Oh Yeah!

OH, yeah, but I had to get a screenshot of this (see above).

Wh0000000000000t!!

Wahooo!!!! Yeeeee haw!! It's 3:47 in the morning and I just finished my NaNoWriMo novel, one day shy of the November 30th deadline. I can't decide whether to crack open the "champagne" or collapse in bed.

Hmmm. Think it's going to be a glass the sparkling Zinfandel.
I don't think I can sleep just yet.

25 chapters!!! 51,108 words!!!!! Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!
(happy dance! happy dance! Now I'm scaring the cats!)

Chapter 25 -- From the Heights to the Depths

It's time to close your eyes now,
begin your fantasy - what does it mean?
Wake your dreams (commence now...)into reality.
Your fears are never wrong or right
Everything is neither black nor white.
In a Winter's Dream - I'll be there for you

Symphony X - A Winter's Dream-Prelude (with one small tamper on the Author's part, sorry members of the band, but I think you meant something other than what you wrote, unless the contradiction was intentional in an artsy way or something...)


Chapter 25 -- From the Heights to the Depths

Mara cursed under her breath as she chased the squirrel around her attic. The little rodent had found a hole under the eaves of her attic and had weaseled it's way in. She was currently trying to trap the animal so she could let it free outside.

Spring had arrived at Pittsville at long last. Mara would have preferred for it to be the dead of winter, but the seasons didn't await her whims.

Rafe had survived his most recent wound and was to the best of her knowledge still recovering either in University of Chicago hospital where the ambulance had taken him, or at his apartment. Or even at the Kuntzlers. Who knew. Who cared.

Mara swore again as she felt the familiar ache of grief building in her chest. She stuffed it down, the squirrel came first and then she could settle in for a nice, comfortable cry. Much to her own disgust.

She looked at the attic windows as the bushy-tailed animal scolded her as it frantically ran back and forth in the attic. "Yeah, I know how you feel, buddy," she said as she watched the animal's fear as it looked for a way out.

"I just hope you don't find those either of those two holes in the floor and disappear into the crawlspace. I really would rather not smell d-dead s-s-quirrel all summer. Aw, shit." She took a deep shuddering breath to pull herself together. "Squirrel now, moping later, squirrel now, moping later," she chanted under her breath as she walked towards the set of windows at the side of the house.

"How about if I open the windows and you figure your own way out, okay?" She pulled the windows at the side of the house open. "Does that sound like a plan?" She walked to the front of the house and knelt to open the small set of windows.

Before she could do that, she noticed that Grove's familiar pickup was parked out front. At the same time the front doorbell rang. She heaved the windows open and shouted down "Hi, Grove, I'll be there in a sec, hang on, I'm up in the attic..."

She trotted down two flights of stairs, somewhat happy that Grove had stopped by for a visit. Maybe he could help her snap out of the bout of crying she felt was going to happen otherwise.

Mara opened the door and gasped in shock. Pale as a ghost, Rafe stood on her front porch.

"Hi," he said.

Mara continued to gape at him as if she were seeing a ghost indeed.

"Um, are you going to ask me in?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, yes, please come in, please...sit down before you fall down, what on earth are you doing here? How on earth did they let you fly? You can't be completely healed. Oh, here, sit on the sofa..."

He lifted two fingers to her mouth to still her babbling. "Mother Hen," he said.

Mara wailed and burst into tears. She plopped down on the sofa next to him and buried her face in her hand, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, I meant that as a compliment, I wasn't trying to insult you. Though I don't blaim you for thinking that the way I treated you at the end in Chicago."

Mara continued to cry.

Rafe reached over and pulled her huddled body closer to him, half sprawling her across his lap. She continued sobbing into his thigh as he rubbed her back in soothing circles. "Mara, sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured.

After a few minutes she stopped crying or at least had slowed down to a hard sniffle and the occasional hiccuping sob. She couldn't believe was here. She couldn't look at him. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, she could stay in this pleasant dream where Rafe called her sweetheart and rubbed her back.

"Mara, honey." Rafe pulled at her shoulders gently to move her into a more upright position so he could see her face. He handed her a fresh kleenex as she stared at him, her eyes wide open and disbelieving.

"R-rafe," she stuttered and stopped, seemingly incapable of saying anything else. He grabbed another Kleenex, gently wiped her face and kissed her forehead. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close and simply held her for many long silent minutes. He could feel the aftershocks of her crying bout still quivering through her body.

After a while longer, he broke the silence, "Your friend Mr. Kuntzler seems to think I didn't spend enough time out here recuperating before, so he sent me here. Actually, I came of my own volition and was hoping a friendly landlady would take me in for the duration?"

Mara didn't look at him.

"Please? Your guest bed is so much more comfortable than any hotel bed and... and if I were staying here, we could talk, really talk, about us."

Mara finally looked at him. "Is there an 'us'?"

She watched Rafe closely, saw his eyes brighten with unshed tears. "Oh, Mara, I do hope so. I hope you haven't grown to hate me for being such a bastard to you while I was in the hospital. I really didn't mean to yell at you and call you an interfering nuisance or whatever I said. It had to be a mixture of the stupid part of my brain and the morphine..."

He continued after a moment. "When I thought about what I said later, I was hoping you would still come to visit the next day so I could grovel and apologize. Instead, Kevin informed me that you had...returned to Pittsville and that apparently you couldn't stay any longer. I think he wanted to give me what for, but didn't want to yell at a man while he's down and out in a hospital bed. If you had come by the next day, I could have introduced you to my mother. She came back from her out of town vacation as soon as she heard what had happened, that's why she wasn't there right away."

"Your m-mother?"

"Yes, Giulietta, the Queen Bee herself, and I mean that as in hive, not as in beeyoch. She's really a very pleasant, forceful person, in a kind way. Sort of like you. She's been buzzing around forever, nagging me to settle down..." He trailed off and broke his eye contact with Mara.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

"Do I mean what?"

"She's been nagging at you to...settle down?"

"Yes, and I thought it was high time myself and had even found the perfect woman."

"Oh. That's great for you Rafe, I hope she's a talented beauty and is good to you," she muttered looking away from him. 'I will not cry again, I will NOT cry,' she told herself.

"But the next thing I knew she had left town..."

"I'm sorry..."

"And had flown all the way back to Pittsville."

"Oh. Y-you mean me?"

"Yes my sweetest mother hen. You burrowed your way into my heart and it looks like you didn't even know you were doing that. I'm sorry for the mixed metaphors, my dear Editor, come here." Pulling her close, he kissed her, this time on the lips, a long, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart for air, Rafe said, "I know we really need to talk before I start making any assumptions, but will you at least give me another chance?"

She tremulously nodded her head, afraid to speak. He pulled her close for another tender kiss, then settled her back with his arm still around her shoulders, enjoying the evening and the warmth of Mara next to him.

The squirrel? It found the windows and fled after a long chattering scold down the stairs, causing the two lovers to burst into laughter, laughter that they could look forward to for the rest of their lives.

The End

Chapter 24 -- Why Do We Do The Things We Do

Author's Note: Strong R rating for actual violence.

Hey mister
Your eyes are full of hesitaiton
Make me wonder
What you're looking for
Maybe I want to know
Keep my reputation
And sensation

Goldfrapp - Yes Sir, I Can Boogie

Chapter 24 -- Why Do We Do The Things We Do

Pale morning came. Slowly, surely another day began in Chicago. Unknowing of the drama, of all the dramas, large and small, in the city, commuters began clogging freeways and expressways. They had no need of any other drama, the stop and go traffic eliciting plenty enough of small private dramas. Or at least abundant usage of curse words.

Mara woke and slowly opened her eyes without otherwise moving. Looking around the room, then out the window, she saw the first hint of the sunrise. She looked down where Rafe's head was resting, on her bosom, and was affectionately amused to see that he had managed to drool on her.

She breathed in a deep breath and prayed for many more mornings of drooling on her. Maybe this drooling was a result of his broken nose, maybe he normally wasn't a mouth breather. Though she knew that everyone was a mouth breather at least part of the night, she was saddened because she hadn't slept with him often enough to know if and when drooling came into play.

She started a little when she heard a faint sound out in the hallway: a cell phone ringing, evidently. Rafe didn't wake because of her twitch, he just grasped her waist more firmly and snuggled in a bit more. She smiled to herself. He had better not start fussing with the "pillows."

She heard a voice, one of the guards she supposed, talking on the phone. It was the wrong pitch for The Assassin. The Assassin seemed to be a few rungs further up the Outfit's ladder, she would bet her last dime that he rarely had to pull overnight "guard duty" like the two out in the hall.

Her eyes slid closed as her mind drifted back into a half-dream of being in her own bed with Rafe, his slumber more natural than the anti-inflammatory induced sleep he was in now. She wondered what would happen today. Would they get out? Would Rafe be the same nice guy he had been, the same one who told her he loved her? Or would he wake up and still be this distant creature she had encountered the night before. She drowsed, sleepily pondering her doubts and worries about what was to happen.

What if they were killed?

That thought jolted her fully awake again. She listened, but didn't hear the voice still talking in the doorway.

Her bladder made its wants known. She gently nudged Rafe to try to wake him up, at least long enough so that she could prop him in a sitting position against the wall. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but complied.

She stood and stretched and went to relieve herself. After she came out of the bathroom, she walked over to their "bed" and toed her shoes back on. Walking over to the window, she gazed out at what she hoped wouldn't be her last sunrise. Something had to give.

------------------

Jim Davies muttered to himself in the abandoned apartment across the street. Nothing budging, but...something had to give.

"Hey Jim!" the hushed, excited voice of his partner echoed against the walls of the empty room. "There's a woman up there on the top floor."

Davies dashed over to the window and trained his binoculars on the top floor window. "She looks like she matches that description of Kuntzler's missing female friend that may or may not be involved in this whole Lombardo / Moretti mess."

"Yeah that's what I thought, too."

Davies pulled out his cell phone to call the First's Office of Criminal Investigation, then radioed the unmarked unit down at street level. Time to start putting together a plan of action.

------------------

Mara was startled by a flash of light across the street. She peered at the window where the flash came from and saw someone was surveilling the area with binoculars. She waited until they looked her way again. It might be more of Lombardo's goons, but she had to try. She waved silently but frantically at the viewer in the window.

"What are you doig?" a plaintive voice asked behind her.

"Shhh!"

"Huh?"

"There's someone out there watching this room," she whispered in an urgent undertone.

"Get away from the window. It might be one of Lombardo's men."

"I...I don't think it is, the man has a parabolic mike, why would Lombardo be eavesdropping on us that way when all he has to do is have one of the guards outside stick his ear against the door. Or, hell, bug the room!"

She saw that the man was now aiming the dish in her direction. She said slowly and clearly, "Mara Pitts, Rafe Moretti, Kidnappees," and hoped that the microphone was sensitive enough to pick up the vibrations from the sound of those words off the window. She waited a minute and then repeated herself.

Mara looked behind her and saw that Rafe had gotten up. He was painfully walking over to the window and when he arrived there, he leaned against the wall next to the window. He peered out to try to see what Mara was looking at.

"See Rafe, that window third story from the top towards the right corner of the building. He's signaling something at us. Oh, crap it looks like semaphore. I don't know it."

"I do." Rafe squinted to try to see what the man across the way was trying to get across. "P..o..l..i... He's spellig 'police.' Okay, got tha... s...t...a...y, Stay..." He continued to whisper a translation of the brief message to Mara.

"He wats us to stay back frob the widdow, agaidst the wall."

"Why?" she whispered back.

"I'b guessig sdiper."

"Huh? Diaper!?" she exclaimed softly, puzzled.

"Crack shot. Doesd't wat to take us out. Sdiper."

"Sniper."

"Yes."

"So we just wait and hang tight next to the wall."

"Yes." Rafe gestured to the wall to their right, letting the policeman know where they would be standing. He continued to watch the signaling and told Mara that they would also try to infiltrate the building, which would be a relatively safer way than shooting across the street. The semaphorist had also told him to look out the window again in thirty minutes for an update. Rafe had signaled back an "okay."

"Well, let's just sit back down on the sleeping bags. And wait. And hope for the best." A tear ran down her face. She abruptly scrubbed it away with a hand. "Damn," she said, torn between fear and a dawning sense of relief.

When she turned away from the window, Rafe had already made his back to the sleeping bag and was setting himself down on it. She walked over to her bag, folded it and sat down crosslegged. She didn't get too close to this new, more uncertain incarnation of Rafe, didn't want to risk provoking a row and attracting the guards' attention.

-------------

The half hour was slowly dragging by, when the door flew open and The Assassin and the guards abruptly entered. "On your feet. We're leaving."

"What's happening?" asked Mara.

"Giancarlo showed up."

"You mean we're free to go?"

"Yes," said The Assassin. The slightest pause before his answer told Rafe a different story.

Springing into action, he shoved a surprised Mara to the floor as two rapid shots fired, breaking the window. Mara covered her head has shattered glass flew everywhere. There was one loud shot in the room, then she heard the whizz of a bullet fly overhead.

Stillness. Nothing moving that she could hear over her frantic breathing and pounding heart. She slowly turned her head to look towards the door and saw four bodies lying on the floor.

Four bodies...

"RAFE!" she shrieked and ran over to where he lay. Quickly rolling him onto his back to see where he had been shot, she saw blood quickly seeping through his shirt. "Oh god oh god oh god oh god," she implored as she ran to the bathroom to grab the towels.

Running back to Rafe, she folded one towel and pressed it down on him to try to stop the bleeding. She reached beneath him to see if the bullet had exited his body. It had, so close to his spine and kidneys, that she found herself uttering another anguished prayer as she folded two more towels and shoved it beneath him. She could tell by her quick touch exam that the exit wound was messier than the entry wound.

She gasped, and looked down the hallway, as the elevator came open, and three policemen burst out from it. She cried, "Oh help, don't shoot, help, help, we've got to help Rafe, oh God," she collapsed in tears over his unconscious body.

She half-heard a policeman calling for medical help as she continued to sob. She looked up at Rafe's still face, and reached out a trembling hand to feel for a pulse in his neck. Either she was shaking too hard or she couldn't feel one. She spit on her hand, and rubbed the spit around, holding her damp hand above his mouth. She couldn't feel any exhalations either.

Mara heard an ungodly howling grief sounding around her. Who was that? She realized that the keening wail was coming from her. They had killed Rafe. The policemen moved her aside and started CPR on the fallen man. She stumbled over to a wall and slowly slid down it, completely and utterly numb from shock. Rafe was dead.

Chapter 23 -- And The Rain Came Down

A/N: PG-13...

Wind is a cycle
that blows through the ocean
Blowing the rag
giving birth to your dreams
Waiting but it's holding me
down to this star
You were always the one to adore
You open up this spiderweb and die
You twist his words, there's no sense to his verbs
It's been raining for years
You're waking me, this urgency you hide
You're everytime I wake, you see me hide
Just don’t trick me
Just don’t stop here
It's been raining for years

Goldfrapp - Sartorius

Chapter 23 -- And The Rain Came Down

Mara found herself pacing the big room again, waiting for Rafe to emerge from the bathroom. The long minutes turned into what felt like at least an hour. She finally became fed up and went to peer into the bathroom.

Rafe was still sitting on the toilet where she had left him. He hadn't moved. She hoped he was just dozing and not unconscious. Surely he would have slid off his perch if he were unconscious?

She warily walked in to the bathroom, not wanting to be accused again of hovering, but wanting to see if he was all right. "Rafe?"

He was startled by her voice and jerked, almost succeeding in losing his seat. The wash cloth on his face fell to the floor as he looked at her as best he could, with a bewildered expression on his face. "Wha..?"

"You've been sitting in here for a long time. I got worried."

"Dod worry about be. I'b fide."

Mara had to bite back a mildly hysterical giggle. Apparently the ibuprofen had done nothing to bring down the swelling in his face. "Well," she said unsteadily. "You want to come out to the main room where you can sit in your sleeping bag and at least be warm?"

He was silent for a long moment and then shrugged. She wondered if she should have checked for a blow to the head, he had been acting in such an uncharacteristic manner. Usually Rafe was ever the gentleman with her, but their last conversation had bordered on acrimonious.

"I'b fide, feel good," he muttered. "Took sob bore ibuproden."

"How much more," her voice mildly alarmed.

"Four bore tabs."

At least that explained his being a bit out of it. Mara made an executive decision, figuring he wasn't completely in his right mind. "Okay, Mr. Moretti, we're going to go out and bundle you up in a sleeping bag so you can get some proper rest," she said trying to emulate good bedside manner.

He shrugged again.

"You don't get a choice in this one, mister. We're getting out of this bathroom."

"'kay," he whispered.

"Can you stand up on your own?"

"Thik so."

"I'll be right by your side if you feel the least bit wobbly."

"'kay." He stood up slowly and teetered, then steadied. Mara put his right arm over her shoulder and slowly walked out of the bathroom with him.

She opened up one of the sleeping bags and helped him sit down on it. "I'm just going take off your shoes. Okay?"

"'kay."

She took off his shoes and he lay back down, his head on the pillow. Wheezing a bit, he uttered, "Cat breathe."

"You were doing all right standing. How about if you sit up and lean back against me." Mara grabbed the other sleeping bag and opened it next to him and sat down on the end. She helped him slide back to rest his upper body against her and she heard his breathing become easier. She zipped up the bag he was in and then brought the bottom half of her bag up to cover them both.

Gently cradling him against her, she felt his breathing slow into sleep. After kissing the top of his head, she laid her head back against the wall to try to catch a few winks herself.

--------------------

Before midnight, the Deputy Superintendent called the Kuntzlers one more time to let them know that the parabolic mike had picked up something like voices. However they were unable to pinpoint the floor where they came from, yet. Somewhere in the top third of the building.

The team at the site was going to go up into one of the occupied apartment buildings across the street to see if they could get a better bearing on the location of the voices. They had problems securing a place in an unoccupied apartment towards the top of the building as the landlord had been been out. Finally, the man had come home and they were able to set up in the vacant apartment.

Kevin relayed this information to Lara. She sighed, "We might as well try and get some rest. I don't know if I can sleep at all just yet, but..."

"Let's just lie on top of the bed with a comforter over us. I'm just going to kick off my shoes, but I do want to stay dressed in case I need to leave in a hurry." Suiting action to words, he walked into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes. He set the cordless phone on the bedside table and grabbed a comforter from the bedroom closet.

Kevin turned around to find his wife already lying on the bed with her shoes off. He unfolded the comforter to cover her and then crawled under the other half.

"Well, Mrs. Kuntzler. How was your day?" he asked half humorously, trying to think of something to talk about other than the tense situation.

----------

Don Carlo sat in his office drumming his fingers. Where the hell was Giancarlo? He was worried that the young man had been killed and the kidnapping of the reporter and his girlfriend was all for naught.

----------

Mara listened to Rafe's breathing as he slept and prayed for them to get out of this nightmare more or less in one piece. Rafe would need to have a doctor look him over. She hoped it would end sooner rather than later.

Chapter 22 -- All We Like Sheep

A/N: PG-13 for language and implied violence.

Oh I miss your kiss
When you are gone
I was young and foolish
Didn't know what I was doing
Didn't know I'd lost you
'Til you were gone
Oh I miss your loving
When you are gone

Robert Palmer - Early In The Morning

Chapter 22 -- All We Like Sheep

Mara stood by the window of the abandoned apartment watching the sky darken towards evening. The sky itself was a hazy deep pink, but the delimiter of the night could be seen to the east, where the pink faded into a deeper blue.

She had spent most of the day pacing. She had stopped only to force herself to eat the fast food that The Assassin's henchmen had delivered for her. Her nerves made her feel like vomiting, but she wasn't going to turn down what might be her last meal.

Now, she found herself by the window. The colors she saw were blurring together as her eyes swam with tears yet again. She was starting to get angry again. Angry at the situation, angry at Rafe, angry that she kept crying. Surely she had shed enough tears for several years' worth in the past few days. Anger felt better than bleak despair.

She whirled away from the window when she heard the door unlocking. She saw one of the guards hurl Rafe into the room, where he landed on all fours, his head drooping.

Frozen by their actions, she looked away from him when The Assassin snarled at her, "Why don't you two put your heads together and figure out where Giancarlo is. Mr. Moretti certainly doesn't seem to be able to figure out himself." And with that, he slammed the door, blocking out the light that had shone in from the hallway.

The slamming of the door galvanized Mara into action. "Rafe," she said desperately as she ran over to where he was slowly dragging himself up off the ground. She helped him stand and gasped when she saw his face, any anger she might have felt disappearing instantly.

He was now sporting two black eyes, the second one courtesy of what appeared to be a broken nose. She winced in sympathy. "Rafe?" she asked.

"Shit." he muttered indistinctly and spat. Mara jerked away a little at his angry profanity and action, but then put one of his arms over her shoulder and herded him into the bathroom. She sat him on the toilet lid again, and turned around to switch on the light.

Steeling herself, she turned around to face Rafe, concerned that the damage she would find would be worse than what she had seen in the twilight. His head was drooping again and he seemed to be holding himself upright by force of will.

Rafe's research and subsequent meeting with Don Lombardo had evidently not gone well to put it mildly. His eyes and nose looked like one big bruise.

Mara coaxed Rafe around so that he was sitting forward on the toilet. She got him to sit back further, so he could rest against the tank. Tipping his head back, she applied a wet, cold washcloth over his eyes and nose. He flinched slightly, but settled back again.

"Rafe, I'm sorry I can't do anything about your poor nose right now, I haven't the foggiest how to reset a broken nose and..."

"Dote dewspaper editors doe everything?" he challenged halfheartedly his swollen nose blurring his speech.

"No, afraid not. Don't try to talk, just sit there. Here, sit up for a sec." She caught the wash cloth as it fell off his face. "Take these," she handed him four ibuprofen tablets and then put a cup of water to his lips.

He reached up and took the cup from her in a sudden motion, "I cad drik by byself" he grumbled.

"Okay, sorry, sorry."

"Dad it, you're apologizig agaid. Stop it."

