Resetting the Board

Lou blinked. "Dead? How?"

Jeff glanced away for a moment then straightened up to look her in the eye. "Well, you see..."

Lou suddenly shook her head decisively and put a finger to his lips. "No. I don't want to hear about it." Jeff's puzzled expression was as good as an uttered, "Why?" and Lou hastened to explain. "If by some cruel twist I end up on the witness stand over this, I'd like to be able to say that I didn't see what happened and I know nothing about it."

Jeff sagged a bit. "Oh. I see."

"Not that I don't appreciate what you and the boys did... I'm assuming you were there at the end?"

Jeff nodded, and Lou continued, "Not that I don't appreciate it, but I know my fingerprints are all over his car. My DNA probably is there, too, and Shelly is sure to mention me." She sighed. "Of course, that will lead them back to Cindy Lou..."

"Not to Lucinda?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, my 'friends in low places' are very thorough. My DNA and fingerprint files no longer reference to Lucinda Myles. They were able to move them to the Cindy Lou name."

Jeff gave her an uneasy look. "You know some... strange people."

"I've arrested a lot of strange people," Lou said simply. "Some of them, like Tony Cho, appreciate being treated like a human being. He was a brilliant guy, a genius, but like most geniuses, even like your Brains, he had trouble relating to people. Everyone treated him like a geek, subhuman. I treated him with respect. It went far with him." She sighed again. "This group--and it is a group, not just one person--they like a challenge. Getting into Interpol's computers, into the FBI's, they live for it. I understand that at least one of them used to work for the FBI's Witness Protection program, maybe still does. They all find this underground work to be a hell of a lot more fun and far more lucrative. And they are very picky about their clientele. No felons. But if a battered wife needs a new identity and she can pay for it... she can buy one."

"How did you find out about them?" Jeff asked, genuinely curious. "I'm sure they don't advertise in the yellow pages."

Lou chuckled. "You're right, they don't. They work by word of mouth. But over a decade ago, a couple of their members decided to make some more money on the side by pirating proprietary software. I was called in on the case and was puzzled by the fact that the thefts seemed to be connected to an employee who was on maternity leave. So I planted a both a keystroke catcher in her computer at home and a virus in a copy of the latest version of the company's most promising software. Discovered that the employee wasn't involved; her computer wasn't even turned on when the bait was taken. But the virus got the attention of the group. I got an email from the FBI agent and set up an IM meeting. He or she explained what the group was all about and that they'd had no idea that the two had decided to set up shop for themselves. Whoever it was handed over their names and helped me set up a sting. Caught the two of them in the act basically."

She relaxed into the chair and put her palms up in a shrug. "But their help had a catch; I couldn't expose the whole group. I kept my word and we've helped each other over the years. They've asked me to screen various clients of theirs for criminal records, and if we couldn't identify a bit of DNA or a fingerprint during an investigation, I've asked if they might have it. They owed me a whole lot more than I did them, so they did the transition from Lucinda to Cindy Lou, gratis."

"Do you think they could remove your stuff from Cindy Lou's files, too?" he asked, a speculative gleam in his eye.

"Sure. They created her. They told me they always leave a back door open," she said, nodding. "But it's probably too late."

"Not necessarily," he replied. "Two of our agents responded to my call. One of them will give the police an anonymous tip at 9 a.m."

"But Shelly..." she protested.

"Gordon and our other agent brought Shelly to the hospital, and Gordon made sure it sounded like a car wreck. The last I'd heard from him, the police hadn't talked to Shelly yet," Jeff said, a smile spreading over his face. He glanced at his watch. "And visiting hours are almost over."

"That might not stop the locals... but still..." Lou said thoughtfully. "Can you call and get an update from Gordon? And can I borrow a computer?"

"Sure," Jeff said, standing to his feet. He offered her a hand again, and she took it, rising from her chair, then suddenly she stumbled forward, almost knocking him over the footstool. He managed to brace himself and put his hands on her upper arms to steady her.

"Ooof! You're wobbly," he observed.

