, so he questions his worth, he isn't sure if I still accept him, and still hold him in my heart the way I do. In some ways, he is a child himself. And now, he's lost his heart to you, but he can't even touch you, and how will he convince the adoption people that he would make a good father if you don't even allow him to touch you? Kamala, listen to me, it doesn't have to be today, or tomorrow, or the day after, but it has to come one day, so that you can heal. I see you watching him so closely. Is it only that you're afraid he'll hurt you? Or is it something else?"

"He's--"

Claire smiled.

"He's what?"

"He's pretty." Kamala sighed.

"Yes. Yes he is." Claire chuckled. "He's special too, Kamala. Very special. I'm very blessed to have him love me the way I love him. But it's a tough job looking after him. Will you help me?"

"But he's big!"

"Oh, he just pretends to be big. You'll see when he plays with his bunnies." Claire said in a conspiratorial tone. Kamala giggled a little. Claire smiled and hugged her again. "Will you remember what I said about the little girl, darling? Will you think about showing Ed some affection? This is just between us. We won't tell Edward we had this conversation, okay?"

"I don't have to touch him right away?"

"No. You go on watching him, darling. I think a time will come when you'll love him so dearly, you won't ever want to let him go."

"You love him," Kamala said, watching Claire.

"With all my heart. Well, not when he puts Molly in my car and spills food all over himself! Maybe I better take Edward to the vet for a foam bath too!"

The two of them giggled together, hugged, and walked back toward the lot. Ed was outside his car, leaning on it, lost in thought, and the rain was coming down heavily, and had flattened his familiar silver locks. He hadn't bothered to button up his Burberry completely. Claire recognized that he was brooding, which after Kamala's reaction of him, was what Claire feared might happen. He brightened somewhat when she walked up to him.

"I wondered where you two went off to. Get inside, looks like we're due for a storm. Hope the wiper blades still work on this thing."

"Edward, for goodness sake, do you like pneumonia? Why in pins and needles are you standing out here like this, getting drenched to the skin when everyone else is nice and warm in the car?" Claire hit his arm with her handbag.

"I wanted some fresh air, and if I'm going to get pneumonia, I'm going to have a broken arm as well, if you keep attacking me with your handbag. Get in."

"It's a good thing I'm a doctor," Claire said, doing a credible imitation of being a nagging wife, for Edward's sake, knowing he enjoyed being picked on. "I can take care of you when you catch a cold."

"You're a doctor?" Kamala asked, surprised.

"Good question. She's a doctor all right." Ed said, fastening his harness and starting the car up, signalling for Terry, who was driving Claire's Volvo this time around to follow him. "Some doctor. She's got the bedside manner of a crocodile on a diet!"

Kamala giggled, and Ed looked back at her, smiled, treasuring her rare laughter.

"That's fine, Edward, make fun of me, we'll see who gets lemon drizzle cake with their coffee tonight," Claire threatened. Ed made a woeful face.

"Fine, fine, at least Terry still loves me, I was just talking with her about Thanksgiving dinner, I told her I haven't had a Yankee Thanksgiving dinner since I moved here to England, and neither have you. She was saying-"

"Is Molly going to be all right in the other car?" Kamala interrupted him.

"I don't know, does Molly know how to drive? Because-GLAA! I can see --oh God--what possessed me to allow Terry to drive your car? Out of the way, pregnant woman at the wheel! At this point, the dog driving would be a lot safer!"

Claire and Kamala giggled in the back as Ed watched the Volvo roll into one lane and onto the next, and be frantically honked at.

"She's not used to driving on the left side, sweetheart."

"NOW you tell me," Ed said. "Zeke is going to be a basket case by the time we reach Silk Wood Manor."

"Your hair is wet," Kamala pointed out helpfully.

"It'll dry, Kamala."

"You'll catch cold." Kamala added, imitating Claire.

"I'm fine," Ed said, watching with amusement in his driving glass as Zeke gestured at Terry, and Terry gave him a wave of dismissal, with Molly drooling happily next to them.

"You don't know how to take care of yourself," Kamala proclaimed darkly.

Ed turned briefly, narrowed his eyes and gave her a mock stern look. She ducked her head but giggled. Claire laughed.

"You're a open book, Straker," Claire informed Ed.

"Like mother, like daughter. Sit back and enjoy the ride. That is, if the police don't arrest me for allowing a pregnant woman to dent your mother's car."

"Edward, if Terry wrecks it, you're a dead man," Claire said, exhibiting a uncharacteristic preference for the car's health over Terry's, noticed Ed.

"That doesn't seem all that great a plan. If she wrecks it and I'm dead, who will pay for it to be worked on?"

"Me and Kamala, we don't need you, we'll inherit all your money and buy five more Volvos," Claire told him regally.

Kamala giggled at the face Ed made.

"Women," Ed lamented.

But his clear blue eyes were glimmering.

* * *

"You okay, Zeke?" Ed asked, barely concealing a grin as Zeke came into the great hall, and headed straight for the nearby sitting room with its liquor cabinet. Zeke knocked back a full tumbler of gin, straight.

"He acts like I don't know how to drive," Terry scoffed, holding Molly's leash.

"Well, let's see, you got honked at about eight times that I counted," Ed pointed out.

"Why are we in a museum?" Kamala wanted to know, taking in the suit of armour on display, the high ceiling with its wide oak wood beams, the Aubusson carpet in hues of brown and blues and creams, and the period furniture in the great hall. Ed was hanging his Burberry up in the small wardrobe, and he hung up Claire's coat for her, then looked at Kamala.

"This is where I live, Kamala."

"No, I went to a museum once, and this is what it looks like. You can look but you can't touch anything," the girl explained patiently as if Ed had the brain capacity of the oak door, he noticed.

"Sweetheart, you'll get used to it, and how big it is. This is Edward's house, Silk Wood Manor. You'll have a room upstairs near ours. Or anywhere you want," Claire assured her.

"This can't be where you live," she retorted, wide-eyed.

"It's where you'll live if they let me adopt you," Ed informed her.

"I know it's a museum," she countered.

Now I know she's destined to be his daughter. The famous Straker bloody-mindedness rears its head, Claire mused, grinning at her husband's frustration.

Ed stood there brainstorming for a moment, and then bent, and removed both his socks and his shoes, and stood there in his bare feet. He wiggled his toes, walked around. Claire chortled at him. Kamala's mouth dropped open.

"Could I do this if this was a museum, and not Silk Wood Manor, where I live?"

"Why hon, you have cute skinny little toes, just like that cute little skinny, sexy body of yours," Terry said. She stepped forward and slapped him lightly on the butt. She marched past an astonished Ed toward the kitchen. Kamala giggled. Claire's mouth dropped open. Just then the doorbell rang, and then the telephone. Zeke picked up the telephone, and Ed opened the door.

"Edward, what on earth are you doing barefoot like that on a cold stormy night?" Frances stood there, with a wicker basket that smelled of cinnamon.

"Proving a point. Come on in. Where's Angel?"

"Why, who is that little girl?" Frances asked, closing the door behind her.

"My daughter Kamala, with any luck. Terry is in the kitchen, taking inventory. She's going to make Thanksgiving dinner for all of us."

Frances stared at Kamala's absence of normal hair, and Kamala took a step backward, and settled a little behind Ed, which Claire noted with pleasure.

"Oh, Edward, just thinking about it has got me starved. It's been so long since I had turkey and all the trimmings!" Claire said, clearly excited.

"You've got nothing to complain about, I haven't tasted a good old fashioned Yankee Thanksgiving dinner feast since I moved to England," Ed reminded her, a big pleased grin on his own face. Terry came out, her expression suggesting she was loaded for bear.

"What kind of a fool pantry is in there, Ed, hon? Who shops for you? A blind man? I can see you and I will be going to the store together and get you some real food, not that chicken feed you have stored away. Claire, honey, that food is no way to keep your husband happy. No wonder he's driftwood thin."

"That's right, Claire, look at me, I'm skin and bones, I'm starving," Ed teased Claire solemnly.

"Uh, Terry, this is Frances Brisby, she uh, cooks and orders food for us sometimes. Frances, this is Terry." Claire said, after rolling her eyes at Ed.

The two women, Frances and Terry, circled one another, sizing one another up. Claire swore it was like watching a world wrestling federation match, and she gave Ed a desperate look, begging for him to play referee. Ed was having none of it; he took the cordless phone Zeke handed him with an expression of gratitude.

"Straker. Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yes, I was serious. Yes, it handled like a dream. Hmmm? Tonight? Sure, why not, how soon can you get here? Okay, I'll give you the- Huh? You do? How? Really, heh, then you must be really good. Ah I see, I'm sorry. All right Mr. Martin. About two hours? That's fine. Goodbye."

"Edward, if you had told me you wanted an American Thanksgiving dinner, I certainly would have had no problem fixing it for you," Frances told him haughtily, as he hung up the phone.

"And served what? Those game hens in the refrigerator? They look anorexic!" Terry exclaimed.

"Edward never complained about them to me, now did you, Edward?" Frances said, and Ed swore he could see her draw a line in the sand. Even if it was Aubusson carpet underneath his bare feet, not sand.

"No, since I was being fed for free, I didn't, it wouldn't have been polite."

Claire looked at Ed. She saw Silk Wood Manor pulverized as ground zero.

"Edward, sweetheart? Dear? Could I talk to you a moment?" Claire cooed. Ed grinned. Just then, Yvonne walked in. Stumbled in was a better way to put in, Ed decided. She looked like she'd barely survived the Blitz.

"My God, what happened to you?" Ed exclaimed, aghast.

"She probably had to drive with Terry too," Zeke remarked, which merited him a indignant look from Terry.

"You men just don't want to admit what lousy drivers you are. Besides, this crazy country drives on the wrong side of the road anyway." she declared. Yvonne accepted a glass of gin from Zeke gratefully, and then stated her case.

"Those rabbits, Sir. I attempted to feed those rabbits. To give them water. To let them play. Just as you directed, Sir. Sir, if a entire hoard of terrorists from the Middle East descended on Silk Wood Manor, and I was armed only with a feather, I'd face those odds before I'd ever agree to baby-sit those rabbits again," Yvonne moaned. "They chewed two pairs of my shoes, and my cashmere sweater. How they figured out how to get into my wardrobe is something I don't know, but I can tell you this, they're possessed! They refused to eat the rabbit pellets and they overturned the water bowl, and followed me all over, and ran around crazily!" Yvonne claimed. Ed grinned, nodded.

"You probably put the water in the plastic bunny dish. I told you, they like the porcelain dish. Besides, we mix people food in with the pellets, and give them special treats and their vitamin drops, and lots of love. Where are the miscreants any-aha. There they are. Hi babies! Ed's finally home, did you miss me?" Ed crouched and petted and murmured to each one contentedly much to Kamala's happy surprise, and suddenly there was a whoosh, then a heartrending, terrified whimpering from behind him. Molly had shot underneath the nearest sofa and it appeared she wasn't coming out even if someone offered her a personal, monogrammed fire hydrant, Ed mused. "What on earth has gotten into Molly?"

Kamala giggled and sat on the sofa.

"Molly is scared of the bunnies," Kamala answered.

"A dog frightened of bunnies?"

"Sir, the dog no doubt can sense how evil they are," Yvonne said seriously. Ed chuckled at her, picked up Dandelion, and brought her over to Kamala, who looked excited and eager.

"Here, get acquainted with Dandelion. I warn you though, if you don't pet her according to her standards, she'll nip you. She's spoiled rotten. Plus if you just pet her and not the others, they'll get together, and plot to chew your clothes to bits," Ed instructed her, placing the bunny gently in Kamala's lap. "Just let her smell you, and when she bumps you with her nose, it means she's decided you're suitable as her rabbit slave, and you'll have to pet her all day."

Kamala laughed at him. Claire smiled at the expression on Ed's face as he listened to the child's laughter.

"Oh, she's so soft Ed, can I really pet them, and play with the others too? Oh! There's the one eyed bunny Claire told me about! What's their names again?"

"Dandelion, Hazel and Fiver. Claire told you about Fiver? Interesting."

Ed swivelled and eyed Claire, who tried to look innocent. She failed. Fiver, as if knowing people were talking about her, suddenly jumped into the air and twisted her head and body in opposite directions before falling back to the carpet. Yvonne backed away, as did Frances, thinking it was a clear sign of advanced rabies. Zeke just smiled and headed toward the kitchen, but then he was on his third crystal tumbler of gin, noticed Ed. It brought back a memory of Alec that saddened him, and he quickly pushed it away, and concentrated on the animals.

"Did you see that? That's the first time I've ever seen one of them do that." Ed said proudly, going over and getting both Hazel and Fiver, and sitting a comfortable distance away from Kamala, on the couch Molly had taken sanctuary under. Molly had quieted down some.

"What in stars was that? That rabbit having a seizure?" Terry asked.

"No, no, the vet said bunnies do that behaviour, it's called a binky. It indicates pleasure, like a cat's purr indicates happiness and contentment." Claire smiled, sitting next to Ed and rapidly picking up Hazel, who was attempting to smell whatever was hiding under the couch. "Who was on the telephone, Edward?"

"Oh, Ian Martin, he was eager to come over and work on my car. He worked with his father, as a apprentice learning automobile mechanics, he worked right here at Silk Wood Manor, can you believe it? He helped his Dad work on my mother Rosemary's car, knew where I lived, had read I inherited it in some England Heritage message board talking about my damned Grade 2 gates. He's coming out here tonight from his place in Hereford, if he doesn't ask me for autographs every three minutes, I'll hire him."

Ed smiled. Zeke had reappeared with a butler's cart, and offered fruit and cookies and coffee or sodas to everyone, and then he put down the rabbit's dish with their specially blended food for them, set out their porcelain water bowl that actually had a bunny design on it. He then shoved a dish of meat and a dish of water under the sofa. Ed could hear Molly's tongue lapping the water away. The bunnies, having smelled their gourmet meal, teetered ominously over the edge of the couch before Ed indicated they should be all set down to have their dinner. Dandelion pushed her dish around a couple of times, indicating that dinner was later than she preferred, but hunger won out over her diva nature, and she dined daintily. Kamala watched, entranced. Ed smiled at her, stretched.

"Edward, that dog simply shouldn't be allowed in this house, and you know what I think of those rabbits wandering around freely," Frances said, setting down her porcelain coffee cup and adding more cream to it.

"I allow you to wander around Silk Wood Manor freely, don't I?" Ed replied, drawing a chuckle from Claire, and laughter from Terry. He reached over, chose a macaroon cookie with icing, and offered it to Kamala. She took it hungrily, and he wondered angrily just how well she had been fed at the children's home. Frances, in the meantime, wasn't amused.

"Edward, don't try to dismiss this with one of your jokes. You don't intend to keep that dog and those rabbits around, do you? I have rabbit in my freezer right now. Nature intended those rabbits for food."

"Not my rabbits, not our rabbits, and Molly is now my dog, and will sleep with Kamala in whatever room my daughter chooses, until she gets used to our house and then can co-exist with the rabbits," Ed responded. "Subject closed. Now, where's Angel?"

"He, uh, went off somewhere to Australia with that Grissom fellow and Grissom's assistant. They showed up at our house early this morning, we were asleep. Something to do with finding a new species of bug and needing a guide in the Outback. My Stanley knows every square inch of the Outback, so Grissom came to see us."

"Gil came here to the UK, and didn't drop in on me?" Ed said, in genuine surprise. Frances shrugged. Ed put down his half-finished coffee, and gently picked up Dandelion, and started to stroke her. His hurt must have radiated out so much that Kamala sensed it, because she looked at Ed for a long time, and perhaps unconsciously sat a little closer to him, gently picking up and using Hazel as a wriggling barrier.

"He said something about being on a deadline, I believe," Frances said, pouring herself more coffee. Claire studied her expression, and it came to her that Frances was not telling the truth. That was almost unbelievable. She made up her mind to corner Frances later, and interrogate her. Generally, Edward would notice, but he's so vulnerable these days to slights, real or imagined, she mused sadly. It just wasn't like Grissom to ignore his friend, even on a deadline.

"Whatever are you doing?" Frances said, shocked. Terry halted what she was doing, which was rolling down her hosiery until she had bare legs. She'd already kicked off her shoes. Zeke looked at the liquor tray again longingly and then dismissed the idea. It finally drew a grin from Ed.

"These heels and these knee hose were killing me. I'd take my brassiere off if we didn't have company," Terry admitted, wriggling her toes.

"Nice polish," Ed commented, looking at Terry's gold enamelled toes.

"I'm not exactly company. Edward has known Stanley and myself for several years now," Frances informed Terry icily.

"Well la de da is all I can say. I'm going to be living right here in Alec's house. I'll be moving here, and I'll have Alec's baby soon. Tell me something, sweetie," Terry said deceptively, looking at Frances' jodhpurs, tight black boots, white shirt and jabot, and red coat, as Frances gawked at the news of this stranger carrying Alec's child, "Do you always dress like that? You look like a dominatrix."

Claire bit her lip, and Ed looked at the Aubusson carpet like his life depended on it, thinking that Terry was a master in using the same word and making the meaning of it seem completely different. Her use of the word sweetie in addressing the conservative Frances was far from sweet.

"The very idea, how can you speak like that to me!"

"I think it has something to do with the larynx," Ed suggested, weary of Frances' air of superiority for the moment, making Claire nearly choke on her grape soda. Kamala may not have completely understood, but she giggled, then dipped her head, hiding behind Fiver, who twitched her nose happily from all the attention. Dandelion on the other hand, was sprawled on Ed's lap, looking like she was meditating. Molly was still under the couch, snoring lightly.

"I think we need to buy more gin, Ed," Zeke said helpfully, with a grin at Claire, who was struggling not to laugh.

"Either that, or hire a driving instructor for Terry, or hide her car keys."

Terry reached over and slapped Ed lightly on the shoulder from the armchair she was sitting in. Ed chuckled at her, then he yawned.

"I'm getting kind of tired. I don't know if I can wait up for Mr. Martin," Ed admitted, stretching again.

"I brought you some homemade strudel, I'll leave it here for you, and go home myself. There's a programme on the radio I want to hear," Frances said, planting a kiss on Ed's cheek. Ed wondered if he was being marked as Frances' property the way the rabbits urinated on their territory, and grinned to himself at the subtle message to Terry.

"Thanks, Frances, it smells good, we'll have it in the morning," Ed responded, amused at Terry's expression.

"You go to bed now, Ed. I'll be up, playing me some solitaire. I'll take care of your guest," Zeke assured him.

"Edward yes, sweetheart, come on, we can go to bed, I'll get up when he comes, if it's necessary," Claire offered as Frances waved, gave Terry one final look and slipped out the door.

"Oh, she's right, you go on up to bed, you and Claire, hon. I don't get sleepy until way into the morning. I can watch some television, keep Zeke company and I can let Mr. Martin in."

"Ah thanks, Terry. Let him in and tell him he can sleep in the downstairs bedroom, make my apologies to him. I'm really beat. Kamala, I'd like for you to sleep in the other bed that's nearest us, it has a bathroom attached to it, and you can lock the door from inside. Terry sleeps in the one directly across from us. You want to stay up with Terry and Zeke or do you want to get ready for bed?"

"Can the bunnies sleep in my room?" Kamala asked Ed.

"Sure, if they want to, but they often curl up in our room. Your knapsack is in the wardrobe in the Great Hall, I'll get it."

Kamala watched him go, and Claire wondered if the silent observation was the beginnings of affection.

"Do you want to take Molly with you now?" Ed asked, coming back and handing Kamala her knapsack.

"No, she will be scared of the bunnies and not stay with me. It's nice here, not far from the fireplace. Nice and warm. She can sleep here." Kamala smiled.

"Sounds good, and it shouldn't be hard to find you if she wants you. Okay, all disobedient rabbits and wives and daughters, come with me upstairs. Kamala, you grab Fiver, Claire, you take Hazel, and I'll take Dandelion."

"I don't have any soap for my bath," Kamala said, following Ed up after Terry had both kissed Ed on one cheek and given him an affectionate pat on the other kind of cheek. He had jumped a little, but maintained his composure enough to not react. However, Claire noticed gleefully he seemed in a hurry to put distance between him and Terry. With a sigh she knew she'd have to ask Terry to be respectful of Ed's general dislike of people being that familiar with him and violating his personal space, but for now she'd enjoy Ed's response. Kept him on his cute little skinny toes, she thought to herself, hiding an affectionate grin.

"There's towels and scented soap and shampoo and everything you need in there. I think Claire put Yardley in there. If you don't like lavender, just come with me, and you can pick whatever you like. Claire squirrels away all the good stuff in our bathroom, like my Bronnley and her Woods of Windsor."

"I can share my jewellery and my perfume and anything else you'd like, Kamala," Claire told the little girl. Kamala's eyes grew wide with expectation. Ed smiled, treasuring the moment. Then he made quite a show at gasping. They looked at him, bewildered.

"Oh wait a minute. You two girlies aren't planning to trounce around with those green facial masks on that all you ladies use, are you? I'll have nightmares for weeks," Ed informed them, feigning horror. Kamala giggled, and Claire shook her head in mock dismay.

"Edward, you just be quiet, this is our house too, and if we want to promenade around in green gook and wear curlers, we can."

"Not in front of the bunnies, their eyes will cross. And poor Fiver has only one eye left to cross. A lot of good carrots did her, she has bad eyesight, she may need a bunny monocle soon," Ed exclaimed, clearly enjoying Kamala's reactions to his silly humour. Claire sighed dramatically.

"See? I told you Edward was a big baby," Claire told Kamala in a loud whisper so that Ed would clearly hear what she said, and Kamala dissolved into knowing giggles.