Mara stood in silence watching him drink the water.

"Ad quit hoverig," he snarled a bit more loudly.

What the hell was the matter with him? She knew he was in pain, but this angry grouchiness was something she had never experienced from him. "Okay." she said, then more firmly. "Okay. I'll quit hovering, but you tip your head back and I'll put the washcloth back on your face. Hopefully the ibuprofen will bring some of the swelling down."

She rewet the washcloth and placed it over his eyes and nose. Stepping back, she wiped a stray tear from her eye and was starting to get angry again at herself for being...such a wet dishrag. She quietly stepped out of the bathroom, and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar and went back to the window to stare into the night.

------------------

Kevin Kuntzler and the Deputy Superintendent of the CPD's Bureau of Investigative Services were seated in the First District office for the Organized Crime Division. They were listening to the speaker phone, where the voice of a policeman was giving them a report on what was happening.

An all-points bulletin had gone out on the Lincoln's license plates. A policeman in an unmarked car had spotted it and successfully followed it first to the building where Don Lombardo's offices were located. Another unmarked car followed it to the abandoned apartment building. There was now a third unmarked car about a block away, with detectives monitoring the building.

Day was fading into night. Kevin was exhausted by the events of the day. He rubbed his face with one hand and twiddled a pencil on the arm of the with the other.

The Deputy Superintendent took a long look at him. "Mr. Kuntzler, you should go home now. We're watching the situation. I don't know what's going on in there, but there's a van on its way that's equipped with a parabolic microphone. They'll try and listen in and see if there's any way we can move in with a team. We know for sure that Mr. Moretti is in there. As for Ms. Pitts, there's been no sightings of her, but she may very well be being held somewhere by Don Lombardo's outfit. It's just a matter of time."

"Yeah, I'd better get home, I'm sure Lara's climbing the walls."

"Please give your wife my regards. She's been very helpful in raising money to build that Girls Club on the North Side. It's given a lot of latchkey girls a safe place to go after school."

"I will. Thank you again, sir."

Kevin walked down to the District's parking garage and retrieved his car. He unlocked the door and got in, sitting in his car for long minutes before he could find the energy to put the key in the ignition.

He rubbed his eyes and started the car. No use air-dreaming here. He was sure that Lara was frantic. He was very anxious himself. Two of their friends were possibly in mortal danger and, even with the news world at his fingertips, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking garage beneath his apartment building. He had been glad to find that it was just after rush hour and the drive north on Lake Shore Drive had been fairly hassle free.

Kevin found his wife in the apartment, unconsciously echoing Mara's pacing. She heard and saw Kevin come in and enveloped him in a bone cracking hug.

"God, Kevin, I don't want to sound selfish and they are my friends, too, but... I'm so damn glad it's not you that's been kidnapped."

He tipped Lara's face up and looked in her eyes for a long moment, cherishing her. Their lips met in a desperate kiss.

For long moments they stood there, cradling and comforting each other. Kevin broke the kiss off and led his wife over to the sofa, where they both sat down.

She broke the silence first. "What did the police tell you?"

"They managed to tail the car Rafe left in from the office. Apparently, they were up in Don Lombardo's impenetrable hive of offices for a couple of hours. I guess the security there is crazy since the last time the police tried to nail the Don. They left with Rafe, looking rather worse for wear..."

Lara interrupted, "What did they do to him?"

"The plainclothesman said it looked like they had been using him as punching bag. I just wish I knew what the hell Don Carlo wanted out of Rafe." Kevin took Lara's hand and held it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, trying to give some cold comfort.

"So where did they go after the oh so charming visit with the Don?"

"They drove south and have been holed up in an abandoned apartment building that's scheduled for demolition in about three months. When I left the PD, the Deputy Superintendent advised me that they were going to try and eavesdrop on the building with a parabolic mike. So far as they know there isn't anyone else in the building. So if they can hear them, they can figure out what floor they're on. So far there haven't been any lights on in any of the apartments, so they haven't been able to tell."

"So what happens now?"

"We wait, Lara. We fucking sit and wait. And hope neither of them is killed."

Chapter 21 -- Strange Days, Indeed

A/N: This chapter is a strong PG-13 for potential violence.



It's hot, too hot for me mama
but I can hardly wait
my eyes they're burning mama
and I can feel my body shake
don't stop, don't stop me mama
oh make the pain, make it go away - hey
no I won't hurt you mama
but its getting so hard - ooooh

Genesis - mama

Chapter 21 -- Strange Days, Indeed

Somewhere between the city twilight and morning, they lost the rest of their clothing. They made love quietly, as if not wanting to give their presence, their activity away. And as quietly they went back to sleep.

-------

Mara woke when the first tendrils of dawn shone through the windows, and the sky was a pale wheat color, the blue-black of the night having faded, but daylight blue was still a promise. Her head was resting on the pillow. Rafe was half sprawled across her, his head resting on her breast, one hand holding her waist.

She stroked his hair and whispered, "Rafe. Love, it's time to get up and get dressed. You can nap a little more after that."

He murmured something incoherent, and drew her closer, settling back into deeper sleep. Mara sighed, wishing that they weren't here, in this situation, wishing that neither of them had to stir. She wanted to go back to sleep, and just hold Rafe, but she also didn't want anyone bursting in on them in their state of undress.

"Rafe. Wake up." She shook his shoulder more urgently.

He finally stirred and lifted his head to look at Mara "What's going on?" he asked blearily. Unthinking, he reached up to rub his black eye, and yelped. "Damn!"

"Ooops. Um, nothing's going on, just...we need to clean up and get dressed."

"'kay," he muttered, untangling himself from Mara, grabbing his clothes and padding naked to the bathroom. Mara had a long minute in which to admire his strong back and firm buttocks and the movement of his muscles beneath his skin.

He began to shut the door, but then stuck his head around it, "And no ogling nude men, okay?"

Mara blushed and pulled the top sleeping bag back over her head. It smelled of Rafe and their love. She wanted so badly to just close her eyes and let her mind drift, surrounded by his smell...

Suddenly the bag was lifted off her face and she started.

"Hey, it's just me. I see what you had planned here, you wanted to get me up so you could hog this comfortable bed," joked Rafe.

"I'm getting up, I'm getting up..."

"Hop to it, lady. I want to lie back down and doze a little more."

She stretched and shivered as the cool air in the room hit her breasts. She looked up at Rafe and saw that he was admiring the view...of her stretching.

"If you keep lollygagging and stretching like that, I'm going to have to lose the clothes again, and I fear that would be...counter productive at this point."

"Okay, I'm up." She grabbed her clothes from where she had tossed them next to the combined sleeping bags. "And no ogling of nude women!"

"Can I make an exception for the one present?" he teased.

Mara bundled her pile of clothes together and sprinted to the bathroom with them and as much of her dignity as she could still intact. She closed the door after grinning out at Rafe, grabbed a washcloth and filled the sink with warm, soapy water.

--------

Two hours later the sun was full up and was slowly warming up the room. "It's almost comfortable in here with the sun shining in," observed Mara.

"It does seem to make a difference. It's been so chilly in here with just me and the rain. So much nicer to have a roommate."

They had dozed for a while longer, fully dressed, then sat up and started looking through Mara's notes.

Rafe shook his head in exasperation, "It's really so simple it's stupid. Don Lombardo hides away any knowledge of his prodigal son from the rest of La Famiglia. Prodigal son disappears from the scene so completely that even the don can't find him. Don L reads my articles about city gang and drug activities, sees the mention of a Giancarlo, without a last name, mind you. I spoke to him, Giancarlo that is, once for about ten seconds. He was spouting some nonsense about who knows what."

"So the Don, having read my stories figures that I must know where the young man is. Before he can pull me in to find the kid for him, Giancarlo takes matters into his own hands, robs a bank and calls to tip me to make sure I'll be there. He then, unsuccessfully, tries to off me. He drives off into the night with my car, which is most probably in parts on fences all over this city by now, so it's not worth it to go car hunting. My boss makes the executive decision, that, since I'm apparently losing my marbles, I need a time out in South Dakota."

"Rafe, I only made you stand in the corner that one time!" she laughed at his description of the time he spent in South Dakota. "And I never had a chance to spank you..." her voice trailed off as the key rattled in the door.

They both watched as The Assassin and both guards came in. "Stand up, Mr. Moretti, you're coming with us," he said with a pleasant smile.

Mara shivered with dread when she saw that smile. She stood with Rafe and held onto him.

"Ms. Pitts, you're not going anywhere, so please let go of Mr. Moretti."

"Rafe," she gasped in an urgent under voice.

"It's okay, Mara," he comforted her, when both of them knew that it most certainly was not okay.

She turned him around to face her, and kissed him, lingering on his lips. "I love you," she whispered.

"Come on, Mr. Moretti, we haven't got all day."

Rafe hugged her firmly, let her go and strode towards the waiting men. With the guards flanking him, they went out the door. The Assassin spoke again, "We'll just leave you here, Ms. Pitts to assure Mr. Moretti's good behavior. I'll be back with lunch in a couple of hours."

He closed the door. Mara sat back down on her sleeping bag with a thud and hid her face in her hands.

---------------

After several minutes of silence in the car, The Assassin moved his gaze back to the interior after staring quietly out the window. They were driving north on Lake Shore in the same anonymous Lincoln Continental that had transported Mara the previous day.

"So, Mr. Moretti."

"Yes?" Rafe replied calmly, even though he was anything but.

"Don Lombardo figured you'd need a little help finding young Giancarlo and a little encouragement. Ms. Pitts is your, shall we say, encouragement to succeed..."

"Don't even think about hurting Mara," Rafe growled. "She innocent, she's got nothing to do with this. It's my story the Don's latched on to, not anything to do with her."

"Well, well. You'll just have to find Giancarlo, won't you," The Assassin smiled pleasantly, apparently enjoying Rafe's anger and frustration at the situation. "And don't, I beg you, even think about trying to overpower me. If I'm not back at the Don's office by a certain time, your acquaintance with Ms. Pitts shall be cut tragically short. Just sit there like a good boy. The Don has faith in you. He's even going to let you go do some more...research. So where would you like to go? Alas, none of our fine neighborhood police precinct offices are an option."

Rafe rubbed his forehead thinking quickly about where the best bet to go would be. "Take me to my office. I've got to check in with my boss, anyway, or he'll be the one calling the police and filing a missing persons' report. I can call him from my office and let him know I'm okay and then I'll have more time to...try and find the Don's missing son."

"That's fine. Just remember I'll be coming with you to remind you that I'm on a schedule as well..." The Assassin trailed off meaningfully.

They rode the rest of the way in silence to the tall building that housed the offices of Kuntzler News. Rafe and the man got out of the car and walked into the building. At the lobby security desk, the guard recognized Rafe and didn't demand his ID. Rafe signed out a visitor's pass for The Assassin.

When he was finally seated in his office, Rafe drew a breath. The entry into the building and the ride up to the 23rd floor had been rife with anxiety. He gestured to one of the chairs in his office. "I'm going to call my boss Kevin now. Is that all right?"

"Just so long as you don't try to do anything crazy like dial 911 or call that security guard. I'd really hate to have to shoot my way out of here." He pulled back one side of his jacket to reveal a holstered Beretta semiautomatic.

"Okay. Nothing crazy or stupid. I'm just calling my boss." Rafe quickly dialed the extension for Kevin's office praying that he was there and not in some interminable meeting. He almost sighed in relief when he heard Kevin answer.

"Kuntzler. Hey, is that the real Rafe Moretti or is someone just using your phone. I've a bone to pick with you. You show up, but now Mara's gone missing. I was going to call the cops on either one or both of you this afternoon. So fill me in, just what the HELL was this lead you were so hot on the tail of?"

"Easy, boss, Kevin. It's a pretty good story, but..."

"No Buts, Moretti." Kevin was seriously pissed. "Just tell me where the hell you've been and if you know where the hell Mara is."

"Mara's here?" said Rafe, feigning surprise. Turning to look at his unwanted visitor, he saw that the man had pulled out the Beretta and now was aiming it at him.

'Hurry up,' mouthed The Assassin.

"Well I hope I can find some time to see her, but as they say, 'Watson, the game's afoot.' I've found some interesting follow up material to that series I did a few weeks ago. Got to run now, I'll check back in a day or so. Bye." Rafe set the handset down in its cradle.

"Let's get moving so we can check in with Don Lombardo," The Assassin said, holstering his weapon.

Rafe let out a long sigh and preceded the man out of his office.

-----------

In another office on another floor, Kevin Kuntzler stared at his phone, startled to the core. Rafe had just given him a preset code phrase borrowed from Sherlock Holms to let him know that he was in deadly danger.

He dialed one of his other reporters and told him to go down to the lobby and watch for Rafe, but not to say anything to him or do anything. He was just to keep an eye open to see where Rafe was off to now.

After he hung up with the reporter, he called the police. He asked to speak with the Downtown Precinct's superintendent, bullying his way past the man's secretary using his name to get through.

He sighed with relief when the man came on the phone. Kevin briefed him on what was going on, or as much as he knew. He now knew from what Rafe had said that this was indeed something to do with Don Lombardo, but who knew what.

When he hung up the phone, it immediately rang again. It was the reporter calling on his cell phone from the lobby. He had seen Rafe and another man, who appeared to be armed leaving in a black Continental. He gave Kevin the plate numbers from the car and that the car was last scene moving southbound on Wabash.

Kevin relayed this information to the precinct. He let out a long breath and rubbed his face with one hand, wondering just what the hell WAS going on. And where the hell Mara was.

Chapter 20 -- The Colors of Night

Author's Note and Warning: We are now back into hard R to NC-17 territory for sex. You have been warned



It's a strange day
No colours or shapes
No sound in my head
I forget who I am
When I'm with you
There's no reason
There's no sense
I'm not supposed
To feel
I forget who I am
I forget...

Goldfrapp - Utopia

Chapter 20 -- The Colors of Night

Mara stood by the window looking out into the semi-darkness that was night in Chicago. She couldn't tell if the sky was overcast any more, the ambient light of the city made it impossible to pick out any stars. It was strange to see the night thus denuded of stars. There was no moon in site.

She felt Rafe's hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Mara. It's time for bed, such as it is," he chuckled.

"Look at the night. I forget how..."

"You forget how?"

"How many stars are out there. Makes me realize why violence is such an easy thing in the city. There's nothing out there besides other people to tell you how small you are. And from people, all you get is small. You lose the feeling of being a small part of something so much bigger, bigger than you can even comprehend. Just being people-small is degrading to those who have been made small. Being a mote in the universe, that is being a small part of something incredible. And everyone around you is part of something incredible. So why would you hurt anything...so amazing?"

"She's an editor and a philosopher. Has the city always made you feel small?"

"Yes. It's overwhelming. It's a gift and a curse that you can disappear into."

"A gift and a curse?"

"Never mind, I'm just...wishing I could see some stars tonight."

Rafe put his arm around her and led her to their makeshift sleeping bag bed. "I'm going to take a chance and be a small part of something incredible. It gives me courage somehow, that even if I cease to exist..."

"Don't say that!"

"We all...stop someday. For some it's just sooner rather than later. Anyway, from to the sublime to the ridiculous. This has given me to take off my shoes, for tonight anyway. I hope you'll join me? He toed off his shoes and crawled into the double sleeping bag, leaving the side with the pillow for Mara.

"You are such a gentleman, but I don't need a pillow, when I can rest my head on your shoulder...if you don't mind and it won't hurt you..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"Get in bed, woman," he mock-growled at her.

She got in, but made sure he had the pillow first. She compromised and used her backpack as a pillow.

Closing her eyes to the darkness around her, she took a deep breath. She could smell Rafe, who smelled surprisingly un-rank after being cooped up in less than hospitable circumstances for several days. She commented on it, "You smell good."

"Hah!"

"You do. Here, I'll prove it." She slid closer and sniffed his shoulder. "Not bad considering."

"I do have access to a bathroom, you know," he said, slightly miffed. "What I don't have access to is clean clothes."

"You want to take them off? Let them air out overnight?"

"I don't know if that would be smart..."

"You know me. I'll probably wake up at the crap, er I mean, crack of dawn, especially with the big window facing northeast."

"You're just trying to get me naked."

"Rafe, I'm not trying to seduce you."

"Hah!"

"Okay, maybe a little."

"So explain to me, Ms. Pitts, just how do you seduce someone just a little?"

"Like this." She propped herself up on one elbow and brushed a strand of hair off his face. She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, then on his good eye and ever so gently, his blackened eye. "I love this nose," she murmured, kissing the bridge and then the tip of it.

Slowly she moved in and lightly kissed his mouth. Then she lay back down. "That's how I seduce someone a little."

"Nope, overshot 'a little' by a large margin into 'a lot.' Your simplest touch..." he paused. He brought her hand up to his mouth and began planting lingering kisses on it. When he sucked one finger into his mouth, Mara shivered with the sensation that shot through her whole body from that simple touch.

"You're cold?" he asked. "Get closer Mara, I promise I won't bite...unless you ask me very nicely."

She softly laughed, a husky sound that let him know how much his attentions to her hand had moved her.

"Come closer," he murmured again.

She slid right next to him, and he put his arm behind her head. They were so close that their entire sides, from ribcage on down were touching.

"It's nice to have someone else churning out the body heat in this joint besides me," he whispered in her ear, then kissed it. She sighed and rolled to put her arm around his waist.

"Ah, ah, ah," he warned, and took her arm and turned her back flat on her stomach. "If you're hugging me, I can't touch you like I want to."

"How...do you want to touch me?"

"Like this." Rafe stroked her face and trailed down her neck, to her collar bone. He rolled toward her and slipped open the top button of her blouse. "And this," as he kissed the skin at the top of her sternum. "And this" Slipping a couple more buttons opened, he kissed between her breasts.

Mara felt her breathing speed up. Such simple touches, and yet she was turning into a warm limbless puddle at the hands and lips of this man.

Rafe untucked and unbuttoned the rest of her shirt. He was delighted to see that she was wearing a pretty, lacy front-clasp bra. Undoing the clasp, he cradled her right breast with one hand. He ran a thumbnail lightly over the nipple.

She didn't know if it was the situation they were in, or her relief to know that he felt something for her, but she had never been turned on by a touch so quickly. She arched her back up, pressing her breast into his hand.

He ran his tongue around the nipple of her other breast, then drew back, causing her to gasp and arch toward him.

"Oh, god, Rafe," she sighed and tangled her hand in his hair when he dipped back down to caress her breast with his tongue again. He suckled the nipple more firmly and she arched up toward him again. "God, Rafe. We've got...to stop. This isn't a..." he cut off her protest by kissing her.

His hand worked its way down her waist and around to the front, until it found the snap to her jeans. He unsnapped them, then his hand wandered back up again, to fondle her breasts, alternating between them, as he continued his compelling kiss.

They broke off when both felt the need to draw a breath. She undulated toward his hand, silently begging for more attention to her breast. He drew the nipple of the other breast into his mouth, this time. His wandering hand made its way down to the front of her jeans, unzipping them.

Slowly, so slowly, that she would have berated him for his slowness had the circumstances been different, his hand slid into her underwear. His middle finger found her cleft and slid in, searching for her clitoris.

He rubbed the one finger up and down, slower than she could bear, as she writhed under his hand. She groaned as he slid that one finger into her vagina and let it rest there, his thumb just in contact with her nub. Her hips bucked up toward his hand. He left it there, unmoving.

"God, Rafe, do something, I'm, I'm dying here."

"You're looking for the little death?" he asked lifting his mouth from her breast. His breath on her damp nipple made her shiver. She reached her hand towards his to try to get him to move. "Don't," he stopped her with a word.

Mara lay her hand back down beside her, where it clutched at the sleeping bag as he stroked her leisurely, apparently in no hurry. He slid two fingers into her, then a third, and she gasped at the full feeling. "Too much," she gasped. He slid his fingers out, but reinserted his index and ring finger into her, his thumb still stroking her nub.

"Let me...guess," she panted, "You played piano...when you...were.. a kid... a veritable...prodigy...with your...hands aaauaghh. She groaned out as she felt the beginnings of her orgasm.

He felt her muscles clench his fingers and he slid them out of her, teasing her nether lips, but not quite ever touching her where she most wanted to be touch.

"You...tease! Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please, just please."

"Please what, Mara. I want to hear you say it. Your voice is so sexy when you're aroused. I want to hear you tell me. Tell me. Just. What. You. Want."

She blushed furiously at his request, but breathed out, "Please, please put your fingers in me, in my vagina. Oh!"

"Okay, now what else would you like me to do? Do stop moving your hips around, if you can," he dared her. She could see his wicked smile glint at her in the city-lit twilight.

Mara let out a half-groan, half sigh as she tried to stop her hips from moving. She almost succeeded, except for the persistent tremors of pleasure that ran through her whole body, starting from where Rafe's hand rested.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Please...rub my clitoris...with your thumb..likebefore, ohgodyes..."

"Since you asked so nicely I could hardly refuse, now could I?" He started plunging his fingers in and out of her.

She shuddered and shuddered, no longer able to keep her hips still. He pressed and circled her nub more firmly. She opened her mouth and gasped out, "Rafe, love you. Her gasp turned into a keen of pleasure. He covered her mouth with his to keep her cry from sounding very loudly in the room, as he felt her internal muscles spasm strongly and rhythmically against his fingers.

Rafe lightened his touch on her clitoris, but kept a steady pressure on it, prolonging her orgasm. When she calmed to mere tremulousness, he pulled her close, holding her, feeling her body vibrate with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Mara felt as limp as a very cooked noodle, as she caught her breath in Rafe's arms. She angled her head upward and lightly nipped his earlobe. "So do I get to return the pleasure?" she breathed into his ear.

She felt rather than heard his sigh of pleasure. "I hope you do feel...up...to it, you were so...inspiring just now," she husked into his ear.

"Hell, woman. Are you trying to kill me?" he murmured under his breath.

"What was it you were saying about little deaths?" she asked as she pushed him back on his back.