She put a hand to her head and glanced up at him, smiling wryly. "Yeah, got a bit light-headed there."

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, concerned.

"Noonish," she replied.

"All right. Then you can borrow the computer after you eat. Before that, though, you'll need some transmitter solvent. I had Scott bring some along for you and it's in the kitchen. And while you're eating, I'll call Gordon."

"Sounds like a plan," Lou said with a chuckle. "Lead on, I follow."

"And here I thought you'd already found your way to the kitchen," Jeff quipped, keeping an arm around her shoulders. To keep her balanced, he told himself. He ducked down momentarily to retrieve the knife and his hand slipped down, stopping at the base of her spine.

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee I can find my way back there," she riposted. "This place is big!" She turned to look up and shake a finger at him, "But not as big as the Biltmore!"

He chuckled at her answer. "Come on. Let's get you that transmitter solvent," he said, his hand still resting at the small of her back.

Scott came to the lounge from his shower. Virgil was grateful that his brother was back and, more than that, that there had been no emergency calls while the rescue team was gone.

"How did it go?" Virgil asked, turning in his seat as Scott walked in.

"It was too damn close a call," Scott muttered. He saw that the majority of the family was sitting in the lounge, watching the televid. "What's going on?"

"Alvarez has come back to Unity City," Alan said flatly and without turning, a frown on his face, his arms folded belligerently over his chest.

Scott's expression began to match his brother's as he moved in closer, finding a seat beside Eleanor on Thunderbird Three's couch. Ned Cook's serious, earnest face appeared briefly beside a wide screen showing a waving, smiling Alvarez alighting from a helijet. The newscaster began, "After over a year in seclusion and mourning, Minister of Security, Carlos Esteban Alvarez, has returned to Unity City."

The screen widened, eclipsing Cook's face, and showed Alvarez shaking hands with various official looking people. "His Excellency spent the day settling back into his Unity City residence and met briefly with various officials, including the President and Vice President." The picture changed once again to show him sitting and talking with the World Government's two highest officials. "During the past year, he has been keeping up with matters in the capital city via phone calls, daily email briefings, and through his secretary, Fernando Rafael Ramirez, who has made numerous trips back and forth between Unity City and the minister's private island home. His Excellency had this to say about his return."

The picture segued once again into a close up of a smiling Alvarez, confronted with a number of microphones and squinting in the bright camera lights, Ramirez standing in the shadows behind him. "It feels good, very good, to return to Unity City. I will, of course, deeply miss my lovely Engracia and my children, but it is time to get back to work on a full-time basis," the minister announced.

A reporter, well out of camera range, shouted, "Your Excellency, has there been any progress in the investigation of the alleged terrorist attack on your home?"

Alvarez's smile faded. "I have no comment on that matter. I am afraid you will have to ask that question of Interpol and the Unity City police."

A bodyguard now stepped forward, and the picture returned to the newsroom, a still shot of the smiling Alvarez, taken from the vid, showing in the upper right corner of the screen. Cook looked at the camera, reading from the teleprompter without looking like he was doing so. "When asked about the incident on the minister's cay, both Interpol and the local police said that they had no comment other than the investigation is still on-going. And now in other news..."

Eleanor pointed the remote at the televid and turned it off. "They've been blathering about that all day," she complained. "Why has no one else seen what a phony this man is?"

"He is very good at what he does," Kyrano said, his face pale and his voice serious. "It seems that this time he has gone beyond the use of the mask and made the changes in his visage more permanent."

"Yes, that would make sense," Tin-Tin agreed. "A mask, no matter how well made, would deteriorate over time. Or someone would remove it and he'd be exposed."

"Even so," Virgil growled. "Some of the people who worked for the real Alvarez must be in cahoots with him. There's no way that he'd be able to carry of an imposture of that magnitude for that long without help."

"You're right, Virge," Scott said thoughtfully, still frowning. "He's been planning this for a long time. That's probably why we haven't been encountering him... until now." He glanced up at Kyrano. "Or have we?"