"What was that about a baby?" Ed said in mock suspicion.

"Nothing, dear, just discussing the bunnies," Claire said breezily, leading Kamala into their master bedroom.

"Put Cyclops in bed," Ed ordered Kamala, setting Dandelion down in the wicker bed that had a previous life as a laundry basket. Dandelion snorted once or twice, but settled down beside the other rabbits. Hazel gave her a always-has-to-have-the-last-word look, or at least it seemed that way in Ed's imagination. Fiver just curled up, pleased as punch to be talked about bunny of the day. "Well it looks like they want to be in here. You can play with them tomorrow, help Zeke make their breakfast. They're tired, they exhausted themselves torturing Yvonne, it's a tough job but a Straker bunny has to do it," Ed added. Claire chuckled. She and Ed sat on their bed.

"Ed?" Kamala said tentatively.

"Yes?" Ed replied, a little startled that she'd addressed him directly. He attempted to brace himself for whatever might be coming, suddenly fearful of another rejection. Claire too looked uneasy, and took Ed's hand protectively.

"Do you think Terry would mind if I changed places with her? I want to be closer to Claire and yo- I mean I want to be closer to the bunnies, so I can help make sure they don't upset that lady again." Kamala looked pensive. Claire looked at Ed with a relieved smile.

Barely containing his emotions, Ed nodded, forced a smile.

"Go run and ask Terry, I'm sure she'll say yes. Hurry now, or it will be too late to have your bath, and we have lots of things to do tomorrow to get you settled in here."

Kamala looked delighted and went off. Ed sobbed, and Claire took him into her arms, knowing the struggle inside him, knowing his heart.

"Oh my darling. It's going to be all right. She's beginning to trust you. She's beginning to love you. Someday she'll call you Daddy."

"Claire, I noticed a change in her, in the car, after you two returned. What did you say to her?" Ed said, rising and temporarily closing the door so that he could quickly undress, put on pyjamas and get ready for his own nightly hot bath, relaxing with her aromatherapy oils and scented candles. It was a luxury Claire had encouraged him to indulge in to battle stress, and he had allowed himself to do so when he wasn't working at Shado, and now with retirement, and just his limited duties as head of the Foundation, it was something he could do every night, he realised. Claire explained what she had done, the story about the abused rabbits being harmed by a child comparable to Kamala's mistaken belief that Ed would harm her.

"I didn't want to harm her any further, I don't know what caused her terror, but I couldn't just sit there and allow her to hurt you like that. Yes, I know Zeke thinks she was molested, he told me as we were all headed to the door, and she was walking ahead, next to Terry, holding Molly's leash. I think he's right. But I had to think of your feelings too. And don't you give me that look, Edward. You need to be protected and looked after and loved just as much as she does. And while I'm at it, let me tell you this. I don't care one whit that you don't run Shado any longer, nor would I give a rat's posterior if you ever decided to go back. I'll love you all our lives anyway. We're a family now, Edward. Nothing will tear us apart."

"There's no guarantee they'll let me adopt her, Claire. If I lose her it will kill me."

"If they dare refuse you, I'll tear them apart limb from limb, and then I'll apply to adopt her myself if I have to. We'll get a lawyer, Edward, we'll find someone that sees that Kamala belongs to us. Nothing Mary can say or anyone else can say will break us all apart."

"I'll find a lawyer. I'll do everything I have to. If I need good press, I'll go to those damn press conferences. I'll get references. I'll ask Constantine to testify to my stability if needs be. They may go after my age, or suggest that I'm still not well enough psychologically from my ordeal with Jerusha and Hiram, but I won't stop until she's mine. I'm fighting this time round. I'm not giving up my child," Ed said defiantly, resting his head against Claire, tears still streaming from his eyes.

"Damn your age, you look like you're in your late forties, early fifties, the bacteria changed you. It changed both of us. We'll fight for her together. I know being without Alec is hard on you. I know he was your umbrella, and you feel uncomfortable without his shelter."

The rabbits twitched nervously in their bed, feeling something was wrong, she knew. She looked from them to Edward, who was lost in memory for the moment. His large and clear, beautiful blue eyes were full of anguish.

"You know, all I needed to do was look in his direction, and see his sunny smile, listen to him say hello to everyone when he reported for work, give him my customary groan when he cracked sick jokes, all that made me feel so secure. I just can't believe I will never see him again. I dream about him. I smell his hair pomade and his after shave cologne, I could always tell when he had prepared for his dinner dates that way, I never got tired of teasing him about it. I hear him yelling at me, arguing, I hear him telling me that I need to go home, that I need to eat, that I need to sleep. Alec Freeman, last of the clowns, and first of the father bears, or maybe mother bears is more accurate." Ed forced himself to chuckle softly, but he was transparent in his grief, holding on to Claire so tightly her sides throbbed. She reached up and stroked his hair, gently caressed his cheek, comforting him the best she could. He sobbed again, his words coming brokenly, struggling to breathe between the sobs that wracked his body.

"Don't leave me. I couldn't take it, Claire, I just couldn't take it. I can't take any more disappointments, or loneliness, or grief. I can't lose Kamala, I just feel like she's been my daughter forever. I'm so afraid. I'm not the man you married, not anymore. When Alec died, Commander Straker died with him. I told you, I would never be the same if Alec was dead. Without you, I wouldn't be living, I'd just be taking up space. It's just not possible to tell you how badly I need you, and how much I love you."

"My sweet Edward. My darling. My precious. I pray that one day you'll know that I will never, ever leave your side. We'll bring up our Kamala together, and we'll watch Alec's child be born. You'll hold it in your arms, sing it the lullabies it will never hear from its father, and maybe then, maybe the pain of losing your friend won't cut so sharply, my love." she told him tenderly, losing her own resolve not to cry. He just sobbed against her, inconsolable for the moment. Not all the severe Commander Straker, the man of ice, who could instil fear and dread into the most stoic and intrepid Shado operatives. But a man who had suffered far more than any man deserved, and had given everything in the performance of his duty, asking for nothing, expecting nothing. A man who had not been loved and cherished as he should have been, a man who was suspected of not being able to feel like normal people, but in reality, felt more than all of his naysayers combined. The lost man in the hospital bed, the form of a compellingly handsome, elegantly groomed man, with the soul and pain of a abandoned child that was dying from not being touched. A man she had reached out to, the way Edward had reached out to the pitiful Kamala, Claire thought as she held him, cradled him with tenderness, holding him securely in her arms. She listened heartbreakingly to his sobs, his sobs of grief for Alec, sobs of fear of being utterly abandoned by her. She knew instinctively that even after seven years, time was still necessary for that part of him to heal. That part that shut down the walls when he believed he was about to go through hurt yet again. He had survived so much, but the scars inside him were more dreadful than the scars on his slim body. She listened to him sob. She cried for him too.

She was so worried about him that she hadn't heard the doorknob turn, nor had Ed. Kamala had been there, had heard Ed's sobs as he described Alec. She watched Ed's body shake, her eyes enlarged, her expression one of shock, puzzlement, concern. Then as if a switch had been turned off, Ed moved slowly away from Claire, exhausted, spent, a open wound. He suddenly froze, and Claire turned swiftly to see what had upset him.

"Kamala," she said, not quite knowing what else to say.

"I need to wash my face," Ed said crisply, and disappeared into the bathroom abruptly.

"Come and sit down next to me, sweetheart," Claire said soothingly, although she wanted badly to force the door open, and assure Edward that to reveal his heartbreak in front of his little girl was not a forbidden thing.

"I came to say Terry didn't mind. But when I came up I heard crying. He cried," Kamala said, "Ed really cried. He really was sad. I never saw a big person cry before. I didn't think he cried. Who was Alec?"

"His closest and only real friend in the world. Alec made some bad decisions out of grief, and he died, and Edward didn't have the chance to say goodbye to him. I don't believe Edward ever thought he'd ever die. They both promised each other that the other one would never die, that their time would come together. So when Alec died, Edward was truly shocked. He knows I love him, but he still feels lonely for his friend."

"This lady that I used to talk to died and gave me Molly when Molly was a puppy. She was a old lady, but she was always kind to me, I met her one-day when I went to school. The other kids didn't like me. They called me names. Ugly names. I didn't ever have any friends. But the lady gave me tea and biscuits, and she let me take care of her doggy. She said that she was dying, and would soon be with her husband, but she was worried about Molly, and would I take her, so that Molly would not be alone. I said no dogs were allowed by Mrs. Sutton, but I would hide her in the cellar, and be her bestest friend, and I promised never to leave Molly alone. She said she was so glad, she said Molly was a special doggy and had papers. After a while, they tore down her house and made a park there. I never saw her again. "

"Oh sweetheart, how wonderful you were, to let that lady be with her husband in peace, knowing that someone would look after her little dog."

"Claire?"

"Yes?"

"I think Ed needs a doggy so he won't cry so much for his friend. I think I will share Molly with him. Do you think he'd like that?"

"Very much. Can I show you something?"

"Uh huh."

Claire bent down, pushed back a sheepskin on the oak floor, revealing a safe there. She punched in the combination, and opened it, taking out a threadbare dog with no ears.

"Oh, he looks like a Molly too!" Kamala commented.

"This dog is very old. When Edward was about your age, he wanted a dog, but his father was very stern, and wouldn't allow it. And his mother didn't push the issue, because she did not want his father to get upset. So she bought Edward this toy dog from Merrythought, and it became Edward's substitute dog, and Edward named it Vincent, because its ears were coming off, and eventually were lost. Edward packed it away when he grew up, and he went off to join the Air Force, and his mother looked after it for him. Now he has it, and I keep it in there, and we're so lucky to have it, because we lost a lot of Edward's things in a fire. If I had it on the bed, one of the bunnies would get jealous and try and eat it," smiled Claire.

"I'd let Frances cook the bunny that was responsible," a familiar voice said quietly, with the authority of a Commander in his posture and tone.

"Edward, now you know you wouldn't," Claire said, a little startled because Ed had come out so quietly. As she had expected, his composure was back, he had washed his face, and dried his eyes. The bunnies looked up at him a little nervously, or so Ed thought, staring at them as they sniffed him and wriggled their noses.

"Yes I would. That dog and your locket are the only things I have that remind me of my mother besides Silk Wood Manor. Put it away. Let's go to bed. Did Terry say you could sleep across the hall, Kamala?"

"Uh huh. She said to tell you she's glad to have the new bedroom, cause you both snore and it keeps her up all night."

"Tomorrow I better inform Terry that I am supposed to go and collect her things and help her move into her new house here, and maybe then she'll stop complaining about our snoring," Ed responded, but he half-smiled.

"Will you help me take care of Molly?"

"Sure, if the weather clears, we'll play ball, after we get everything we need to do finished."

"Ed?"

"Hmmm?" he said, getting underneath the covers as Claire closed and locked the safe and set Vincent on a high shelf, then arranged Ed's chain on the finial nearest him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Kamala. Go and take your bath, and get into bed now."

"You were so sad."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nothing for you to worry about."

Claire suddenly wondered how many times Ed had lied that way to a concerned Alec Freeman, and if Alec was still guarding him, still staying at his side. She looked sadly at the medallion. She slipped into the bathroom, got undressed, splashed some water on her face, put on her nightgown, dabbed a little Emeraude on, and came out. Kamala was still talking to Ed.

"Ed?"

Ed chuckled faintly.

"Yes?"

"I don't want you to cry."

"Bed, Kamala. Now." he smiled.

"OK. Goodnight, Vincent. Goodnight, Fiver. Goodnight, Dandelion, goodnight, Hazel. Goodnight, Claire."

"Goodnight, Kamala." Ed said.

Kamala paused, and Claire slipped under the covers near Ed.

"Goodnight--Daddy."

Kamala scampered out of the room.

Ed was frozen with disbelief, and then he broke into grateful, silent tears, and smiled slowly at Claire, his eyes glistening. Claire chuckled at him warmly, and turned off the lamp on her side of the bed.

"Well, Daddy, how do you feel now?" she asked, playing with a wave of his hair.

"I was doing so great just a minute ago, being calm, regaining control," he said, "And she just blew it all to hell."

"Oh Edward," Claire said, and pulled him close.

* * *

"I'm telling you," the man rasped, "I'm not going with you. Leave me here. This is what I deserve. Not in all our years did he ever strike out at me the way I did at him. Leave me here. Please. As long as I know he's all right, it's okay."

"Requesting an air ambulance, do you read me, over?" Gil Grissom said over the two-way radio, squinting his eyes at the sun.

"Read you loud and clear. Have your position. ETA six minutes. Over," the radio crackled.

"No, no. I'm not going. Get the hell away from me. I'm not taking any chances at ruining his life again."

"Will you shut up, you annoying old buzzard? You're going with us. You're dehydrated at best, you've got a broken leg and soft tissue bruises all over your body, you've lost a stone and you're running a fever, or my name isn't Stanley Brisby. So shut the hell up, you miserable bastard."

"I doubt that your wife would appreciate you using that language," Grissom said, kneeling and giving the prone man a little water. He managed to clutch at it, desperate for every drop. "Slow, easy does it," Gil cautioned.

There was a gunshot, making everybody jump.

They looked at Warrick Brown. Something scaly and long lay at his feet.

"Warrick, I believe there are laws about shooting the wildlife in the Outback," Gil said evenly.

"There are laws against snakes taking a bite out of me, too. So I shot it to prevent a crime. You want me to stick it in a bindle?"

"I suppose you know all there is about snakes?" Graham Lancaster asked, dryly. He had a most uncharacteristic full beard he'd grown, speckled with white hairs.

"Man, I know I don't like them, and that's enough for me," Warrick retorted.

Graham looked at the snake without interest.

"Some species of python. Harmless."

"Yeah, well, have its Mama sue me," Warrick said, shooing away mosquitoes the size of a aircraft carrier without much success.

"I'm not going," the prone man whispered hoarsely again. "I'll just wind up hurting him. He's better off without me, I tell you. The abbos said he was all right, that's enough for me. Go on. Get lost. I'm not going. I'm no good to him. He's got a woman in his life that's right for him. He doesn't want me anymore."

Angel looked at him for a moment. Then he punched him, swiftly depriving him of consciousness.

"For heaven's sake, Angel. He's already badly hurt!" Gil scolded.

"I wasn't going to listen to his foul mouth one more second, Gil, son. If I had to hear how much he didn't want to see Ed one more time, I would have left him in the Outback. Strewth. Come on then, I hear the whirlybird coming."

* * *

They loaded the sick man on a stretcher. The medic had to force one of his hands open despite the fact he was unconscious. A folded, greasy crumpled piece of paper torn from a tabloid fluttered out of it. Gil picked it up, not surprised to see the face of Ed Straker. He gently refolded it and put it in his own pocket.

Later, they watched as orderlies wheeled him into the casualty room of Woomera Hospital. Angel stayed with him, and Graham, Gil and Warrick walked wearily to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat and drink. They'd been searching almost two days for their prey, and wouldn't have found him without Lancaster's help. Graham knocked back a cold one, and stared straight ahead. They ate in silence for a while.

"Straker's going to take him back like he was a lost sheep. I'd give a lot to be able to work for Straker again. Even my mate Harry says I was a stupid bastard to make a big deal about the rabbit, and I deserved sacking. Too late to apologise now," Graham remarked.

"That's what our friend in there thought. That it was too late. Yet Ed would have moved heaven and earth to find him, if he had found out he was alive. Warrick here got me moving in the right direction. The burned corpse had three nickel fillings, and was missing one tooth. The recent photo Warrick showed me on the net clearly indicated Ed's friend had his nickel fillings replaced with modern tooth-coloured fillings, and three crowns. The dental records didn't match after all. The DNA was inconclusive. That fellow Mackley you told us about must have switched records somehow," Gil said thoughtfully, sipping his ale.

"He would have sold his mother to pad his bank account. Trust me," Graham said.

"But what I'd like to know is who did Straker have buried?" Warrick asked.

"Someone that Mackley knew well enough to manage to procure his dental record so he could make it look like Ed's friend was dead. I'll find him. It won't take Ed long to make him talk, believe me. If he's as money-oriented as you say he is, he's probably the one who is selling stories to the tabloids," Gil stated.

"He no doubt is. He used to lie about his mates so he could look good to his CO in the Army when we were both sergeants in it," Graham explained. "He's dirty as they make them. Raped an Abbo girl once, framed someone else for it. I'm sure he lied through his teeth to even get into the police force." He fell into silence.

"Gil, I miss my job. I miss Yvonne," Graham said after a while. "She won't even take my calls. I think I may be in love with her."

"So admit you were wrong. Apologise."

"I don't know if I can do it again, apologise."

"Then you're foolish," Warrick said. "And Straker doesn't need a fool on his staff. If he picked Gris, it means he has high standards. You don't make the grade."

"Sacked over a damn rabbit," Graham said quietly.

"Over a creature that was following its instincts, and trying to mark you as its territory, maybe in an attempt to befriend you. A creature that had already been terribly abused, and had little means to defend itself. You'd do well to remember that Ed Straker has always taken on the cause of those whom were dealt some injustice, and he wasn't about to tolerate your ignorance when it came to the business of a small animal. Come on, let's see if they assigned our uncooperative friend a room," Gil said.

Gil walked ahead and Warrick leaned over toward Graham.

"Man, you pissed Gris off. Takes a lot to piss him off. Usually brutality against women, or sexual assault on kids, or anyone that tries to pitch drugs to kids too. High up on his list is people who beat up on animals. You're no English gentleman."

"What would someone like you, who mops up intestines, and shoves them into a paper bag, know about being a gentleman?"

"That you even have to ask shows I was right," Warrick said, and picked up his pace to walk alongside Grissom.

Graham frowned, saddened.

* * *

Ed Straker was awakened by childish laughter, and the mouth-watering smell of toast, bacon and eggs. He shook Claire, and she muttered something, and started digging back into her pillow like a earthworm retreating into the ground. Ed sighed, covered her, kissed her hair and rose soundlessly, grabbing his robe and slippers. After a brief time in the spacious bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth and put a comb through his hair, he went downstairs, tying his sash. The hall grandfather clock chimed ten times as he turned the corner, and something white and brown went zipping merrily across his path.

"I should have known. Which of the rabbits was that, Zeke?"

"No idea. All rabbits look the same to me. Just like we Negroes look the same to you whiteys."

"Zeke?"

"Yeah?"

"That joke is getting old," grinned Ed, affectionately patting him on the back. Zeke guffawed. A man sat on the drawing room couch and nearly spilled his cup and saucer of coffee in the attempt to rise as Ed came in, and extended a hand to him.

"Good morning Mr. Straker!" Ian Martin said.

"Good morning Ian. I genuinely am sorry I couldn't stay awake to greet you last night. It had been a long day. Have you met everybody? My sleepy wife is still upstairs. Good morning, Kamala." Ed said as she appeared with the speeding Hazel.

"Good morning, Daddy. Terry's making breakfast for everyone. She said for you to come and see her soon as you got up. She said Claire told her you're a early riser, so cause you didn't get up you must have been making hanky-panky. She wouldn't tell me what she meant, she said to ask you. I've been playing with the bunnies, and looking around. Silk Wood is so pretty. Yvonne is out playing with Molly."

"Yes, Silk Wood is pretty," Ed echoed, attempting to not blush about the hanky panky. He indeed had become aroused after his emotional reaction to being called Daddy for the first time in so long, but that wasn't her business. "I'll go see what Terry wants. Whatever she's cooking smells great."

"She said she's going to make me banana and strawberry pancakes. She said what kind of kitchen doesn't have a waffle iron?" Kamala added. Ed grinned, and went into the kitchen just as Terry was setting down a serving tray of fresh pancakes on the adjoining dining room table next to the dish of scrambled eggs and toast and bacon.

"Morning, Terry. Everything smells so wonderful. How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?"

"Ed, honey, that fellow that came in last night."

"Ian?" Ed asked, reaching for a piece of bacon and getting his hand slapped for his trouble. He grinned. "Claire lets me steal food."

"Well, hon, I ain't Claire. And looking at you in those white silk pyjamas, and that robe that matches your bedroom eyes, ain't that a shame."

"Do you always talk that way? What about Ian?" Ed asked, pouring himself coffee, uncomfortable.

"He's swishy."

"Excuse me?" Ed responded, putting cream and sugar into his cup.

"He's you know. A homo. Gay. His bread isn't buttered on the right side."

"And?" Ed asked, amazed that people like Terry still existed.

"And, he said you might hire him to fix your cars here."

"I may. And?" Ed repeated, biting into a piece of dry toast. She snatched it from him, spread orange marmalade on it and handed it back to him. He grinned.

"And, well, you know. You sure somebody like that is proper to be around this place if you're going to be taking care of a little girl?"

"You aren't?"

"I've only heard of those people and seen them on TV. God knows what someone like that would do if turned loose. I mean all he talked about last night was how great you were, and how your pictures didn't do you justice. I think he's hot for your bod."

"You do? So you think that he might sexually molest me?"

"I think he's pulling at the reins, yeah."

"A case of sexual harassment? Especially around my daughter?"

"Yeah. You have a hearing problem or something?"

"Did you ask him if he was gay? Or did you assume it?"

"Are you kidding? Huh?"

"I think you're the one with the hearing problem. A comprehension problem too." Ed sipped his coffee, irritated.

"How so?"

"You appear to feign concern for my welfare, and for Kamala's, but you think nothing of patting me on the buttocks, without any consideration for whether I find it offensive or not, and you say suggestive things, clearly sexual in nature. You mention to Kamala in veiled terms that Claire and I might have engaged in sexual intercourse last night, explaining why I overslept. What about your influence on her? I think I have more to fear from you than I do from Ian, who has been nothing but polite and respectful to me. Now. Is breakfast ready? And incidentally, I think Frances borrowed our waffle maker."