"If you're going to do anything, do it quickly. You falling apart was such a turn on, well, these jeans aren't very comfortable right now."

"Let's see what we can do about that." she sat up and undid his belt and opened the button and fly of his jeans. Running her hand over his erection, she laughed a little, "What. No silk boxers today, just tighty-whities? Not that I'm complaining. Here." She tugged at the waistbands of his jeans and underwear. "Let's just slide these out of the way."

Rafe lifted his hips, flinching a bit at the strain on his ribs, but he wasn't going to stop her now. Not when she had such a determined...interested...gleam in her eye. He wanted to feel her lovely warm mouth around him. He helped her guide his underwear down over his erection.

She slid his jeans down, just past his buttocks. "Now. It's your turn to...hold...still." She pinned his hips down with her hands and licked the underside of his cock, using her full tongue firmly against it. He groaned in response.

Surprising him, she suddenly slid her mouth down over his penis, slowly sliding it in further as she relaxed her throat muscles. He shuddered with pleasure as she took him all the way in.

She slowly, painstakingly moved her mouth up and down on his cock. One hand stilled his hips, and the other went down to fondle his balls, running her fingernails gently over his flesh. His hips jerked and she lifted her mouth off of him. "Ah, ah. What did I ask you to do? Let's see if you can hold your hips still, Mr. Moretti."

Leaning back over him, she enveloped him with her mouth. His hand found her hair and tangled up in it stroking her head as she sucked on him. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensations she was evoking.

She sped up her attentions and he found he could no longer keep his hips still. He bucked up to meet her mouth as she went down on him. The hand that was torturously fondling his balls snuck a finger behind them and rubbed his perineum, stimulating him further.

He groaned quietly as his thrusting quickened and became uneven. She could feel his balls start to tighten up, and became more vigorous in her licking and sucking. Another long, sotto voce groan sigh came from Rafe as he spent in her mouth. She swallowed and kept licking and sucking at him as he shuddered beneath her.

Pulling up the covers over them both, she put her head on his shoulder and listen to him catch his breath. "Now, I'd say it's bedtime for Mr. Moretti."

"Amen," Mr. Moretti responded on a long sigh.

Soon, they fell asleep, huddled closely together, half unclothed.

Chapter 19 -- I Must Have Dreamed A Thousand Dreams

A/N: Still in PG-13 land. I suspect everything from here on out may be a strong R, or worse. You have been warned...



oh lordy,
trouble so hard
oh lordy,
trouble so hard,
don't nobody know
my troubles but God

Moby - Natural Blues

Chapter 19 -- I Must Have Dreamed A Thousand Dreams

Rafe pulled Mara more tightly into his arms. They stood in silence, taking comfort in each other's presence.

They broke apart, and turned toward the door when they heard the key in the door. The Assassin stepped into the room with the promised first aid kit. "I'll be back with some food for you later." With that, he left.

"That's it?? A stupid first aid kit and a promise of food! How long have you been up here? What's...?" Mara sputtered.

"Shh. I've been up here about three days."

"Why did they kidnap you? Why in God's name did they beat you?"

"Don Lombardo seems to think I know something about the whereabouts of his son, Giancarlo."

"Who is this mystery son? Kevin seemed to think that Lombardo was after you for something, but nobody knew what. I've had a crash course in everything you've written in the past five years, Lombardo AND the Chicago Outfit. I don't remember any mention of the man having a son or any offspring."

"Maybe he's trying to protect The Outfit from Giancarlo's extrafamilial activities."

Mara raised an eyebrow at Rafe, "So?"

"Young Giancarlo is interested in more adventuresome activities than the usual run of the mill racketeering, blackmail and embezzlement -- the white collar crimes The Outfit usually indulges in. He's into robbing banks, and perhaps drugs as well."

"So what do you have to do with this...family feud?"

"Let me go back a bit. I need to tell you what I know. We can compare notes then, and see if we can make any more sense of this mess."

"Let me take care of you first, while there's still daylight. There's a fixture up there, but no light bulb, so I suspect it must get pretty dark?"

"Yes. The only room with a working light in this...apartment, or whatever it was is in the bathroom. I'd probably not look so frightful, because there is running water. However there's no mirror, and I was concerned about doing more damage. I can't tell if there's a cut mixed in with my shiner, and..."

Mara put her hand up to his mouth and smiled, "You're starting to sound like me when I get nervous. Come. Show me where this lovely dee-luxe bathroom is in this suite. Let's clean you up a bit and then we can sort through what's going on."

He took her hand and lead her to one of the doors along the walls of the room. "This is the only one that opens. I don't know what's in the rest of them, if anything. All the other doors are locked." He opened the bathroom door and flipped on the light.

What may have at one time been an opulent bathroom was illuminated. Tiled in a soft aqua with matching sink and toilet, Mara saw. "That is such a gorgeous color. And it looks like real ceramic tile, none of that faux plastic stuff. Nice." She commented when she saw the spot where a bathtub presumably had stood. All that was left was a capped drain in the floor and two capped pipes. "Guess the tub musta been something, if it was taken out so neatly."

Rafe chuckled. "I had a feeling when I saw the color scheme for this room, that you'd covet it. What is it about you and that shade anyway?"

"You must think I'm incredibly silly, drooling over the bathroom where we're being held as...prisoners? or whatevers? Kidnapees? No, that would be just you, I came of my own free will."

"Jesus, Mara! You're nuts!"

"Yes, I know. And probably certifiable. I'm adding to your worries by being here, but when Mr. Anonymous Assassin told me he knew where you were, I could NOT not go with him."

She ran the water in the sink for a few minutes, and pulled the knob to shut the drain, letting the sink fill. "Wow, I'm surprised. This water is actually hot. Wonder where they've got the water heater stashed?"

"Aren't we lucky? All the comforts of home," Rafe interjected with false sincerity.

"Come in here." She grabbed a wash cloth off the towel rack. "Hey, nice towels, too!"

"How hot is that water?"

"Not too hot, I'm a wuss when it comes to hot water, at least for bathing or washing my hands. I make the exception for washing dishes, of course, as well you know," she mock-boasted.

"Yeah, and that tepid stuff you call coffee. How you can drink it after it's been sitting there and cold..."

"I thought iced coffee was trendy! Now, enough chatter, come here!" She took him by the hand and pulled him into the bathroom. Putting the lid down on the toilet, she said, "Sit. You're too tall for me to reach up. I wonder if there's anything antibacterial in that first aid kit I can add to this water, though it does smell nice and chlorine-filled. Chicago water, amazing stuff, you can drink AND swim in it. Can you tip your head back a bit?" She smoothed his long dark hair off his face, securing it in back with a rubber band.

She looked through the kit and saw it was a fairly standard kit. Though there were some unexpected additions, the most notable being the 3 inch wide surgical tape and way too much gauze for the average kit.

Mara pulled out the roll of tape and its twin. "Good. We can use this to tape your ribs just in case there's anything broken and not just bruised. It will be easier for you to breath."
She put them back into the box. Riffling around the case some more, she found an antibacterial ointment as well as liquid antibacterial soap. She put the ointment on the side of the sink, and added some of the liquid soap to the water in the sink, swirling it around with her washcloth.

Wringing most of the water out of the washcloth, she started cleaning the blood off Rafe's face. He flinched a little when she cleaned the cut made by Lombardo's ring. Other than that, he kept his face blank. When she was done with the washcloth, she dabbed some of the ointment on the cuts, and covered up the ones on his cheeks with the small butterfly bandages she found. "That one cut is kinda deep. I hope it won't scar."

Rafe gave her a lopsided grin. "It'll just give my face more character."

"Oh, you've plenty enough character without that! There," she put on the last bandaid. "I really can't do much about the cut in the corner of your mouth, or the small one on your lower lip..."

"You can kiss it better..."

Mara giggled and complied, planting a chaste kiss on his upturned face. "Now, off with that shirt..."

"Wow, one kiss and you're ripping off my clothes? Whatever happened to foreplay?"

"I thought guys weren't all that much into foreplay," she quipped in return.

"This one is! I am not one of those wholly penile focused types who think sex is all about intercourse, I'll have you know."

She blushed as she looked him in the eye. "I do know," she murmured, surprised at the warmth she felt building in her lower belly. "Now, off with that shirt," she ordered again, to distract herself.

And was distraught to see the bruising on Rafe's torso. "Holy Mary, Mother of God. Did they go at you with a crowbar or something. My God!"

"No, nothing that forceful. Just fists. Oh, yeah and one guy got a good kick in, but other than that, it was pretty traditional. Now hurry up and tape my ribs, woman, I would like to be able to draw a deep breath with minimal pain."

Mara looked at him, horrified for him, for what he had been through. She gently ran her hand over the worst bruise that she could see. "Is this the extent of it? Or...?" she lowered her gaze down his torso significantly.

"No, they were kind, they didn't harm the family jewels. They were more interested in me talking than puking my guts out on their shoes."

Mara shuddered, her face flinching up in sympathy. "Please stand up. Can you raise your arms up to about shoulder level?" He complied and she taped up his ribs, running her hands over her handiwork when she was done.

"Hey, that tickles," protested Rafe.

She drew back, "Okay, I won't make you laugh, you might not enjoy the experience at the moment."

"No, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't. Thank you for your help." He pulled her close into a warm hug.

The door leading to the hallway rattled again, this time with Mr. Assassin returning with pop, hamburgers and french fries. Mara and Rafe had moved out of the bathroom to watch as he set the bags of food down in the same spot where he had put down the first aid kit. He turned to one of the guards and retrieved another sleeping bag and a pillow.

"I see how you rate. You get a pillow," Rafe murmured in Mara's ear, closely watching the man all the while. The man left as quietly as he had come in, with a pleasant smile for Rafe and a half-bow in Mara's direction. The door closed behind him, and was locked.

"Well, Rafe, our picnic awaits." She opened up the sleeping bag and spread it on the floor. She gestured to Rafe to have a seat as she eased her shoes off. As she sat down she saw that Rafe was sitting, with his shoes on, and his feet on the floor rather than the bag. "Would you rather I kept my shoes on?" Mara asked.

"I've been keeping mine on, just in case there might have been a chance to escape. Hasn't done me any good, though." He shrugged and toed off his shoes as well, turning more fully onto the sleeping bag cum table cloth.

Mara was busy parceling out the food. "They have fed you prior to this, right?"

"Yes they've been feeding me. One night I even dined on Taco Bell. It's been pretty much two meals a day, one for lunch and one for dinner. I keep wishing they'd bring some good coffee, but maybe they're worried I'd throw it at them and scald my way out of here. Then they'd probably sue me and whatever restaurant of finer dining they procured the coffee from for damages."

"Maybe I can talk them into some coffee tomorrow. It would be nice to have something warm to sip on. Or maybe I can talk them into tea bags and we can run the tap water hot enough to steep the tea..."

Rafe made a face at the last comment.

"Okay, so no tap water tea. How do you feel about warm water and a slice of lemon...?"

"Other than I'd probably be living in the bathroom from drinking a steady amount?"

"It is supposed to be good for your digestive system first thing in the morning. But I've found that coffee works just as well to get everything, er, moving, as it were."

"Why Mara, is that a folk remedy taught you by Miss, or was it Mrs.? Simonson or one of her cronies?"

"No, actually I read about it somewhere. I don't remember now. I think it might have been the Tribune the last time I was here in Chicago a few years back," she smirked.

"Touché," Rafe raised his right hand accepting the hit. "No more snotty comments about the resident storm lady. She was pretty damn accurate with that blizzard... Hey. What's wrong? What did I say?"

Mara's face had fallen at the mention of the blizzard. "No, you didn't say anything, I guess I was just remembering how cosy I was, we were," she amended, "All snug in bed while the weather did what it willed outside."

"You know, we could probaby recreate that experience here," Rafe said in a teasing voice.

She looked up at him in surprise. "Er, last time I checked, I didn't see a bed up here..."

"After we're done eating, I'll take a look and see if these two sleeping bags can be zipped together. That would be a lot more cozy than sleeping each in our own."

Mara felt her heart flutter, thinking about sleeping beside Rafe again. She then chided herself, he was hurt, they were kidnapped and here she was thinking about...

Rafe was watching her face. "Okay, what just ran through your head? I saw your eyes light up, and then dim. Sorry there's no mattress in here. They probably think I'd pull out one of the springs and pick that thrice damned lock or something."

"It wasn't that. I was just...thinking thoughts...inappropriate to the time and place." She blushed, and cursed her fair skin for giving her away like that.

He mock-leered at her. "And what is Ms. Pitts thinking of? Was she thinking of taking advantage of poor little old me?"

"Well, now that you mention it," she chuckled in response. "But that's not feasible, your ribs," she gestured at his torso and trailed off.

"Hmmm. Oh well. Hope springs eternal. Are you done with that?" He grabbed the now empty burger wrappers and fry envelopes and threw them back into the fast food bag. "I'd like to take a look and see if we can assemble our love nest here..."

Mara grinned at him, and shook her head. He continued to meet and pass her humor keeping both their spirits up in a dire situation.

Rafe stood up slowly, favoring his ribs.

"How's your leg?" asked Mara suddenly as she stood and stepped off the bag.

"Fine as far as I know. I haven't had a chance to see if it can predict weather yet, but you never know."

"To the best of my knowledge that only happens where there's a broken bone or arthritis or some other degenerative disease involved with the joints."

"Groovy. My ribs will be able to do forecasts. I'll be able to make twice as much money, both as a reporter and a meteorologist. Life is good!" He carried the sleeping bag over to his and managed to mate up the zippers of both bags, effectively creating a 'double bed.'

"Do you think you've a broken rib or two?"

"Probably. Could have sworn I felt something shifting every time I breathed too deeply or turned too suddenly. Great! This works," gesturing at the two sleeping bags, he disconnected them when he was certain Mara approved. "Here, wrap yourself up in this. I know you've got a jacket, but it gets kinda cold and damp up here after sunset."

"Where would you like to sit?" she asked. "I don't suppose there's anything that we could pretend was a heat register or radiator."

"Nope."

"I'd suggest we sit in the bathroom and run some hot tap water, enough to warm it up, but then we'd probably end up damp from the steam and it's already clammy enough in here. I'd forgotten how humid it here because of the lake."

"I've been sitting over here," he gestured towards the wall, next to the window. "So I could look outside and try to figure out where the hell I am. Well I know I'm someplace south side, look, you can see Navy Pier..." They sat and wrapped themselves up in the sleeping bags.

"Just like at Kevin and Lara's. You've seen their view, haven't you? It's gorgeous."

"So is that where you've been bunking up since you arrived in Chicago? When did you get in?"

"A couple of days ago. Lara and I had a long talk. Okay, she talked at me until I...spilled the beans about us. Then she invited me out here for an impromptu vacation. Only when I got into town, my favorite reporter had mysteriously disappeared, so that almost ruined my vacation..." she chortled half-heartedly.

"Lara knows? Good Lord, we'll never hear the end of it!"

"I hope it's okay? She'd make a hell of a good correspondent herself, the way she weaseled information out of me. I should have known she

"I'm not mad. I figured Kevin knew something was up when I showed up in Chicago looking a bit like death warmed over." He grabbed Mara's hand. "I think he thought I would be in better shape, but it's hard to be 100 percent when you've left your heart somewhere else." Bringing her hand up to his lips, he kissed it.

Mara felt the warmth of the kiss start warming her up all over again. He gently pulled on her hand, and she scooted closer to him in response. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he said, "So what do you think is going on? Or, let me rephrase that, what did you discover in your research?"

"Hmmm. First off, Mr. Moretti, I'm not hurting your ribs am I?" at his negative shake of head, she continued, "*you* are one hell of a writer. I knew you were good when you wrote those articles for the Prairiedog, but wow! That series of articles about gangs and drugs that seems to have landed us in this mess? That's Pulitzer material."

He looked surprised, "You really think so?"

"Okay, no false modesty here, you're a good writer, no, a great writer."

"I guess I never thought in terms of whether I was a good writer, it's more been a thing of polishing till the story shines."

"It shows. So what did you find out during your research on that?"

"I did comment on Giancarlo Lombardo, but it never dawned on me, I never put it together that Don Carlo was related. There're so many Lombardos and Morettis and Margaglianos around this town. I should have known better. Damn, I should have known."

"And so the Don kidnapped you because he thinks you know where Sonny-boy is? Aren't you happy he seems to have made the connection?" she asked, half teasingly?

They continued discussing the various possibilities and fretting over whether Giancarlo was at all findable, when Mara suddenly yawned largely.

Rafe grinned at her. "All right. It's bed time for Ms. Pitts," he announced, standing up and offering her a hand up.

Chapter 18 -- Neither Rhyme Nor Reason

A/N:PG-13 for language and alcohol usage...

With a promise dealer, understand:
All freedoms fade away
To a point of view
Where many different pathways meet.
And we're standing on this precipice
With nothing much to save
But the deep blue screams
Of falling dreams
With our next move

Arcadia - The Promise


Chapter 18 -- Neither Rhyme Nor Reason

The black Lincoln Continental was like many other such cars, black, anonymous. The windows were tinted on all sides, whoever was inside could look out, but no one could look in, save to see the driver through the windshield.

Mara knew no one would be able to see her in the back seat with the man who was her... Captor? Keeper of secrets? There was a glass window between the backseat and the front.

How did he know about Rafe? Why did he know about her? A thousand questions flew through her startled mind. She couldn't pick one to ask. Except..

"So, you know my name is Mara. What's your name? Yeah, yeah, you probably can't tell me, but make up something. It's kinda scary for me here, you know, riding in car with one guy who tells me he knows where Rafe is. And an equally anonymous chauffeur. Ah, shit, I'm rambling. I'll shut up now, okay? Okay?

"Don't worry Ms. Pitts, you're safe..." said the man sitting in the back seat with her.

"For now, don't you mean, for now?

"I can't say anything about the future Ms. Pitts. But you are safe for now. Would you like a drink?" He pressed a button. A door slid open revealing a bar in the back seat. Mara looked at it, surprised. She hadn't thought Continentals came with such amenities, only stretch limos.

The man poured a splash of scotch over some ice. "Name your poison. There is a small, but nice selection in here."

"Poison. You wouldn't p-p-poison me, would you?" Mara almost started giggling with mild hysterics, but bit her lower lip instead.

"Just let me know what you want. No poison involved other than alcohol itself in excess being a sort of poison."

"All right. A vodka Martini. Like James Bond, you know with all this cloak and dagger, and well, whatever..." she ground to a halt.

The dark haired man, she had had a chance to take a closer look at him, held out a small bottle of vodka and a small bottle of vermouth. They were the small bottles, like one would purchase for a drink while flying. Mara looked them over closely and handed them back, satisfied that the small bottles hadn't been tampered with.

The man himself was ordinary looking. Dark hair, dark eyes, but other than that, there was nothing particularly striking about him. 'It would be a bitch to pick him out in a line-up,' she thought to herself, shuddering. A little too ordinary looking. A man like that could be an assassin, a doer of dirty work for others.

He quickly made a vodka martini for her. She took it from him and the cocktail napkin he proffered her, her hand only shaking slightly. "You didn't poison the pimento in that olive did you?"

The man broke out laughing. "Ms. Pitts, with your paranoia, I doubt anyone could get anything past you!"

"Actually, it would probably be terribly easy for you to get anything past me, I'm used to small town life, no one's offered me a ride to who knows where in South Dakota."

"Pittsville. Lovely little town."

Mara looked at him, startled, "You were in Pittsville? When?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't. I'm a little too... shall we say I look and sound like I belong in a big city. Would you like a cigarette?"

She shook her head in negation. She looked at him, and realized, while she would never be able to pick him out in a line up, she would recognize his strong Chicago accent anywhere.

"I just saw some pictures, googled 'Pittsville' on the Internet."

"Googled..."

"It's amazing what you can find out there. Just type in a word and pictures come up for it."

"Who was in Pittsville?"

"Ah. That I don't know. Just someone Don Lombardo sent out there. Probably a couple, so they'd look like tourists just passing through. We were interested, you know, to find out what Mr. Moretti found so...interesting in South Dakota."

"I-I can't imagine anything being that interesting in South Dakota, I mean, I love living there, the prairie is beautiful, there's Mount Rushmore on the west end of the state, plenty of neat historical stuff..."

"Try your drink, see if it's okay."

Mara took a sip, then a bigger one, trying to settle her nerves. Instead it was too big a sip and she started coughing as the alcohol burned down her throat. The man took the drink out of her hand.

"You all right?" he asked solicitously.

"I...(cough) will be (cough) give me a sec," she gasped out. "What...the hell was in that drink? Everclear?"

"That, Ms Pitts, is Spirytus Wesoly, one of Poland's fine vodkas, weighing in at a 150 proof."

"I wish you had warned me. Where are we going? When..."

"Here's your drink. We'll get there when we get there. Shouldn't be long now."

Mara gave up trying to pry any information out of Mr. Anonymous Assassin as she had dubbed him in her head. She had noticed through the opening in his jacket that he was wearing a side holster. Whether or not he was actually armed, she couldn't tell. She sipped her drink and rubbed the spot between her eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that was trying to form there and in her neck.

She glanced out the side window then the front. The car was heading in a southerly direction. 'Damn, the South side, which I know diddley squat about. How the frick am I going to get out of this one? What the hell.' She thought as she tossed back her drink, this time just barely keeping from coughing.

A warm buzz started in her stomach moving to her head. 'Damn,' she thought, 'they DID poison me. No, no dumbshit, that's 150 proof you just tossed back. When was the last time you had anything stronger than wine?'

The car eventually pulled into a parking garage under what was apparently an apartment building. Mara sighed. She had been unable to pick out anything about the building or the immediate side streets, hell, she didn't even know which street she was on.

She let out a very small hiccup, startling herself. She looked wide-eyed, at Mr. Assassin and covered her mouth with her hand. She hiccupped again.

He chuckled, a surprisingly friendly chuckle for someone who was probably going to kill her, and relieved her of her drink. He then handed her a glass of water. "Here. Drink that down all at once. That will stop your hiccups AND water down some of that booze you just swallowed. Let me guess. You don't drink."