The retainer met Scott's gaze evenly. "He has tried. I have blocked him. His power over me is diminished, but he is still a formidable adversary. Those who encounter him should not underestimate him."

"At least now we know where he is," Alan said, unfolding his arms.

Kenny, who was sitting next to him, glanced slowly looked around the room. "What are you all talking about?"

Alan gave him a weary smile. "I'll explain it on our way back down to FAB-1. You ready to get back to work?"

"Yeah, sure," Kenny said with a shrug. He rose, and Alan rose with him. The others watched them go, hearing Alan's voice begin to explain about Gaat and the current situation as they stepped up into the study.

Scott turned to Eleanor. "Any chance I can get something to eat?"

"Of course, sweetie. I saved some of our lunch for you, Gordon, and your father," she said, patting him on the arm. "By the way, where are they?"

"Dad had Gordon stay behind in Portland to keep an eye on Aunt Lou's sister. She was hurt pretty badly. He had me drop him and Aunt Lou off at the penthouse in Manhattan," Scott explained, rising from the couch.

"Well, how on earth is Gordon going to get back here? And Manhattan? Him and Lucinda? Whatever for?" Eleanor said, a small frown appearing between her eyes.

Scott sighed heavily. "I'll explain it all over lunch, Grandma." He made a general announcement to the room. "I don't know if Dad will want a formal debriefing over this or not, so if you want to hear what went on, at least from my point-of-view, come on down and I'll talk while I eat."

Eleanor rose from the sofa, and immediately felt the same vertigo as before. She dropped back down onto the couch, a surprised look on her face. "Oh my!"

"Are you all right, Grandma?" Scott asked, concerned over his grandmother's problem.

"Yes, Scott, I'm fine. Just got up too quickly, that's all," she said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

"Do you need any help?" her oldest grandson asked, putting out his hand. Eleanor looked at it for a moment, then sighed and grasped it. Scott braced himself to take her weight, but found he needn't have. She rose slowly from the couch under her own steam. She smiled up at Scott and released her grip.

"See, Scott. I just rose too quickly. Have to slow down a bit, that's all. Now, let's get something inside you. Come along."

Kyrano had already left the room, headed down to the kitchen to prepare Scott's lunch. Tin-Tin and Virgil followed, talking quietly together. No one noticed that they left behind Brains, who was dozing, his head propped up on one arm.

"Whoa!" Penelope said, pulling gently on the reins of her bay mare. Riding Valley Mist was different from riding FAB-3; the former was a docile creature with an easy gait, good for beginning riders and the creature that Penelope turned to for a relaxing ride around her sheep ranch. FAB-3 was an Arabian stallion, spirited and a challenge to even the most experienced riders, the exception being Lady Penelope herself.

"I must call the stables back at Foxleyheath and see how FAB-3 is doing," Penelope said to herself. She sighed with contentment. From where she was she could see nearly the whole valley where her farm rested. The sheep were grazing in the lower part, where a wide shallow stream kept things moist and green. On top of that, it had rained the night she arrived, a steady, nourishing, badly needed rain. She woke to a world washed clean, and it felt wonderful.

So did the solitude. As much as she loved the Tracy clan, they had been everywhere. She had felt she couldn't turn around without some member of the family asking after her. Even shutting herself in the guest room hadn't worked. The long walks on the beach were nice, but when she returned to the villa, the hemmed in feeling had returned as well.

Here, she could leave the world behind for a while, and when she returned to the house, it was quiet. Yes, Parker would be there, fussing over her, but she could deal with him. And the quiet was sorely needed because she was far from peaceful in her own heart and mind. She still had to deal with the aftermath of Peter's death and come to a final decision about her status with International Rescue. Then there were Jeff and Virgil. The one she adored with all of her heart claimed he did not have feelings for her, not the way she had for him. He saw her as a daughter, or just a friend. And the other? He professed to love her, but did she feel the same about him? Could she love him the way that she had his father? Or was he more like a brother to her? She couldn't tell, not yet anyway.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of a plane flying across the valley. It was very obviously making for her landing strip. Who could that be? Has Virgil come again? she wondered as she turned her horse's head back down the trail. It doesn't look like one of the Tracy's jets. Hmm. Well, I shall not find out just sitting here. She made a "tch, tch" sound and gave her mount a prod with her booted feet, spurring the horse to an easy trot back down the way they had come.