"I'm surprised that stuffed suit knows how to use one. Hey, Ed hon, you aren't pissed at me or anything, are you? I didn't mean no harm. I was just being me."

"So was Ian."

"Okay. I get ya. And you can't blame either of us for thinking you're hot stuff, cause babe, you are." Terry chuckled, and made a gesture to slap him on his bottom again. Ed pulled away, caught her hand, and held it meaningfully, with no trace of a smile. His expression bordered on frightening.

"No one touches me like that without my permission. Ever. If Alec were still alive, he would have made that clear to you. Nobody touches me in any way unless I want them to. Understood?"

"Ed honey . . ."

"My house. My body. My rules. Understood?" Ed said, sounding every inch the Commander of Shado. It took Terry aback.

"You go through more changes than a chameleon. Okay, okay, let go my hand. I won't do it anymore. Gee whiz. Alec liked it."

"I'm not Alec. Shall I tell everyone to come to breakfast? Good, this chameleon is starved. I'll go get my wife. Oh and Terry, thank you for breakfast." He offered a sincere smile, and let go of her hand, and marched away.

She smiled and started putting out the napkins and silverware.

* * *

He told the others to go into the dining room, and then he went up the stairs. Midway, he paused, closed his eyes, fighting back tears, shaking.

Alec. What am I supposed to do without you? I have to deal with things like that myself now. I feel like a child who has forgotten how to walk, and has to remember how to crawl. Dear God, did you have to leave me like this? I need you, I need you so badly. I'm about to fight the most important battle of my life, convincing those chair warming, paper pushing social workers at the adoption agency that Kamala should be mine. I need you. I can't do this alone. Why for the love of God did you ever decide you didn't belong in my life anymore? I feel so useless. No job. No purpose. No you.

"Edward. What happened?" Claire said softly. He opened his eyes and went into her arms.

"Don't let me wake up alone like that anymore," he told her, taking comfort in her arms, shaking a little. "You're my wife, damn it, you're supposed to be with me. Waking up alone like that just reminds me of all the lonely years I'd awaken to an empty house, and drive in the cold to HQ, where I had to retreat into even more cold to even get through my days and my nights."

"Damn it, Edward Straker, what happened?" she said.

"Nothing important. Hold me."

"Straker, I am not letting you off that easily. You tell me, or I go downstairs and torture it out of everybody."

"Even the rabbits? The dog?"

"To find out who hurt you I'd do anything, you know that. Did Kamala say something to upset you?"

"You'd put my needs before Kamala's?"

"Kamala is young and has her life ahead of her, and the possibilities to heal. You have deeper scars, and some even I can't erase. Your longing for a child to call your own. Your grief for Alec. Yes. You're damn right I would. To hell with ethics. Ethics aren't everything, and as much as that child needs us, you need me more, and you know it."

"I love you, you know that?"

"It isn't going to work, Straker."

He bent and kissed her neck, and nuzzled it and she chuckled faintly.

"Forget it," she said firmly, hiding the fact he was driving her insane with wanting him.

"Damn. I must be slipping," he said woefully. She stood back, and looked at him. Silver hair in waves, with a side part, and one lock on hair falling over his forehead, inviting someone to sweep it in place. Wide, expressive bluer than blue eyes with that faint touch of perpetual sadness to them. Perfect nose, perfect sensual mouth, with the slight scar, slightly upturned in amusement as she looked at him. Lines that on another man would have aged him, but on Edward only added character. Slim, lightly muscled body showed off to perfection in white silk pyjamas smelling faintly of citrus. Long, artistic hands, curled firmly around her sides, as if frightened she might go away. "What?" he asked, pulling the mouth into a impatient line as he often did.

"If you had any idea of how you looked, Edward and how you make a woman feel, your head would swell to the proportions of that new car of yours. And believe me, I remember last night. The Bentley Arnage T isn't the only thing you own that's turbocharged."

"Why, Mrs. Straker! We could skip breakfast, go back upstairs, lock the door and you could check to see if I need an oil chan-" Ed looked down. Dandelion was standing up, sniffing him, and Fiver was on the step beneath, washing her ears. Hazel zipped by, chasing Molly, who dashed into Kamala's bedroom howling in fear, and they both stopped, noses wriggling. Claire laughed as Ed chuckled, and picked up Dandelion. She instantly began to push at his hand with her nose.

"The children want attention. I'll tell you later. Promise."

"Now, Straker."

Ed sighed, and explained what happened. She scowled.

"Someone needs to teach Terry a lesson."

"I know, I'll figure something out. I like her. It's just that I'm not used to her." he smiled. Dandelion started to kick when he didn't pet her. "Okay, okay. Down. I get the message."

He set her down, and she lightly nipped his bare ankle, then sat back to groom herself in mock innocence.

"Yeow!" he shouted. Claire giggled.

"You're some father. You didn't pet her. You can't even take care of a bunny."

"No, but I have redeeming qualities."

"Oh yeah, Straker?" she said, slapping him on the butt. His eyes widened for a moment in shock, and he grinned at her. "Like what?" she demanded.

"I make love like one," he replied, his eyes sparkling.

"Pins and needles, if that isn't the truth and nothing but. Come downstairs, my little baby rabbit Edward pudding, you."

Ed playfully twisted his face as a reply as she laughingly started to lead him away. No such luck, Claire realised as Molly moaned, barked and howled louder, and tried to get under Kamala's bed. Hazel thumped her foot in triumph, obviously with delusions of being a great hunter who had cornered her prey. Ed stopped, picked up Hazel, and shook his finger at her, barely containing his laughter. Hazel just wriggled her nose at him. Humans. Always spoiled your fun, Ed figured her steady stare indicated. Who needed them?

"Kamala! Come get your dog! The rabbits are ganging up on her!" Claire yelled.

* * *

"All right, agenda for the rest of the day, folks. We get Terry moved into her new house, we buy dinner fixings, file adoption papers, we get some things Kamala needs, we convince Molly she could fight three bunnies with one paw tied behind her back, take heartburn tablets after that breakfast Terry made," Ed announced.

"Oh sure, hon, I noticed you had two helpings of my famous banana and strawberry pancakes." Terry pointed out happily.

"I didn't want to disappoint a woman full of hormones, I've heard they're dangerous." Ed smiled.

"You big tease. I'm going upstairs to change. I'm so excited, my first real house!" Terry left the table with enthusiasm, and Ed smiled.

"Mr. Straker, if I could be so bold, may I show you my resume? It won't take but a moment," Ian Martin said.

"Sure, I have plenty of time before I go up and dress, Claire, could you pour me some more coffee? Any left?" Ed took the resume, started studying it.

"Plenty. Kamala, you want some more milk? There you go, sweetheart. Ian, some more coffee?"

"That would be just great. Fabulous coffee, this is."

"Edward has it sent to him from some coffee of the month place."

"Swedish coffee maker, I think. Or was it Dutch? Hmm. Wait a moment, weren't you telling me over breakfast you don't drive, don't own a car? You take the tube, train and bus everywhere?"

"That's sort of strange for a mechanic, Ian." Claire smiled, pouring him some coffee. Ed gave her a stern look because she didn't pour his first, as she did customarily, and she grinned at him.

"Oh, I know, but it allows me a lot of time to read, and write, you see. Allows me to indulge in my hobby, fan-fic writing too."

"Fan what?" Ed asked, flipping through the resume. Ed looked more and more impressed as he went over Ian's solid work history.

"Fan-fic. You know that police series Heartbeats that your studio produced? With the gay surgeon, such a good looking, talented fellow. Anyway, I'm a great fan of it, never miss an episode, tape every single one. Fans of television shows sometimes write their own episodes. That's what I do, I'm afraid. When I'm travelling, I take along my little tape record and record conversations the other passengers have. Terribly helpful to get realistic dialogue."

"Seems sort of a strange hobby to spend so much time on, no money in it. You should try writing screenplays, go professional," Ed commented without looking up. He was still reading the resume.

"Edward was head of the studio for so long, and he still has no idea of all the things movie and television fans do. Just ignore his ignorance. Culturally deprived, my husband." chuckled Claire.

"Very funny, wife. Ian, you mentioned your father on the telephone, and I had no idea you meant the Cecil Martin. I actually happened to be watching automobile races with my deceased colleague Alec that day, so I saw the crash that took your famous father's life and turned his race car into splinters. Again, I am sorry."

"Thank you, Sir. Yes, he started out as a mechanic, with me as his apprentice, mother left us when I was quite young so I grew up around race crews, could take the cars apart, put them together again, tune them up, just about anything, really. I saw too many good men and women lose their lives to speed, needing to go faster, and eventually I lost Father. Not before knowing my way around a racecar, though. I'm a professional driver, but I decided not to own a car. Too many memories, you see. However if you or Mrs. Straker here would like to learn defensive driving, I'd be too happy to teach you. And I certainly can do a few adjustments to that new Bentley of yours. Make her sing like a canary. Show you what she really could do."

"Professional driver? Sounds like our Terry could learn a lot from you." smiled Claire.

"A blind and deaf kid with no sense of direction on a bicycle with a puncture could teach that lady how to drive better!" Zeke said between his last mouthfuls of eggs and bacon. Ed grinned at him, and then Claire saw that look come over Ed's face, the one she had grown to love, the one that clearly meant he was hatching a Straker plot. God help the world.

"I take it you found out last night Terry is a bit standoffish with you? About your choice of sexuality?" Ed asked, steepling his fingers.

"Yes, but one gets used to that kind of thing when you're different, and she was quite polite, if a bit forward, wanting to know details about my relationship with my late husband Danny. Bunch of filthy bastards, pardon my language, beat him up simply because he was gay, I found him, he died in my arms. They were prosecuted, but it didn't bring my Danny back did it? Yes, I recognised her type. Why?"

Claire sighed with old pain.

"Ryan." she said. "The same old story. Ignorance feeding hatred."

"Hatred has a appetite that rarely is satisfied, Claire. I am genuinely sorry for your loss, Ian. I lost two good men in a similar way. Ryan was my wife's closest friend, and Eric was his husband. Eric went after them, killed himself after killing them. Ian, why don't you take my wife's Volvo, I have an idea that might kill two birds with one stone where Terrilynnn Fillmore is concerned," Ed said thoughtfully.

"Anything, Mr. Straker, but I am against violence against helpless birds." Ian chuckled. Ed began to describe his idea. Ian laughed. Claire moped.

"Why is it always my poor baby of a car?" she whined.

Kamala listened with interest as she sipped her milk, Claire noticed Kamala had chosen a chair nearest Ed, hadn't taken her eyes off Ed for long.

I have this feeling Edward just won over another female heart, she thought, both amused and pleased.

* * *

After a while, Kamala and Claire went into Kamala's room to get her bathed and dressed after Claire herself had done the same, getting into a green roll-neck sweater and long tweed skirt. When they'd finished, Claire got Kamala's freshly laundered blouse and skirt, tights and shoes, and offered her one of her scarves to wear. Kamala beamed, and was in the middle of wrapping it around her head turban style when they heard Ed Straker squeal Claire's name like the world was ending. Claire and Kamala beat Zeke, but not by much, to the master bedroom, and even Terry and Ian ran up the carpeted stairs close behind them.

"Claire! My medallion, it's gone, it was hanging right there on my bedpost. I was going to have it fixed by Garrards, so that I could wear it, and now it's gone. Did you take it to fix it for me?"

"Edward, it may just be under the bed, let me look." she responded, knowing how important it was to him, and in the back of her mind she took in how wonderful he looked in his blue pinstriped Turnbull and Asser shirt and Armani navy blue suit, and pale yellow silk tie. Clearly he had taken pains to look just right when he went to the adoption people to plead his case. She bent and searched, but saw nothing.

"Hon, you were yelling like someone was going to kill you! What did you get us all riled up for?" Terry wanted to know, pulling out a red lipstick from her denim pants pocket, and applying it to her lips, using the mirror that was attached to the tube. Ian watched her, wrinkling his nose. She squinted at him.

"I'm not in the mood for explaining right now. That medallion is all I have-all I have." Ed balled his hands into fists, trying to control his uncharacteristic panic over its disappearance.

"Edward, trust me, we'll find it," Claire assured him, squeezing his arm.

"The bunnies are worried about you." Kamala said solemnly. Ed offered her a wan smile.

"I interrupted their beauty sleep," he said, watching the rabbits stretch out in their bed without much real interest. Losing the medallion was like losing Alec again, he thought.

"Why are you looking at me like that, all funny and everything?" Terry demanded of Ian.

"That colour isn't at all right for you, love. A nice peach would be so much better."

"I've used rosy red for ten years and nobody's complained."

"I don't doubt it. You don't exactly let a person get a word in edgewise, now do you?" Ian grinned.

"Why you-"

"Oh. I nearly forgot, Terry. I've asked Ian to help move you." Ed told her to effectively shut her up.

"Ian? But you said you'd help move me, and let me do the Thanksgiving shoppin-"

"Yes, I know, but I have quite a lot to do today, and I didn't take it into consideration. He'll help you and we'll pick you up at your place later, and get whatever you need for the big day. I'm sure everything will work out fine, and we'll stay in touch by cell phone," Ed announced, his tone making it clear his word was final.

"Peach," Ian said decidedly. Terry crossed her arms, not convinced and he smiled at her.

"Where's that coward of a pooch?" Zeke said, looking around.

"Molly is not a coward." Kamala said indignantly, reminding Claire so heartbreakingly much of Edward in her courage to defend her pet. She had forgotten for the moment that Zeke was not only male but he dwarfed her the way he did the others.

"Yvonne has her with the security detail guys, playing ball." smiled Claire, more concerned about Ed, but attempting to reassure Kamala. "I checked in on her while Terry was cooking breakfast, and she's being spoiled rotten, getting a lot of attention."

"Ed, something the matter? I mean besides losing that medal," Zeke asked. Ed's eyes had widened almost comically.

"Edward?" Claire exclaimed, growing even more worried now.

"Claire, we have three rabbits, right? Three. Dandelion, Hazel, and dog terrorising Hazel. Three neutered female dwarf rabbits."

"Of course. Why?"

"I know rabbits are infamous for multiplying, but female rabbits? Claire, count the bunnies." he commanded her, with all the flair of ordering Sky One to chase a Ufo.

"Edward, this is no time for you to give me a math lesson. What are you getting at?"

Ed slowly approached the basket, bent over, and gently picked up something furry in his hand that studied him back, looking as if it was sure its number was up, and twitched its whiskers at him in a plea for mercy. The rabbits all looked at him indignantly, humans invading the sanctity of their bed, even if this one had once been the Commander of Shado, just wasn't done. In an attempt to make her feelings known, Hazel thumped and hissed. Terry just screamed.

Hazel looked at her with disgust, and Ed, who enjoyed imagining what the furry three were thinking, figured they didn't hold Terry very high in their esteem, scraps from breakfast or no scraps from breakfast.

"A mousie!" Kamala said excitedly. "Oh how pretty!"

"Not a mousie, no, young miss. A rat, and from the looks of her, not a commoner, oh no, this is royalty among rats we have here. I dare say it's a golden fawn," Ian added. "Fancy rat, comes in quite a few colours. Rat clubs are quite popular here in the United Kingdom."

"You know about rats too? I bet you win a lot of trivia games," chuckled Claire.

"Oh God deliver me. It actually has a tattoo in one ear, same as the terrible trio. What is it with these creatures showing up here at the manor that come from animal shows?" Ed asked.

"Oh may we keep her, Daddy? Please?" Kamala begged.

"Vermin!" Terry shouted, backing away. "Are you bonkers?"

"Which? Me, or the rat?" Ian said, suddenly very much at ease with Terry, and giving her a sunny grin. Claire giggled; she'd taken an instant liking to Ian as Ed had. Ed grinned widely at Ian, as Ed allowed the rat to ascend up one arm. The rat took the opportunity to rest and groom itself.

"Ian, have I told you you're hired?" Ed shook hands with the smaller man.

"Huzzah! Uh, I mean, how splendid, Mr. Straker!"

"You'll be fired faster than you were hired if you don't call me Ed."

"All right, Ed. It'll take some time getting used to, mind you. You're a personal hero of mine," Ian said shyly. Terry rolled her eyes, obviously thinking Ian had other motivations than hero worship. Claire scowled at her, and Terry returned the scowl with one of her innocent what did I do this time looks.

"Nonsense, I want you and everyone else that works for me to -Gah!" Ed exclaimed. "Our new family member just relieved herself on my business suit!"

Kamala giggled, and Ed gave her his very best mock stern look, then winked. Zeke laughed and went off to get some club soda, and he blotted the stain, which wasn't all that bad.

"Kamala, now don't make Edward cross. You mustn't giggle when rattie pees on him!" Claire said in a voice that matched Ed's mood, and just as false. It caused Kamala to lower her head, giggling more. Fiver didn't seem to appreciate Claire's sense of humour, choosing that moment to yawn.

"You tell her, Fiver. She just isn't funny, is she? Heh heh heh, the rat's licking me. Gosh this brings back some great memories. Freshman year at Boston University. The great rescue of the lab rats caper I managed to pull off with some friends as my cohorts in crime. Or in the never ending search for justice and freedom for the four-footed, depending on how you look at it."

"The what? You mean there's an adventure of yours I haven't heard about?" Claire scolded affectionately. "You better tell me all about it later, Edward Straker!"

"Nearly got me expelled, and my mother swore she'd take her hairbrush to me if I ever tried it again, but she was secretly proud when I was successful. Wait a minute! Why you dirty thieving, well, you dirty rat!" Ed did a fair job of impersonating Jimmy Cagney, bent again and took something shiny he'd spotted in the basket as Hazel had moved, chattering to herself about her human's bad manners. Claire laughed. It was the medallion. The rat eyed Straker woefully, not at all pleased her prize was being reclaimed.

"Not unusual for rats to scamper off to their nests with shiny objects." Ian chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if she lived in the venting system here, lived on scraps, reached this room, and the rabbits adopted her, much as you're going to adopt Kamala. Touching story, really."

"Oh Daddy, may I keep her? May I hold her?"

"By all means. I'm not even going to try and search for her owner. Waste of time. After all, she's something of a master thief, she got in Silk Wood Manor without the security detail even having the slightest idea security had been breached, and she snatched one of my most prized possessions. Here, you take her, with any luck she'll wet on you!" Ed chuckled, and Kamala laughed, and eagerly took the curious, eternally sniffing creature into her hands. It stood up, smelled the air, and scrambled up her arm, settling on her shoulder for a bit, sniffed her, and then to everyone's shock, it hurled itself at Ed, climbed up his shirt, and settled on his shoulder, grooming itself like it did that sort of thing all the time. Claire did one of her trademark dramatic sighs, and Ed laughed at her, knowing what was coming.

"What is it, Edward? Just what is it that makes females want to attach themselves to you? What's the secret of your irresistible charm?"

"My cologne. Eau de Cheddar," he replied deadpan, causing everyone but Kamala to groan, and put the rat into the basket with the bunnies. The rat curled up, stretched once, lapped Dandelion once or twice, then settled down to sleep.

"You're keeping that scaly thing?" Terry asked, astonished.

"Gosh, it's simply part of my soft-hearted nature, Terry. Taking in strays," Ed explained, putting his treasured medallion into his inside suit pocket for safekeeping, "it's something I do. Even strays who wear the wrong tint of lipstick."

Ed winked at Ian, who chuckled appreciatively.

Terry just gawked as everyone fell about, laughing.

"She's Daddy's rat now, she likes him best, what are you going to call her, Daddy?" Kamala said delightedly.

Ed smiled warmly at Kamala, paused for a moment, then his blue eyes twinkled in mischief, a phenomenon Claire never tired of watching.

"She slipped inside Silk Wood Manor, right past our defences, as effortlessly and softly as a shadow. I think I'll call her Shado, S-h-a-d-o."

"Oh that's pretty! May I go get her and the bunnies their breakfast?"

"Sure."

Ed grinned at Claire's slightly startled expression.

* * *

"No," Ed said firmly, guiding the Bentley through the Grade 2 gates to Silk Wood Manor.

"Edward, it might turn out to your advantage to leak news of Kamala's adoption to the press," Claire insisted. Kamala sat between the two of them, looking excited. She had just been shopping with everyone, and was wearing a blue wool coat with fake rabbit fur collar, and matching warm knit hat Ed had bought for her, among other things. Ed had given everyone money to buy whatever they needed, and he'd bought several things that were packed into the Bentley's boot. Ian and Terry had taken off in Claire's Volvo and hadn't returned yet.

"It might give them the impression I'm adopting Kamala purely for publicity, too."

"It'll be harder for them to say that, with you owning the Straker Foundation, you'll just seem to be setting an example for others. You heard them at the adoption agency. They said there's been a rise in adoptions since you started the take a child home programme."

"The interview did seem to go well," Ed admitted. "All right, you handle it." He looked over at Kamala, clutching a new velvet purse. "You look like a princess, Kamala."

"I feel like one! I bought presents for Molly and the bunnies and the rat too."

"You shouldn't spoil those pesky bunnies," he chuckled. Ed parked the car, and noticed Frances' station wagon in the driveway. "Oh oh. I feel a war coming on. Frances versus Terry for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner. Does Silk Wood Manor have a bunker?" he asked, opening the door for the two ladies in his life. Yvonne grinned at him.

"Nothing could be worse than having to baby-sit those rabbits. Not even a boxing match between Frances and Terry."

"I don't know, I think right about now, Terry is driving poor Ian dotty," chuckled Claire.