Mara took the glass from him, "I do, but not usually anything stronger than wine or beer, though some of Grove's home grown beer can pack a bit of a punch, it sorta sneaks up on you, you know and..."

"Pinch your nose and chug-a-lug that down. The sooner you drink it, the sooner you'll see your...friend."

Mara, pot-valiant, said, "I don't like what you're insi-sinuating."

"C'mon lady, drink up."

"this isn't poisoned is-si it?"

"No. Just water."

"Okay." She hiccupped again, took a deep breath, pinching her nose. As quickly as she could she drank down the large glass of water. Her lungs were just starting to demand fresh oxygen when she finished, with a gasp.

"Hey, that worked!" she said, surprised.

"Great. Now let's get out of the car, nice and slow."

Mara shuddered, sobering up slightly as she realized that she was still in deadly danger. She heard the lock on her door pop, probably by the chauffeur, as there was no way to unlock the door from her side, anyway.

She opened the door and got out, dragging her backpack slowly out behind her. Suddenly it dawned on her that she could probably use it as a weapon...and looked up and met the eyes of the Anonymous Assassin. He was grinning at her, as if he could read her mind. He quirked an eyebrow that said 'try it, won't bother me, there's two of us and one of you...'

She looked away, suddenly feeling even more vulnerable and stupid for coming along with this man so blithely.

"You ready?"

"As much as I guess I ever will be..."

"Good." He came around the car, and once again took a hold of her upper arm, leading her to an elevator. The three of them got in, with the chauffeur pressing the button for the top floor.

The elevator seemed to drag itself slowly upward. She thought they would never get to the top floor.

Mr. Assassin saw her eyeing the floor numbers changing. "This used to be a rather posh place to live. Apparently the architect thought a slower elevator equalled posh or something."

She essayed a shaky smile as the elevator finally came to a halt on the top floor. Great. She now knew she was on the 40th floor of an apartment building in a city with many such buildings.

Her abductor and she stepped out of the elevator. The chauffeur peered out to make sure that the guards were still next to the door at the end of a short hall, then stepped back into the elevator, letting the door slide shut.

During the short walk to the door, Mara could feel herself starting to shake harder. What was behind that door? They stopped walking just in front of the door, one of the guards taking her backpack. He rifled through it quickly, pulling out her pens and pencils, and anything else that could be possibly used as weapon. Zipping it shut, he handed it back to her.

The other guard pulled out a key and opened a door. Mr. Assassin gestured her to go in first. She took a deep breath and stepped in.

And saw Rafe. She gasped and dropped her backpack and ran to him across the large empty room.

"Oh my god, oh my god, you're alive." she threw her arms around him and hugged him, but stepped back quickly when he flinched.

"Mara." he said with a defeated tone of voice.

She got a closer look at his face. "Oh no, you're hurt, and shit, I'm sorry I hurt you when I hugged you, dear god, I'm so sorry..."

"Mara, shhh. It's all right."

Tears started rolling down her face. The happiness that she had felt upon seeing him quickly crystalized into a righteous indignation when she saw his bruised and bloodied face. "What have they done to you? Did they even do anything...?"

She wheeled around and ran back to the door where The Assassin and the guards were still standing. "What happened to him?" she demanded. The words and tears started coming out of her in a torrent, "My God, you've beat the hell out of him, and then left him up here, in this gloomy hole of an apartment, I don't care just how posh this place used to be, it's COLD in here. Could you at least get me a first aid kit, you...you..." she ran out of words as her anger threatened to overwhelm her.

The Assassin grinned at her and gestured for the two guards to out. "I'll be back in a minute. I believe there's a first aid kit down in the car." He stepped through the door and she could hear them locking it again.

Shaking her head at her own folly, she turned and walked back to Rafe. "Oh love, I'm so sorry, God how horrid for you..."

Rafe silenced her with a gentle kiss, which she broke away from, tasting blood. "Your poor mouth, oh, how I want to kiss you, but, but..."

Rafe shook his head and grinned a half grin at her. "Mother Hen," he teased.

Those two words caused Mara to burst into sobbing, as the emotional floodgates she had kept so carefully closed for the last few days burst open. "How could you leave me? How could you leave me without telling me?"

"Mara, I'm sorry. I... I just didn't want you even catching wind of this mess. Bad idea, I guess, huh?" He drew her close, letting her cry on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I didn't think I would hurt you like this."

She pulled herself away from him, her eyes blazing. "Damned straight you didn't think," she raged at him. "You just didn't THINK. Crap, I'm sorry, you're hurt, I didn't know if you were still alive, and here I am yelling at you like a fishwife..." she trailed off as he drew her close again.

"Mara. I'm so sorry. I don't know if this will make any difference, but I promised myself I'd tell you if I lived long enough..."

She stepped back, looked at him, her brown eyes sorrowful.

"Don't look at me like that, I can't stand it. Mara. Listen. I love you. Honey, I love you."

She held back another sob as she gently wrapped her arms around his waist. Kissing his cheek tenderly, she pulled him closer to the window. She brushed a long strand of hair out of his face. "You love me." she said, wonder in her voice. "You love me."

Yow, 35K+

Wh00t! (grabs a Miller Highlife and pops it open) Never ever ever ever thought I would make it this far. Now I hope I don't run out plot before I reach the Ultimate Goal.

Oh well, can always write gratuitous sex scenes. Those always seem to get the muse going.
Normal chapter: about 2000 words.
Chapter with sex scene: 3000+ words without a struggle.

Sigh. It's supposed to be a romance :-) , not pure erotica 8-D !!! Well, I'll take what I can get at this point!

Chapter 17 -- Research and Discovery

A/N: Rating = PG-13

She can see him on the jetty where they used to go
She can feel him in the places where the sailors go
When she's walking by the river and the railway line
She can still hear him whisper
Let's go down to the waterline

Dire Straits - Down To The Waterline

Chapter 17 -- Research and Discovery

Back at the library the next day, Mara set up today's carrel with her pens and pencil...and notebook. She grinned, remembering, as she pulled the notebook out of the backpack she had borrowed from Kevin.

When she had returned to the Kuntzlers' apartment the night before, she had found both Kevin and Lara in residence. Lara had given her a conspiratorial grin and rolled her eyes. Kevin was seated on the sofa, reading a book.

He looked up from it, and mock-scowled at Mara, "Ah, the prodigal guest returns!"

Mara had flinched, not sure if he was going to lecture or tease.

Kevin's expression became rueful when he saw her reaction. "Ms. Pitts, I have a feeling I know exactly what you've been up to today. However," he eyed her small handbag, "I find myself a bit bewildered as to how on earth you're stashing any kind of decent pad to write on in that bitty purse.

She had smiled and pulled out her fistful of scratch now rather crumpled after being shoved into a purse without a lot of room.

Kevin had burst out laughing, "I can do something about that." He opened a drawer in the coffee table and pulled out a steno pad and a notebook. "Choose your weapon."

Mara had reached for the notebook and he pulled it back from her, saying, "Ah-Ah! Before I give you any encouragement in what I presume your research is, promise me you'll come to me if you do find anything that looks like a lead. I don't want to have to answer to my wife here if something untoward happens to you."

Lara had merely grinned and rolled her eyes again. She was still concerned about Mara, but saw that the other woman looked much better today. Mara still looked under slept, but there was some color in her face and her eyes didn't look as dull.

"Okay, I promise," Mara had said, annoyed with herself that she was that transparent.

Kevin picked up on that and teased, "My dear Ms. Pitts, it's not rocket science. Mr. Moretti returns to Chicago. Mrs. Kuntzler contacts you to see...if you are alright. She, in the inimitable way women have of communicating with each other, pries the necessary information out of you and invites you to come out to Chicago. You, surprisingly, at least to me, jump at the chance. The only thing that still has me a bit puzzled about all this, and what I'm concerned about is: did you come out here to kick Rafe's butt or to save it?"

"Since at the time I didn't know he was in need of saving, Mr. Kuntzler," she teased in return, "You'll have to assume the former."

"Poor Rafe," Kevin had said, half seriously.

Mara had looked away from Kevin, exasperation clear on her features, "I'm not here to 'kick Rafe's butt' as you charmingly put it." Her eyes had filled with tears. "I'm not sure why I'm here except...Maybe I'm a crazy, lonely, old fool." She abruptly sat down in the armchair next to the sofa.

"All I know is Lara invited me and here I am." She covered her face with her hands, refusing to give into tears of loss and worry. Drawing a deep breath, and swiping at her eyes with her fingertips, she said, "And there you have it. When I figure it out, I'll let you know. I may be a writer, but I'm no poet and I'm afraid and mortified to find that there's poetry involved here. I have no use for that kind of thing, usually, except to read the occasional verse, and suddenly find myself looking for the right words... and all that comes out are the most banal clichés."

She had let out a watery giggle at that and grabbed a kleenex from the box that Lara offered her and blew her nose. Kevin smiled in understanding.

After a brief moment of silence, she asked, "So do you think Rafe is in need of rescue?"

Kevin shrugged, "I really couldn't tell you. He's usually pretty good about checking in every couple of days, but it isn't unheard of for him to not touch base for four or five days."

"And?" Mara had prodded, "What now?"

"Today is day four by my reckoning," Kevin slowly replied, "That means we can officially start to worry tomorrow evening. Okay? If I don't hear from him by tomorrow afternoon, I'll check with the Chicago Police Department to start filing a missing persons report."

"Okay. I think I can live with that."

They all sat in silence for a few minutes, then Lara had said in the most prosaic way possible, "Poetry and missing persons aside, dinner'll be ready in a few minutes, so come help me set the table..."

----------------

Mara at the library, found herself tearing up again, thinking about the kindness and understanding her friends were showing. Kevin hadn't read her a riot act after all, and was showing concern about Rafe's whereabouts.

After a couple of hours of sifting through articles, she stretched and felt her spine popping. Bleary eyed, she knew she couldn't read any more for a bit. She needed a break.

She packed up her backpack and headed out to walk around the city. After about 45 minutes of wandering, she found herself in Grant Park. Feeling the lake breeze on her face she started walking more purposefully in an easterly direction.

A bit later, she found herself on the Grant Park pier, which overlooked Lake Michigan. She walked along the pier, a bit surprised at the number of larger sailboats already moored there. Brave souls going out on the Lake in the spring. Wetsuits, wind and choppy waters with whitecaps, the boaters had to have a sense of adventure.

She sat down on the pier, dangling her feet over the edge. The sound of the waves and the occasional scree of a gull flying over head helped her relax from stress she hadn't even realized she was carrying.

Looking out at the mist rising over the lake, she was able to ignore the city sounds behind her. Not quite willingly, she slid into a day dream of Rafe. She had known he would be trouble the first time she set eyes on him, but little had she suspected that trouble would bring her back to Chicago, the city she had been forced to leave abruptly and hadn't visited since.

Rafe. His grin, his sarcasm, his smirk, his sweet smile, his intelligence, his sense of humor, she could go on and on about what she liked about him. And that just barely touched the tip of the iceberg.

She shivered in the damp breeze. Rafe certainly was no iceberg, but he had...such unsuspected depths. She had enjoyed just sitting around and talking with him, knowing that she most probably wouldn't have to explain anything she said. That camaraderie, and the sex, well, that had been mind-blowing.

She smiled sadly. Even if they never got back together, she certainly had enough fuel to feed her fantasies for the rest of her life. Closing her eyes against some tears that threatened, she realized just how long that life would feel, how long and how bleak, without Rafe in it.

Mara turned her mind towards a more pleasant fantasy than imagining her future without Rafe in it. His kisses, all their contrasts, gentle, passionate, devouring, she wished she were a poet so she could encompass everything he had made her feel with just the touch of his lips. She drifted in her mind imagining his kisses.

A particularly loud screech from a gull almost covered the sound of a footstep too near her for comfort, brought her out of her daydream. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around.

A man was standing to her left, not more than two yards away, apparently admiring the view of the Lake. She turned away to enjoy the view of the lake as well, mildly annoyed that out of all the many yards of lakefront pier, this person decided to stand so close. Oh, well, city folk were used to less space around them, so he probably didn't think he was in her space. But it felt like it to her.

The man sat down, drawing Mara's attention. She saw that he had moved even closer, and began to get perturbed. It was time to get back to the library anyway, so it was fortuitous that this stranger was invading her space.

"You're Mara Pitts," said the man with no doubt in his voice.

Mara twisted herself to look at him in shock, neither confirming nor denying. Though with the way he had said it, she was almost certain he knew who she was.

"Do I know you?" she quavered, her voice cracking in startled surprise.

"Nope. I do know someone that you're probably looking for, at least if your research at the Library was any indication."

She gasped. The man had evidently been following her, and she hadn't even noticed. She looked out at the Lake again, this time fighting tears. "Rafe," she murmured.

"That would be him."

"Where is he? Is he alive? What's going on? DO you know where he IS?" her voice rose with each question.

"Shh shh, keep it down. No need to announce our business to the whole park. In fact, it would probably be in your best interest not to attract any attention."

She looked at the man again, really seeing him. "Where is he?" she demanded in an undervoice.

"He's currently a guest of my boss."

"Can I see him? Take me to him. Now." she grated out, starting to shake with fear and adrenaline.

"As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would say that. Come with me."

Mara swallowed and stood up. The man took her arm, and started walking westward away from the lake. She was tempted to yank her arm away from him, but he didn't have a hostile grip on her upper arm, so she followed along.

'Like a sheep being led to the slaughter. Hell's Bells, Mara, what have you gotten yourself into now?' she thought.

Chapter 16 -- Flying, into the Darkness

A/N: Welcome back to purely PG-13 land...

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight, I'm
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough

R.E.M. - Losing My Religion

Chapter 16 -- Flying, into the Darkness

A phone conversation.

"Kuntzler."

"Kevin?"

"Lara. Hi, Love, what's up?"

"Kev, is Mara with you?"

"No. Why?"

"She's not here. She left a little note, all it says is 'Gone Into Town' or something like that. Honestly Kevin, I think we've found someone that actually has worse handwriting than you."

"So. She's probably gone to see the sights, reacquaint herself with the town."

"Kevin."

"What, Love?"

"I don't like this. Her emotional state, she was so tired I would have sworn she'd still be asleep right now..."

"Honey, it's almost 2:30 in the afternoon."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just...worried. About both of them. The only time I've ever seen Mara look so...bereft was when her father died. I'm worried about her, I think she's fallen hard for our resident womanizer..."

"Lara."

"I know, I know, Rafe is a dear friend to me too, but you have to admit he's got quite the track record... But, I've never seen him look the way he did when he came back from South Dakota. He did have the look he gets when he's on the scent of a story, but there was something else to it..."

"Lara, darling, you are such a romantic. I don't think Rafe..."

"Kevin, my sweet love, call it women's intuition, call it what you will, there's something there..."

"I was thinking about them both last night, together...and apart. You do know they'll end up apart don't you? Rafe loves the city and Mara loves Pittsville. I can't see them succeeding at a long distance romance, they'd just return to their first love, the news."

"Well, I do understand what you're saying. It's just that...well, stranger things have happened. Look at you and me..."

"Yeah, the love story of the century, people envy us for our legendary relationship."

"Kevin, you nut."

"It's the stuff of the romance pages, dear. And the society column. Grubby journalist sweeps elegant society deb off her feet, beauty and the beast..."

"You're no beast..."

"Who says I'm the beast..."

"Brute. At the risk of sounding vain, I'm much prettier than you are."

"Yes, you are love, to my eternal delight. Don't worry about Mara just yet, okay? If she's not back by tonight, then yes, then we'll worry. You did leave the spare key for her?

"Of course. If I didn't feel so 'intuitive' about this situation..."

"I know, love. But Mara's a grown woman. She won't do anything too crazy. In spite of whatever is going on between her and Rafe, she's got her feet firmly on the ground."

"That's what I'm worried about. If I were her, I'd probably be lying in bed indulging in a good cry and sleep session..."

"You would, accompanied by the best Godiva Chocolate and a nice bodice-ripper."

"Kev..."

"Just teasing. I know you better than that. You wouldn't be lying around. You'd be boxing the ears of whomever had upset you that much."

"Kev, that's just what I'm afraid of. That she's gone off to box the ears of Rafe...or whomever. Darn, I must leave for my afternoon meeting."

"We'll talk more tonight, love. Okay? You, me and Mara, we'll talk it all through."

"Kevin, my dear writer of words, you do know that something go beyond talk and words..."

"Yes, my love. Every time I think of you. Go on to your meeting. Unless something comes up, I'll see you tonight.'

"Okay, I must run. Love you."

"Love you, too. 'Bye"

-------------------

The first thing Mara did was to catch the Sheridan Lake bus. She caught the 29 State Street bus down to the 400 block south of State Street. This block contained the Harold Washington branch of the Chicago Public Library, its main branch. She figured there was no sense in calling anyone with questions until she knew a little bit about what Rafe had been up to.

She could have asked Kevin to use his archives to dig out everything Rafe had written in the last five years. She figured Kevin would figure out just what she was doing and put the kibosh on it and make sure she was on the first flight back to South Dakota.

Mara certainly didn't underestimate Kevin. She knew that he knew she would be digging around to find out what was going on. But she figured why should she make things easier for him. She could probably find most everything she needed in the back issues of the two main Chicago
daily newspapers, the Sun-Times and the Tribune at the library.

Before she dug into that, she picked up a number of maps for bus routes around the city, in case she had to do some riding around. The CTA had provided a nice kiosk with maps for all the major routes in the lobby of the library.

She asked the man at the information desk which floor contained the serials/periodicals section in case the library had been completely reorganized since she had last visited it, nearly nine years ago. The man told her it was up on the third floor and gave her a map of the library when she asked.

Riding the escalator up, she looked over the map. Good, nothing had been moved around in a major way, that was a relief.

Upon arriving at the third floor, she checked with one the librarians to quickly locate the Readers' Guide To Periodical Literature as well as where the library terminals were located.

She was delighted to find that she was able to do research on the internet as well as locate library resources from the same terminal. Ten years ago that wouldn't have been possible and she had been not looking forward to chivvying around with the other library patrons for terminal and Internet time. Now, it appeared that the library had more than enough terminals to go around.

In the small carrel holding the terminal, there was a box of ubiquitous scratch paper always available in just about any library. Mara grinned at it, and pulled out a nice handful of scratch. That ought to do for a start. She dug through her purse for some pens, pulled the keyboard toward and started searching.

An hour later, she was disgruntled to find that everything over three months old for both the major newspapers was on microfilm and/or microfiche. She didn't know which format she loathed more, the readers for both types of format gave her motion sickness after prolonged usage. She figured that she'd be spending a minimum of two hours using one of those machines.

Mara wrote down the last page number and date that she wanted to access and turned to the Readers' Guide. She didn't know if Rafe had written anything for magazines, but thought it couldn't hurt.

Finally ready to brave the film and/or fiche machines, she put the Readers' Guide back. It hadn't yielded anything noteworthy by Rafe. He had a number of articles listed, but they were more fluff pieces for Chicago Magazine and some of the other local periodicals. She smiled. She'd have to tease him about his take on the Chicago Food Festival the next time she saw him...

Her smiled faded. If there was to be a next time. Gritting her teeth, she approached the main periodicals desk and requested the first set of film reels she needed to look through. Damn the man for having written so much, she would need to go through at least 35 reels of film and about 40 fiche to locate all of his recent articles.

She found an empty carrel containing a microfilm reader and sat down in the chair. She looked the machine over, and liked at least one piece of it that would make her life a lot easier: It had automated feed in what appeared to be the most up-to-date model. Film readers could be such a pain and she hoped the new-fangled automated feed worked as promised.

Popping in a reel, she cross referenced its index and set the machine spinning to find her first article. She looked away from the blur of film flashing across the screen and hoped her stomach would behave.

----------------

Rafe groaned as he rolled over, feeling every bruise and some new ones that must have happened during the night. He was still in the same room, but no longer tied to a chair. Lombardo's men had removed the chair and given him a sleeping bag and a pillow and left.

It was a very nice, plush, sleeping bag, but he was in no shape to sleep on floors. He unzipped the sleeping bag down to his waist and pushed himself into sitting position, keeping the bag around him as much as he could. No sense in wasting body heat in that room. At least the bag's tag said it was intended for use down to 10 degrees F.

He knew the room wasn't quite that cold, certainly not as cold as it was outside. However last night before he had laid down on the floor, he had sighed and was disgusted to see his breath; what a lovely place they had him penned up in.

Slowly drawing a deep breath, he let his lungs fill up as much as he could. As his lungs filled up, his ribcage protested. He touched one bruise on his side and figured he had at least one cracked rib from the pain they were giving off.

He was happy to find that his eye that had been swollen shut the night before was able to open a little bit. Propping himself against the wall next to the panoramic windows, he looked outside. Another mizzley day with the occasional beam of sort-of sunshine. Typical spring day in Chicago.

Drawing the sleeping bag more tightly around his shoulders, he wondered what Mara was doing. What must she think of him, leaving like that. He was sure she didn't take anyone into her bed idly, so she must have felt something beyond lust. And then circumstances had to go and screw that up. He shook his head.

Rafe promised himself that if he got out of this mess alive, he'd do two things. First call his mother and tell her he loved her. And then call Mara...and tell her he loved her, and stand back from the phone as she verbally ripped him a new one. And then hope for the best...

--------------------------

Mara looked up from the microfiche reader and realized it was getting dark outside. She quickly looked through the last couple of pieces of fiche. She returned them to the reference desk and came back, quickly packing up her "research" -- lots and lots of pieces of scratch. She laughed at herself for having left South Dakota so abruptly that she didn't even bring along any kind of note pad or steno pad.

That would have to be a task for tomorrow: buy a notebook. She looked through the bus maps and was relieved to see that one of the express busses from State Street stopped not too far the Kuntzlers' apartment building. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would get there before Kevin got home. She knew Lara knew she was out and about, but she dreaded facing the inquisition she was sure to get from Kevin...