Lou was feeling better. She had wrinkled her nose at the foul-smelling concoction that Jeff had poured for her, but drank it down quickly, following it with a mint candy to chase away the even fouler taste. Then Jeff pulled out the leftovers from the pizza he had ordered earlier and reheated it for her. She thanked him very politely and surreptitiously pulled the black olives off of each slice. Not surreptitiously enough, though, because Jeff noticed. He shook his head. How could I forget? Lou doesn't like olives on pizza. He laughed silently at himself. Tracy, it's been twenty years since you've had pizza with this woman. How could you expect to remember?

While she was eating, he had called Gordon on the kitchen vidphone.

"Hi, Dad," Gordon said cheerfully. "They've chased us out of the hospital, and I'm at the hotel now. I made friendly contact with Rachel earlier and asked after Shelly, and when visiting hours were over, finagled it so I walked out with her and her dad. As we walked out, she told me what was happening with her mom."

"So, what's the verdict?" Jeff asked, glancing over at Lou, who was watching him.

"Verdict: scalp wound that's been glued shut, class three concussion without any major complications, and an appointment for knee surgery at seven in the morning," was the reply. "Rachel did say that her mom seemed a bit confused and kept asking for Lou. The neurologist wasn't concerned about the confusion; said it was common with this kind of concussion."

"Hmm. Any signs of the police?"

"Not a one," Gordon replied with a grin. "Her father was giving me the evil eye though."

Jeff glanced over at Lou as she snorted a laugh. "That's Chuck all right," she commented, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, Gordon. Get some sleep. I'll call you in the morning with new instructions."

"Right, Dad. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye!"

The call ended, and Jeff turned to Lou as he heard her sigh. "Jeff, I have to see her."

He pulled a chair up and sat on next to her, angling his chair so he could see her easily. "Why? You know she's going to be all right."

"Yes, I realize that... up here." She tapped her forehead. "But for me to really understand it down here," she spread her hand over her chest, "I have to be there, to talk to her. More than that, she needs to know that I'm okay. As far as she's concerned, Franks left her for dead and has hauled me off somewhere, never to be heard from again."

Jeff sat back, nodding. "I see." He laced his fingers together and put his hands on the table, looking down at them instead of meeting her gaze. "I was hoping to get you to come out to the island with me."

Lou smiled, and put her hand on his. He glanced over at her and saw her smile. "I appreciate the offer, Jeff. And I think that this time, I'll take you up on it. But not until I see Shelly, okay?"

He drew his hands apart and grasped hers with the closer one. "Okay. I'll order a company plane to be prepared for us and take you to Portland in the morning."

"Thank you," she said simply. Then she cocked her head and her smile became impish. "You do realize that I'll need to do something with my cats before I leave the States."

This piece of news seemed to surprise him, making him sit up straighter. "Oh. Yeah," he said, a little puzzled frown showing up between his silvered eyebrows. "Uh, what exactly would you do with them?"

"Well," she began, glancing up at the ceiling, "I don't have a place to board them in Gardiner. And the vets are too new; I don't know them well enough to trust them with my babies." She looked thoughtful and brought her eyes back down to gaze at him, putting an elbow on the table and gesturing with that hand. "I suppose, since we're flying, that I could take them down to Asheville and leave them with Jadzia. She'd take them in a heartbeat. Orrrrr..." She broke off her narrative to give him time for thought.

Jeff gazed at her as with a long-suffering expression. "I may regret asking this, but... or what?"

Lou smiled brightly and propped her chin up on her hand. "Or... we could take them with us!" She reached out to poke him in the arm. "You did mention it once."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Yeah, I know. But... let me sleep on that, okay?"