"Soon as we get these things put away, we'll go see how poor Ian is faring. I have an idea he's doing better than Terry at the moment."

* * *

"That's it. That tears it. Stop the car. Stop the car now."

"If you didn't screech at me every time I picked up speed, I could concentrate better."

"Stop the car. Park it over there. NO! There."

"Look here, nobody can tell me how to drive!" Terry whined.

"That, Ma'am, is very clear to me, as you've demonstrated you don't know how to drive. Get out, I'm driving the rest of the way."

"You can't drive! You said so!"

"Neither can you. Now do as I say."

"Oh I know about you people. You get all emotional and uppity. Pansy. I don't know how Ed could possibly hire you. What good are you? You're just a nervous wreck." Terry told him as they exchanged places and Ian slid behind the wheel. He put on his harness, slipped on driving gloves.

"Madame, you could turn a member of the SAS into a nervous wreck. Put on your harness."

"What do you think I am? An ox? A horse?"

"Seatbelt, for goodness sake." Ian moaned.

"Well then say seatbelt, you pansy. Stupid British words. Stupid British country, nobody drives on the right side of the highway."

"Give me the keys," Ian said, with the patience of Job.

"For what? You can't drive. I bet you couldn't drive a tricycle. Or do gays even ride tricycles?"

"I don't drive cars like these normally. I just fix them. Give me the keys."

"You get me killed, I'll sue you," she answered, handing him the keys. "Don't forget, I'm pregnant."

"That is the only thing that has prevented me from killing you outright, and mind you, I am not a violent man. Here we go."

"You sure you even know how to honk the horn?"

"You just leave things to me, Ma'am." Ian started up the car, spun the steering wheel, tossing Terry against the harness, and forcing a horrified shriek out of her. The groceries they'd bought rolled from one side of the green Volvo's back seat to the other. Ian picked up speed, and went in and out of the lanes, passing cars as if the Volvo were being chased by the devil. Ian soon was on a long stretch of road, and he pressed the petrol pedal all the way to the floor, a content expression on his face. Terry had turned white, and was holding on for dear life.

"Driving lesson, Ma'am. That is the car's indicator of speed. Before I agreed to accompany you on your little buying excursion, I made a few adjustments to the Volvo's engine. Thus we are driving 170 kph, which to you is about 105 miles per hour, and I could easily take her a bit faster."

"Hundred and five? Are you insane? You're going to get us killed!"

"You don't enjoy the feeling of whooshing along the road? Oh look, how lucky for us, pedestrians! Shall we run them over?"

"Yiiiiiiiiii!" Terry uttered, scrunching down in her seat and clamping her hands over her eyes. Ian hit the brake and she flung forward against the harness, gasping. She stared at Ian as he quite calmly paused to let them by, with a friendly wave. Then as soon as they were gone, and he picked up speed again, he looked troubled.

"My, my. I seem to have made a mistake; your house isn't this way. I had better turn around."

"Is it safe to look?" she asked weakly.

Ian suddenly threw the Volvo into reverse, accelerated to about forty to forty five mph, spun the car into a 180-degree turn with the tyres screeching cries for mercy and then sped off in the opposite direction. Terry clenched her teeth and crossed herself. She wasn't even Catholic. Ian continued to speed as if he'd been in a racing car in the Pembrey circuit in Wales. Then of course, he had been. That fact wouldn't have encouraged Terry, as a matter of fact, nothing would have at that particular moment. Within moments, Ian stopped in front of her rented cottage.

"Here we are, safe and sound, Ma'am. Ma'am?"

Terry had fainted dead away.

Ian grinned. He shook her, and she moaned, and came around.

"We're here, Ma'am. Better get a move on. Mr. Straker will be bringing the hired van for your belongings, and I'm going to help you pack everything up."

"Were you trying to kill me, you horrible little man?"

"You mean you didn't enjoy your ride? But that's the way you drive, and you don't even have the training I have had. I drove racecars with my father for a living for quite some time when I was in my teens. He eventually died from wanting to go faster, even though he was an expert. Driving isn't something to play with. Neither is speed. I might have seemed as if I didn't know what I was doing, but in reality, you were safe the whole time. You need to learn how to drive safely, or you need to give someone else the keys. Especially now that you're expecting the little one."

"Ed put you up to this, didn't he?"

Ian grinned and nodded. She grumbled. Then she looked frightened.

"What is it?"

"Oh God, that's my brother's car. What is he doing here? Oh God. Call Ed! Call Ed quickly. Where's that stupid phone Ed gave me. Oh GOD! There he is. Ian, don't open the door whatever he does."

"Here. Settle down and stay inside, roll the windows almost all the way up. I shall handle this."

"He's twice your size!" she said, truly terrified, he soon realised. He patted her hand.

"I know my way around bullies, I did a stint in the SAS during the Falklands crisis, it's where I met my husband Danny. Stay inside."

Ian got out of the car, and locked it, and slipped the control and keys inside his pocket. A bulky and tall man with a receding hairline that vaguely resembled Terry came and confronted him. He had on a mismatched shirt and trousers under a slightly dirty looking windbreaker, and stared at Ian.

"Who are you?" he growled, smelling of beer, and cheap beer, Ian decided. Ian shifted his weight so that it was equally balanced on both legs, and settled into a defensive position. The man looked at Ian's ribbon pin for AIDS and sneered.

"Ian Martin. I'm a friend of your sister's. I'm under orders from Mr. Straker to move her into her new home on his property."

"Straker huh? Straker and his money don't impress me none. Move aside, queer. Unless you want me to shove your attitude up your ass, oh wait you queers like things in your ass, don't you."

"My sexual orientation is none of your business. I most certainly am not moving aside for you, and your sister wants nothing to do with you. So you would be wise to get into your car and get out of here. Mr. Straker is on the way, and he won't tolerate your bad manners any more than I will."

"Move, you asshole, or I'll wipe up the sidewalk with you. Not going to move, are you? Okay, you little queer bastard, I'll show-"

The man found himself being tossed in the air before he even realised Ian had moved. He landed, shook his head like a soaked dog shaking his whole body to get dry, and got halfway up. Without even hardly trying, Ian flung him on his stomach, and pinned his arm, driving it up, and the man screamed. Terry was wildly whistling in appreciation for Ian inside the car, and he grinned slightly at her. Then he turned his attention back to his prey.

"I'll let you get up if you go to your car, and you get out of here. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're breaking my damn arm."

"No, I'm not the kind of person who does anything halfway, I'm afraid. If I wanted your arm broken, it would be broken. Stand up."

The man stood up, rubbing his arm, but then he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a good-sized knife. Terry screamed. Ian just sighed, looking bored. With an unexpected French savate kick to the man's wrist, making the knife fly out of it, he delivered the coup de grace with a blow to the man's solar plexus and then a sharp chop to the back of his neck, all with a ballet-like extension of his leg. The man collapsed like a marshmallow in a microwave. Ian fished in his pocket for the man's car keys, retrieved them, and dragged him to his car, tossed him in it, and closed the door. Ian then returned to Terry.

"Safe and sound now. Mr. Straker will soon be here, we better get moving."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Damn. Wish you would have. You fight good, just like on TV."

"Why does he scare you so much? He's nothing but a bully, and a bad mannered one at that. There, there, don't cry now." Ian handed her his handkerchief.

"I'm tough as nails, but that bastard always frightened me. Never got over it. Used to lord over me when I was a kid. I was wrong about you Ian. You taking care of him like that was almost like having Alec back. I was real wrong about you."

"Most people are. It's all about knowing yourself, and being comfortable with yourself, so that no one intimidates you unless you want them to. Take Mr. Straker for instance. He's himself. He doesn't bother with airs, yet he's got that whole authoritative air about him. He's friendly, but you know he'd make an enemy you wouldn't soon forget. That kind of person I don't mind being intimidated by, and it's going to be a joy to work for him."

"Have you ever had an American style Thanksgiving dinner?"

"No, seems a bit unfaithful to my country to be even talking about it." Ian laughed.

"You're going to have a real taste treat tomorrow. I'm cooking all Ed's favourite Yankee foods, plus that big 30-pound bird I managed to finally find, and a ham bigger than Boston. Come on hon. Let's start packing. You have any favourite foods, hon?"

"I'm partial to peanut brittle, if I must confess, Terry, and my belly proves it," he chuckled, and they went arm in arm into the house. Ian put the knife in his pocket for safekeeping.

* * *

Terry and Ian were busy unfolding the cardboard boxes and carefully packing when there was a knock at the door. Terry froze, she'd all but forgotten her brother had been out there. Ian cautiously went to the door, and was relieved to see it was only Ed and the gang. He let them in.

"Good heavens. What is all this stuff?" Ed wanted to know. Terry's little rented house looked plainly as if she'd never thrown away a thing in her life. One box was stacked up with cleaned aluminium foil pans from microwave dinners. It occurred to Ed that maybe she didn't bother to cook anything fancy for herself. He remembered how lonely cooking for just himself had been. Another box was full of women's magazines, another, bits and pieces of fabric, and still another, cosmetics. Everything was labelled, and everything was covered with a light layer of dust.

"My stuff, of course." Terry said indignantly. "Did you see my brother out there? Ian flattened him for me."

"Ian, huh? Just when I was thinking maybe you were right about him being too swishy for me to hire." Ed winked at Ian, and Ian chuckled.

"Are you bonkers? Ian beat him up with fancy kicking. It was great. Ian is a sweetie!"

"Edward, there was a guy in a car out there, asleep, or at least that's what I thought." Claire said, pulling Kamala closer to her.

"You had better tell me what happened."

Ian filled Ed in, and Ed predictably frowned.

"I'll go have a word with this fellow. It'll be the high point of my day, I'm sure."

"Sorry, but I should do that, Ed," Yvonne corrected him.

"I'm retired, Yvonne, I'm not crippled."

"Sir," Yvonne said sharply.

"C'est assez, Yvonne. Protégez Kamala," he replied, twice as sharply. He started to go out and Claire and Ian followed him. Yvonne made a face.

"I hate it when he does that to me. I hate it more when he does that in a perfect French accent." she fumed. "Why all his bodyguards either die or quit is getting pretty obvious to me."

"Don't you say anything bad about my Daddy," Kamala announced. Yvonne glared at her.

"Comme le père, comme la fille. Merde."

"You tell her, sweetie!" Terry said, hugging the girl. Kamala smiled a little, but looked anxious.

* * *

Ed went out, remembering with a deep scowl that he wasn't armed; he'd left his Glock temporarily in his glove box. The man wasn't in the car. Ian and Claire looked puzzled.

"You two stay there, I need to check something."

Ed came back, and looked under his Bentley as a possible concealment place. Nothing. Ed noticed deep scratches on the driver's door.

"The bastard!" Ian cursed.

"Nothing that can't be taken care of." Ed assured him, in a voice like steel. Suddenly a nearby thick bush shook, and Terry's brother came wildly flying out at Ed in an effort to head butt him. Claire cried out, Ian ran forward, and Kamala, who had heard Claire's shrill scream, broke free from Terry and came outside. Ed simply made a stern slit of his mouth, and stepped aside deftly, and the man ran straight into the driver's door. And bounced off like a fly who had met his maker in a zapper. He writhed on the ground, sparks flying around him briefly, as a piercing alarm sounded. Ed clicked on his control and the sound stopped.

"Autotaser. 50,000 volts. Was discontinued, but my old friend Ben Lammers managed to locate and install one for me. Our friend here never knew what hit him," Ed said, now allowing himself to lean safely against his car, tracing the gouge in the door with his fingers. He looked as offended as if it had been his own skin that had been opened up, Claire decided, but other things occupied her mind beside men and their love affair with automobiles.

"Edward, did you ever plan to tell me that's what you were doing this afternoon with Ben while Kamala and I were shopping?" Claire asked, indignant.

"Eventually, yes, of course," he grinned sheepishly.

"Is that gadget legal?" Ian said admiringly.

"Not exactly, but it's pretty effective."

"I'll say!" Ian retorted. Claire just gave Ed a look.

"What? You wanted an old, helpless retiree like me to be in harm's way?"

"Save it, Edward Straker, Sleeping beauty there is waking up."

"Daddy, are you okay?" Kamala wanted to know.

"Go inside, sweetheart."

"But are you okay?"

"He's okay, Kamala. He's even enjoying himself," Claire said, arms folded.

Ed had time for a small grin at the truth in that, and then he turned his attention back to the pathetic figure of Terry's brother. He leaned, and pulled him up. Still shaken, the man tried to punch at Ed.

"You really don't want to do that, Mr. Fillmore. You really don't want to. You've already annoyed me by ruining my paint job. That in itself ruined my mood. Not to mention you insulted Ian. But what really cranks my propeller is the fact you frightened and tried to bully Terry, who is carrying my friend's child. You won't be getting any Happy Christmas cards from me, buddy."

"That retarded sister of mine is pregnant? She's carrying that ugly defect of a old man Freeman's bastard? The stupid slut!"

In life, Claire thought, people made mistakes because they were human. Sometimes it was a unwise but not lethal mistake like getting to an important job interview late. And sometimes it was as purely life-shortening a mistake as insulting Ed Straker's dead friend and his lover, and the unborn child she was carrying. Not surprisingly, she watched Ed lunge at the man, grab him by the collar, hurl him against the Bentley, grab him a second time, knee him sharply in the testicles (Ian turned away wincing at that particular move, she noticed, and she didn't blame him) then when he bent in agony, Ed grabbed him by the collar again and slammed his head against the car hard twice, letting him go. Once he was down, Ed made a second lunge, but both Ian and Claire grabbed him, Ed shook them off, but he didn't attempt to attack again, and he slowed his breathing, blue eyes flashing dangerously like the rotating lights on a police car.

"Edward."

"I'm okay. Hopefully he's not," Ed said, still fighting to slow his breathing down, and ignoring Terry's continuing cheering from the doorstep. Yvonne glanced at her and rolled her eyes.

"Well, someone should call an ambulance, since I didn't bring my bag." Claire sighed, crouching and checking the man's pulse at his carotid artery as Ian took out his cell phone and punched 999. It was slow, but it was there, and considering how angry Edward was, the man should be grateful to have a serious concussion, broken ribs, internal bleeding and swollen balls. Because she knew Edward had gone at him intending to sever his soul from his body. For once, she didn't care if not caring was not what she'd been taught. She slipped an arm around Ed's waist lovingly. You just didn't insult Alec Freeman.

* * *

"Lay off, I said!" the man said, as Gil Grissom fluffed his pillows. "I told you I am not going, and that is final!"

Gil stopped. Without a word, he went over to the door, and he grasped the handle, released the doorstop, let it close all the way. Then he went over to the chair near the patient's old-fashioned hospital crank bed, sat in it a moment. He put two fingers on his pulse point. Then he got up again, picked up the chair, and threw it against the wall.

Shado operative Colonel Alec Freeman, alive but a little under a stone lighter, with nearly a month's worth of beard on his leathery face, cuts and bruises adorning that same ragged, weary face, IV in one arm, his leg in a thick cast elevated by a pulley, rose a good inch above the less than soft standard mattress in shock at Gil's uncharacteristic outburst. It was shock that wasn't related to the shock he'd been suffering from when he was first admitted to Woomera Hospital.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Alec muttered, feeling very helpless without his familiar pals Graham Lancaster and Stanley Brisby. This was no time for the CSI to get balmy. Angel had stayed by Alec's side all through the admission, and the attempt to get him stabilised in casualty, and then had waited outside while they had re-broken then reset his leg in emergency surgery, and had put temporary pins in it to insure that the bone healed correctly this time, warning him he'd need another operation for it to heal completely. The Abbos that had saved Alec's life had attempted to straighten the leg with their limited medicine, but only had made matters worse. Alec had been muttering about Ed Straker in his fevered state, and he hadn't quite remembered how he had survived the jump from the plane, only that he'd reached consciousness to see dark, intricately painted faces staring at him, muttering in their guttural tongues. But he had survived. And the one thing he had, the one thing-but no, he wouldn't let himself think about that now.

But where was it, he asked himself. Where was it?

A nurse poked her head in, alarmed.

"You okay?"

"Fine, Sister, fine, just moving the chair," Alec lied. It was bad enough that he was stuck in the bed. It was worse that the sister they'd assigned to him looked as ugly as he imagined licking an ashtray would taste. But that was Woomera for you. He sat up a little when she left, and looked at Grissom as though Grissom might strangle him any minute.

"A hundred and six. I'm angry. I rarely get angry. I never destroy hospital property. It's you. All you've been doing since you've been feeling better is complain, and repeat that you're not going back to Silk Wood Manor. I'm here to tell you that we didn't go into the Outback to leave you behind. Once we get you there, and once Ed sees you, then you can do whatever pleases you. But you're going. And he's seeing you. Count on it. Believe me, Angel knocked you out once. He's off getting a couple hours of sleep with Warrick. When he comes back, I'm sure he'll knock you out again. Or I will. You're going."

"You know, I'm getting good and sick and tired of you pushing me around. Ed is better without me and he's better without you."

"Shove it, Alec. In the name of all that's good and holy, shove it. You don't believe it for a moment. You've wanted to see Ed since the moment you grabbed that parachute and dived into the unknown. In the slim chance that you'd live, and go back, and see that face again. See it smile again."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Alec yelled, clenching his teeth.

"It's you that doesn't know what the hell you're talking about. Do you even know, Alec? Do you know? Can you even guess what I'd give to understand the love and affection between you? To taste it myself? To understand what would strike a man like Ed Straker down, like a Sequoia felled by lightning? That's what your apparent death did to him. He was like one of those trees, a tree so tall and proud and invulnerable to time and weather and punishment that only an act from the Creator could bring it crashing down. Have you ever seen anything more terrible than a fallen tree? Your death was the lightning."

"You're so full of literary shit," Alec said weakly. "You sound like Ed half the time. Bugger off."

In answer, Gil dug into a pocket, and produced the crumpled picture of Ed Straker, and threw it onto Alec's bed. Alec's control crumpled like the flimsy paper had.

"You held that. Even in unconsciousness. The paramedic had to pry it out of your hand. Are you now telling me that you want to walk away from the man again? Let him suffer? Let him walk alone?"

"God damn you to hell, you have no right to do this to me! I'm scared, damn you!"

"Then do the bravest thing you have ever done. Go back to him. Go back where you belong. Go back and be at his side. Redemption is waiting for you. Save yourself a second time. Or for the love of God, save him. Because he's falling apart. And other than you and his wife, nobody sees it happening. Save him. Save yourself."

"After what I did to him? After putting my guilt on his shoulders? Knowing so well-"

"That he'd bear another unnecessary cross gladly, since it was yours? He would have gone without complaint to his grave in your place, and you took advantage of it. Claire called me not long after he accepted that you had died. He compared the two of you to Castor and Pollux. It's a myth-"

"Christ! I dreamed it, he came to me, he came trying to save me. It was him strapping my leg down, it was him cracking jokes, it was him saying we were like- Gil, tell me, how bad has it been for him?"

"Bad. I asked for something to be delivered to me by Shado messenger. I requested a copy from Keith Ford. That's why I asked to rent a DVD player, so that I could show it to you."

"Show me what?" Alec asked in consternation.

Gil dug into his ever-present jacket and drew out a DVD. He placed it into the player.

"His remarks. At your funeral."

"My what?"

"This was broadcast to HQ, and to Moonbase, and to Mobiles in the field, and to Interceptor pilots on recon, and to every Shado installation there is. His idea. He gave the final speech, and he knew what he was going to say, and why. I asked Ford to make me a copy of his words alone. Listen carefully to him, Alec. And then tell me this is a man to turn your back on. Watch. Listen. But above all, feel."

Alec was shaking even before Gil hit the play button. He looked at Gil then at the screen, beginning to sweat with genuine fear. Ed was walking to the podium. Alec's heart felt like it was squeezed drier than a sponge. Ed looked terrible, but he walked so solemnly, posture flawless, every last line in his face evident, the terrible weight of the world upon his shoulders. Alec cursed himself, as he had started to try and choke away the tears even before Ed began to speak. He looked in desperation at Grissom, but amazingly Grissom's own expression was locked tighter than a drum. He had wronged Ed, but the strangest of all, he had wronged Grissom.

---shouldn't and needn't have to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that my sorrow is added to yours. However, to assail disbelief, I should tell you about my personal grief. --

Oh God. Personal grief? PERSONAL? In front of all of Shado? Fucking holy Christ. No, Ed, no, I'm not worth it, don't let your walls down. Not like this. Not for me. Don't. Don't. Don't! Alec thought, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen.

----and now we have forever lost a genuinely warm, genuinely caring human being. He may have had his responsibilities, both as the co-executive of the studio and chairperson on the Straker Foundation, and as Shado's number two operative, but as all of you are quite aware, his contribution went further than that. He would approach men and women and ask about their families, take the time to joke with them, share a drink with them, comfort them when they had lost colleagues in our never-ending fight against the aliens. He was the salt of the earth. It was often whispered in the corridors that while Alec was fire, I was ice--

"Oh God. Tell me this didn't happen, Gil. Please tell me this didn't happen. I'm begging you. I can't take this!"

Gil had gone over to the door, to make sure no one entered while the DVD continued playing.

"Feel." was all he replied.

--I can tell you, ladies and gentleman, that in the final analysis I am not ice, that this loss will change my life, that I am not invulnerable to the pain that his passing has brought to us all---

Alec was openly sobbing now.

"Stop the damn thing. Please. Stop it. Stop. Why did he do this? Why? Why? He kept that part of him hidden for so many years. He's too raw up there, he's got nobody to watch over him, he shouldn't have done this. Why?"