Chapter 15 -- Shopping Around

Author's note and warning: This chapter contains a brief section of NC-17 material. I have flagged beginning and ending of that section with asterisks ****************, thus. The whole section is also in italics as well.

The rest of the chapter is rated PG-13. Skip the NC-17 material if that's not your thing, but please do read the rest of the chapter.


Gathering comforting remains
I was unprepared, running scared
Faltering, and why do I hold on?
It's gone, I know
And after all the days
of fading senses
I don't feel the same
and I want to live
The insecurity of never knowing
What a way to go

IQ - Fading Senses Pt. 1: After All

Chapter 15 -- Shopping...Around

Kevin looked at the two determined women facing him. He then glanced over at the panes of glass separating him from the city. Somewhere, somewhere out there was Rafe. Whether he was dead or alive, Kevin had no idea.

He had no idea what to say to these women, his wife, his friend. His friend, Mara, whose skin looked just about as transparent fatigue as the panes of glass of his window. He let out a long sigh into the silent living room.

"Okay. So this is what I know has happened so far. I called Rafe to warn him about Don Carlo Lombardo. Don Carlo's son, Giancarlo is the man who shot Rafe. Apparently the Don is on the war path now because his only son has disappeared. I think *he* thinks that Rafe knows, or at least has an idea where Giancarlo may be. I had some small concern that the Don would go to the trouble of hunting Rafe down, even if it meant sending some Outfit members to South Dakota. I thought it was a very small chance, but I need to warn Rafe to keep an eye out for suspicious strangers, something that's pretty easily done in a small town.

Mara cut in, "So why did he come back here to Chicago?"

"I don't know what motivated him to do that. All I know is he told me he was going out on a lead and that he would call me when he had more information. That was three days ago. I have no idea where he is because he neglected to file an initial report stating just what lead he was tracking down. Which leads me to believe he's gone looking for Don Lombardo. Ladies, that is all I know. I'm sorry to say I don't even know if he's dead or alive."

Mara covered her mouth with her hand, and tears spilled over her bottom eyelids. Kevin thought he heard her say "Crazy, honorable, lunatic bastard..." under her breath. Lara put an arm protectively around Mara as her husband eyed her with disfavor.

"So, Mrs. Kuntzler. How is it that I arrive home for the evening and I find Ms. Pitts here in my apartment rather than in South Dakota? And Mara -- this is a rather impromptu vacation for you -- who's covering the paper while you're here in Chicago? Job gotten so dull that you can just phone it in?"

Mara glared at Kevin, becoming angry at his sarcasm. He knew how much she loved the Prairiedog, that she wouldn't just leave on a whim. Yet that was what he was implying.

"If you must know, Mr. Kuntzler," she heavily stressed his last name, "there's an editor at the Argus Leader, you know, that big paper in Sioux Falls that can afford more than one editor? You remember it, don't you? Good, I see you do. This editor owed me a big favor. So I called her in to mind the troops at Pittsville. She was about to go on vacation anyway, her boss let her move up the start of her vacation by a week. So you see, Mr. Kuntzler, we're just playing musical editors and reporters all OVER the map!"

Her short flare of anger died down as abruptly as it had begun, when she caught sight of the city out of the corner of her eye. That brave, stupid... that IDIOT, Rafe was out there somewhere. She knew in her heart of hearts why he had left. He didn't want to take the chance of Lombardo or any of his goons showing up in Pittsville.

She looked up at Kevin, "I thought the Outfit went 'out of business' about 8 years ago with that big RICO bust that I read about."

"Not a chance of that, Mara. The roots of the Outfit go too deep in this city to eradicate them with just that one bust, even though it was one of the biggest in Chicago since the Prohibition and Al Capone. The dons aren't as flamboyant as they were back in the bad old days when the Outfit was in charge of the city and ran all the Machine politics around here. They're not in charge of the political end of the spectrum any more, that's in the hand of Dailey and his empire."

Mara chuckled through her tears, "Richard Dailey's STILL Mayor? God, he's as persistent as Janklow..."

"Janklow?" asked Lara.

"Yes, Bill Janklow, the once and future governor. He left office once under a bit of a cloud then came back a few years later and was elected governor again. And then Representative for South Dakota. Unfortunately, he had an ongoing bit of bad luck with driving, DUIs assorted things like that. More recently it was second degree manslaughter, with his car as weapon of choice. Needless to say, he's no longer Representative..."

"That's all well and good, ladies. I get how you're here, Mara, but I still don't get why you're here."

Mara looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. 'Kevin's going to think I've really gone off the deep end this time,' she thought glumly.

Lara came to her rescue. "I invited her out here, Kevin. I called her yesterday, she was pretty reticent at first about what had happened in Pittsville, but I haven't been a newspaperman's wife for all these years without picking up a little bit about subtle interrogation techniques." She went on to give Kevin an abbreviated version of Rafe's stay in Pittsville.

Kevin looked at Mara, this time with an expression that showed his inner battle: bafflement at why Mara would leave Pittsville so abruptly, understanding why Mara would get a wild hair and come to Chicago and the sudden understanding of why Rafe had returned to Chicago... He hadn't wanted to endanger anyone in Pittsville. He hadn't wanted to endanger Mara... He must have fallen in love, something that Kevin hadn't foreseen and would have never predicted happening. Something that he found hard to believe.

Mara apparently had done the same, fallen for his elusive, ladies man reporter. Kevin had long given up hope that either of these rather intransigent people would ever fall in love with something other than a newspaper or a newspaper story. They were so married to their careers...

He couldn't seen anything but heartbreak coming from it, even if Rafe did eventually show up again, something that was still up for grabs. Mara would never leave Pittsville, and Rafe? Rafe lived and breathed for the adventure of writing for a national news wire. He loved the constant shifting pressures of news in the area. He had what almost amounted to an inborn knack or "ear" for stories, much like a musician having an ear for music. It went deeper than just the writing of the news or the playing of an instrument.

He felt a welling of sympathy for his friend sitting next to his wife. She had learned big city smarts during her time in Chicago, but at heart she really was a country woman. And in the country it was hard to lose yourself into something. The pace moved so slowly there you were forced to contemplate whatever emotional demons were riding you.

Kevin felt worse for her than for Rafe, who had shown himself to be almost like Teflon. Nothing would stick to him. He was merely being noble by leaving Pittsville. Kevin really didn't think he should read more into it than that. Rafe hadn't suddenly fallen in love, he was being chivalrous, as always he was with women.

He wouldn't even be able to comprehend the disservice he was doing to Rafe by assuming mere chivalry and nobility on his part. At least not until much later, when the dust had settled...

Having found out everything they could or would admit to each other about the situation, the conversation turned to more trivial things. More wine was drunk, until Mara inadvertently interrupted a story Kevin was telling with a huge yawn she couldn't control.

Kevin looked at her in mock offense.

She grinned back and shrugged, "I guess the last few days have taken their toll on me even though I did sleep during most of the flight between Sioux Falls and Chicago. I really must get the name of your travel agent. The few times I do fly out of state during a given year, I always end up going to Los Angeles by way of, oh I don't know, Atlanta, or vice versa. Complete with at least five plane changes each way."

She yawned again and Lara took control of the situation and shuffled their guest off to bed. "Mara, I'm not going to wake you up in the morning. No, don't even think about setting that alarm clock. Just sleep until you wake up naturally. You need it. I'm going to be in and out all day, I have a couple of charity functions that I have to dedicate some quality face time to..." Lara smirked at that, "The charities in Chicago have as complex a set of politics as the rest of the city..."

Mara smiled at her blearily and hugged her. "I don't know what's going to happen over the next few days, but thanks for inviting me out here."

"It was the least I could do after you said you'd take on Rafe as a guest. Rafe, he's like the brother I never had, and I could just see him getting more and more tightly wound. He needed a break and was forced into one by the dubious joy of being shot. I just had hoped that he would have been able to have stayed longer in South Dakota."

"Well he did seem to be enjoying himself, if only to appreciate the humor of the whole situation. He probably never dreamt..." Mara sighed and trailed off, not wanting to expound more on feelings, either hers or Rafe's.

"Go to sleep Mara, you're worn to the bone. We can talk more, and plot and plan as I'm sure Kevin is worried that we're going to do, but after you're rested. Goodnight, sweet dreams."

Mara grinned a rueful half smile, "I'll try," as the bedroom door closed.

************************

She was lying in her bed back home and she could see the dark shadow of a man moving around in her bedroom.

"Rafe?"

"You are such a light sleeper, dear. It's still early, but I was going to sneak downstairs and throw something breakfasty together to bake in the oven while we slept a bit more. I'll be right back up, this will just take a few minutes."

"What are you making?"

"Just a simple breakfast dish that I've always enjoyed and that you happen to have all the ingredients for."

"'Kay. Hurry and get back up here, bed's cold without you in it," she said drowsily, drifting halfway between sleep and wakefulness."

"Be right back, Sleeping Beauty." Mara heard his deep voice as part of her dreams, he said something else, but she wasn't sure what.

Time passed and she drifted until she felt Rafe slide back into bed. She squeaked and jumped when he put his cold feet on her calves. "Rafe! Your feet are freezing! Didn't you wear any slippers or socks downstairs?"

Without a word, he swept her mouth into a kiss, effectively distracting her from his cold feet. She ran her hands through his long hair. She then grinned an impish grin which had Rafe looking at her, puzzled, until he felt her warm hand slide into his boxers.

He groaned as her hand slid up and down his shaft. "Mara, you're too much, you're killing me here..."

"Ah, but what a way to go, Mr. Moretti." She grinned at him again and dove under the covers, her questing mouth planting quick kisses all the way down his body until she reached her goal.

Rafe sighed in expectation as she pulled down his boxers and breathed on his erection. He shuddered with the sensation as she licked him and then blew where she had just licked. The warmth and sudden coolness were sending all kinds of crazy good signals through his nervous system. She felt him relaxing into pleasure when she suddenly plunged all of him into her mouth, or at least as much as she could take in so suddenly.

She bobbed her head up and down a few times, lubricating his erection with her spit. Then backed off again, this time moving her hand up and down on him, grasping him firmly. He could feel her kissing the top of his thighs, the inside of his thighs, then the other hand on his balls, and her mouth joining it there. He felt his hips start to buck up in response to the sensation.

She murmured, "While I find your penis wholly fascinating, Mr. Moretti, it's your balls that I find most...delectable." She suited action to word, and took first one sac into her mouth, to lovingly lick it, then the other, to give it equal attention. She heard him groan at all the sensations, feeling his arousal climbing even higher.

She felt Rafe's hands gently guiding her back up from under the covers. She realized she looked a fright when she saw that Rafe was torn between laughing at her and kissing her. Her hair was wild, flying every which way, her mouth was red and glistening from her attentions to him.

She could have kissed and licked his cock for hours, but she let him take charge, rolling them over so that she was beneath him. She felt his hardness nudging at her entrance and reached down and guided him. He filled her so perfectly; she couldn't imagine how she had existed thus far in her life without having felt that pleasure.

He began to move, to thrust into her, and she bucked her hips upward to meet him. His hand reached down between their moving bodies and stimulated her until she shattered around him, sparks flying in her vision, almost blocking out the sight of his wiry body moving above her. He was so beautiful for a man.

She felt his thrusts become stronger and faster until he finally came and collapsed on top of her. She took his weight willing, enjoying the feel of him still in her and over her.

She felt something wet sliding her shoulder. 'He's fallen asleep and drooling? He had a religious experience during that last orgasm and couldn't hold back his tears?'

She stroked his hair, but something was niggling her, just at the edge of her attention.

Something wasn't right. Whatever was sliding down her shoulder it felt too thick for saliva or tears.

"Rafe?" she asked, trying to angle her head to see his head on her shoulder.

"Rafe?" she asked again, gently shaking him. No response. Panicking, she pushed his dead weight off her and was horrified to find blood on her shoulder. She looked again, more closely at Rafe. Something wasn't right

She suddenly realized that he was dead, a bullet hole in his forehead, where the blood had been dripping from... "Oh God, I killed him," she said aloud, and felt a scream building in her throat.

***********************

Mara sat up abruptly in bed in the Kuntzler's guest room, barely holding back the scream. She shuddered. God, what a horrible nightmare. Oh God, oh god, oh god, what if he really were dead? And she, she was just lying about in bed and he was dead, dead, dead.

She shook her head hard to combat the hysteria she felt building within her. She was shaking like a leaf, but she slid to the side of the bed and stood up, not sure if her knees would hold her upright. She sat back down abruptly and had a stern talk with herself.

"Mara, you can freak out later, but you simply cannot freak out now. You've got to find out what's going on. And until you find out what's going on, this is just a story you're researching, just a damn story."

Her mind darted from idea to idea, almost flying out of control again, until she forced it tow slow down. Surely she could get some information from Kevin, no, he'd never tell her, wouldn't let her go off on a wild goose chase.

Well then, some of her friends from school surely were still in town. She would call them, find out what they knew.

She stood up and put on her robe, walking quietly out of the bedroom. The clock on the living room wall showed that it was just after 10:00 a.m. Good. Lara had mentioned something about a charity meeting to Kevin, something about it being at 9:30. So Lara would be out for a while and Mara was free to ring up her old friends.

Everything clicked into place. She felt her spine stiffen, her heart beat faster with the old anticipation of hunting down a really good story. She wouldn't let those other, debilitating emotions get in the way...

And when she knew what her old friends knew, she would find Don Lombardi and hopefully, find out Rafe's fate.

Chapter 14 -- A Penthouse or Two

Author's Note: Still a strong PG-13...




If I had another chance tonight
I'd try to tell you that
the things we had were right
Time can erase the love we shared
But it gives me time
to realize just how much you cared

Toto - I Won't Hold You Back

Chapter 14 -- A Penthouse or Two

Mara opened her eyes and watched the city whiz by through the windows of the cab. She couldn't shake that surreal, dream-like state she had sunk into. She had been gone from this city for seven years now, but the city changeable, yet immutable, made her feel as if she had never left.

A distant part of herself idly mused if that would make her feel any younger, or perhaps any better about herself. At that thought she sat bolt upright, reading herself an internal riot act, and startling Lara.

Mara Pitts didn't need a big city or a man to feel better about herself. She didn't need to feel younger, she liked herself at this age just fine, thank you very much. Mara almost sighed in relief to realize that the first time in days she didn't feel like a wet dishrag or a tumbleweed, being tossed about by the wind. She felt anchored again.

She suspected she would need that anchoring, she was bound to find some sort of wind, if not only the real wind of the Windy City.

The taxi reached their destination, a posh, understated apartment building on Schiller between State Street and Lake Shore Drive. The cabbie double parked, as Lara paid him. He scrambled out to get Mara's suitcase out of the trunk as the women emerged more slowly from the cab.

Mara looked up at the twenty-story building, smallish, compared to some of the surrounding buildings, but still taller than anything in Pittsville. She grinned at the thought and remembered a child when she thought the four-story post office in Pierre was a tall building. And that was before she had even visited Sioux Falls.

She looked about her at ground level, and saw Lara looking at her with a half a smirk on her face.

"Tourist," Lara teased. "You'd think you had never lived in this city for several years."

"Yeah, yeah, remember, culture shock? Remember when YOU realized the tallest building in downtown Pitts was the grain elevator, Ms Born-and-Raised-In-Chicago??"

"Mara, your HOUSE is taller than half of Pittsville. C'mon, let's get inside. Won't Kevin be in for a surprise," Lara grinned wickedly.

"Ah, Lara? Did he know I was coming?"

"Ummm, no, but we'll work on that little detail when he gets home, hopefully in the next hour or so."

"Lara, I have to warn you. He's on my shit list right now..."

"Don't worry, he's not quite sleeping on the sofa here, but I'm not very happy with him either. But let's take that up with him when he gets home. Now we need to figure out what you'll do while you're here on your impromptu visit." Lara drew Mara into a conversation about what was showing at The Art Institute as opposed to some of the smaller area museums, or The Field Museum.

When the conversation flagged, Lara opened the drapes covering what was literally a wall of windows in the wall of the penthouse apartment. Mara's jaw dropped. Even though the building wasn't on Lake Shore Drive, it had the most incredible view of the city. She was surprised, because she had figured the other buildings would have blocked the view.

Lara grinned at Mara's expression. "The architect planned it that way. You probably didn't notice, when we were at ground level, but the penthouse is placed like a diamond on top of the rest of the building. This view faces south east. See, there's Navy Pier, or what you can see of it through this mizzling rain. Anyway, if you remember this part of town, we're not all that far from the Magnificent Mile. Shopping!" She ended on an exclamation.

"Lara, I didn't really come prepared to do a blitz on the town, I want to find out what's going on..."

Just then, they heard a key rattling in the door of the apartment. Kevin, all unsuspecting, stepped through to find his wife and his best friend glaring at him. His eyes widened. He knew he was in for it now.

-----------------------

In another penthouse in the near south side of town a pair of eyes was glaring at the captive tied to a chair.

"Well, well, my boys are telling me that my resident reporter doesn't know a thing about what happened to Giancarlo. And you with a nice Italian last name like Moretti, we're practically family. You know families shouldn't keep secrets from each other..."

The thickset older man ripped off the blindfold from the captive's eyes. Rafe squinted painful in the bright light of the room, trying to take in what he could with his right eye. The left one was swollen shut by what was turning into a magnificent black eye.

Rafe looked up at his captor. He beheld a short, rotund man who was balding, dressed in what had to be a tailored suit it fit him so well. He recognized him, Carlo Lombardo, a mid-level don in the Chicago Outfit, that city's branch of the Mafia. He had been up for racketeering charges several times, but he was as slick as lard on a hot summer day. None of the charges stuck.

"I don't *know* what happened to Giancarlo, I tried to tell that to your goons. Last time I saw him, and I didn't even know it was him, he had a fucking ski mask on, he was just about to blow a hole in my head. So you'll have to pardon me if I don't have an itinerary of his activities to give to you."

"Ah smart one, well, we'll see about that," Lombardo backhanded Rafe, reopening the cut at the corner of his mouth.

Rafe slowly brought his head back around. The don was smiling at him genially, but he could see his own death in the older man's eyes. Certain death if he couldn't come up with information that he didn't even have.

He looked at the floor, "Look, Carlo, Mr. Lombardo, up until about three days ago I was in South Dakota. And in the three days I've been back, I've hardly had any time to..."

Lombardo backhanded him again, the massive ring on his right hand leaving a cut across Rafe's cheek. Rafe was quiet, trying to get his brains back together in his head after those two ringing blows.

"My son goes missing and the last person other than the police to see him is a reporter sticking his big nose into business where he shouldn't. And now this same reporter," Lombardo grabbed Rafe's chin and forced him to look up, "says he hasn't the smallest idea where he may have gone."

"Mr. Lombardo, you *know* it wasn't just a simple bank robbery. I didn't think The Outfit touched drugs."

Lombardo pinched his chin harder and Rafe winced. "Mr. Moretti, you know we keep our hands clean of that sort of *business*. What the boys in The Outfit do on the side is their own business, just so long as The Outfit doesn't get dragged into it."

"How do you know that I would know anything about Giancarlo. I've obviously not done my research, I didn't even know he was your son. Who's to say he's out of it because of a drug deal gone bad?"

"You had better hope that isn't the real story, Mr. Moretti. I'll leave you here by yourself to think about it."

After Lombardo and his men left, Rafe looked around the bare room. Nothing. Not a damn thing to cut himself loose with. And the only way out was the door the men left through, unless he wanted to take a dive of who knows how many stories down to the concrete below.

Rafe groaned in response to the pain in his body and in his heart. Mara. She was well out of this mess. He hated leaving like he had, but somehow he had known it would come down to this. Better angry at him, hating him, rather than grieving. He bowed his head, his chin sinking down to his chest as he tried to think of a way out of this dead-end situation.

--------------

The Kuntzlers and Mara had sat down to dinner, Kevin asked for a reprieve until after dinner before the women would barrage him with questions. He had missed lunch and didn't think he could handle both of them pecking at him like verbal vultures on an empty stomach and low blood sugar.

'Harpies,' he thought in grim amusement. He loved both of the women dearly, but what the hell had happened? What the hell had Lara said to Mara or Mara said to Lara that resulted in Mara's now being in Chicago? He had a few questions of his own.

Like what the hell had happened to Rafe in Pittsville. Kevin had picked him up from O'Hare late at night. He had come in one of the red-eye flights. Rafe had looked unrested and...grim. Incredibly grim. What on earth had happened between Mara and him in the few short weeks he had been in Pittsville.

He polished off the last bite of the light trifle his wife had put together for a small desert. Putting down his fork, he saw that the women had also finished their meal.

"Well ladies, shall we take this discussion into the living room? Lara, don't cork that wine, bring it out with you. I have a feeling we're going to need it.

They silently walked out to the living room, all three carrying their wine glasses. Kevin decided that he must be a masochist because he was looking forward to the coming...talk. He just hoped it would stay civil and hoped he would find out what happened to Rafe and why Mara had glared holes into him when he had stepped through the door of his apartment.

Once they were seated in the comfortable chair and sofa grouping of the living room, Lara fired the opening salvo, "Kevin. Just what the hell is going on here? You've never been this closed mouthed. Last I knew Rafe was in Pittsville recuperating, then you call him back here, he disappears...I called Mara to see if she knows anything, and I find she's an absolute emotional wreck. And Mara, I think you should tell Kevin what...transpired in Pittsville. Maybe he can get it through his thick head that he's forgotten that people aren't pawns to be moved around at his whim?"

Mara had paled half-way through Lara's tirade. "Disappeared? What do you mean, Rafe's disappeared? You didn't tell me anything about that."

"That I just found out today from my darling husband. You were already on a flight out here. Kevin, you asked me to find out why Rafe looked so awful when he came back. Well I'd say he fell in love with Mara and then had to leave before he could say anything."