"Oh-kay!" she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Wiping her hands on a napkin, she said, "Now where's that computer?"

"Excellency?"

"Yes, Fernando? What is it?" Alvarez swiveled around to face Ramirez. He sat in the leather chair behind the desk in the Unity City house's study. It is as well appointed as the one on the cay, but I will miss the view of the sea.

The secretary looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was there late, sorting through the correspondence that had piled up while he had been on the island. He longed for his own bed, in his own apartment and a weekend away from his employer's presence. "I have a message from our people in Geneva."

"And?"

"The website was attacked. The operating system has been compromised and the data has been corrupted."

"What?" Alvarez came to his feet at this news. "When? How?"

"Yesterday afternoon. The email scanner picked up a correspondence sent to Interpol regarding the creator of the program, Anthony Cho. It had an attachment that cleared the anti-virus software. When they opened it up, it released an infected termite. The virus worked its way into the system, rewriting whole sections of code, and disabling the email scanner. The termite took out ninety percent of the data."

"Diablo!" Alvarez shouted. He slammed a hand down on the desk. "Who is responsible for this?"

"According to our people in Geneva, they were unable to trace the sender before the system shut down. But someone does remember the recipient. It was sent to the Interpol email box of Lucinda Myles."

The minister threw himself into his chair, sending it rolling back. "The Myles woman again!" He glanced up at Ramirez. "Has Franks contacted you?"

"Not today," the secretary responded. "But our mole at Interpol confirmed that Myles's box had been deactivated."

"So, the email would bounce back to the sender," Alvarez said thoughtfully.

"Yes, it would. Perhaps it is someone who does not know that Myles is retired," Ramirez offered.

"Perhaps. But given that the disk Franks originally retrieved from her had a termite attached, I would suspect the woman herself," his employer surmised. He reached out to drum his fingers on the teakwood desk, then glanced up at Ramirez again. "You must try to reach Franks. He has twenty-four hours to capture the Myles woman. And he is to bring her to the cay, not to Unity City. When I know she is on her way there, I shall make arrangements for her disposition elsewhere. International Rescue knows where to find me. I do not wish them to know where to find her."

"Very good, Excellency," Ramirez said, trying hard to keep the weariness from his voice. "I shall attend to it at once."

"Do that, Fernando. Then go home," Alvarez said. "You may report in the morning."

"Yes, your Excellency." Again, Ramirez bowed, not knowing quite why, and left the office.

Alvarez sat in quiet reflection for a few moments more. We are at a stalemate, Tracy and I. He knows who I truly am just as I know who he is in regards to International Rescue. And each of us realizes that the other knows. He touched his face. I cannot make the move I originally planned, from a position of strength, hiding behind this identity. But he cannot move against me either. I have two options to get what I want from him. One is to bring the Myles woman under my thumb. She has access to him and must mean something, even if it is only friendship. The other will take longer, but I shall sow the seeds of it tomorrow. Then I shall begin to put the pieces in place so I may reach my ultimate goal.

"I don't care what it costs," Lou typed. "I will have the money sent to you as soon as you say you will do it."

Jeff paced nearby, sipping a glass of wine, as Lou argued online with her contact. The person on the other end, known only as "Shadow Rider", was both puzzled and concerned that Lou wanted her fingerprints and DNA files removed from Cindy Lou's files and put back on Lucinda's.

"Tell me why you want it done," Shadow Rider replied.

"I told you. I'm in a bit of a fix and I don't want my fingerprints traced back to Cindy Lou," Lou typed. "The other people involved know me as Lucinda and if the evidence that I'm sure was left behind leads them back to my Lucinda identity, that's fine. I want Cindy Lou to be a refuge that I can turn to while the whole thing is cleared up."

"Tell me the truth, Luci," was the next line of words typed. "Did you commit a crime?"

"No. I did not. I was the victim of one. Me and someone else I know. But the perp is dead, and I wasn't in any condition to remove all the evidence that I was there. Besides, the other person will probably tell the local cops about me."

"Did you kill this perp?"