"For you." Gil said simply.

--merits the promotion. As many of you know, he was still grieving for his little daughter Ayomide Freeman when he died. For those of you who seek solace in religion, perhaps it will help to think of him reunited with her in whatever lies beyond this life.---

"Ed. Dear God. Forgive me, please. Forgive me. I was never the man that you were. Never. Forgive me."

Gil went and got the chair, and tipped it so that it kept the door from being easily opened. He went over and sat on the edge of Alec's bed.

"You underestimate yourself Alec."

---experiences with metaphysics and the nature of death, I do not yet know with certainty what lies beyond this life. I admit however, for Alec's sake I hope a pub is available.

Alec guffawed.

"The bastard. The skinny Bostonian son of a bitch, he would say that. Oh Christ, Gil. I didn't want this, I didn't want him to ever give that much. He gave all his life, while others rode his coattails. Christ, I can't believe he'd do this. Not for me. Not for me. Not for me."

Tentatively, Gil Grissom extended a hand, and closed his fingers over Alec's briefly, as the laughter that had been recorded after Ed's joke died out, and his voice, that voice that once you heard it, nothing else could be mistaken for it rang out in the Shado chapel.

---second best decision I ever made, and now I will tell you of it. Ladies and gentlemen, I have decided to step down as Commander in chief of Shado.

"NO!" Alec shouted at the screen as gasps were heard over the sound track. "Tell me that idiot didn't turn his back on what he devoted his entire life to! Tell me! Tell me!"

"You wanted him to. That was enough. He would have done anything for you, Alec. You know that. You are the Pollux to his Castor. The tape isn't finished. The story hasn't ended yet."

-----rewriting the Shado charter and bylaws, and I assure you I have every confidence in her ability to continue in my place and so should you all. That is my final command to you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your decency and determination and duty in Shado. Don't think for even a moment that I lacked in appreciation for how much you have all achieved, and I only wish that I could retire at a moment where we could say we finally wiped out the enemy, but I cannot. It is time, high time, for me to pass on the responsibility I was given.----

"No, you bloody minded ignorant Yank! I'm here, damn you! You can't do this! I won't let you, dammit!"

----this, but in Alec Freeman's will, he echoed his wish in a note that I walk away from the organisation. Doing so is difficult for me, but this is not a job for someone that cannot give one hundred percent, and I am not a person who could or did give any less and you are all aware that for medical and psychological reasons I haven't been here as much as was required of me. I will certainly be available if I am needed as a civilian, but you are seeing me in my professional capacity for the last time. I would hope you would respect and support me in my decision, but know this, it is final. I will devote myself to the operations of the Straker Foundation in the memory of my deceased son John Straker. Thank you all.

Alec dropped his head into his hands, and sobbed for several minutes as the DVD concluded with the sweet voice of Angel. Gil touched the stop button, and took the DVD, and gave it to Alec.

"Grissom. Get the-get the damn-doctor. I'm getting out of here. I'm getting out now."

"That isn't the best thing for-"

"Shut the hell up and get me the damn AMA paperwork. Ed needs me. Going back is the best thing for me. Now hurry up. And tell that idiot of a piss-ugly nurse I need to be let down from this damn jungle gym and get a walking cast on. I can be admitted to Mayland for the surgery I need. Hurry the hell up!"

Gil smiled. He opened the door, and Angel and Warrick came in. Warrick was wearing a I LOVE Australia T-shirt, and had a camera slung over his neck. Gil narrowed his eyes at them.

"We come at a bad time?" Warrick said innocently.

"Did the cross-eyed beggar see the tape, and the error of his ways?" Angel said, taking in Alec's state in a knowing glance.

"He saw the tape and the error of his ways, Angel."

"The fucking chair he almost hit me with helped," Alec growled, bear-like.

"Good, I'll get us transportation out of this Godforsaken place, and back to Silk Wood Manor."

"I thought no place on earth and no person on earth was forgotten or overlooked by God." Gil smiled.

"God never talks much about Woomera." Angel chuckled.

"God never explains Sister Josie, either," Alec put in, moping at his eyes with his sleeve, causing Angel to laugh heartily.

"What tape?" Warrick said plaintively.

"Warrick." Gil said.

"Yeah?" he said eagerly.

"That shirt."

"Yeah? Check it out, man. I'm almost Steve Irwin now. Crikey!"

"Warrick?"

"Yeah, Gris?"

"Burn it before we board the plane," Gil said and then walked out. Warrick stared at the door a full minute as Alec watched.

"What tape?" he muttered dejectedly. Alec grinned at him.

I'm on my way, Ed. Hang tight. Alec said to himself.

* * *

Ed panted and leaned against the last cardboard box that he had carried into Terry's house on the Silk Wood property. Claire grinned at him and handed him a cup of coffee, and he kissed her gratefully. They had made out a police report, and an ambulance had carted off Terry's brother, while another police officer explained that Alec had put a restraining order out on her brother, plus he had a record of making trouble, public drunkenness and fights. Ed had indicated he wanted to press charges, and then they'd all started in on the job of getting Terry moved in. Ian was in her new kitchen, cleaning her dishes and putting them away, and Zeke was assembling her new bed, Yvonne was installing new locks on the windows, and Frances was standing there, arms folded, watching everyone. She'd brought in blueberry scones and coffee, but almost everyone was munching peanut brittle that Terry had made from scratch. Ed looked at Frances in veiled amusement over the coffee. He had changed from his suit into a yellow and white sweater and jeans so that he could help Terry.

"Don't hurt yourself watching, Frances. I wouldn't want you to exert yourself too much." Ed grinned. She gave Ed a sour look.

"Terry should simply donate half of this - uh- collection to Oxfam or something. I mean really. How many salt and pepper shakers does a person need?" Frances asked, inspecting two small bone china outhouses marked S and P.

"What are you bitching about now Frances?" Terry groaned, bringing in and opening a small box marked toys into the living room. Kamala stood nearby with Claire, helping hang up Terry's clothes, which consisted mainly of denim jeans and checked blouses and a few skirts. Claire had already helped Terry put up some new wallpaper in what had been Ayomide's old room, and she had decided to use it as her bedroom.

"You simply have too much clutter."

"Oh yeah, who says so? You? Who cares what you think?"

"Don't you have one dress to your name? You're in Gloucester now dear, you simply don't dress in those kind of clothes around here."

"Oh really? What am I supposed to wear? That kinky outfit you had on when I saw you last? And who invited you over to my house anyway?"

"Uh, I did, I thought Frances could lend a hand," Ed said, making it clear it had turned into a boondoggle.

"For your information, Terry, I was in my hunt clothes because I was posing for a portrait with my horse for Angel's Christmas present."

"Well, you better label it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You better put a label on it so that Angel knows which one is you and which one is the old nag."

"Well, I never!" Frances exclaimed.

"With that pipe cleaner body, I believe it." Terry said triumphantly as Frances marched out the door past Ed, slamming it. Ed was grinning insanely. Claire couldn't help it, she was chuckling.

"Terry, will you at least try to get along with Frances? She lives nearby, you know." Ed grinned. "And she visits us often, has cooked for us a lot. I've known her husband for ages, since my war days." Ed bent and retrieved a scone out of guilt.

"Terry, I agree with Ed, that was terrible," Ian scolded, pouring Terry some coffee and putting her sugar substitute in it. Terry looked wounded.

"I just can't stand her uppity kind."

"Did you ever stop and think that all that is a defence mechanism? She might be lonely and uncertain without Mr. Brisby. And you know what I think of talking about 'her kind'."

"Well she didn't exactly offer me her hand in friendship either. Ian, where do you live?"

Ian looked taken aback at the change of subject.

"In a bed-sitter in Cheshire, why?"

"A what?"

"Studio apartment. Enough room for a bed, and that's it," Ed explained, sitting on Terry's striped couch, and handing Terry and Ian the plate of scones.

"This house has two bedrooms, why don't you move in with me? Then you wouldn't have to commute so far to get here. I wouldn't charge you any rent, and I'd have someone to cook for, and I wouldn't be so lonely when Ed and Claire aren't around."

"You sure you can trust him? He looks shifty eyed to me," teased Ed. Terry sat next to Ed and hit his arm. Ian grinned at him. "Actually, it sounds like a good idea. I was going to offer you rooms upstairs in Silk Wood Manor anyway. I'd take up Terry's offer." Ed smiled.

"Ed, are you sure you want Ian to move in with Terry? It means you'd have to carry more boxes to help move him," Claire said, standing behind the couch and rubbing Ed's shoulders. Ed gawked, and dropped his head backwards, with his mouth hanging open as if he'd fainted. Kamala giggled, and sat next to him.

"Well Terry, if you keep me full of peanut brittle, as you Yanks say, it's a deal. It should reassure Ed that I don't own many things, so the move will be easy too."

Terry whooped joyously and hugged Ian tightly, and he smiled shyly at the attention, and hugged her back happily. Claire dropped a bit of restorative peanut brittle into Ed's mouth and he munched, and sat up with a grin.

"Kamala, I have something for you, look, this is my old dolly Marie, would you like her? I used to tell her all my problems," Terry said, holding up a blonde, curly headed doll in a pinafore.

"Oh! She's so pretty! Oh thank you Terry!"

"That poor dolly, having to listen to Terry's problems all the time," Ed said playfully, and Claire rolled her eyes at him. Terry made a funny face at Ed, and Kamala scowled at him in as much an adult fashion as she could.

"Daddy, that isn't nice. Don't tease."

"I can't tease?" Ed replied in shock. Kamala tried not to giggle, without much success. Ed feigned sobbing.

"Now Kamala, see what you did? You upset Daddy. You bad girl," Claire said, winking conspiratorially at her, and patting Ed. Kamala giggled loudly, and lightly patted Ed too. Ed glanced at Claire meaningfully. Both of them were powerfully aware it was the first time Kamala had ever touched her father.

"You see that? She's even laughing at me, too," Ed complained, but he swallowed emotion, not wanting to call too much attention to what had happened, so it would be natural. Claire grinned happily at him, and passed more peanut brittle to Kamala. Zeke came into the living room, grumbling, and munching peanut brittle.

"Ed, will you please come and look at this damn bed? I don't think all the screws are there or something, I need help."

"Zeke, Lincoln freed us white people," Ed said solemnly, getting up. Zeke snickered at him.

"Can I help?" Kamala asked.

"Sure, come with me, or else Zeke will make me do all the hard work, and he'll eat my share of the peanut brittle." The three of them disappeared into the other room.

"Terry, did you see that? She's never touched Edward before. Did you see his eyes when she did it? Oh Terry, all he's ever wanted is a normal life and a child to call his own. This has to work, it just has to work. That witch Sutton faxed Edward the paperwork on Kamala's parents. Her British father molested her on a regular basis, finally raped her, and her mother was an alcoholic, she didn't want the husband her parents had arranged for her to marry, so she deserted them, and tragically met and eloped with a man who had fled to India because he was a known child molester. When she discovered that he was molesting Kamala, she killed him, and she sent Kamala to England to be fostered. They took her to prison, where she hung herself," Claire sighed.

"Poor little kid. You and Ed really have your work cut out for you. But she's sweet. She's showing some progress."

"She's made a lot of progress in a short space of time, and my husband's charm has a lot to do with it."

"Your husband's charm didn't help him put up that blasted bed," Ed remarked, frustrated.

"Didn't see you come in. You sit down, Terry and I will take a crack at it."

"Good, we're exhausted." Ed flopped into the couch, pinching his nose. Claire fetched her purse and made him take his migraine medication, and he promised to take a short nap.

* * *

Ed was helping Zeke and Kamala put away more of Terry's belongings, and Ian was gathering empty boxes and stacking them when Claire waltzed smugly into the living room. She wasn't at all surprised to see Ed up and about instead of dozing on the couch where she'd left him, but he seemed better, pain free for the moment.

"You men are such wussies. Bed's all finished."

"What?" Ed retorted, getting up and marching into the bedroom. Zeke plodded along, and looked, and grinned. True to Claire's word, they saw that Terry was happily arranging her crocheted quilt over her featherbed. "Oh I don't believe it. You two snuck in a professional bed assembler while my back was turned."

"Just can't admit that we girls are better at guy stuff than you guys, can you, hon?" Terry said.

"Women should be obscene and not heard," Ed replied. Terry grinned at him. Then she sat on the edge of her bed, swept her hand across the pillow. Without warning she picked it up, hugged it, burst into tears. Ed sat beside her.

"Alec," he said softly, touching the quilt lightly himself. Claire frowned at the pain in his eyes, but she had to accept it would always be just underneath his surface. He had seemed to be enjoying himself all day, cheered at Kamala touching him and now this. This was a wound she couldn't heal, a wound of the heart.

"We became lovers under this quilt. His head was on this pillow. Eddie, I just don't think I can bring this child into the world without his Daddy."

"You aren't alone, you know. We're all with you," Ed assured her, a little nervously. She leaned on Ed, and daintily wiped her nose on his sweater. His eyes narrowed, and Claire chuckled softly, and fished in her own pocket for a tissue.

"Terry, here, and please don't use my husband's shirt for a hankie, and don't call him Eddie. He doesn't like it." She smiled. "Besides, he's right, we are all with you."

"I think we're pretty much finished here, shall we go move Ian?" Zeke asked, not looking like he was comfortable with Terry's emotions.

"Sure. I'll drive," Terry said. They all looked at one another in distress, especially Zeke and Ian. "It was a joke, you jerks!" she complained. Everyone laughed. Ed smiled.

"Actually I thought we'd go to dinner first, maybe get a pizza," he suggested. "Stop and get the tree for our house and yours on the way back."

"I make a mean Chicago deep dish pizza with all the fixings hon, why spend your money?"

"You're going to be cooking tonight and into tomorrow afternoon for our Thanksgiving feast, take a break this time. Come on, my treat. Let's go."

"Daddy can I show that lady my dolly Marie?"

"Who? Frances? Sure. Shall we go ask her if she wants to come with us?"

"Do we have to ask her if she wants to go along with us?" Terry groaned. Ian shook his finger at her, and she sighed. "All right, all right, all right." Ed grinned at Kamala whimsically.

"My little diplomat," he told her warmly.

"Is that good?" she asked, cradling her new dolly.

"That's very good." Ed answered and patted her experimentally on the head. She smiled happily and took his hand.

Ed looked at Claire, a little overcome with emotion, looking to her for guidance.

She smiled at him encouragingly, and presently he smiled back, more at ease.

You were born to hold a woman in passion, and hug a child in love. Finally you're getting a chance to do these things. Oh my Edward. It's high time you made a life for yourself that didn't involve constantly having to lock your heart in a vault so that you could put yourself in harm's way. I just wish Alec was here to see all this. Just to see the amazement on his face. Oh Edward.

* * *

"I thought Kamala was as bloody minded as you are, but she doesn't resemble you in one way," Claire later whispered as she walked with Ed to the car. Ed looked questioningly at her. "You aren't the diplomat she is."

"Fair enough." Ed chuckled in recognition of that truth.

"Feeling better?"

"Much."

* * *

As it turned out, Ian had so few belongings, Ed was able to put everything in his boot, and they all piled into an exclusive Italian bistro in London that Frances recommended, telling them it had excellent reviews. Frances seemed very touched that Kamala had asked him to invite her. Terry had been unfavourably comparing the brick oven roasted pizza Ed was gobbling down to the ones she had made in the past, so she didn't have much time to engage Frances in a war of words. Ed was working on getting a long stringy bit of cheese into his mouth, much to Kamala's delight, when someone came up to the table. Zeke stood up, his expression all business, and the man chuckled, and paused.

"Mr. Straker, what a opportunity this is for me, oh, I see you don't remember me."

"It's Mr. Dominic Dunne, yes I remember you. That's my bodyguard, Zeke Morris, my wife Claire Spencer Straker, Ian Martin, my mechanic, Frances Brisby, a friend of mine, and Terry Fillmore, another friend of mine, and Kamala Straker, my daughter, whom I'm in the process of adopting."

"May I join you? I came to England to follow the Royals controversy. I'm alone, just dining with a friend and our conversation will be strictly off the record, if you insist."

"Wait a minute, don't you write those risqué, romantic stories? You're that Dominic Dunne?" Terry said excitedly.

Dunne chuckled at Terry, and looked at Ed expectantly, to see if Ed would allow him to join them. Ed nodded, and nodded at Zeke. Zeke reluctantly sat down, but kept an eye on the elderly writer.

"I confess I am. My last published book was Justice, I do a series for a cable network and I'm working on something right now for my publisher. Mr. Straker, your wife is enchantingly beautiful."

"Does that mean you want some kind of exclusive on Edward for your magazine Vanity Fair?" Claire asked, obviously not at all enchanted by Dunne for the moment. Ed grinned at her.

"I would consider it a prize indeed, yes. It has been a long time since your husband has permitted an interview. I understand your former bodyguard was killed and Mrs. Straker was injured in an explosion in Martha's Vineyard? I miss your bodyguard, he was an interesting, amusing man."

"How did you discover all this?" Ed said, breaking his slice of pizza that was heaping with toppings in half to manage eating it more successfully. Claire had a feeling he would have preferred it to be Dunne's head.

"I have sources in the area. I trust you're recovered, Mrs. Straker?"

"She's fine. I asked you a question, Mr. Dunne. As I recall you wrote an article called An Unknown Truth with a lot of unconfirmed speculation on my inheritance from Lawrence Malone. I don't remember ever giving you the permission to write that piece of ambrosia." Ed drummed his fingers on the table.

"Wait, you're that Ed Straker?" Terry asked in confusion.

"Exactly whom did you think Edward Straker was?" Frances said, as if Terry had sprouted another head. Frances had been delicately nibbling at her linguine, bypassing the pizza as not being her cup of tea.

"I read that article hon, I never miss an issue, and it just came to me now that's who you were!" Terry said admiringly, ignoring Frances. Ian chuckled. Ed moved his head from side to side in disbelief. Claire grinned at him. Kamala studied Dominick carefully, trying to determine whether he was friend or foe.

"You made Daddy cross," Kamala finally said solemnly. Dominick smiled at her, curious about her hair.

"Your father is a very complex, very interesting, very rich and powerful but honest and modest man. If I offended him little Miss, I certainly didn't mean to. I'm a writer, I move among some fabulously wealthy, famous people, and your father, being no exception, is among the people I'd most like to profile."

"If I scratched your back, would you scratch mine, Mr. Dunne?" Ed inquired thoughtfully, looking at Claire, who smiled enthusiastically at him.

"I don't pay for interviews, Mr. Straker," Dunne said flatly, surprised that Ed would ask that.

"That isn't exactly what I had in mind. As you know, I'm not in need of money, nor do I appreciate the press. I may be in need of help, however," Ed said reluctantly.

"What kind of help do you mean?"

"Adopting Kamala is going to be an uphill battle. They've allowed me to take her until Christmas, participating in the programme my wife helped create, allowing a foster child to live with a family for a month, much like the foreign exchange programmes for youths. But I need to convince them to allow me to foster her, and then adopt her formally. That'll be difficult, because of my age for one thing, I'm afraid. I'm in my early sixties; they frown at adoptions late in life. I wish they'd give me custody on merit alone, but they're unlikely to do that."

"You can't be serious, Mr. Straker. You look no older than perhaps late forties, fifty at the most. At any rate, they have to see that you are not only financially well to do, you have a special place in your heart for children. Sources tell me you never recovered from the death of your son, and you dedicated several hospital wings to him, and you established your charity, the Straker Foundation in his memory. You don't take a penny in return, although you're chief executive of the organization. For a CEO to do that is extremely rare. But I'm not quite clear on what you would want me to do. The British children's agencies wouldn't be interested in what my opinion was."

"But you could do an article that would show how favourable a father Edward would make. Edward already is well thought of because of what he endured at the hands of Jerusha and Hiram March. The British people have a lot of admiration for survivors. Edward needs favourable publicity, for someone to put his name in the papers and tabloids, help the agency see that the people would want him to adopt Kamala. We're not asking you for a puff piece, Mr. Dunne. You can do an in depth profile on my husband, and the British public can make up their mind on him, and so can you. In return, you get an exclusive to share with your readers. If the agency rejected Edward, the people would be up in arms, and they'd put pressure on the agency to allow the adoption to go through."

"I'll do anything I can. I understand what it means to lose a child. I lost my daughter Dominique to a murderer. Far as I know, the bastard is still alive."

"Losing a child isn't easy." Ed dropped his unfinished half of pizza, reached into his jacket and took out his black leather combination address book-notepad and Parker pen, scrawled Silk Wood Manor's address on it, and handed it to Dunne as if it was his heart he was giving away, fully knowing the lethal outcome. "Call me tonight, I'll arrange a time for you to come and interview me later this evening, if that's an acceptable time for you."

"It is. Thank you very much, Mr. Straker."

"Good evening, Mr. Dunne." They shook hands formally.

Ed watched Dunne stroll back to his own table, and groaned.

"Everyone done here? I'm more than ready to go home. If I'm going to allow that nosy reporter to talk to me, I want to get in some sleep so that I can concentrate on what I tell him. I'm suddenly very tired. I hope this idea of yours works, Claire," he told her edgily, pressing the bridge of his nose, a clear beacon that a migraine was on the horizon.

"Would you rather just give a press conference?" she asked him, fishing his medicine out of her purse, and handing him a glass of water.

"As much as I'd like a root canal," he sighed wearily, uncomplainingly swallowing the pill down, which wasn't a good sign. She rubbed his hand soothingly for a few seconds, then massaged the back of his neck, and he pushed against her hands, glad for the warmth and release her familiar touch brought.