Mara gasped and shook her head. He couldn't love her, could he? Wasn't she just another conquest? And he had disappeared...DISAPPEARED. "Kevin, what is Lara talking about?!? Rafe's disappeared? He's not just on a hunt for a story, the story that must have called out to him so strongly that he just up and left...Pittsville?" Left me...

Kevin sat on the sofa, his elbows on his thighs, hunched over, thinking. How much could he tell them, these two intelligent women, that they would accept, without his having to tell the whole story?

----------------------

Rafe shivered in his chair, almost rousing from the light doze he had fallen into. The big room he was in wasn't very well heated and looked like it hadn't been used in a while as a living space. He couldn't hear any of the usual apartment building noises, so he figured he was in one of the buildings on the south side slated for demolition.

He shuddered again, and opened his eye, taking in the bleak room and the view out of the window beyond. It was full night now, he had no idea of the time. But he could tell roughly where he was from the lights of the skyline of the city. At least he was still in the city. At least he was still alive, for how much longer, he had no idea.

He had been staring unblinking at the city lights for so long that his good eye was starting to itch and the other eye, fettered by swollen flesh was beginning to actively ache. He fought from closing his eyes, but knew it was no good. He'd close them and he'd see Mara. He'd sleep and he'd dream Mara.

What was it about her? She was nothing like the type of women he usually favored. Those women were as sharp as knives in so many ways, with their thin brittleness and their willingness to climb up the ladder, whether it be social, political, or corporate. They were ruthless and he had thought he admired their ruthlessness. He took care of himself, they took care of themselves, when they came together for mutual pleasure, the results were often spectacular with fireworks. Their drive made them passionate beings.

But he knew Mara was no dummy, she was very sharp in her own way. She just chose not to wield her knife like the ladder climbers, who had no problem backstabbing with a gracious social smile adorning their faces. He and they had always looked out for numero uno, and anyone that came close was merely factored into that equation.

He shivered in the chill air again, and realized, that, other than to his mother, he had made himself emotionally unavailable. He had built some pretty good walls and it was a pretty good life until that damn trip to Pittsville.

Mara reminded him of his mother. Oh, she didn't look anything like his slender, elegant Italian mother, whom he swore did housecleaning in high heels and a fashionable black dress. But for all her fashion sense, and for all of Mara's lack of the same, they weren't such diametrical opposites as one would think at first glance.

They both sincerely cared for him, without any hidden agendas. Mara's plain face had become pretty when she smiled at him, her concern over his well being, the well being of a virtual stranger, shining in her face. Yes, she had fussed over him, but not annoyingly so, even though he had been unable to resist teasing her about it. Somewhere, at the time a thought had been planted in his head, that he wanted Mara to meet Giulietta, his mother.

The thought had shocked him. He couldn't understand why he had thought it at the time. Now when it was too late, he realized he loved Mara. Miserably, he realized that he'd never get a chance to tell her. Unbidden, a tear coursed down his cheek as he closed his eyes and thought about the two women he wouldn't ever see again.

Chapter 13 -- Transitions

Author's Note: Dear Reader, we are firmly back into PG-13 territory. This story still ain't for with the kiddies, but storm of NC-17 hath passed. It will return, however. I'll warn you ahead of time.

The grey of evening fills the room,
There's no need to look outside,
To see or feel the rain.
Then I reach across to touch her,
But I know that she's not there.
Rain keeps running down the window pane.
Time is running out for me.

Phil Collins - Domino, Pt. 1 - In The Glow Of the Night


Chapter 13 -- Transitions

Spring had come early in Chicago, spring showers and skies of leaden gray that would be dumping sleet after the sun set. The west side suburbs looked soaked, but here and there a bit of green could be spotted. Green that would shine brightly like emeralds amidst all the shades and colors of concrete found in the city.

'Welcome back to Chicago,' Mara thought. Her body had settled back into the familiar rhythms of the "L" train. Formerly known as the O'Hare/Congress line, she found that in the years since she had last been in the city, the line was now called the Blue Line.

She pressed her temple against the window of the swaying train watching the stops go by. She wondered how anyone would want to drive in the city when it had such a comprehensive transit system. The train overlooked the Kennedy Expressway, and traffic had ground almost to a standstill, stop and go, stop and go, going in the opposite direction from her. She hadn't minded taking the train to meet Kevin and/or Lara in the city. They would have had to battle that mess to come pick her up.

She had flown into Chicago's O'Hare airport about an hour ago and was rudely reminded by the bustling crowds just why she had moved away. She had kept a firm hold on her fragile emotions as she navigating the throngs of people going about their business.

At least, as always, the signage at O'Hare was superb. She found her way to the Blue Line station without any trouble, dragging her rolling suitcase behind her. She was glad she had taken an afternoon flight in. The train would be fairly empty, or at least more empty than it would have been had it the morning commute into the city. Seeing plenty of room on the train, she had taken one seat and pulled her suitcase up on its twin right next to it.

The rocking motion and clatter of the train lulled Mara into a half-daze. She felt outside of time, the culture shock not even beginning to register yet. Yet everything was so familiar from her time at Northwestern and Medill.

It had all started the day after...the blizzard. She wouldn't, couldn't go back to events during the blizzard, not just yet. Not if she wanted to survive this train trip into the heart of the city. She tightened the quiver that had started in her lower lip into a firm line and swallowed her tears.

Rafe was somewhere in the vast city. Somewhere. Who knew where. He had flown back as if shot from a bow and promptly disappeared.

The day after the blizzard the phone had rung. Mara had picked it up thinking that it was someone from the paper trying to get a hold of her. Instead, it was Kevin, asking to speak with Rafe, his tone clipped and serious.

She had silently handed the phone over to Rafe who had been standing beside her, a question in her bewildered eyes. She had rarely heard that tone in Kevin's voice, and never had he spoken that way to her.

Rafe had listened to the voice on the other end of the line, grunting an occasional negative or affirmative. He had taken Mara by the arm, and ushered her gently out of the den, firmly shutting the door behind her.

Mara had stood outside the door and watched her vision darken from normal to a haze of red. How dare they?? This was her house, she had taken on Rafe as a favor to Kevin, and now something had happened to shut her out.

A mocking voice had echoed in her head, 'And Rafe has returned the favor with interest now hasn't he? Never thought you'd have a lover again, now did you Mara, dear?'

Mara became even angrier at that small piece of mockery. Disgusted, she found that she was now mad at herself as well as the two men.

A few minutes later Rafe had come out of the den, looking grim.

"Well?" Mara had asked, concern and anger fighting for the upper hand in her voice.

He had looked at her. He had looked at her and then straight through her. It was then when she felt the first chip into her heart. That look had hurt, it had cut her where she didn't think she could be cut again, not ever.

She had tried to meet his eyes, hers bewildered and angry. He had gone to his bedroom and shut the door. She had quickly swept after him, intending to batter the door down, but her fist had frozen in the air before even striking the door.

The mocking voice was speaking again, 'Face it Mara, this was a fling for him, and now his boss is tugging on his reins, calling him back to the big city, away from lil' ol' Pittsville.'

At that, Mara had gone upstairs. She had lain down on her bed, her eyes dry and wide open, unable to believe the pain of betrayal that was rippling through her. Rafe betraying her, god, even Kevin betraying her. It was too large an emotion to wrap her mind or heart around.

'Why am I betrayed? How am I betrayed? Am I...betrayed?' she had asked herself, hoping against hope that someone would answer that bottomless question, even if it was that scathing little inner voice that seemed to be breaking the news to her in a not-so-nice manner.

Another question had reared its ugly head at that point. 'Did I betray myself?' She felt her heart crack a little more as she mentally squirmed in embarrassment that she could have been so...gullible.

"Kevin, I thought you were my friend." she said plaintively to the air of her bedroom. "Rafe..." her voice had trailed off then, their relationship had been so...new... that she didn't even know what to call him. A new friend? A new lover? A new comrade in arms in that camaraderie that joined people trying to report the news where ever they might be?

'Don't mistake his helping at the paper for a few days,' the mocking voice finally came back, 'for something more than a bit of amusement to pass the time in BoredomLand. Don't mistake his...sexual...interest for something more.' The inner voice was particularly scathing on that last sentence, and Mara closed her eyes in pain, to try to shut off that voice in the darkness of her head.

After a couple of hours of recrimination and no sound from downstairs had caused a pounding headache to develop, Mara had swallowed a bit of her pride and went downstairs to find her big bottle of ibuprofen in the pantry. She sneered to herself, a wholly unaccustomed facial expression for her, remembering that its smaller partner, which was normally in her bathroom, was now in Rafe's bedroom. The damned guestroom.

She had walked past the den and saw Rafe with his lap top. He had looked up and caught her peering at him and shut the laptop. The click of its locking mechanism had been another blow, chipping away another piece of heart.

But she had been sick of sniveling upstairs, wondering what the fuck had happened. She became determined to find out. She had been so incredibly angry that she couldn't even remember what she had said, what insults had been hurled. This had caused a blazing row, with Rafe once again departing for his room, this time glaring at her coldly, before slamming the door shut.

Evidently irreconcilable insults had been hurled. She had stormed off to the pantry to get the ibuprofen and had stormed upstairs and had cried stormy tears until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she heard a knock downstairs, on the front door. Her head felt peculiarly numb and her mouth was parched. She had haltingly gone and peered between the banisters of the stairs.

Grove had arrived to pick Rafe up for the first leg of his journey back to Chicago. He had glanced up, seeing her peering between the banisters. He looked grim, and looked up at her with a question in his eyes, taking in her blotchy face and red eyes. She had shrugged and looked down at the carpet covering the stairs, then had looked up, looking for Rafe

Rafe had already stepped out on the porch with his luggage in tow. She couldn't see his face from where she was, just the lower two-thirds of his body. Grove stepped back to try to give her a clearer view, but Rafe's hand had reached out and shut the door.

The click of the door closing knocked her off her feet to sit on the landing. She had sat there for the longest time, glaring at nothing.

---------------

Mara on the train shuddered when she had remembered the rage and hurt she had felt at that moment. She had felt so horribly...used. However, she found that her eyes were bone dry and a roiling determination to get to the root of whatever happened was now boiling in her chest.

If nothing else, the curious newspaperwoman was coming to the forefront again. It might not be a story for the Prairiedog she was researching here, but she was bound and determined to find out why the editor of that venerable old paper felt so...fucked over.

She grimaced sourly at herself, recognizing the symptoms. She had felt them when her father had died. Disassociation. The psyche doing what it could to handle an untenable situation. Well, so she'd be a reporter again, this time to investigate just what the hell had happened. And Why, And Where, And How, And Who, the litany of basic interviewing technique resounding in her head.

As the train rolled even closer to the heart of Chicago, she started actively watching the stations sweeping past. She didn't want to miss her stop. She thought back to her distant knowledge of the Blue Line and remembered that it would go underground. Her station was in brief downtown subway portion of the elevated.

Her face broke into a grin as she thought about the symbolism of going underground. Euridyce in Hades, only in this case she was coming up out of hell to find her Orpheus. She snorted at that, earning a glare from a fellow passenger. Orpheus indeed. He had certainly played her like the lyre of that that ancient Greek musician.

Her mirth at that threatened to break into hysterical laughter as the train plunged into the darkness of its underground tracks. The interior lights flickered, and then resumed a steady glowing. Washington Street station. The train came to a halt disgorging and taking on passengers. Monroe, her stop was the next station.

Mara stood and trundled closer to the door, keeping her suitcase in tight formation against her body, which swayed with the rocking of the train. Not having a handy handhold, she instinctively braced herself as the train abruptly slowed, so as to remain upright. No sense in really making a spectacle of herself on the train and falling over, possibly knocking over some fellow passengers like dominos.

Domino. Her mind latched onto that thought. She was a domino that had been set into motion by the circumstances surrounding her. As the domino, plunging downward, she hoped there would be other dominos to cradle her fall. That she wasn't the end of the line and would fall flat on her face.

The train came to a halt and she pushed her way off, dragging her wheeling suitcase behind like a miscreant toddler. She took the escalator up to ground level and stood on the sidewalk of Chicago's famous State Street, a bit dazed by the sheer scale of the buildings towering above her. Ah, her old friend culture shock was beginning its wizen head.

She heard a voice behind her calling her name. Turning her head, she saw Lara Kuntzler coming towards her. She was swept into a warm hug by the wife of her supposed friend and felt tears trying to come yet again into her eyes. She bit her lip and sat back numbly in the taxi that Lara had hustled her into, not really hearing the destination that woman gave to the cabbie. She distantly wondered if it would matter as she sat back and rested her head on the back of the seat, closing her eyes.

Chapter 12 Storms

Author's note and strong warning: Here be carnal activities of the NC-17 variety. If that is not your cup of tea, I strongly enjoin you to give this chapter a pass. I'll let you know when it's safe to read again in another chapter or so.

Thanks,
The Management



In this age of grand illusion
You walked into my life
out of my dreams
I don't need another change
Still you forced away
into my scheme of things...

David Bowie - Word on a Wing


Chapter 12 -- Storms

After 11:00 that night, the wind began to pick up. Soon it was blowing hard enough to make the heavier snow of earlier shift and swirl around on the ground. It broke up the heavy snowflakes into something easier for it to push around. The snow continued to fall heavily, only now it was dancing at the command of the wind. In the street lights of Pittsville it glittered and shone in its dance.

The wind's dance continued to grow and grow, until it was rattling Mara's windows once again. The old windows of her home were beginning protest the wind's peculiar minuet. A light sleeper, Mara awoke at a particularly loud vibration of glass and wood.

She lay in her bed and listened to the wind, wondering if it was snowing, and if so, how hard. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep right away, as she felt that strange excitement at what the weather was doing start to build. Like a child at Christmas, she hopped out of bed and walked over to the window and pulled aside the drapes.

The world was that shade of gray that would be pure white if it were daylight. She stood for a moment trying to figure out if it still snowing. The windows looked odd, until she realized that they had frosted over. The temperature must have dropped a bit with a lot of humidity in the air. She guessed that it was still snowing.

She pulled on her calico plaid robe and went downstairs, figuring that the big picture window in the living room wouldn't be completely frosted over. Or if that failed, she could open a door and peek outside.

Moving as silently as she could down the stairs, she smiled. She did feel a little bit like that same holiday child sneaking down to see what presents Santa had left. Her grin became a bit sardonic as she wondered if Rafe was asleep. She was torn between wishing he were awake to share the storm with her, and hoping he was asleep so that he wouldn't get a good laugh at her skulking around her own house.

Only the edges of the picture window had fingers of frost around them. It made for a lovely frame to what was happening outside. And it was snowing, oh how it was snowing. She couldn't see beyond her porch, it was coming down so strong.

Although coming down was a bit of a stretch, as it was hard to tell what was coming down and what was being blown back up off the ground. All of it was moving and swirling. When it wasn't swirling, it was once again flying nearly horizontal to the ground. She figured the wind must be blowing at a steady 40 miles per hour with gusts up to who knows.

A quiet voice spoke behind her, "How did I know you would be down here?"

She didn't jump. Somehow she had sensed Rafe's presence in the living room before he spoke. Patting the cushion beside her, she looked at him and silently bade him to join her.

Rafe walked around the sofa and sat down. He looked like another holiday child himself; he had wrapped himself in an afghan instead of his robe to come out to look. A side of the afghan had slid off his shoulder, and his skin looked dimly like alabaster in the half light.

Mara found herself captivated by that shoulder. She knew he had an olive tone to his skin, but in this light, the muscles of his upper arm looked like they were part of a Grecian sculpture out of white marble. She wanted to touch them to see if they would be as smooth as they looked, yielding, yet unyielding with the muscle beneath that skin.

She looked up from Rafe's shoulder and met his eyes. In the dim light she could see that he was smiling, but couldn't make out the character of that smile. Was he leering at her because she was ogling him? Was he smiling because of the weather? Was he smiling...at her? She smiled back, shyly, and looked back out through the window.

Rafe slid close to her and put his arm around her shoulder, partially wrapping her in the afghan. She reached over and pulled the other half of afghan so that he was more cocooned in it.

"Mara the mother hen," he murmured in her ear, his breath sending a shiver through her, even as she inwardly groaned at his teasing.

"Well it's chilly in here and...," she replied only to be interrupted by Rafe.

"Move closer. There's enough afghan here for us to share."

She half-heartedly thought about protesting and saying she had her warm robe on and he, once again was only in his boxers. She smiled secretly to herself, told the mother hen to be quiet, and slid closer.

Rafe tightened his arm around her shoulder as she sat beside him. Mara, still facing the window, gave into temptation, and put her right hand up to touch his shoulder. She felt the play of his muscles beneath her hand and his warmth. She shivered at the smooth texture of his skin and the contrast of softness and strength she could feel.

Rafe pulled her even closer until she was wrapped in the afghan. She sighed in contentment at the warm, heavy weight of his arm around her shoulders. They sat quietly and watched the storm.

Half-hypnotized by the motion of the driven snow, she almost thought that a hint of a gentle breeze had begun to blow in the living room. She realized it was Rafe's breath as he touched the shell of her ear with his lips.

She closed her eyes in pleasure at his warm lips and his breath exciting the nerve endings. He slowly kissed down her neck and she sighed. A warmth began to pulse in her pelvis in response to his ministrations.

His hand came up and slowly turned her face toward him. Their lips met. His kiss was as delicate, enticing her and tempting her to deepen it. Her lips parted under his.

Time slowed as their kiss deepened, his tongue tasting her lips and then moving to taste hers. He tasted sweet, with a minty overtone left over from earlier toothpaste. She moved her tongue out to taste his sweetness, running it over his lips. His lips moved to capture her tongue and the kiss grew warmer. She felt lightheaded from it.

Slowly, slowly, his hand moved from where it had been caressing her face, down her neck, trailing along her collar bone, feeling her soft skin and her shivering response to his touch. Slowly, slowly his hand moved lower until it was cupping her breast. She moved so that her breast was more completely in contact with that teasing hand and she sighed again as she felt his thumb running across her nipple through the fabric of her robe.

Once again she was torn. Torn between wanting to be incredibly aggressive and ripping off her robe or at least opening it enough so that his hand could touch her breast without the fabric in between and wanting to dwell in the sensations he was causing for a small eternity.

His lips followed a path similar to what his hand had done, on the other side of her face, then down to her neck. She tipped her head back to give him more access as he kissed the vulnerable line of her neck. His hand tightened a bit on her breast, caressing its curve and testing its weight.

A strong gust of wind rattled the picture window loudly and they both jumped in surprise at the sound. Rafe drew back and looked Mara in the eyes, a question in his.

Mara turned her body more fully to face him and moved to taste his lips again. Rafe reached down and gently moved her right leg up onto the sofa. He slid his arm out from behind her pressed her back down into the sofa, draping his body more fully over hers.

His lips found her collar bone again as his hands undid the knot in the belt around her robe. Slowly, slowly he spread her robe open and kissed the tip of one breast and suckled it. Her hand reached up to tangle itself in his long hair, encouraging him to lip more strongly at her breast. She drew a shuddering breath at the pleasurable sensation.

One of his hands teased her other breast, the other caressed her side, sliding slowly up and down between her ribcage and the outside of her thigh.

"So warm, so soft..." he murmured against her breast, the vibration of his deep voice sensitizing the nipple even more.

Her hand slid out of his hair and touched the smoothness of his shoulders, his upper back, his lower back. It slid over one firm buttock and teased the spot where his thigh met it. He half groaned half sighed his pleasure at her touch.

The hand caressing her side slid down one last time over her hip and travelled slowly, oh so slowly down her leg. He stroked her calf and then his warm hand began making the return trip up the leg this time on the inside, stopping to rest just above her pubis. He stroked her furry mons and applied some pressure to it with his palm, making her hips buck upward toward his hand.

Mara made an inarticulate sound at the sensations coursing through her body and coming to focus in her breasts and her pussy. She felt a finger tickling the outside of her nether lips and she felt herself undulate in response.

That incredible, teasing finger parted her lips and slid further into her, sampling her wetness. Rafe groaned, "so warm, so wet," anticipating sliding an eager portion of his anatomy into that warmth.

She could feel his hardness against her thigh through the silky boxers. His hand continued to tease and test her depths, lightly caressing her clitoris with his thumb. His touch became less teasing and more sure as she began to writhe beneath him.

Plunging one finger into her vagina, his hand began mimicking a movement as old as the human race. A second finger finger joined the first. His thumb circled her clitoris more firmly as his fingers found the internal spot of stimulus and Mara, letting out a long keening cry, came apart in his arms.

Gentling his movements on her now overly sensitive pussy, he kissed her lips and her closed eyes, holding her warmly with his other arm. She drowsed, floating in pleasure at his touch.

His mouth found the other breast, switching sides with his hands. She could smell both of their arousals as he drew her even closer, continuing his mouth's fascination with her nipple.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his mouth moved downward, his lips fondling the underside of first one breast, then the other.

Mara slid her hand around to touch his erection through his shorts. She could feel it straining against her hand, a pleasing hardness. He groaned and moved his hips away from her questing hand. She made an inquiring sound at his motion.

Rafe looked up and smiled at her, "That feels so good, but I want this to last and your hand was starting to feel a little too good together with the silk." He playfully nipped at her ribcage beneath her breasts and made her giggle with ticklishness. His tongue found her belly button and slid into it. The sensation burned straight down to her pussy and she felt her arousal beginning to grow again.

He kissed and stroked her belly, enjoying its womanly roundness. He hadn't realized he had been missing that curve with all the fashionably thin arm candy he had been dating. Her curves were all female, nothing angular and boyish about them. His mouth traced her belly over to her hip She shuddered at the sensation as his lips found the crease of her upper leg.

His mouth moved to her center, reverently kissing her nether lips. His tongue moved between them to lick and caress, circling around but never quite touching her clitoris. Mara found herself writhing again as the teasing became almost unbearable.

Rafe's hand moved to join his mouth, and one long finger found its way into her again. Moving slowly, slowly, he deepened that soul kiss and finally touched her clitoris with the point of his tongue. She shuddered at the sensation, feeling orgasmic waves begin to build as his fingers sped up their motion in time with his tongue. Time slowed to a slow crawl as he stimulated her, to hang on the brink for the longest time.