"No, I did not. Nor did the other victim."

"Do you know who did?"

Lou glanced over at Jeff, who was turned away at that moment, then typed, "No. I was unconscious when it happened."

"Then how do you know the perp is dead?"

"A third party told me."

There was a moment's lull in the conversation, then, "Did this third party kill the perp?"

Lou sighed. "I don't know. But he pulled me and the other victim, who the perp was about to shoot, out of the vicinity."

There was another, longer pause, then Lou typed, "If it helps any, the perp was one of the people who attacked me in NC. And he had plans to haul me out of the country to meet his boss, a big-time criminal." She sent that then stopped, fingers poised over the keyboard, then typed, more slowly, "He also groped me and drugged me. The drug is why I don't know who killed him." The sentence hung there for a moment. She swallowed, then hit "enter".

"How did he grope you?" came an angry voice from behind her. She turned, startled, to see Jeff peering over her shoulder. He met her gaze, then put a hand on her shoulder, his voice moderating. "I'm sorry, Lou. I shouldn't have been reading..."

She turned back to the screen and keyboard. "No, you shouldn't have. But I'm surprised you didn't guess what he was doing. After all, Gordon had the receiver with him, and Scott was tuned in as well. If you rode with one of them, you would have heard something."

"I heard the fight. I heard him tell Shelly that you were there. And I heard him say he had to frisk you. But after that, Scott and I were headed for the house..."

"How big a crook?" The appearance of another line stopped grabbed Lou's attention, and Jeff backed away, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he did.

Lou thought for a moment then replied, "Gaat."

There was a longer pause this time and she sat back, folding her arms, staring at the screen. Finally, a single word came up. "Okay."

Lou sighed with relief and set about making payment arrangements.

Penelope brought her mount back into the barn, handing her over to Carrie Sullivan, who was brushing down one of the other horses. "Do you know whose plane landed at the airstrip?" she asked.

Carrie, a pretty brunette whose her long hair was pulled back in a sensible French braid, shook her head. "No, Milady. Mick went out to greet the plane but I didn't see who he brought back."

"Well, I guess I had best go see who my unexpected guest is," Penelope said, giving Carrie a half-hearted smile. "Please see that Val gets a special treat. She was an angel today."

"Yes, Milady," Carrie answered as she lead the mare back to her stall.

Penelope stripped off her riding gloves and removed her helmet, smoothing back the tendrils of golden hair that had escaped the French twist she had done that morning. She opened the door herself and strode inside. Parker, hearing her boots on the flagstone entryway, hurried to greet her.

"Good h'afte'noon, Milady. Ye 'ave h'a guest, Milady. Ay 'ave shown 'im t' th' drawing room," he said as he took the gloves and hat.

He was about to say more, when she interrupted. "Very good, Parker. Please see to it that a spot of tea is prepared," she replied. "I shall be in the drawing room, greeting my guest." She didn't wait for a reply from him, but walked away, curious to see who it was that was calling.

"Yus, Milady," Parker said. He shook his head. "Ay don' think milady will be too 'appy when she sees who's come t' call."

"Hello," Penelope said to the masculine figure that sat with his back to her. She took in the short brown hair, and noticed the wide shoulders beneath the khaki colored jacket. He reminded her of someone, but right then she couldn't place just who. At least it's not someone from the Tracy family. "It really is much more polite to phone ahead before one comes to call."

"Ah, but if one phones before coming to call," said the amused, British tones, "one may find oneself coming to an empty house." He rose and turned, smiling at her. "I thought I might find you here, Lady Penelope."

Her eyes widened with surprise and consternation, and she couldn't help but put a hand to her mouth as she gasped, "Mr. Southern!"

"So, how are things at home?" Lou said as Jeff came back from calling the island. She was sitting in his favorite chair again, sipping at a glass of wine and looking totally exhausted.