"Come on. I'll drive home, you stretch out in the back of the Bentley, Zeke and Ian can ride home with Frances."

"Actually I need to do some last minute shopping in the city, but you're free to take my Land Rover if you need it, I will take a taxi home. I'll come and see how everyone is doing tonight." Frances added.

"No, I have my Volvo, we have enough room for everyone in that. Ian can take everyone home, I'll drive Edward and Kamala in the Bentley. That way Edward can nap on the way home."

"I had no idea you were so famous!" Terry said. "It'll be like cooking for a movie star!" Ian gave her a warning shake of the head. Zeke just scowled at her. Ed groaned again, and signalled the waiter for the bill. Claire sighed.

Kamala held on to her dolly tightly, eyes troubled, silent.

* * *

Ed appeared a great deal more positive after he got a long distance phone call in the Bentley from Dunne, giving him his regrets that he couldn't make it, and was instead flying back to the United States on the Concorde to have Thanksgiving with his family, as he had almost forgotten the holiday. Claire was relieved as well.

"I'm prostituting myself to the damn press," Ed complained.

"I'll still respect you in the morning, Edward," Claire assured him, as he parked the Bentley in the garage, having insisted on driving all the way back to Gloucester in spite of his third headache of the day. He gave her an evil look. It didn't work, she kissed him and he reluctantly grinned.

"All this is because of me," Kamala sighed. "I'm not a good daughter."

"Now you stop that, don't think for one moment that what I'm doing is because of you. I'm choosing to do this, because you're important to me. Nobody can force me into anything. I chose this. I chose Claire. I choose you. Understand?"

"I guess."

"We all spend Thanksgiving in this car unless you really understand!"

"Edward, are you holding us all hostage in here? How are we supposed to eat Turkey in here? Kamala tell your silly father you understand, or we'll never get out of here!"

Kamala giggled.

"I don't understand!" she proclaimed. Claire gawked at her.

"You see that? You've corrupted her, Edward, you've turned our daughter into a tease!" Claire scolded, tickling Kamala so that the dark skinned child was giggling harder.

"Well, that's that. Nobody gets out!" Edward insisted. Terry was tapping on the window. He lowered it. "What do you want?" he growled. She was so shocked she jumped back, with Zeke grinning fiercely behind her, unstrapping the packages from the Bentley and Volvo.

"You three planning to stay in there? Have you all gone nutty? I need help getting the last of the food in the house!"

"He's gone nuts, Terry, he's got us all trapped in here!" winked Claire.

"My dolly Marie too? Typical movie star, moody as hell. Hon, I'm gonna need volunteers in the kitchen, so are you gonna let your family go or what?"

"Your call." Ed grinned at Kamala.

"PLEASE Kamala!" Claire begged her as she giggled, and Edward watched joyously as Kamala shook him playfully to get his attention.

"Let Mommie go, you can have me and dolly in here."

"Not a chance, you and the dolly have to wash all the Thanksgiving dinner dishes!" Edward laughed, and they all piled out of the car echoing his laughter. Ed stopped as they were approaching the door, and an odd look settled on his face. He was looking at the night sky. It was dark, the rain was spattering all over his clothes, and Claire hurried up to him.

"Edward, you're getting soaked, darling, what's wrong?" she asked, leading him into the shelter of the garage.

"I don't know. I suddenly felt Alec's presence. He seemed upset at something. I don't know why," he said quietly, disturbed to his very soul. She wasn't surprised, she had expected him to feel uncomfortable, as thought he felt guilt for being happy.

"You mustn't worry, Edward. He never really left you. What the two of you had never dies."

"The bacteria. Suppose he's alive somewhere? He would never forgive me for letting him go so easily."

"Edward, it's a time for joy, it isn't a time for sadness, it isn't time for guilt or regret. Just try and hold on to your memories. I told you, what you and Alec had, the purity of it, your deep friendship for one another, it isn't something that can be dismissed by even the finality of death." Claire kissed Ed's hand, and he looked at her with pleased surprise.

"You sound like you truly, finally mourn him as much as I do, Claire."

"Edward, any woman who truly loved you would accept that she had to share you with the world, and take second place in your life because of the work you sacrificed so much for. I confess I was jealous of how important he was to you. I was feeling lost and uncertain after losing Ryan, I can be as stupid as the next person, it didn't mean I hated him. But now, that you've finally allowed yourself the luxury of a life, I find I just wish he was here to see this. That it took his death to bring you to this place in time disturbs me, because he isn't here to share in the joy of it. I'm sorry I was so hard on him, I hope he understands that I loved you as equally as he did, and that's why I acted in your defence."

"I don't blame you for what you did. But love? Love is a powerful word." he smiled in deep sadness. "It seems neither one of us ever dared say that particular word to describe what we had."

"What would you call what the two of you had?"

Ed was silent for a long time, tears streaming down his face, mingling with the rain.

"Each other." he concluded. "I'd like to believe he can see me even now. I'd like to believe he's with Ayomide, at peace. But all I feel sometimes is pain, and a loss that never ends. That reporter said I never got over my son. True enough. I couldn't even begin to tell him about Alec. Why do I feel he's upset over me? Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave, where is thy victory?" Ed said softly, then collapsed with grief, sobbing against Claire. Son and friend. How do I shield this man, who walked down the road less chosen, and never expected a thing in return? How can I love him enough? Claire sighed, cradling Ed, allowing him to grieve in silence.

* * *

Kamala had paused at the door when Ed and Claire had not gone inside, and Ian held out a hand for her, sensing they'd needed some privacy, but she evaded him, and walked back out into the rain, searching for them, finally found them in one another's arms in the garage.

"Daddy?" she said in shock and worry. Ed was sobbing so badly that he didn't hear her voice. "Mommy? Why is Edward sad? Are they making me go back? I don't want to go back! I won't go back! I'll hang myself like my mother did. They thought I didn't know how she died, but I knew. I won't go back! I won't go back! "

Ed finally looked up, shaken.

"My God, no, I was just missing my friend, no, we won't know anything about your adoption until around early December, sweetheart. Come here, let me hold you. I promise you we won't let anything bad happen to you."

"Edward," Claire said meaningfully, and he knew she was worried about promising her something he had precious little control over. He shook his head firmly.

"I've already lost two children. I haven't forgotten my unborn child which Lily miscarried. My little Flora. I won't lose another. I mean it Claire."

"Then we'll fight together, and nothing will take you away from us, even if we have to leave England and Silk Wood Manor to hide you in some other country. Kamala, you are our daughter, and they won't take you away from us ever."

Kamala seemed content, but Ed and Claire looked at one another in fear. They were grateful to hold on to one another that night, and fell into a disturbed sleep, with nightmares of losing their beautiful home and one another.

* * *

November faded unnoticed into December, Ed gained several pounds from the promised Thanksgiving dinner alone, and then lost them, mainly from worrying himself sick about Kamala's adoption, although he had been completely captured by her charm, and by the look of Claire when she was holding the little girl. He awoke still feeling exhausted one December afternoon to find a note on his pillow from Claire, encouraging him to sleep in and telling him she loved him dearly. He and everyone else had been frantically buying each other Christmas presents the previous night, and he had to admit he was still tired. Or maybe Claire had spiked his eggnog. He showered and dressed leisurely, feeling lonely although the manor was full of hustle and bustle.

Good smells were coming in from the kitchen into the snug a little later while Ian and Yvonne carefully positioned the tree from Westonbirt into the stand, and then started merrily arranging the lights around it. At least that had been the general idea, thought Ed, who was finally sitting by the fireplace, having coffee and some coffee cake left over from Thanksgiving which Terry had made. Claire had insisted on him sleeping in, but he didn't like doing so, he didn't appreciate waking up to no wife to snuggle with. He wasn't sure why they were messing with the main tree again; it didn't look crooked to him. Now he was watching and listening to Yvonne and Ian quarrel on a day where you were supposed to love your fellow man. Father Christmas was bringing him another migraine soon if this kept up. A real record. He considered calling the Guinness Book of World records people about it. They'd already done Terry's smaller tree and were now fighting over the huge Silk Wood Manor tree. The Christmas music playing on the CD player didn't help much.

"You already put a red strand in, you need a white one there!" Yvonne scolded the smaller Ian, unwinding the string of lights while Ed watched, attempting to enjoy his coffee cake.

"I have been decorating Christmas trees for forty-eight years, young woman, and you put in red, not white."

"You want the tree to be all red lights on that side?" Yvonne started muttering in French. Ian narrowed his eyes at her.

"I should warn you, I took up French in school."

"You should have taken up Christmas tree decorating instead, you silly man."

"I hate to interfere with your peace and good will between men and women, but both of you consider yourself reassigned. Kitchen, now."

They looked at Ed resentfully as if he didn't belong there.

"Kitchen. Now. Go." Ed said, knowing it was like condemning them to a cooking dungeon, considering how much Terry and Frances had been arguing. Two dragons snorting fire, wearing aprons and brandishing rolling pins.

They walked together, complaining, trading insults in French, Ian holding his own for someone who had proclaimed he wasn't violent. Ed pinched his nose, then he finished putting up the lights. He then started wrapping the silver garland around the branches. By the time he'd finished with the ornaments, he was beginning to feel considerably better, and began to rearrange the Christmas gifts underneath, noting several were for him. He placed the Gingerbread angel Terry had made on top, turned on the lights and paused to admire his work, and Kamala came out walking slowly, with freshly made stollen and cookies and the coffee things arranged on a tray she was carrying in one hand and her mug of eggnog in the other.

"Hi sweetheart, did Frances and Terry stuff one another into the aga yet?" Ed asked calmly, sitting down. Kamala chuckled at him, and sat next to him on the loveseat.

"Mommie said to sneak these to you, even though Frances and Terry aren't allowing anyone to try any of the Christmas desserts yet. I helped put on the icing."

"Good for her. Sit down, and help me eat everything. I need to hide the evidence," he told her, pouring himself more coffee.

"Can I have coffee too?"

"You really want to end up like me?" he asked her with an infectious grin. She seemed to take too long a time to consider that fate, and out of nowhere, the rabbits appeared, sniffing at the tree. Ed popped up, grabbed two unhappy rabbits, and Kamala grabbed Hazel, who hissed. "See, she's cross like that because she got into the coffee." Ed said, looking at Hazel, who was looking at him, and he guessed she was wondering why humans ruined everything for adventurous rabbits. Why put up all those shiny decorations if they weren't one big bunny toy, anyway?

"Actually I think she's cross because Yvonne threatened to put her in the aga with the roast," Claire corrected him, mysteriously appearing after the bunnies, herding them in. Claire dropped wearily next to Kamala, then tossed off her apron and poured herself some coffee and took and bit into a piece of stollen. "She nipped at Yvonne's ankles again and spilled her water dish because she didn't get her breakfast on time. Edward, you did a marvellous job with our tree, it's gorgeous, and so are you!"

" Thanks. How'd you get out of there alive? I'm laying odds Terry and Frances are going to be arm wrestling any minute now," he said, kissing her.

"They threw me out of my own kitchen. I'm used to it with Frances, she did it on Thanksgiving, but I'd never expect it from Terry. Ian was arguing about what spices to use in the plum pudding, and Zeke was moaning about having to learn how to fold the linen napkins correctly, and Terry was bitching that we should use paper napkins, since you weren't the King of England as far as she knew. Edward, we are going to have enough food to feed all of England when they get finished in there. There's two roasts going, a rack of lamb, several casseroles, Terry's usual turkey on steroids, Frances' game hens, Christmas pudding, marinade chickens-"

"And a partridge in a pear tree?" he inquired with amusement.

"Let's put it this way. Hazel, Fiver and Dandelion nearly became stew. Any partridge in there wouldn't last long, it would get stuffed and roasted and served up for dinner."

The doorbell rang, and Zeke appeared, from somewhere he'd managed to acquire and wear a Santa Claus hat and suit. He peered through the peephole and then came and nodded at Ed.

"It's okay, it's the new garden ladies, Frances said they'd probably show up."

Before Ed could protest about what right did Frances have to dictate who came to Silk Wood Manor to visit, Zeke had gone back and opened the door, and four women burst through the door toward Ed like they were in a horse race. Ed watched in horror and considered running for it, but he figured he'd have to give back his Medal of Honour for bravery. Still, judging by the elderly group, which seemed more animated and turned on than the lighting; it would have been worth it. They all carried shopping bags. One that was dressed almost entirely in blue came up to him. Tackled him was a better way to put it. From the way she was breaking his ribs, he expected she was well versed in torture as well as pruning rose bushes.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Straker, Happy Christmas, Mrs. Straker! Oh my what a beautiful tree. But it should have blue lights, I so love blue, all my decorations are blue, I love blue! What a lovely child, Frances told me you'd finally decided to adopt! We've all brought you a little something, and then we'll all be on our way."

Ed looked at her blue tinted white hair, her blue floral dress, her turquoise jewellery, her blue eye shadow, and the blue handbag and pumps and he figured he'd gotten the message that she liked blue. If she didn't stop squeezing him in what he thought was her idea of a hug, she was going to be black and blue.

"I'm afraid I don't remember you," he confessed, giving Zeke a look that could mutilate, if not kill outright for allowing them in. He shook hands with each of them diplomatically and inspected his hands for possible injuries afterwards.

"Pish posh, as my late husband said, he was a Yank like you, you know. You see, we're Frances' friends, from the rose grower club. We came and saw your garden last year before the terrible fire. I'm Nancy, and this is Julia, Antonia, and Camellia. Our poor Allison died only a few days ago, poor dear, she was in her nineties, and quite absent-minded you know." Nancy produced a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at tears that Ed noticed didn't appear to be there. He figured Nancy had killed her husband and buried the poor fellow under a rose hedge.

Claire was taking the women's coats, and hanging them in the great hall closet, and Kamala was peering at them a little nervously over her half-eaten gingerbread cookie. The generously chubby but pretty one that had been identified as Camellia handed Kamala a transparent box with white and pink mice shaped candies in it around a wreath made of chocolates, tied with a huge plaid ribbon.

"See the sugar mice we bought for you. One of my favourite things at Christmas. Oh what pretty bunnies you have! It's almost like Beatrix Potter, it really is," Camellia said, petting Fiver, who sprawled out on the loveseat, soaking up the attention like a Eastern potentate. She may have been petting Fiver, but she distinctively looked like she would have preferred petting Ed, Claire noticed, and drew possessively closer to Ed.

"They aren't very happy because their breakfast was late," Kamala ventured to explain, always comfortable with anyone who liked the bunnies as much as she did. Then she jumped when Antonia dropped her bag with a notable crash and screamed. Ed and Claire squirmed, and looked around, trying to find out what had alarmed the poor soul. Kamala began to giggle, and pointed to the tree. Shado, their recently acquired rat had shot up to the tree top angel, and was gobbling it. Ed rolled his eyes, and headed toward the tree, only to have Shado propel herself onto him, and then sit on his shoulder, idly licking a paw after her holiday epicurean adventure.

"Goodness, you really should have the exterminators in here!"

"No, this rat inherited this property, we all stay because she allows us to live here," Ed said, enjoying the woman's expression and the sound of Kamala giggling. The ladies all piled into the kitchen, had a few words and exchanged food baskets with Frances, and then all waved goodbye, mercifully sparing Ed a parting hug. Frances came out of the kitchen, taking her oven mitts off. Ed tried to figure out why she didn't have as much as a smear of flour or a speck of sugar on her. Claire for one had flour like a light smattering of snow on her floor length plaid taffeta skirt, but Frances' grey wool dress was spotless. He broke a piece of stollen in two, poured her a cup of black coffee and handed it to her.

"I do so wish Angel were here, it won't be a proper Christmas without him," she sighed, and sipped her coffee, and bit the stollen Terry had made absentmindedly. Terry paddled out of the kitchen, looking to Ed like she was carrying twins, although she was only roughly two months into the pregnancy. Maybe it was Ian's influence, he had bought her some maternity frocks long before she needed them. She was wearing a yellow wool one now with a large lace collar, and a nylon apron over that which said Kiss The Cook. Her hair seemed more red and curly from when Ed had seen her last, so he figured she had been at it with the dye and home permanent against Ian's advice, and instead of the customary red lipstick wore a light peach, also Ian's doing. But she actually looked lovely, or would have if she wasn't covered with gravy splatters and God knew what else, and it all smelled good. Hazel and Dandelion sniffed at her, and licked pumpkin off her hosiery. Terry didn't seem to notice. Fiver was being petted by Kamala and Claire and didn't care.

"There you are! Go and baste your roast for heaven's sake, do you expect me to do everything for you? I can't run the entire kitchen you know. Where's Ian, tell him to get that unappetizing mess out of the aga, aga, what a stupid name for a stove, I've always used Westinghouse, can't beat it. Ed Straker, don't you dare spoil your dinner by eating that stollen!"

" I was offering it to Frances, she's missing Angel. He'll show up, I'm sure," Ed told her.

"Missing your husband Stanley, are you?" Terry said in surprise.

"We've never been apart at Christmas season," explained Frances.

"At least you know he's coming home, my Alec isn't!" Terry wept, and disappeared in sobs into the kitchen.

"Mood swings, been like that all day, hormonal, poor dear, and for naught. I'll get her," Frances said affectionately, and followed her in meekly. Ed and Claire looked at one another in disbelief.

"Christmas miracle?" asked Claire.

"It'll be a real miracle if Angel shows up in time," Ed said. "What did she mean by for naught anyway?"

"She isn't telling us something, I know it, but I'll get the whole story when Angel shows up," Claire told him and fed him another bit of stollen.

* * *

Angel at the moment was finally in Heathrow airport, trying to explain why Alec Freeman didn't have any identification or any passport to a customs official. Alec moaned and sank his head into his hands, as Gil calmly put in a call to New Scotland Yard and had a word with friends there. Warrick was flirting with the gift shop woman, who was old enough to be his mother, and his grandmother at the same time, Graham Lancaster was using a battery driven shaver to clean himself up, and Alec muttered to himself about his obsession over looks. Christmas eve. Only a matter of hours to Gloucester, if they managed to hire a car in time, and he could convince this ninny of a customs agent that he was a live Alec Freeman. Ed, he thought. If I ever get out of this mess, and you take me back, I'm going to kill Ian Mackley with my bare hands. Grissom and the others had explained what Ian had done, and he still couldn't believe it. All he could think about was that fateful cold morning, when he had greeted his now dead friend Roger Chandler.

* * *

"That's a great watch you have on, cobber! Good to see you!"

"I don't have any use for it, Rodgy. Here, you have it. What have you been up to?"

"Between the sheets with my lovely lass, Alec, old man!"

"Not another married woman, Rodgy? It'll get you killed one day, believe me it will."

"Fellow doesn't have a clue!" Roger said, sliding the watch onto a grubby, hairy tattooed wrist. Alec could faintly smell something noxious on him, but he couldn't tell what it was from the cheap cologne smell that was covering it. "Come on then, we're going with a friend, he's going to come with us. Has done a bit of rock climbing in his life. Getting us all the equipment at half price, he is."

"Who the blazes is he? You didn't mention him." Alec pointed out, thinking about Ed Straker, and what he'd say about Alec getting himself into the whole stinking mess.

"He's the lovely's husband, I'm afraid."

"Shit, man, have you lost your mind?"

"Do be quiet, here he comes. John! John, you old black crow. Good to see you, good to see you. How's the missus?"

" Left her in bed watching telly. Who's he?" the massive man in a short-sleeved shirt grumbled in a slight Jamaican accent.

"Alec Freeman. And you are?" Alec asked, not liking what he saw in the stranger's eyes, and eyeing the scabs on his arms with distaste.

"Carver. You going with us, then?" he announced in a way that suggested he didn't like the idea much, and scratching an open sore, making Alec even more nervous. Carver didn't wait for an answer, took out his cell phone, moved out of earshot and started talking to someone he called Mackley, and finally he hung up. "Had to tell someone there was a change of plans. You going with us after all?"

"Roger doesn't have his flying license anymore. I'll be piloting her. We better get going," Alec said, and used his keys to open the door of the small chartered plane on the Perth runway. The lock on it looked like it had been badly repaired. What did it matter? He didn't expect to make this trip in one piece anyway. Climbing the short stairs that descended, he might as well have been entering hell, but he didn't know that at that moment. Hell to him had been leaving the note for Ed, knowing he'd never see him smile again. No other hell mattered or was worth caring about.

Halfway into the flight, and with a bird's eye view of the small airstrip in Albany, Alec heard arguing from his place in the cockpit, voices raised, curses exchanged, and finally a scream that set his teeth on edge. He set the plane on autopilot, not surprised at all that trouble had already reared its head, knowing his mate. He unstrapped his belt, and went into the rear of the plane against his better instincts.

"Get away from me, you fucker! Alec, thank God! He stabbed his wife! He killed Tanya, my God he killed-" Roger yelled, and Carver rammed him against the door. Alec came up behind him, and Carver whirled on him, punched him in the stomach, the brutality of it taking him by surprise, and he rolled, hitting his head, momentarily knocking the air out of him. He could barely see Carver rush Roger again, and then Roger splattered him with something that Alec finally recognized. Lighter fluid. Roger always had carried a malfunctioning cheap lighter, never one to follow safety procedures, he was, but it had been alcoholism that had ended his career. Alec slowly held on to a grate to try and stand. Carver roared like an animal in pain, blindly shoved Roger backwards, the man's hand hit the door latch, and with a fading scream, he swooshed out the door. Alec barely could hold on, the plane jerked, and Carver was on him, strangling him with the chain around his neck. A medallion that Ed had given him. Suddenly it disgusted him, the certainty that he was going to die because of his stupidity and the stupidity of Roger Chandler, and his repeated history of his libido courting trouble. Carver was screaming for him to hurry up and die, the lighter fluid must have been burning his skin, especially with the open sores, and Alec passed into unconsciousness. When he awoke, the cabin was on fire and Carver was gone, and he grabbed the one good parachute, pulled it on, and flung himself out the door. The wind whipped at his face, he pulled the ripcord, the heat burned him, and he realized the chute wasn't opening right. He crashed into some trees on a rock face, there was the startled cry of a kookaburra and before the darkness overwhelmed him, he screamed out Ed Straker's name for the final time.