Mara was panting with want. She had closed her eyes and woven her hand into Rafe's hair, encouraging him. She opened her eyes and looked down at his head between her legs, that sight and the stimulus sending her spiraling into orgasm. His mouth continued its pleasuring as she slowly came down, her hand stroking his hair.

She found her voice and murmured, "Wow." She couldn't find another word for another few minutes as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her breast. She kept stroking his hair as she felt the hardness of his penis pulsing against her inner thigh.

"Wow," she breathed again. "I don't know if I can move just yet, I don't know if my legs would support me, but shall we move this to somewhere more...comfortable for both of us?"

Rafe raised his head and grinned at her, "Your place or mine?"

Happy Jig!

Yay! 22,112 words and counting. I hope this puppy doesn't stall out on me, I'll be rather peeved...

Chapter Eleven - The Snow Begins To Fall

When you close your eyes
And you fall asleep
Everything about you is a mystery
You tell me that you want me
You tell me that you need me
You tell me that you love me
And I know that I'm right
'Cause I hear it in the night

The Romantics - Talking In Your Sleep


Chapter 11 -- Snow Down

Rafe surprised Mara with his cooking skills. He put together a scrumptious meal of slow roasted salmon on a bed of mixed greens with a horseradish vinaigrette, snow pea salad. For dessert, they had a tasty mousse au chocolat à la menthe.

Though Mara enjoyed the rest of the meal, the minty chocolate mousse was her favorite.

"Rafe, when did you find time to learn to cook like that?"

"A friend of mine was a Cordon Bleu Chef who studied cooking in France."

"Wow, care to talk your friend into coming out here to stay for a while, too? I'd love to learn some cooking from him."

Rafe smiled ruefully. "He was a she, and I'm afraid we really aren't on speaking terms any more."

"Oh?"

Rafe could see her curiosity was piqued, and knew she wouldn't be satisfied with just that brief explanation. "Well, she was teaching me how to cook and..."

The pause grew a little uncomfortable. Mara jumped in, "Rafe, you don't have to tell me anything else than that, that she taught you how to cook. So, how long does it take to learn how to cook like that?"

"She only had a chance to teach me the recipes I made for you tonight and some very basic cooking tips. I've since went on and used the tips to do some adventurous cooking of my own, which I hope you'll let me share with you while I'm here."

"Oh, no problem there. You are definitely MORE than welcome to cook for us anytime you please. My only concern is that my kitchen's probably lacking in the variety of equipment you'll need. Your cuisine is probably a bit more haut than any of my cooking tools."

"No worry there. I'm used to improvising. I haven't exactly bought a kitchen full of gadgets."

"So what else have you learned from your female friends?" Mara teased, then blushed when she realized that that could be mistaken for perhaps a come on.

Rafe grinned at her blush, "I'm quite willing to teach you anything you're willing to learn."

She blushed more furiously.

"Mara, my dear, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You left yourself wide open for that one."

She grinned at him shyly, but held her peace.

After enjoying the rest of their dessert in a comfortable silence, Mara stood up. "Leave the dishwashing to me. I'll clear off the table, too. The chef gets to rest on his laurels this evening. I just need to check the weather here and on the Internet.

She peered outside and saw that the wind had picked up again, but there was no snow falling yet. On the Internet, the National Weather Service was still running its twelve county weather advisory, but it was the same one that had come through that afternoon, with no updates.

Mara felt that excitement that can come from anticipating heavy weather, whether it be a severe thunderstorm or a blizzard. She'd always been a bit of a weather nut, and loved what the seasonal changes wrought meteorologically.

She didn't want the evening to end, but knew she needed to get to bed soon, so that she could get up early to go to the Prairiedog office in the morning. Rafe had been so...charming. She felt a bite of jealousy thinking about his having spent the whole day with MarySue. She hoped he hadn't been as charming with her.

'And it's your own darn fault if he was, the way you've been throwing them together, Mara Pitts. Can you just maybe make up your mind?' This thought caused her to shove a couple of the pans in the sink a bit more energetically than necessary.

Rafe heard that clatter of metal and came out to the kitchen. "So, what'd that pan do to make you mad? I thought you enjoyed the salmon?"

"I did! I was just...thinking."

"What were you...thinking about?"

"Umm, getting the Sunday newspaper published early tomorrow."

"Yeah, getting up that early would make me crabby, too."

"It isn't that..." she trailed off as her thoughts scattered when she realized that Rafe had moved right next to her. He was standing very close to her. She breathed in his scent and felt a warm rush move through her body. 'Well, Ms. Pitts, he seems to have the right cologne and the right pheromones to light your fire,' she chided herself.

Ms. Pitts answered, 'Well, he is a man.'

To which Mara replied, 'And what a man.' She bit her lower lip.

Rafe had been watching her emotions play across her face. She looked up from the broiler pan she was scrubbing and met his eyes.

"You've a bit of mousse...," he said softly as he reached with his thumb to wipe away the offending chocolate,"...right here." He licked the bit of mousse off his thumb. Mara just about dropped the slipper broiler pan, she couldn't keep her eyes from his mouth, his lips.

He moved just a bit closer to her, until she could feel the warmth from his body. He smiled a smile she hadn't seen before. If she had thought him attractive prior to that, the smile on his face now wreaked havoc with the butterflies in her stomach.

"My lovely Mara, my sweet editor, I'm calling it a night..."

She continued looking at him, her mouth slightly open and her breath coming faster. Had he just called her lovely?

His eyes were on her lips now, "Good night, my dear, sweet dreams." He leaned in and captured her soft mouth with his own. He tasted of chocolate and mint and coffee and the combination was wholly intoxicating.

The broiler pan fell into the sink with a splash and a clatter, causing them to jump apart. Water splashed on them both.

Mara started giggling uncontrollably. "Oh, I didn't mean to..." she trailed off smiling with the beginnings of a newfound joy as well as the absurdity of the situation. The whole situation, not just the dishwater. How unlikely it was that she would ever meet Rafe in the normal course of things. And here he was.

Rafe stepped back and smiled at her laughter, enjoying the light in her brown eyes. "I'm leaving you to your dishes, dear. I can see that scrubbing and kissing aren't an optimum combination of activities for you."

Mara surprised herself by putting down the scrubber sponge and stepping up to Rafe. She gently kissed his lips and whispered "Good night."

-----------------------------

The next morning when Mara woke up there was a light snow falling. At 4:00 a.m., the temperature outside was still quite cold, 5 below zero, which made her think that perhaps the blizzard would hold off. She started her pickup and rushed back in to enjoy some coffee while the vehicle warmed up.

To her surprise, Rafe came into the kitchen, fully dressed, carrying his coat. "Need some help today?" he asked.

"You should have slept in... I'm not sending you out to chase down any news in this cold." She grinned at him in a conspiring manner, "I checked the newswires, nothing going on in Pittsville and its environs."

"I'd like to help with the grunt work, if I may?"

Mara smiled. "Of course you may, you know the old saying 'Many hands make a burden light' Well in this case, many hands assemble the newspaper that much more quickly. Usually the carriers do most of the assembly, but if we're going to have a blizzard coming through, I'd like to get that done for them so all they have to do is deliver. We've certainly the space for it around the office.

Rafe poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across the kitchen table from her. Mara looked wide awake, but he could see the underlying weariness from having spent the last few days in a row going in extra early to the paper.

She raised her eyebrows in query at his studying her face.

He grinned and took his gaze away from her face and angled his head to see the level of the coffee in her mug. "Do you need a warm up on that, or shall we..." he trailed off with a gesture towards the door.

Mara grimaced, thinking about the cold weather outside. "We'd better. Or, I'd better and I'd better get you out there and into the cab of my truck before you get a taste of the temperature and decide that sleeping in may have truly been the better option."

"You won't get rid of me that easy."

Mara stood up and moved to put her mug in the sink, her smile turning a bit wistful. What was she thinking about last night? The man would be gone in a few weeks at the most. They really needed to keep it friendly... *just* friendly. Otherwise she'd end up with a dent or two in her heart that she didn't really want to experience.

Rafe missed the look on her face as he also stood up to put on his coat. When she turned back around, she had her *just* friendly smile under control.

She fussed around him a bit, making sure he had a hat, mittens and a warm scarf. "I'm not mother henning...you never know when you're going to end up walking. If this wind picks up much more and hits the truck at just the right angle, it can cause stalling and a fast freeze," she told Rafe. "There isn't exactly a handy bus or El train to take home around here. I used to run around in Evanston and Chicago without a hat or gloves in the worst weather. Oh never when it was so bad that couple of times that all city transit services shut down, but here, this weather can turn deadly in a heartbeat. And I'm babbling again. Let's get going!"

------------------------

The hours at the Prairiedog passed quickly. Quite a few of the distributors had gotten wind of Adele's weather warning, and had shown up in anticipation of the early run of the Sunday paper. As a result, they were assembling the various sections of the paper almost as rapidly as Joe could shoot them off the press.

Without stopping for lunch, the paper was ready to go by 1:00 p.m. Mara stepped out of the pressroom into the front office and gasped when she saw how much the snow and wind had picked up. It wasn't exactly a blizzard yet, but what was coming down was being blown almost horizontally.

She groaned. It was looking like they were going to get a blizzard after all. She started mentally assembling what she needed to bring home with her: which advertising accounts would need to be reimbursed if the Monday paper didn't go out, a phone list of the local carriers, she'd have to call them to let them know that if the snow came as promised...

Mara went back into the pressroom. To her surprise, all the distributors were there and gathering together the papers they needed for their runs. The local carriers were there as well from the youngest 13 year old, to her oldest carrier, the retired school teacher who enjoyed delivering the paper to supplement her pension. She shook her head in amazement at how well word of mouth travels in a small town.

Rafe looked rather surprised as well. Seemed there were more than just a one or two people who took Miss Simonson's weather warnings seriously. Mara grinned at his expression and shrugged.

In a very short time, she was able to let everyone know to keep an eye on the weather advisories. If the weather turned awful and the state highway patrol closed down the roads, obviously the paper wouldn't go out. She didn't want anyone risking life and limb if this storm turned out to be as nasty as Adele was predicting.

Soon, the pressroom was empty of people except for Mara, Rafe, and Joe, who was still cleaning up the press. Mara helped Joe as best she could, but didn't want to do anything to upset the balance of that temperamental piece of machinery.

Mara and Rafe were able to leave quickly after that, arriving at her house not long after 2:00. As they were stepping out of the truck, Mara noticed that the wind had calmed and a heavy, wet snow was now falling.

"If the wind doesn't pick up again, this shouldn't be too bad," she opined to Rafe as they went into the warm house.

Chapter the Tenth -- In Which We Learn Some Folklore

In these frozen and silent nights,
Sometimes in a dream...you appear.
Outside under the purple sky,
Diamonds in the snow sparkle.
Our hearts were singing,
It felt like Christmas time.

The Pretenders - 2000 miles

Chapter 10 -- Heavy Weather

Two weeks passed after what Mara was now calling in her mind "The Early Morning Incident." Neither she nor Rafe mentioned his tender kiss.

She had spoken with Grove and worked out a "rental agreement" with him and Rafe so that Rafe would have a truck to drive around. Mara ruthlessly paired him up with MarySue, much to Rafe's amusement and private dismay. MarySue did have her own vehicle, but it was a lightweight little two door from the early 90s that would have no problem sliding off the road should the weather turn hostile.

The weather had turned "nice" again, at least as nice as a blustery east river South Dakota March could be. Rafe had found out from Mara that the Missouri River more or less divided the state in half and also seemed to be a dividing line politically as well. That and it was somewhat traditional for the two sides of the state to have a mild contempt for each other.

Even though she had grown up in South Dakota, Mara wasn't entirely sure why this was, just simply that it was. She thought that perhaps the east river folk disliked the west river folk because their weather was on more of an even keel. The west river folk disliked the east river folk because of Sioux Falls being the largest city in the state, and east river generally having a better situation economically. Or so she conjectured.

Today, a clear and sunny, yet very windy Friday, had MarySue and Rafe out on the road. MarySue having been around longer in the state wanted to show off her knowledge of the immediately environs to Rafe. Mara sent them off with her blessings.

She wasn't blushing anymore around Rafe, but Mara still couldn't figure out why their kiss bothered her so much. No, bothered wasn't the wrong word, unless it was bothered as in "hot and bothered." 'Troubled' was equally too negative. She resigned herself to being confused in a positive sort of way.

When she wasn't infuriated by the whole thing. Mara hadn't dated in ages, other than the occasional cup of coffee with Arthur. She didn't really consider those dates, more 'two friends getting together to chat' even though she wouldn't really call Arthur a friend per se. He was nice enough, but there was still something about him that set off some mild alarm bells. Nothing major, just a mild discomfort. At least with Arthur, she was able to plant that 'discomfort' towards the negative side of the emotional spectrum.

Rafe, however, was still up for grabs.

She grinned at herself as she thought of that. 'Up for grabs' in more ways than one. He appeared to be a free agent all around, whereas Arthur might as well have 'perennial bachelor' stamped on his forehead. Rafe...who knew?

She looked at her watch: 2:25 p.m. Her office suddenly phone rang.

"Pittsville Prairiedog, this is Mara."

"Hi, Mara, this is Adele."

"Hi, Miss Simonson, what can I do for you today?" Adele Simonson, a long time resident of Pittsville had celebrated her 94th birthday a couple of months ago. She was one of those older women who spoke her mind, and had enough wisdom and life experience that you usually paid attention.

Adele, being also a woman of few words, got down to business right away. "Have you seen the forecast?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be sunny and windy for the next three or four days. Why?"

"Throw that out. I know you get the weather from the National Weather Service out of Sioux Falls, but they'll be changing it soon, too. My knee has been locked up with arthritis since this morning. It's worse than when we had that blizzard three years ago.

"That was pretty nasty." Mara remembered having to dig out from under that one and didn't relish the idea of having another Spring storm roll through with two to three feet of snow.

"Mara, I'm worried we're due for another blizzard like the one in 1966. It snowed something awful then. I remember my sister living in Pierre told me they had snow piled 5 foot deep. I was in Tucson when that happened, praise the Lord, visiting my other sister, Irene. The Mister had to dig himself out of that by himself."

"I'll keep an eye on it, Miss Simonson. Thanks for the warning." Mara jotted it down on her note pad, and went to the NWS site for Sioux Falls to get an update.

"Keep an eye on that weather, you may want to get your Sunday edition out early."

"I'll bear that in mind. Thanks again for calling me."

Mara felt a mild concern. Adele's knee seemed to be able to predict the weather accurately about 95% of the time. Well, nothing else to do but keep a close eye on the weather service.

She had turned off the small weather alert radio she kept in her office due to the currently nice weather. The NWS periodically sent a test signal across the airwaves and always managed to startle Mara when she was focussing on something.

Reaching over to the small radio, she turned it on, and made a mental note to turn the one at home on, as well. She knew from past experience, that Adele would be passing the news throughout her small network of friends and that it would spread like ripples in a pool. Most people knew that Adele was as accurate a forecaster (if not more so) as the NWS.

Mara had long since filed Adele and some of the other folk living further out in the country in her mental file of "Some things that country folk know better than other sources." She always shook her head in absent amazement over the stories they told and their wildly accurate predictions whether it was about the weather or how well a calving season would go. She hoped the storm would hold off until Sunday and buckled down to see what she could do about getting the Sunday PrairieDog ready to go early

She had finished up the Friday evening edition well over an hour ago, and Joe was running it on the press. She could feel the steady vibrations caused by that large piece of machinery, even though her office was virtually soundproofed from the noises coming from the main pressroom.

It was a fairly old press, but Joe knew just how to keep it running. Mara hated to think of what the expenditure would be to get a newer one once this one could no longer be fixed and finagled along. Her father had left her with a trust that provided a moderate income besides what she made at the paper. She didn't want to have to break that trust to buy a new press, she was hoping to keep it intact so that it could continue earning slowly on the capital.

Well, that worry would happen when it would happen. She turned her attention back to the NWS site. The Weather Service had modified the forecast to reflect mild flurries by Sunday.

Too bad weather forecasting wasn't a more exact science to where they could accurately predict up to 30 days out or something. 'Too much of the butterfly effect in operation,' she thought. Well, what was running on the press was what was running, too late to change it now.

She turned back to the Sunday edition editorial page and started editing in earnest.

-------------------

Five hours later, the pressroom was now silent, the evening paper having been distributed to the carriers, and drivers who took it out to some of the smaller towns and villages 'near' Pittsville, near of course being a relative term.

Mara was still bent over the Sunday edition, working on the layout. A knock at the office door startled her out of her musing.

The door opened and Rafe stuck his head around it, "Hi."

"Hi! You startled me."

"It's almost eight, were you planning to come home soon?"

Mara smiled to herself. It made her feel good that Rafe felt comfortable enough at her house that he would be calling it 'home' at least temporarily. "Yes, I've done just about everything I can today. I've been keeping an eye on the weather. We may have to go to press early tomorrow."

"I didn't think that it was going to get nasty, at least over the next few days."

"Well Adele Simpson called me because her knee was acting up..."

"Wait a second. Her knee was acting up?" Rafe looked at her with a skeptical smile on his face. "I thought that was an old wives' tale about people's joints and muscle and whatever predicting bad weather.

"Don't laugh. Miss Simpson, 84 years of age, bless her heart, has had a near 95% percent accuracy rate when it comes to predicting weather. She says there's a blizzard coming."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't believe me? Well here's some numbers. I've been tracking her predictions since the first winter after I became editor at the Prairiedog. I thought she, and Joe, were high, too when they first told me about it. He's been unofficially tracking her for longer, but not on paper." She held out a thin file folder to Rafe with her documentation of the weather. Over the past seven years had been almost dead on. Usually when something was off, it was the timing of the weather itself.

Rafe shook his head in disbelieving wonder after reading and handed the folder back to Mara. At just that moment the weather radio decided to let out an alarm. Mara squeaked, jumped and muttered something under her breath about obnoxious loud sounds.

She looked up at Rafe, "Well let's give it a listen."

"The National Weather Service at Sioux Falls has issued a Winter Weather advisory for the following counties, Minnehaha, Turner, Hutchinson, Yankton, Bon Homme..." the radio rattled on through a list of about a dozen counties and proceeded to issue a severe weather advisory for those counties, the watch period starting at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday.

"See."

"Hmm. It's still in the predictive stage. Your numbers look good, but I guess I won't believe it until I see it."

"Where's MarySue?"

"She, ah, left."

"Do I detect something in that little statement?"

Rafe grinned at her. "I really can't get anything past you, now can I? She's a little miffed at me. I think she was expecting to have dinner with me tonight. Even though I really hadn't asked her or extended an offer."

"Be careful Rafe. You want to stay on her good side. She's going to be a very good reporter one day once she gets some of the romantic nonsense she's got in mind about the profession worked out of her system," she chided humorously.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Seriously. She's going to be quite good, whereever she ends up, once she gets past the sensationalism. Or that might even work in her favor if she tempers it with a bit of realism."

"Is that what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You got all that romantic nonsense out of your system..." he trailed off, still smiling at her, but this time more...tenderly.

Mara knew at once that she was being handed a loaded question. She was attracted to Rafe, but didn't know if she should get involved. He appeared to be attracted to her, but in a few more weeks he'd being returning to Chicago. She wasn't sure if she could handle a frivolous relationship.

She smiled back at Rafe, a tentative, questioning smile, silently inviting him to expand on whatever he was thinking.

Rafe enjoyed her smile for a few moments and then changed tacks. "How about we discuss the issue of romanticism, whether in journalism...or elsewhere. I also want to chat with you a bit more about the Adele Simpson Weather Phenomenon," he joked to lighten the suddenly intense atmosphere in the office. "Tell you what. I'll cook."

Rafe had finally gotten rid of his cane, even though he still walked with a slight limp. He had been helping her with dishes.

Mara looked at him questioningly.

"Yes, I can cook, but that's another story for over dinner. Let's get out of here."

"Yes, let's. I've got to make a run to the local Piggly Wiggly and pick up some groceries in case we are snowed in. Why don't you drop off your pickup at the house and then we'll proceed from there."

Sigh.

Sigh...Still on the wrong side of the hump:

Chapter the Ninth - Of Politics, Governmental and Sexual

Somebody bring me some water
Can’t you see I’m burning alive
Can’t you see my baby’s got another lover
I don’t know how I’m gonna survive
Somebody bring me some water
Can’t you see it’s out of control
Baby’s got my heart and my baby’s got my mind
But tonight the sweet devil’s got my soul

Melissa Etheridge - Bring Me Some Water


Chapter 9 -- Political Intrigues

Arthur Larson, second son of Grove Larson had a rather proprietary interest in Mara Pitts. Seeing his older brother marry and have a delightful daughter had awakened a thread of thought in the all but sworn bachelor's mind.

Arthur had a taste for power. He was reasonable enough to know that he would never be able to consolidate such power and backing to be elected to the United States House as the Representative of South Dakota. He was however, interested in pursuing office within the state, with the possibility of being Governor some day.

Why all this interest in Mara? Unbeknownst to his older sibling and his kindly father, Arthur also craved a wife and children. A suitable wife who was knowledgeable of state politics and their convoluted twists and turns. Mind you, she wasn't pretty, but he found her intelligence more than adequate to make up for that.

If Grove Jr., his older sibling or indeed Grove Sr., had known of the plans revolving in his head, they would have gently tried to dissuade him from his course, trying not to laugh at his foibles.

Failing politics, there was also Plan B which was hidden even more deeply in his convoluted mind, this plan perhaps a bit more quixotic at least by Arthur's lights: Investing in Mara's paper with the ultimate goal building the newest newspaper empire since Hearst and Pulitzer and all the others made their mark on news media history. Oh, certainly not an empire that would encompass the whole country. A cozy, five-state empire would be just fine.