"Things are okay. Scott got home in one piece and has brought everyone else up to speed," he said. He didn't tell her about the few terse words he exchanged with his mother. "A guest room will be ready for you when we get there. I also took a moment to call in a request for one of the corporate jets. If we leave early enough, we should be able to get there just as she's coming out of surgery." He paused and sat down on the ottoman again, facing her. "Are you sure you want to go see her as you are? No quick change of hair color to make you look more like yourself?"

She smiled at him and leaned forward. "It would take more than just hair color to make me look like the old Lucinda and you know it. My sister saw me like this, and she needs to see me just as I am. Besides, if any hairs got left behind, the police will be able to detect that they're colored and permed anyway. I can convince Shelly not to give away the blue eyes or the beauty mark though. Rachel will cooperate, too, I'm sure. I'll need her help to get Chuck away from Shelly long enough for me to talk to her privately. Chuck wouldn't be so... accommodating, I'm afraid."

He reached out to put a hand on her knee. "You look beat. How about getting some sleep?"

"That's a good idea," Lou assented. She drained her wine glass. "Uh, Jeff? Would there happen to be any, uh, clothes I could borrow to sleep in?"

He smacked his forehead. "I knew I was missing something!" He eyed her speculatively. "I don't think you'd fit into any of Tin-Tin's things. Or Mother's for that matter. Not that anyone keeps a lot of clothes around here anyway."

"When I visited the island, I wore... let's see... I wore a pair of Scott's old sweatpants, and one of Gordon's t-shirts and his paisley dressing gown," she said with a grin. "Do you think we could round those up again?"

Jeff grinned back. "I think we could. Be right back."

He walked off, and she peeked around the edge of the chair to watch him stride down the corridor, admiring his confident gait. She sat back as he disappeared into one of the rooms.

The whole Tracy family has meant a lot to me over the years, mostly because of Lucille and my deep friendship with her. And Jeff's been important because of that connection, as well as the friendship that we two shared, even as distant as it became after Lucille's death. But now... things have changed. Now he's become important on a whole different level. There's a deeper connection there than before. He's told me, and shown me by his actions how much I've come to mean to him, even in such a short time. The question is: do I want to follow where this all seems to be leading and risk getting hurt, or worse, hurting him? Or do I want things to stay as they are, and we two remain good friends?

"Lou?" She started, and looked up to see him standing over her, a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt over his arm. "I couldn't find the paisley dressing gown," he joked. "And the t-shirt is one of mine. I hope that's okay."

She smiled, and took the clothes from him. "It's okay. I can do without the paisley anyway."

"You looked like you were deep in thought there," he commented as she got up from the chair.

"I was," she admitted, but said no more.

He walked her down to the guest room she had awakened in. "Well, goodnight, Lou," he said as he turned to go.

"Goodnight, Jeff." She put her hand on the button to open the door, when suddenly he turned back, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was powerful, and it shook her to the core.

He stepped back a bit, watching her, waiting for her reaction, his face half full of hope and half full of dread. She gazed back at him for a second, still stunned, then her face relaxed into a soft smile. She reached up--It's not far to go.--put her arms around his neck--It's not much of a stretch.--and returned the kiss--His lips are right there. He reacted by putting one hand in her hair,--These curls were meant for my fingers.--one arm around her waist--It fits around her just right.--and finishing what she had started.

It seemed a long time before they came up for air, but when they did, they both knew that everything between them had changed.

She reached out, pushed the button, and the door obediently swished open. "Goodnight, Jeff," she reiterated, pulling away little by little, loath to leave him, but knowing that if she didn't, something might follow that neither of them was ready for.

"Goodnight, Lou," he said again, loath to let her go, but acknowledging that the change between them had to have time to settle in before things went any farther.

She gave him a last, almost shy glance, stepped into the room, then the door shut decisively. He turned and crossed the hall, to where his own room was. Once inside, he flopped down on the bed, put his hands behind his head, and blew out a long, "Whew!"

Once the door was closed, she leaned her back up against it and slid abruptly down to rest on the carpet, the clothes bunched up between her belly and her thighs. She sighed an audible, "Ohhhh." Shaking her head slightly, she murmured, "Follow the leader."