He wasn't conscious when some Abbos dragged him away several minutes later. Nor was he conscious when Ed Straker looked at the charred body that he believed was Alec's but actually was John Carver's.

* * *

"Dinner will be soon!" Terry announced to the hungry people gathered around the fireplace, her mascara smeared, but a smile on her face.

"You've been saying that for the last three hours. I'm starving. Oh God, there goes the doorbell again, I hope the garden ladies haven't returned. I couldn't stand one more hug without morphine." Ed moaned. Claire grinned at him.

"Ed honey, you look scrumptious enough in those tight black jeans and Fair Isle sweater to eat. Maybe you and the missus should go upstairs and unwrap one another for Christmas," Terry said, poking Ed in the chest with an elbow suggestively. Claire cleared her throat as Ed scowled. Ian came in, complaining about people that didn't bother to answer their door, and opened it, bringing in a sweep of rain and a soaked Willie Walters. Claire grinned at the sight of him, she couldn't help it. He was the new senior guard in the security detail but Ed had always claimed he was too young to tie his shoelaces without help. Ed figured he was about twelve years old, but then Ed was feeling his age that day. Walters was Ed's current substitute for Keith Ford. Only Walters actually managed to appear more terrified of Edward than Ford had, thought Claire sympathetically.

"I know that look, Walters. For God's sake close the door before we all freeze our limbs off, and tell me what you screwed up. You never look that way unless you screw up," Ed said. Yvonne was staring at the poor man, which didn't help either.

"Well we were all feeding Molly, Sir, and throwing her ball to her, you know, sir, we all contributed to get her a new collar and a ball, she's become something of a mascot to us, you know Sir...."

"Cut the merde, what happened to that stupid dog this time?" Yvonne growled.

"Yvonne, shut up. Now, Walters, what happened to my little girl's dog?" Ed asked in a tone that suggested he was about to get the fireplace poker and give the frightened guard another eye.

"Something was chasing it, Sir, and well, we can't find her, Sir, went into the woods, I've called in some more teams to find her, but we rarely go into the woods behind your house-"

"Molly!" Kamala sobbed, and Ed took her hand, and marched up to the great hall closet, and distributed Barbour jackets to Kamala and Claire, pulled on his own without a word, and they all followed him into the miserable weather, with Walters hurrying behind them, mentally filling out his last will and testament. By then, Fiver had smelled the outdoors, and was within a half inch of getting her nose chopped off by the shutting door. She stomped angrily at the lost opportunity for freedom, and for chasing Molly, who had taken refuge in living with Ian and Terry and being spoiled by the guards.

* * *

Half an hour of yelling for Molly hadn't helped, it only had soaked all of them clean through their clothes, jackets or no jackets. Kamala was sobbing, Claire was trying to comfort her, Walters was barking out coordinates they'd already searched, and Ed was freezing to death. They had been forced to go out into the woods several yards behind Silk Wood Manor, in an area that Ed rarely explored, especially in the bad weather, but it was still within the perimeter of his property, and he was losing his voice from screaming out the dog' s name. So when the blur of black and yellow zipped by howling, followed by a small white wild rabbit, both moving at mach speed, nobody was more relieved than Ed. The fur ball of a rabbit sensed the men, thus an end to his fun. He flew underneath a large hole he had dug under a nearby wrought iron fence, and disappeared. Molly whined and howled and then laid down obediently as Kamala ran up to her, Claire following behind. Ed approached them, and then in mid-stride, he vanished. It took Claire several minutes to realize that she now had a dog, but she was alarmingly minus a husband. Her screams reached all the way to the manor, and Zeke and Ian came running up, out of breath.

"Oh my God, Edward's gone!"

"Gone? Gone where? There isn't anywhere to go!"

"Damn you Zeke, I'm telling you he was right behind me, and then he wasn't there!"

"And I'm telling you, unless Terry is spiking your coffee, that ain't possible!"

"Don't worry, Ma'am, if he's here, our team will find him," Walters said heroically, looking like he'd just wet his trousers. The other teams looked at each other, bewildered.

"I want my husband back, you idiots!" Claire shook her fists at them, and they jumped backwards into poor Walters, who tripped and fell. Claire cursed at all of them, then stood there, trying desperately to make contact with Ed, suddenly terrified some new alien weapon had taken him. Her sheer terror made it impossible to get any kind of a psychic connection with him.

Kamala worriedly whispered to Molly.

"Find Daddy!" she exclaimed. The dog suddenly seized the opportunity to do something constructive and look good after being chased by a tiny wild bunny, a tall order. It pulled crazily at its leash, Kamala let it go, and it dashed toward where Claire had been standing, barked nuttily, and then disappeared. No, Claire thought, she'd dived into what looked like mud and bog, she could just make out the bubbles where the dog had dived in. Claire yelled for Zeke to go get her medical bag, then she started walking into the muck, but Ian grabbed her and pulled her back, getting clawed and scratched for his trouble. By the time Zeke had returned, she was still fighting with Ian, but the dog had broken the surface, and something limp was between its teeth, a belt. Although the figure attached to it was completely covered with mud, she knew it was Ed, and she quickly bent over him, searching for any sign of life then started artificial respiration. She pried his mouth open, placed one hand under his chin and the other on Ed's forehead, tilted his head back by lifting with one hand under the chin and pressing down with the one she'd placed on his forehead, covered Ed's mouth tightly with her own, and blew hard enough to make the chest rise. Then she listened for the return airflow. When nothing happened, she carefully forced a tube from a packet in her kit down his throat, knowing that if she wasn't careful there was a chance the intubation might force the mud even deeper into his lungs, and began suctioning out anything that he must have swallowed. His body jerked in response, and she pulled out the tube, and turned him on his side. Molly licked his face enthusiastically. He began to cough and vomit, it went on for several minutes. Tears of pain streaked down his face as she started wiping the mud off his face with alcohol wipes from her kit.

"God that hurts," he said hoarsely, resting his head in her lap. Zeke, God bless him, had produced a blanket, and Claire allowed him to wrap it around Ed, and head back to the manor. "Claire?" he said weakly, not understanding what had happened.

"I'm right here, darling, I'm right here."

"I think I'm going to be sick again," Ed announced, and was, all over Zeke's Santa suit. He didn't seem to mind.

"Ho ho ho," he said as they went inside Silk Wood Manor, with Yvonne, Terry, Frances and the bunnies watching in dismay. Ian grinned wearily at him as Zeke lay Ed down on the biggest couch, Claire following with her bag.

"Good on you, Zeke boy."

"Don't call me boy, Mr. Mechanic. You let a mere girlie beat you up."

"That girlie was no girlie, she's Mr. Straker's wife, and hell itself couldn't keep her away from him."

Ed however was already pushing her away, and trying to get up, ignoring her protests.

"Claire, just get me some water, will you? I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," Ed weakly said, and promptly passed out.

* * *

When Ed awoke again, he was in his own bed, with Claire wiping him down with scented lotion. It felt good. It was very soothing. Then he realised he was stark naked under the sheets, and his eyes widened.

"Claire, what happened? What's going on here?"

She stopped and smiled at him.

"Hello darling, welcome back to the world. It seems there was a man made pond in the woods that nobody knew about. You fell through it. You'll be fine, all your vital signs are strong. You didn't stop breathing long enough to have any brain damage. You're going to be okay, that silly dog caused everything, but she saved you," she told him, and shuddered, and started crying, clutching him tightly.

"Oh don't do that, I can't take it when you cry you know that. God my throat feels like I had double portions of Terry's Texas Three alarm chilli."

"That was the tube I stuck in your throat, I didn't have any time to numb it. Want some cold water?"

"Sounds wonderful. The dog saved me? Molly? Molly our heroic dog that was running around in terror, chased by a damn wild rabbit no bigger than one of her paws? Molly the wonder dog?" Ed sat up, and she pulled more pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. She poured him some cold spring water, and he sipped it gratefully.

"Molly the wonder dog. She licked you into consciousness, you know."

He made a sour face, and she laughed.

"Edward, I would love you so much more if you didn't get into trouble every five minutes like a hero in a Russian novel."

"I can't help it if I have a cowardly dog, a greedy rat and attack rabbits, and-oh no, did I actually toss my cookies on Zeke? Tell me that was part of my dream."

"On Santa Zeke, yes. Everyone was worried about you. They're downstairs eating dinner, I insisted they start eating. Kamala refused her food, she's sitting on the stairs in the great hall, certain you're dead."

"Gosh, I'd suggest going down and assuring her I was alive, but seeing someone come back from the dead is liable to give a nine year old a heart attack."

"She told the dog to rescue you, Edward. You probably would have been dead if Molly didn't rescue you. But your lungs and heart sound fine."

"I'm developing a real love for our rabbit-phobic Lassie."

"Edward, will you please be seriou-Edward, what are you doing?"

"Snuggling with my wife, part of my convalescence, doctor's orders."

"Edward, we can't-heh-stop it, Edward, we can't-ummm."

"We can't what?" he said smugly.

"Edward, at least let Kamala know you're all right."

"You're right, but you owe me."

"What's this owe me stuff?" she smiled, watching him stand and go through his wardrobe. "Edward, how's your throat? You think you can eat a little?"

"I'm in more danger if I refuse Terry and Frances' food than if I don't try, for the sake of my throat. How'd you get all that muck off me?"

"Shower. Zeke and Ian. Don't you remember? You were dazed, I know."

"Wait, Ian saw me na- . . . "

"Uh huh, didn't have much choice," she said, watching his facial expressions become a kaleidoscope of dread.

"I guess it could be worse, it could have been Terry. Here, help me find something to put on."

"Ralph Lauren black jeans, and navy sweater over navy pinstriped shirt? One of the Turnbull and Ashers?"

"Sounds fine. I'll take a quick shower. And stop looking at me like that, I feel fine."

"You do remember that the last time you said that, you passed out?"

"It was because I was confronted with your great beauty without warning."

"Charmer."

"Always."

There was a knock on the door. Ed grabbed his robe hastily and wriggled into it. Claire gave the wriggling a ten across the board on the Straker attractive gestures scale.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Daddy?" the woeful little voice asked. Ed knotted his robe, and unlocked the bedroom door. "Daddy!" Kamala shouted, and hugged him tightly. Claire watched, fighting off tears.

"Ooof. You'll hug me to death."

"I thought you died already. You were so white. My mommie looked like that, and she never woke up."

"Not with Molly the wonder dog around. I'm personally calling the Pentagon, and getting that dog a medal. Maybe even make him a general," Ed said airily, but his eyes flickered with compassionate pain for such a young girl having to witness her mother's life end. He saw Claire's dark expression as well.

"Are you okay? I was scared when Mommy put that thing down your throat."

"Did someone explain to you it was to help me breathe?" he said gently.

"Mommie did, but I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. You're the first man I've ever liked, you're nice."

"Sounds like someone has a crush on you, Edward," Claire said, crossing her arms and attempting to look stern while Kamala giggled.

"Well, I didn't know how to tell you this Claire, it being Christmas and all, it seemed so cruel, but I'm running away with Kamala and the bunnies and the wonder dog and leaving you behind."

"What! Oh no! And I trusted you, Kamala!"

"Daddy is just teasing again, silly." Kamala giggled. "Are you coming to dinner?"

"Yeah, going to take a shower, then I'll come downstairs, try a little food, hopefully my throat won't feel too bad. Go and eat now, and save a chair for me. It won't take me long. I love you, shorty."

"I'm not short!" she scolded him, and then laughed, and trotted happily out of the room.

"It must be illegal to feel this good. I've forgotten the joy of being a Dad," Ed commented, watching her go. He looked up at Claire, who was pulling her sweater off, followed by her black lace brassiere. "What are you doing?" he said, fully aware of what it was doing to him.

"I'm the new shower inspector, Colonel. I have to make sure you're clean. Can't have you dirty," she informed him solemnly, taking his hand and putting it on her breast.

He undid the knot in his robe sash with one hand, eyes flashing as she unbuttoned her taffeta skirt and let it fall. Together, they disappeared into the bathroom, and locked the door. Ed started the shower, turning the jet spray to warm. He let his robe drop, and assisted her with removing her sheer black lace panties, allowing his eyes to caress her before he did. It always stimulated him to know that she wore sexy undergarments beneath the rather conservative ankle length skirts and frilly, no nonsense blouses and sweaters.

"Nothing turns me on more than a woman that smells like cinnamon and brown gravy and raindrops." he said with the sliver of an enchanting, teasing smile.

"I'll have Terry bottle some up for me," she promises, taking his hand and stepping into the spacious tile shower with him, closing the gold speckled plexiglass door behind them. She took the sponge and lathered him liberally with the Bronnley until he smelled of grapefruit and orange, and any patience she'd had vanished away like the foam that disappeared into the drain at their bare feet.

"Edward, when was the last time we did this?" she said, becoming aroused.

"Hopefully not too long ago to have forgotten how," he gasped, bringing a sharp laugh from her. He lathered her body in turn, working from her legs, over her hips, lingering over her breasts until she gasped. Their lips sought each other and met, tongues touching, and effortlessly they joined bodies, adding the rhythm of mingled groans to the steady sound of the water beating down on their skin. He pressed against her, tentatively in the beginning, then relentlessly driving against her as his need grew, she interlocking her hands behind his slippery back to assist him. The groaning turned to sharp, throaty grunts and soft cries, which rose in tempo until it all concluded in a single solitary gasp of relief. He withdrew from her, turned her around so that she faced the wall, let his fingers probe her gently from behind, soliciting a whispered 'Oh God' from her when the right place was manipulated. She sighed softly, in resignation that it was over.

"You okay?" he asked in a husky manner that suggested an affirmative was needed, and needed immediately.

"God, Edward, you need to stop breathing more often if this is the end result!" she whispered, barely able to form coherent words.

It unleashed an rare series of appreciative laughter from him, then he bent her over slightly as she flattened her hands against the tiled wall, then he positioned her lower, entered her with his hands firmly grasping her waist as a means to draw himself back and forth, drawing a cry from her that told more of exhilaration than of pain. He pressed deep or shallow, slowly and experimentally, noting that this or that move drew a more succinct gasp from her, wanting this for her more than himself, holding himself back until he could stand no more, until they both cried out, moved apart by mutual consent and rested against one another, trying to catch their breath. He turned off the jet water and slowly chuckled at the way she playfully narrowed her eyes at him.

"That was one Christmas present I'm not likely to forget, Mr. Straker."

"I think I know how a Christmas present feels when it's opened now. I think you popped my bubble wrap," he said thoughtfully, looking down meaningfully at himself, drawing a girlish giggle from her. They both jumped in fear, hearts pounding, when a insistent banging on the bathroom door could be heard.

"Okay! Enough of the kiss of life in there, you two! Get downstairs and eat dinner, damn it! Frances and I cooked all day!" Terry yelled, bringing embarrassed laughter from both of them.

"I needed Claire's help! I lost my rubber ducky in the bathtub!" Ed yelled, causing Claire to giggle.

"You don't get downstairs and eat, you know where I'll shove your rubber ducky! Five minutes! I mean it! Or I'll have Zeke break down the door!"

"Okay Auntie Terry!" Ed yelled in a boy's singsong tone, drawing hysterical laughter from Claire and it was Terry who giggled now in turn, and went downstairs.

* * *

"From the way you're gobbling that down, I'd say you aren't having any problem with your throat." Terry smiled. They were all gathered around the long oak dinner table, which had been made up beautifully with red wax swirled tapers and silver bowls of German glass ornaments mixed with holly, the glow of the candle flame reflecting back in the silver.

Ed looked up, mouth laden with pecan pie, and gestured that he couldn't respond at the moment.

"Terry, have you done, you know?"

Ed swallowed the last bit of pecan pie, dabbed at his lips with the linen napkin and looked at Frances.

"Should you even be asking that kind of question? Isn't it obvious she has? That's not very Christian of you."

Ian barely managed not to spit out his mouthful of roast ham, and shook his head at Ed in a disbelieving manner. Claire rolled her eyes.

"Oh you clown. I meant her diabetes gadget. Have you tested?" Frances said in amused exasperation.

"Oh my gosh, no, let's see, where did I leave that thing? Back at home, durn it. I'll be right back. You keep eating, Ed, honey."

"Keep eating? There's no more room for eating. To get anything more into me, you'd have to shoot it into me with the turkey baster."

"That could be arranged, Edward," Claire threatened, and he chuckled. "You going to make a toast?" she asked hopefully, watching Terry go out of the dining room.

"What? Me? Make you toast? Haven't you eaten enough food?"

Zeke laughed and Yvonne raised her eyes to the ceiling, and Kamala giggled.

"Is he like this all the time?" Ian wanted to know.

"It's the pecan pie in the bloodstream, he gets more goofy as the night goes on," Claire said resignedly, hiding a pleased grin. "Come on, at least have a little champagne, to toast the baby's and our daughter's health."

"Wait until she gets down here."

"Edward, don't make me hurt you. Put that voice and silver tongue of yours to good use and make a toast for Christmas." Claire pushed a crystal champagne flute toward Ed and Zeke opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame champagne with the usual loud pop, causing everyone to duck, then he poured some into Ed's glass. Ed studied the bubbles for a second, stood up.

"Were you aware that the tinier the bubbles are, the better the champagne will be?" he announced.

The doorbell chimed. He gave a dismissing sweep of his free hand.

"Sit, sit, I'll get it." He hurried to the door, crystal flute in hand, looked through the peephole, and opened the door with delight. "Angel! Gil! Gosh this is terrific, you're just in time. Come meet - what on earth are you doing here?" Ed asked with an uncomfortable glare, seeing Lancaster standing by a young black man he didn't recognise. The young man's eyes were as glazed over as the ham on the dining room table. Lancaster didn't have an answer, his glance flickering to something out of Ed's sight. Ed made a move to see what it was, but Gil blocked him.

"Ed, where's Claire?"

"In the dining room, everyone's eating, come have something to eat. Angel, Frances will be so relieved to see you. Say, what's going on?"

"Get Claire," Gil instructed him.

"Why? What the blazes has happened? Close that door before we all freeze."

"Ed just do what I say, all right?"

"Not a chance. You're keeping something from me, all of you. It's obvious. I demand to know what in the hell has happened, Grissom."

"Ed, son, he's doing this for your own good," Angel said quietly.

"My own good? Damn it, I want to know what this is all about! I want to know now."

Claire came slowly into the great hall, having heard the frightened edge in Ed's voice all the way to the dining room.

"Gil, what's happening?" she said, taking Ed's arm, feeling the tension in the air.

" I wanted your medical expertise and your support for Ed, in case it's needed. Try and stay calm Ed, all right? That will make things easier," Gil explained with great care, getting an steady stare from Ed. Gil nodded at Angel. Angel stepped out slightly, beckoned to someone, and Lancaster moved to the right to admit him in.

Alec Freeman, in overcoat over an unfamiliar suit shirt and tie moved into the room in obvious unease, handing Gil his walking stick, determined to move under his own power to face whatever lay in wait for him. Claire gave a shriek, she couldn't help it, everything made sense to her in that one instant. She was suddenly paralysed, wanting to stop things from going into motion, and yet wanting to let the screams out, and then, almost in dread, she looked at Ed, suddenly terrified at what the shock would do to him, unable to shield him, deathly afraid for his sanity, for his very life.

The once perfect glass stem in Ed's fingers had cracked in half, its contents emptied, a thin stream of blood falling from his injured hand, and dropping on the Aubusson rug along with shattered bits of glass, adding bright crimson spots and silvered shards to its colours. His head had jerked back almost as if the ability of sight was a physical blow, as if he'd indeed been struck, or shot. It put Claire in mind of the Zapruder films of the Kennedy assassination. His face became dead, drained of everything, of the light frivolity, of blood, of celebration, of comprehension. In a daze, his lips moved soundlessly, almost as if time itself had been slowed down in the solemn great hall. The clock chimed, demonstrating how eerily silent the tableaux was.

"Ed--" Alec said haltingly, "Your hand. You're hurt." He cursed himself for the stupidity of it, but he could not tell in that moment if Ed was bleeding more inside or outside. "Ed." he repeated, taking a slow step forward, in hope, like a squire rushing in assistance to his wounded knight.

When the Commander spoke it bore no trace of the usual confidence, or teasing, or even maturity and strength in his characteristic melodic tones, and it was devoid of joy. No, it was the voice of a small child torn cruelly from its mother, and then heartlessly given an cardboard image in her place.

"Alec?" Ed beseeched him, and all gathered could hear the words he could not form. Claire sobbed almost hysterically at the raw pain in that voice. Gil Grissom bowed his head, not quite even understanding why. Alec's heart broke, for he'd never heard Ed speak in that way. He could hear the words not uttered, and it hurt all the more. This in part had been his doing. This total breakdown of a man who could control his emotions the way a conductor controlled a symphonic orchestra. His doing, damn him to hell, Alec told himself. Now, this shattered note. Music lost. A chord not played.

Please be real. I've been left with nothing but dreams I awake from. Hallucinations. Please be real.

Sensing Ed's troubled state of mind, as he had unbrokenly for all the years he'd known the younger man, Alec spoke gently, his own hopes and fears cast aside. All that remained was the knowledge that here stood a man whom throughout his life had given all and asked for nothing, who had needed nothing and no one and everything and everyone, but had somehow survived horrors because he knew one thing. One thing above all else, although both men had whimsically expressed fear of being maudlin if they dared speak its name, one thing, that they cared for one another more than they cared for themselves. Enough to lay down their life for the other.

The greatest love. Odd that it should come to me so effortlessly when it has been ages since I've read my catechism, Alec mused. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. And I would. And Ed would. Unquestionably.

Then it had all come apart, that bond, in this nightmare, in the unimaginable truths Ed had put forth in the tape of Alec's funeral. Beloved friend. They rarely admitted the words without the barrier of gentle mutual insults, but then they didn't have to say the words, Alec mused. Hell no. They'd lived the words. Alec let hot tears come, didn't bother to brush them away, didn't care about the stunned audience, all of them now, observing this lowering of veils between two men, this opening of doors shut for more than thirty years. For a while he was crying so hard, speaking was impossible.

"Ed. Ed. I'm here. It's really me. It was a fucking mix-up. Everything's okay. Christ. Ed. Nothing's smoother in this world than the sight of your face right now, Ed-not even the best whiskey, and I've been on the wagon for-"

As swiftly as the abandoned child had come and went, Ed's hands, hanging at his sides, balled into fists. Alec took a step backward, feeling the threat float across the room like a spectre. Ed slowly pivoted on a heel. Just as slowly he crossed to the authentic suit of armour on display in the great hall, and took the steel sword from the chain mail gloves, and raised it in his own hands, his intentions and movements as impenetrable and finite as the steel that had forged the too real, deadly sword. His blue eyes were as empty as the suit of armour, no human male inside to give it warmth or grace. Man as machine.

Ice. As though there had always been ice in that perfect symmetry of Ed's lean body, and always would be. Alec shuddered. Not the friend, welcoming the prodigal son home, but the enemy, desiring revenge for the friend's death through a sacrifice. In this case, him. Not once did he doubt that Ed would hesitate to split his head in two. The blade expertly whooshed toward him. After all, it was Ed Straker, and there weren't any modes of combat he didn't excel in. Alec froze, waiting. Which way would the dice fall?

Warrick Brown had been wandering around, not quite believing what he'd seen, and now he just froze. In a sudden movement that made Claire scream, Ed had made some sort of trained fencer's lunge and cut straight down Alec's coat until the sides dropped away. It so startled Gil Grissom to witness this that he felt as heavy as the oak beams above his head, and just as lacking in life and reasoning. There was blood on the sword, and for a hellish moment, Angel believed Ed had cut Alec in half. Then he realised it was just Ed's hand, still bleeding from a substantial cut. Nobody said a thing. Alec's eyes were squeezed shut. He slowly opened them. What the hell? He was alive. Gil and Angel both slowly moved toward Ed. Alec was outraged.

"You idiots! What in - for Christ's sake, don't! He hasn't gone insane, you bleeding idiots! IDIOTS! He thinks I'm an impostor. Jesus! If you want him to spill my intestines right here and right now on the damn overpriced carpet, then go ahead, make like orderlies from the cuckoo home with butterfly nets. After he turns me into leg of lamb, you'll be next, mark my words! For God's sake, he thought I was dead!"

"Listen to him! PLEASE!" Claire screamed.

Reluctantly, they moved away, on either side of Alec, but both men were reasonably sure they'd nearly soiled their trousers. Warrick would have laid odds on his own self-being the first to need adult protection, but then he wasn't supposed to gamble. Castles. Armour. A guy who looked like he belonged on a horse charging at an medieval army against favourable odds, instead he was in tight black jeans but brandishing a sword like he was Galahad running on a Starbucks double shot. Man, I knew I should have stuck to audio-visual analysis, he moaned to himself. This was England, and they had a thing about guns. What was he supposed to use to defend himself against the silver haired guy? The tapestry on the wall? Man, he would have taken Greg's funk and Nick's swagger anytime, and now he wasn't sure whether or not someone was gonna be sticking his body parts in a bindle. No, he had to go and be curious about this Errol Flynn wannabe because bug man liked him, and had been concerned. He should have known any friend of Grissom's would be fruitier than a nut cake.

Ed still had the sword, bleeding, probably managing on adrenaline alone, and Alec knew he had to do something and do it fast. Proof. What would Ed take as proof? If he didn't think fast, Ed was undoubtedly preparing to stick a certain Australian's head on a Grade Two gate finial. The locals from English Heritage would love that.

Terry Fillmore, never one to score high on any intelligence quotient tests, or get full marks for timing, chose that moment to come in, toting a cookbook and her testing machine.

She saw Alec, dropped the lot, and shrieked so loud, Angel was sure that the Archbishop in Canterbury was now deaf. She hurled herself at Alec like a bull at a bullfighter in Madrid. This time, Gil snapped out of it, and when she hit Alec, who suddenly and painfully realised he wasn't all that healed from multiple soft tissue damage, and yelped like a sheep feeling the blade during being sheared, Gil grabbed her, attempting with Angel to pull her off Alec. Naturally it wasn't that easy, but that was the general idea. He got Terry's fist applied to his shoulder. Grissom had to agree that personally getting your shoulder pummelled wasn't as scientific as studying the same injury on a John Doe in the lab. Put bluntly, it hurt like hell. Making a male flea into a eunuch with a toothpick would have been much simpler, compared to trying to hold on to Terry Fillmore.

Alec was unsteady on his feet, wobbling, not quite sure if he'd gotten all the numbers on the lorry licence plate right. God, he hated student drivers. And sheep.

Then it occurred to him who it was, and his heart lifted.

"Ter! Hey, let her go, it's okay, just don't hug so tight, I'm a little bruised, I can still knock the horse piss out of anyone. You smell good. You look good. Kiss me, if I don't think of something to convince Ed I'm really who I am, it's going to be the last kiss I get."

"Oh lambie pie, God I missed you, I should have known you're just too much a man to get yourself killed. Shit! Is that a real sword, Ed hon? Put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

They looked at Terry, and wondered if she'd stayed a little too close to the Teflon pans during the baking.

Terry pulled Alec to a upholstered bench, and he sat down, grateful to rest, still refusing to use the stick. He looked at Ed, dreading that he might see Ed drop.

Claire had been slowly walking toward Ed, also knowing that sooner or later, he was going to collapse. She stopped. Kamala had been watching in sheer terror from a reasonably safe position behind a wall. Now she looked at Claire and Claire nodded, and Kamala went over to Ed, walking at Claire's side.

"Daddy, you're hurt," she said plaintively.

"Daddy? Just how long have I been gone?" Alec said in amazement. "You're Ed's little girl?"

"Uh huh. I'm going to be adopted."

"You're going to have Ed Straker as a Dad? You poor miserable thing. You have any idea how impossible he is to look after? See the grey in my hair and the creases in my face? Every strand and wrinkle he put there with his own two hands."

"Did not," she contradicted him. Alec broke out in a huge grin.

"Well, she already takes after you, you old goat. Goes west when the map says east."

"Edward, darling, here, give me that thing," Claire said gently to him, and it clattered from his fingers. She pushed it away, signalled to Frances to get her medical bag, and Frances had already foreseen the need, and had it ready. They eased him into a Queen Anne chair. Ed didn't seem to feel the sting of the alcohol as she sterilised his hand, gave him a local painkiller and with Frances' assistance, stitched his wound. Claire recalled that Frances had had medical training.

"Tired. So tired. That can't be Alec. Alec's dead. Alec is gone."

"Ed, it's me. Who else is brave enough to look at your ugly face day after day? Claire doesn't count, she swore a oath to do so. Ed, there was a man named John Carver, a mechanic. He found out that Roger Chandler was having a tryst with his wife, Tanya Carver. He set out to kill her and kill Chandler. But Chandler was my mate once, a never-do-well, he wanted me to go rock climbing with him, didn't tell me Carver was along for the ride, because that way he'd get the equipment cheap. Always was cheap. On the plane, he fought Roger, and Roger never being handy with his fists or his head threw lighter fluid at him from an old cheap lighter that was constantly leaking. Carver went mad from the pain, had open sores on his arms, and he rushed Roger. The door on the plane was no good, your pal Grissom and his buddy Warrick here discovered that Carver let everything that flew on the airfield go to crap, to cut costs, cheat his employer. Roger never had a chance, he flew out with the Vertex wristwatch I gave him, I just didn't care what happened to it, or me, after what I did to you. I went not caring one whit whether I came back, I just wanted you to have a life. Carver was massive, I didn't have a chance, never saw him coming, I'm nothing but an old Australian dingo who has seen better days. He took my medallion, the one of Saint Jude, remember Ed? The one you jokingly gave me when I started to realize that you'd be leading the elephant parade and I'd be the poor jerk behind you, cleaning up the mess. You always got that pretty face in trouble, Ed. I told you that it was going to be impossible working for you, and next day I find that medallion on my desk, and you grinning. Remember how I always was glad to see you smile, Ed? It still is nice to see you smile. Anyway, one of the criminologists, Ian Mackley, Lancaster knew him from the army, he changed dental records, and even fingerprints, making it look like not only was I the burned body, but that I'd killed Tanya Carver. Carver had paid him to make it look like someone else had done the crime. He was also the one who leaked news about you to the press. His chief superintendent called in Grissom, claiming it was my prints on the knife in her back, but then Mackley had rigged the crime scene so that it was. Took them off my Interpol file. Grissom, Stanley and Warrick here smelled a rat and went looking for me. Warrick showed Grissom a photo of me at some awards presentation. Covering for your skinny arse as usual, saw that my teeth were different than what Mackley had showed him, and that's what brought him to a pub in Perth, looking for word of a injured man. Lancaster happened to be there, working as a mercenary, gave him the scoop on Mackley, and then set out with them to find my carcass. My chute had opened wrong, I hit the bush hard, cracked a leg, would have died if it wasn't for the Abbos. I wanted news of you, and they gave me your picture from an old tabloid. Gil tells me I wouldn't let go of it, not even when they found me half dead, and put me aboard the chopper."

"Alec," Ed said softly, attempting to get up.

"No, Ed, hear me out. I dreamed of you. Dreamed you came and set my leg, and well, got Search and Rescue out for me. Dreamed you showed off that damned superior Yankee education by telling me about Castor and Pollux."

"Dear God. I dreamed it too. Dreamed everything. You with the Abbos. Claire. Trying to make peace with me. Alec. Alec. Alec," Ed repeated, like a prayer.

"There's something else. Something than only you and I know. Besides the engraving on that Certina Swiss wristwatch you're wearing, which I gave you on your birthday. Your divorce had become final, with Mary, and you were pretty upset, didn't say much. I talked you into going out for a couple of steaks and salads with me. We talked, I knew the failure of your marriage hit you hard. You weren't a footloose and fancy free bugger like me, no, you got involved with Mary because of your heart and not your head, but you seemed happy, so I was proud to be your best man. But I digress. Mary's parents had a word with her, and you signed the divorce papers, never contesting the accusations, feeling low. I started talking with you about the whole drinking business. Royal Air Force veteran versus a green American from an inferior Air Force."

"Alec," Ed said, a smile parting his lips, tears falling down his cheeks. Claire rested her hand on his shoulder, listening.

"I said I could drink you under the table. You said I was being stupid, that such things weren't important. I said it was a matter of pride, and you said it was a matter of control."

"It began then. A historical series of disagreements on the demon drink."

"I said you were supposed to be the standard bearer for the American Air Force, a top flyboy turned seat warmer for a General and here you were nothing but a coward."

"I got a little . . . shall we say, perturbed."

"So we found a pub."

"One of the few I'd ever been in," Ed said reflectively.

"And we started on the house tap. Went on to foreign beers and ales."

"Dark and light. Proceeded to drinks with names I'd never heard of. I don't remember much about it, except that my head and the pub floor got intimate with one another faster than a gentleman should get to know a lady. Decorum forbids it."

"Call a spade a spade, you useless Yank. You passed out. I threw some money on the table, dragged that matchstick body of yours to my place, since in the divorce you typically gave your house to Mary, and you had no place to stay."

"Mind you, this is hearsay after the fact, but I understand you stripped me to my t-shirt, skivvies and socks, and threw me down on your bed."

"As gently as I could, since Americans are like bone china, they're not all what they're cracked up to be."

"Shut up, Alec."

"Then you woke up."

"Actually I think I may have thrown up in a trance state. I was fine the previous night and suddenly someone was attempting to insert St. Paul's Cathedral in my head along with all the acolytes."

"You had a hangover."

"Is that what they call it?"

"That's what they call it."

Something astonishing had been happening while both men had been speaking. They had slowly gotten up from their seats, and were making their way across to one another. Gil watched, as the others did in a sort of solemnity, like observing a sacred rite. Something you couldn't find in a Bunsen burner had brought two total opposites to one another, kept them there. He found that Warrick was looking at him, had appeared at his side. He managed to smile. Warrick gave him the thumbs up sign.

"I call it throwing up both lungs and a spleen."

"I don't think that's possible, Ed," Grissom said calmly.

"You weren't attempting to out drink Alec Freeman. I think that earned the all time prize for stupidity, taken by Ed Straker, the crowd was on its feet, standing ovation. Possibly even more stupid than marrying a woman that you later discovered you never knew. Building a foundation without a floor, and then questioning why you were cold at night, why you lacked for warmth. I thought I had everything, Alec. In a sense, I did. But you come to a moment in life, a crossroads, where you realize you're running on empty."

"You don't have to talk about it, lance old wounds," Alec said quietly.

They were only a foot away from each other now, drawing strength from one other as if sheltering from a storm.

"Ah but that's how you draw out the pus, if you have the wisdom to even realise that the infection is there."

"Ed, there are some things-"

"No, there aren't."

"Ed, what I said about Ayomide . . ."

"Regrettable, yes, but nothing in the vast plan of things. A grain of rice. Nothing more, nothing less. Alec, do you know who came in a close second in the championship for stupidity? I'm standing in front of him. That you could ever think I'd turn you away, that you could think I was that kind of person. What was it you said of me? What was it that you, of all people, saw in me, when I even had problems believing I still possessed a soul?"

"That in spite of everything you had ever done, the ugliness you saw, the orders you gave, the choices you made, you still were human. You were entitled to mistakes."

"Fire and ice." Ed chuckled softly.

"Ed, I still need to hear it."

"Must be the Protestant in you."

"You're the damn Puritan, you thick headed Bostonian. Say it."

"That I forgive you? I forgive you now, and for all time. Do you know where you belong?"

"Here. For all time."

"Longer. Dear God, Alec. What could have possessed you that you'd think so ill of me, think I wouldn't welcome you back, need you back, beg on these ancient knees for you to come back into my life? What made you make such a choice? My God Alec, how much you must have suffered out there, alone. A piece of me was with you, you know. I swear to you here and now, the both of us, this is where we start living. No more unspoken words. No more second-guesses. No more crosses to bear. No crown of thorns. Human. We're human."

"What a piece of work is man," Grissom intoned, and Ed chuckled deep in his throat. "Do you know the rest, Ed?"

"I might, Gil, I might. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals!"

"You might my eye. No wonder you two like one another." Alec grinned. And then all the world exploded for him, as Ed touched his arms, searched his eyes desperately, and drew Alec against him tightly, both men sobbing, patting one another on the back, clutching, hugging.

"You're teary-eyed," Warrick Brown said almost triumphantly to Grissom in a whisper. Grissom responded in the same manner.

"Old house, Warrick. Dust."

"Since when are you allergic to dust particles, Gris?"

"You tell anyone at the lab about this, they'll never find your body."

"That a threat?" Warrick grinned.

"That's a vow."

"Suits me. Mrs. Brown didn't raise her boy to wear a tag on his big toe, cute as it is."

In a corner, Frances and Angel were kissing, and it may not have been very Christian of them, but they didn't seem to care. Likewise, Yvonne had strayed over to Graham Lancaster.

"Is it all right if I take him upstairs?"

"I owe him big time. Go and fill a plate for him," Ed instructed. He then went back to fingering Alec's coat. "I think I ruined it."

"Did you keep anything I owned? Ed, you're pinching me."

"Yes, yes, well, I was executor of your will, I carried out the instructions you left. Does the pinching bother you? I'm just a little concerned you'll fade away, and it all was an underdone potato."

"Is that a remark about my cooking?" Terry wanted to know. "I've never undercooked anything in my life," she pronounced indignantly.

"It's a reference to Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol." Grissom said patiently. "A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

"I didn't ask you, now did I?" Terry grumbled.

"Hey. Chill. It's nearly Christmas," Warrick told her, amused.

"You're kinda cute," Terry said. Alec rolled his eyes, and pulled her possessively back nearer him to Ed's amusement. Ed noted Alec hadn't noticed in his shock she was pregnant, and he was looking forward to that revelation. So far, Alec felt real. But just in case, he put a hand on Alec's shoulder and they studied one another.

"Alec," Claire said. Alec reluctantly turned, not knowing what to expect from her. Ed just smiled at her. "You said earlier you didn't know how you could do what you did."

"Look, if there's anything I said . . ."

"or didn't say?" she said. Ed raised his eyebrows at her. She grinned. "That's really what life's all about, the things we never say."

"Whoever came up with that thought was a genius," Ed said. She looked heavenward, while Ed chuckled, and led Alec to the bench.

"Grief does some funny things, Alec. All I care about is that you don't go on any walkabouts in the Outback alone. Take my matchstick of a husband with you. Lord knows I can't look after him alone." She kissed him on the cheek. They squeezed hands and broke into matching happy grins.

"The Abbos said they found him dead," Warrick said. "I expected Steve Irwin to burst in and make some remark."

"Steve who?" Ed and Grissom said in unison.

"Culturally deprived," Claire said meaningfully.

"Sounds like Grissom," Angel grinned, his arm around Frances. "He kept wanting to take insect specimens. I told him bugs weren't our priority at the moment."

"Aren't any of you going to go in and have dinner? It's nearly Christmas Day," Frances said excitedly.

"Won't be any trouble to heat it up," Terry agreed, pulling at Alec.

"Hungry, Alec?" Ed asked.

"Starved."

"Just keep your hands off the pecan pie, it's mine."

"I thought it was the lemon drizzle cake with you."

"I've branched out," Ed explained. He very reluctantly allowed Terry to take Alec to the dinner table.

"I'm not disappearing on you again, Ed."

"And I should trust a stubborn wild boar of an pickled Australian why?"

"Some things never change," Alec remarked with a wide grin.

"How's your hand, sweetheart?" Claire asked Ed.

"Pain medication's wearing off a little. May need another shot. Good God, who could be ringing me at this hour?" The clock chimed twelve and Ed took his cell phone out of his pocket. "Straker. Oh. Yes. Yes? Oh yes, that is, oh thanks, and Happy Christmas to you too." He put away the phone, an expression of delight on his face.

"Edward?"

"It was the agency woman. The paperwork will be faxed here later, but she thought I might like to know. The adoption isn't final, but they've decided to let me foster Kamala."

"Oh darling! Kamala!"

"For real?"

"For real."

"This is the best Christmas, Daddy."

Ed looked across at Alec, tears forming in his eyes. Claire took his bandaged hand and kissed it reverently.

"Yes, yes it is." Ed smiled at both of them, heart full.

"I like your friend."

"I like him too. Come on, I think I can make that champagne toast now." Ed's eyes sparkled brighter than the glass ornaments as he and Claire, with Kamala at their side, walked into the dining room. They passed the winding staircase as they did so, and caught a glance of Graham Lancaster kissing Yvonne. Fiver was sniffing Alec, and she made a most impressive binky. He lifted her into his lap. Predictably she sprawled out.

"I know exactly how that rabbit feels, but I don't think I'll try that move - someone get that rat off the table and out of the Gloucester cheese!"

Suddenly there was a loud crash behind him, the serving cart with the beverages overturned accompanied to the sound of laughter and Molly bounced by whining pitifully, followed by Hazel and Dandelion. Ed sighed, pinched his nose dramatically. Kamala giggled. Claire grinned. Warrick accepted a heaping plate of roast beef from Zeke, as they discussed jazz percussionists. Ian compared the virtues of different actors playing Scrooge with Grissom.

Frances ladled out French onion soup to Alec, sneaking impatient looks at Terry.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Alec said, unfalteringly making for the leg of lamb while Terry snuggled next to him, vying for attention with Fiver.

"That I'm not the only one in the room that's going to be a Dad," Ed said, settling into a seat next to Alec, taking what was left of his coat, hanging it on the chair and waiting for it to sink in.

"Terry." Claire grinned. "You. Baby makes two. Do the math."

Terry picked up Alec's hand and put it on her belly proudly. His eyes grew large, then he whooped with joy. He hugged her, clearly thrilled and then groaned.

"What?" Ed said.

"Fiver just shit on me."

"I know just how that rabbit feels, but I don't think I'll try that move either. Not in company. WILLIE!"

"Sir?" the guard said, coming up from behind and startling Ed, looking very guilty.

"Did you let that dog in with the rabbits here when I clearly forbid it? Do you think I give orders for nothing?"

"It's cold, Sir."

"Yes. Yes it is. But that's outside. In here, it's warm. Go and tell whomever you're sharing a shift with that we're serving Christmas dinner, and they're invited. Hurry up, Williams."

"Yes Sir!"

Warrick had put his plate aside and was picking out the notes of 'O come ye all ye Faithful' on the piano in a duet with Zeke and everyone that wasn't eating joined in singing the lyrics. Even Grissom, who had a surprising warm baritone.

Outside, snowflakes formed.

THE END (continued in Prophecy)

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