Mara would have been astounded by Plan A. She couldn't be more different from Arthur if she had consciously tried to be so. She was a liberal Democrat, he a very conservative Republican. She would have never even given a thought to becoming embroiled in state politics, other than reporting on them in her paper. He wanted to be so embroiled that he could manipulate his way into office by garnering the popular vote. She was herself. Arthur was willing to become someone else to have his way.

Mara was practical and knew the extent of her power if she even considered it as such. Arthur, used to playing in the power fields of the Chicago Stock Market, though retired, craved to wield such power again.

If Mara even caught wind of the pipe-dream of Plan B, she would have fallen to the ground laughing fit to split her sides, never mind that Arthur's feelings might be hurt in the process. She wouldn't normally be so cruel, but the mind-boggling scope of Arthur's Plan B Fantasy would have had her wondering about Arthur's mental health.

Therein was the crux of the difference between them. Mara had always been firmly grounded by life, she had never really played the power/political field. That field, while very real, had never appealed to her. She had even eschewed that while at Medill, certainly Northwestern University had its share of the power hungry elite of the Junior Country Club set; that had never been her thing. She was now content being the editor of a small town newspaper and had no aspirations beyond that.

Arthur on the other hand, had wholly become a true believer in the power of politics and money. He reveled in corporate games so much that he began to take them more seriously than some of the major players. His very presence in South Dakota would have puzzled his family and friends had they known what sort of machinations were spinning around in his brain.

However, now a potential crimp in his plans had arisen in the person of Rafael Moretti. Arthur knew of Moretti. One couldn't follow the newswires in Chicago without hearing of the man, praised as an uber-journalist by some news circles. He had never set eyes on him, but the threat from that quarter was implicit. Newspaper man staying with newspaper woman, surely they would find common ground.

Arthur frowned. Now if he could just keep them from finding too much common ground, maybe, just maybe he could court Moretti away from Kuntzler News Enterprises, to help shore up his own cozy, and still fictitious, newspaper empire.

This line of reasoning would have had Rafe rolling on the ground laughing. However Arthur's dreams were threatening to tear loose from the moorings of reason. No one even began to suspect just how stressful working the stock market floor had been to Arthur, who in his own way, was a closeted Romantic who thought he was above all Practical and Thorough, which was Delusional at best.

Sipping his coffee and mentally adding his own spin to the previous evening's edition of the Prairiedog, he eventually looked away from the paper and out the kitchen window to the blowing snow. He'd have to get in touch with his friends in Chicago and find out more about Moretti.

---------------

Mara sat in her office and literally shuddered at her own folly. Rafe had kissed her, and she had bolted out of the room like a frightened virgin. What was going on here?

Having cloistered herself away from the staff, she took a couple of minutes to figure out just what the hell had caused her to bolt. Digging around in the stew of emotions that Rafe's kiss had evoked she found a couple of roaches in the ointment.

Mara Pitts, control freak extraordinaire. She sighed at that one, knowing that a peaceful life was hard-won, and yes she was going to do everything she could to keep it that way.

And then there was the Commitment Question. She snorted out loud at this. The man kisses her out of... hell, camaraderie? and she'd already had him tricked out in a tux with piping matching the bridesmaids' dresses. Feh! The very thought, though bred into her by being raised in a state somewhat behind the times in its view of male/female relationships, made her shudder again.

As if!! She HAD no desire to be married, she and the Prairiedog made a perfectly satisfactory couple, thank you very much. Add Boris for companionship, and she had eked out a lovely contented life out of much sorrow. Anyway, best to put those thoughts out of mind for now, she had a paper to run.

Dear Lord, she had forgotten to bring a lunch, so she would have to go home... Her thoughts careened back towards her house and the man contained therein. So much for changing her train of thought. She sighed and pulled out her blue pencil, determined to work through the day without seeing Rafe until dinnertime. That would put enough distance from the event of that morning to allow for more...rational thinking.

Hah! As if!!

--------------------

Rafe sat on the livingroom sofa trying to read past the first few sentences of Chomsky. His mind kept drifting back to the morning. She had looked so vulnerable and seemed to so sincerely care about what he had been through.

'Christ, Rafe, you wouldn't happen to be looking for a mommy figure, would you?' he thought savagely. His mother, another strong-willed woman was matriarch enough for him, thank you.

And if Mara were a mommy figure what the hell had he been doing kissing her? Freud would have had a field day with Rafe's present state of mind.

He put down the book and deliberately thought about the kiss. Her lips had been sweet, with a hint of salt from her tears. There had been nothing practiced about them. She had no hidden agenda, apart from perhaps wishing to root about in his very recent past.

A large wheat-colored cat jumped up on the sofa beside Rafe and startled him out his small daydream of Mara's kiss. Rafe and the cat eyed each other.

"Boris, I presume," Rafe said, holding out his hand to let the large tom sniff it. "You're a day ahead of schedule. You had at least 24 more hours of pouting, you realize."

The cat purred and butted his head against Rafe's hand. Rafe obliged by scratching the feline behind the ears, which resulted in a purr rumbling in at around 10 decibels.

"Much more of that Boris, and I'll have to get earplugs."

Boris meowed at him questioningly, then curled up next to his right leg to sleep, providing a soothing, vibrating warmth. He had read somewhere that cats' purring seemed to speed up the healing process of themselves when injured. Something about portions of the purr being in the 60 hz range of vibration was theorized to be healing for humans as well.

He had no objections to Boris napping up on the sofa with him. Cat or no cat, Rafe could just as easily ponder why he had kissed Mara.

Why HAD he done something so...uncharacteristic? He coughed back a chuckle, his usual female company consisted of those women whose looks definitely fell into the classic beauty range.

Mara was anything but. She was plainly pretty or was that prettily plain? Though her eyes were very speaking when she became interested in or riled about something. And her smile, she did have very kissable lips.

And she was nominally his boss for the next couple of months. Not good.

He'd have to focus his energies on the lovely little intern instead, Marlissa Touch or whatever the hell her name was. He'd get her talking about spiders again and all would be well again. Satisfied with his romantic plans for Pittsville, he picked up his book, determined to read some more as Boris purred on.

If cats could laugh...

Chapter the Eighth -- A Brief Armistice

Tender is the truce I'm tasting
But watching you dictates
Heady nights of sleepless waiting
A face I can't escape

Arcadia - Keep Me In The Dark

Ch 08 -- A Brief Armistice

Mara returned to Rafe's room with a glass of cold water and her bottle of ibuprofen. In case Rafe was sick of taking whatever he was taking, she figured the 'profen would at least take the edge off any pain he was feeling.

Rafe looked up at her with an endearing fuddled expression on his face. 'Endearingly fuddled???' she asked herself, alarmed. 'Fuddled, yes, but... endearingly?' The man in front of her was all masculine angles, both physically and personality-wise. It would certainly be an interesting... challenge to get past all those sharp angles, but she didn't think she was the one to do it.

Instead she chose a small challenge for now. "Here's some water for you, don't worry, I'm not going to make you take the artesian cure, that stuff's only good for bathing in, you'd probably get heavy metal poisoning or something if you drank it on a regular basis. Anyway here's some bottle water and a bottle of ibuprofen if you want a pain killer or would you rather that I went and fetched yours wherever you've got it stash...?" she trailed off.

Rafe was looking at her, a wicked grin on his face.

"What?" she asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"Mmm, maybe. Just a little."

"It's just that I'm not, well I'm not, er, um..."

"You're not used to having a guest in your home? A male guest?" The slightest emphasis was placed on the word 'male' but it was enough to send a hot blush flying up Mara's face and a warm flush heading south.

'Get a HOLD of yourself, Pitts!' she scolded herself. 'Just because he's male and you're female... Albeit a very attractive male dressed in only his boxer sh...OH SHUT UP!' She blushed harder than she thought possible.

Rafe was still grinning at her. He gestured to the chair next to the bed, "Please, have a seat. I'm sure this is the point where you're going to enumerate all the many guests you've had staying in your domicile over the years."

"Don't be silly, I don't often have guests."

"Well, you're awake and I'm awake. I'm guessing you're going to stay awake because you only have about two hours before you would normally go in to work," he said, gesturing at the clock by the bed, which read 3:12 a.m.

"Crap! And it's snowing out now, too. Heavy snow. If it gets any windier, we'll probably have a blizzard going and..."

"So what would you like to talk about, other than the weather, that is, before you have to go to work?" His mischievous grin had turned into a full-blown smile. "Especially since you haven't tales of other guests to intrigue me?"

"Well... um..." she was the one feeling fuddled now, confronted and confounded by his smile.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Boris hasn't been bothering you, has he?" she asked.

"Boris?"

"Boris. My cat."

"You have a cat? I haven't seen him."

"He's kinda shy around strangers. He's probably down in the basement pouting because he's too scared to come up and meet you. For such a big cat, he's sure 'fraidy."

"So when will I get to see him?"

"Oh, give him a couple of days to pout about the fact that there's another man in the house and he'll come back upstairs and make friends. But enough about Boris. I'm just glad you're not allergic."

"Oh, I had a small menagerie when I was growing up. Small being the operative word. There's not too much room in a two bedroom apartment for big dogs or anything like that. So Mom let me have a cat, a gerbil, a snake, a canary..."

"Good heavens, how did the cat and your father handle all that?"

Rafe flinched at the word 'father', "the apartment was where we moved after my father divorced my mother. So I didn't have to see much of that ass as I was growing up. He was more interested in having trophy girlfriends than being any kind of a father..." he brought himself up short as he realized that he had been living a little too much like his father, with serial trophy girlfriends.

"I'm sorry, Rafe, I keep putting my foot in it where you're concerned."

"Don't apologize. You're not responsible for my life. Although, you're free to be curious. C'mon ask me a question."

She caught his eye and held it. "You know what I want to know."

He grimaced and looked his right leg. "I was asking for that, I know!"

"Well it's not every day I have a male guest," her turn to emphasize the word male, "who happens to be recovering from a bullet wound. You'll have to admit, that's got to have a story behind it..."

"Okay, but not for the Prairiedog. At least, not yet."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to scoop your story out from under Kevin. He'd probably unleash the wrath of the journalism gods and put me out of business."

"He's not THAT ruthless."

"Yeah, I know, but it would certainly put an irrepairable dent into our friendship."

"That would indeed."

"So are you going to tell me why Kevin shoved you into the Pittsville Amateur Witness Protection Program? Your leg certainly looks like it's seen better days." She flinched a little in sympathy, looking at the extensive bruising. "That must hurt like a bitch."

"Oh, it isn't as bad as it looks," he said breezily, "but I am going to take a few of these..." he rattled the bottle of ibuprofen. "I'm sick of feeling fuzz-brained from the percocet, at least I know these won't knock me out."

He poured out four tablets and swallowed them with the water. "Prescription dose," he grinned at Mara as she eyed him with the slightest bit of awe after he downed the four tablets.

"So..." she trailed off expectantly.

"Yeah. My leg."

She found she had extended her hand toward his leg. Her hand fluttered above his thigh as if she wished to soothe the bruising. She quickly snatched it back, and folded it with its mate in her lap. "I won't mother hen..."

"It's okay, you don't. Well..." he paused to sigh. "Here's what happened. The less abbreviated version, but not the complete. I don't really like going back there, at least just yet...

-------

Rafe had been called by an anonymous source to tip him on a big bank robbery happening in Lincoln Park. He drove north to that neighborhood and found the place surrounded by police and a few other reporters. He parked about a block away to stay out of the way of any emergency vehicles that may be coming to the scene of the crime.

Checking to make sure he had his small dictation tape recorder in one pocket of his overcoat. He checked the other pocket for his steno pad and pencil in case the batteries decided to conk out on the tape recorder.

He had just removed the keys from the ignition and was reaching for the door latch, when the passenger side window was violently hit and shattered by something. He turned to see what was going on, when another blow splintered the safety glass. He lowered his arms from where he had flung them, in front of his face to protect himself from flying glass and saw a gun with a silencer aimed at him. He froze.

The gunman reached in through the window and flipped open the lock to the door, all the while aiming the gun at Rafe's face. "Put up your hands where I can see them, pretty boy. All I want is your car."

Terrified at the deadly weapon aimed at him, Rafe thought about all the cops not a block away. With all the alarms and noise, they probably hadn't heard the window being smashed. He complied with the gunman's request, holding his hands up at shoulder level. Looking at the man he saw that he had a ski mask on, Rafe wouldn't be able to identify him past any superfluous items such as height and probably weight.

The gunman opened the door and sat down. "Good. Just keep them there, pretty boy. And you may live to see the morning. A good reporter like you could probably put quite the spin on this little...incident."

Rafe swallowed, suddenly recognizing the man's voice. The anonymous tipper. It was a set-up of some sort. He thought quickly. It was either because the man knew of him and had wanted a getaway vehicle... He filed that away as improbable. It was most likely just a bank heist... And a chance to get even with the investigative reporter who had written a series on increasing gang activity in Chicago. The series had been finished over two months ago...

The gunman gestured at the floor. "Now bend over real slow and pick up those keys."

Rafe found to his fury that he was obeying the gunman, his brain frozen of everything except for the threat that confronted him. He had always thought that if he ever got into a situation such as this, he'd be able to at least, just maybe, talk himself out of it.

"Start the car. Good, good. Now open your door and get ready to say BYE BYE," the gunner snarled moving his gun closer to Rafe's face.

Instinct kicked in and everything spun into slow motion. He saw his hand smack down the gun down away from his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a policeman stealthily approaching the car as the gun went off. He felt a horrible cold burning start in his thigh and he gasped.

The gunman kicked Rafe on his thigh, knocking him out of the car onto the pavement. Rafe didn't see much of what happened after that. He grabbed his leg and tried not to yell at the pain. He groaned and heard his car spinning out from where it was parked. As his vision began to dance and blacken around the edges he heard gunfire and what sounded like a tire blowing out. The last sound he heard was the screeching of tires...

-----------

Rafe came back to the present and was mildly dumbfounded to realize he was sweating again in spite of the chill of the room. Somewhere in the tale, Mara had grabbed his hand and seemed to be holding on to it for dear life.

He met her eyes as a tear coursed down her cheek. "Aw, Mara," he said shakily. "It wasn't all THAT bad."

She let out a small sob. His story had chilled and frightened her. To be facing certain death, when life was so short anyway...

"Hey, hey, come here." He pulled her unresisting, to sit next to him on the bed.

She covered her mouth with one shaking hand. "God, Rafe. How horrible."

Rafe reached out and wrapped her in half the blanket, holding her closer. He soothingly rubbed small circles in the middle of her back.

"God, Rafe." she said again. "You must think I'm the biggest wet goose..."

"No...no," he whispered "Not a wet goose, simply a flustered mother hen, a lovely, caring, hen..." he trailed off as he tipped up her chin to gently kiss her lips.

To Be or Not To Be

Rapidly approaching 15,000 words now. I'm bound and determined to break 25,000 this weekend. That will have me caught up to stay in the running this month.

As always, what you read here has NOT been edited other than trying to catch blatant typos with spell check. I do have to admit to a small fix to chapter four -- reworded one sentence to fix a continuity error.

Chapter the Seventh -- An Oddness

Well I remember, I remember don't worry
How could I ever forget,
it's the first time, the last time we ever met
But I know the reason why you keep your silence up,
no you don't fool me
The hurt doesn't show; but the pain still grows
It's no stranger to you or me

Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight

Chapter 7 -- Weird Weather

Later that night, a rumble of thunder woke Mara. Her eyes sprang open and she looked around the dark bedroom, thinking she had dreamed it. A flash of lightning told her otherwise, followed by another distant rumble.

She stood up and went to the chair next to the window to retrieve her night robe, a warm, flannel plaid garment she had had for years. It was a bit more than plaid at this point, as whenever it wore through, whether on the elbow or shoulders, or the flannel had just worn thin, she would patch it with whatever cloth was handy.

Mara had been meaning to learn the art of quilt making, so she had been stashing worn out clothing for several years in anticipation of that. The closest she seemed to get to it was to make a quiltwork out of her old flannel robe.

She tied the belt around her waist and tip toed downstairs where she could watch the storm from the picture window in the living room. Facing south, that window would provide the most spectacular, nearly 180 degree view of any storm in the area. She opened the drapes and sat down in the chair Rafe had occupied earlier, which faced the huge window.

While thunder in March was unusual, it wasn't unheard of. Usually though, it meant there would probably be a blizzard, or at least a nice, annoying fall of freezing rain turning the roads to black ice.

Which meant for a fun trip into town. Mara sighed. She loathed driving on slick roads, but had purchased her blue Sierra with its four-wheel drive to counteract that loathing. The four-wheel traction made it about as safe as it could be to drive on snowy roads. Ice was another story. If they had a fall of freezing rain tonight, with the resulting black ice...

It could be smooth going one minute, Mara smirked to herself at her small pun, and then you could just start sliding sidewise into the ditch. Even though the vehicle might not be spinning out of control and one was driving a sedate 10 miles per hour, one could find oneself sliding. Before the pickup, she had had that misfortune happen with her little Dodge compact.

One evening in the western end of the state, in Rapid City, she couldn't even remember why she had been there, there had been a fall of black ice rain. She had been toddling along quite nicely, when the car slid sideways in slow motion, no fishtailing to warn her, into a parked car. It had been one of those surreal moments, sort of like a car wreck, she smirked again, where you know it's going to happen, there ain't a damn thing you can do, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

About the only option she had had was the luxury of choosing which car to slide into. She could try and accelerate and possibly spin out into a car at random, or she could just let the car go and meet the inevitable gentle, yet quite dented collision. No one had been hurt, just the two cars in question.

To add insult to injury, while she had been knocking on the door of the house where the car was parked, another car had slid into her car, adding matching dents to the driver's side of the Dodge. Fortunately, the original crunched car's owner was a woman with a calm disposition who helped both drivers sort it out with the police.

Mara had smiled and shook her head as another flash of lightening brought her back to the present. How embarrassing after driving in the nastier eastern side of the state weather to have had her first winter-related wreck in what was called the banana belt of the state. Between the Black Hills and Rapid City's location, that city was blessed with rather more temperate weather than not. Though their winter temperatures were anything but equatorial, they rarely experienced the sub-zero deep freezes that could go on for weeks in the eastern part of the state.

As the distant thunder rumbled, she admired the gray landscape in front of her. 'Definitely snow' she thought. Everything outside was illuminated to a near twilight level by the heavy white clouds above. It was strange how those types of clouds caught any ambient light, whether from the ground, or from the moon above them, and diffused it to make this eerie sub-lit landscape. She supposed it was the plentiful amounts of water the snow clouds carried that made for that strange mid-night glow.

She continued to admire the spectral landscape, waiting for the precipitation to fall. She had no doubt it would, she was just curious to see what form it would be in. If she got her druthers, it would be snow. Snow at least provided some traction, even when it was packed down to ice. It was never as smooth as black ice.

She heard a shout "No!" at the same time a particularly bright flash of lightening came shone through the window. Startled, she stood up, listening hard to see if someone had broken into the house. No sounds other than the distant rumble of thunder and the wind, which was slowly picking up, met her ears.

She remembered she had a guest. 'Well, he's probably not going to like me peering into his bed room in the middle of the night. Hell,' her nascent jealously flared a bit again, "he's probably used to having a woman around in the middle of the night from what Kev's said about him in the past. Stop that, Mara.'

Standing in front of the bedroom door, she tapped gently, turned the knob and eased it open to listen. She could hear some thrashing coming from the bed in the pitch black room, but she wasn't sure if it was in response to her knock, or whether Rafe was asleep and in the midst of a nightmare.

"Rafe?" She questioned, trying not to startle the man within. More noises from the direction of the bed. She slowly exhale the breath she had just noticed she was holding. No sound from the bed, but no response to her query either. Cursing herself for her overweening curiosity about just about anything, she quietly made her way to the bedside table and turned the three-way light on to its lowest setting.

The dim glow of the bulb shed its light on the bed, illuminating the sleeping Rafe, who looked like he was having anything but a peaceful sleep. The bedcovers were tangled up around him, and Mara found herself flushing a bit as she realized that he was sleeping with only a pair of boxer shorts on. Snatching her eyes away from Rafe's shorts, she was drawn to his chest, which was very nice. Very nice, with just a sprinkling of hair, in spite of his somewhat wirey build. She had somehow expected him to have a different looking chest...

'Snap out of, Pitts! Good grief, just because you have no sex life to speak of doesn't mean you should drool over your sleeping GUEST of all people while he's obviously having a nightmare.' She gritted her teeth over her foolishness and reached out to touch Rafe's shoulder. It was clammy with sweat. She gently shook him, trying to bring him out of the dream, hoping he wouldn't wake all the way up, but just enough to get him out of REM sleep.

The results were nearly instantaneous. Shoving down the covers, Rafe launched himself out of the bed to defend himself, Mara having become an attacker in his half awake dream. Or, anyway, he tried to. His right leg wouldn't cooperate fully and he found himself at the feet of Mara who had let out a startled squeak and then quickly backed away.

"Rafe" she said, not bothering to moderate her volume, "please wake up, it's okay, it's just me."

"Fuck." said Rafe, succinctly.

"I'm sorry I startled you, but..."

"Why are you in here, Mara?" he ground out, temper beginning to flare.

A loud rumble of thunder interrupted them. Mara gestured in the direction of the bow windows. "I was, the storm, it woke me up, I came downstairs to watch it and heard you shout I'm sorry I came in but I listened at the door and it sounded like you were having a bad nightmare and..." she trailed off after that rush of words when she ran out of air.

"Oh," he said, temper put out as he remembered his dream. He pushed himself off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, an ache beginning to thump in his leg. He was distantly thankful that Mara hadn't turned on the bright overhead light and had opted for the dimmer 40 watt glow instead. He shivered, the sweat on his skin chilling in the night air.

Not thinking, Mara grabbed the folded afghan off the top of the chest, shook it out and wrapped it around his shoulders. Suddenly realizing what she had just done, she backed up a bit, not sure what to expect from this rather temperamental man.

He muttered "mother hen" under his breath, then looked up an met her wide eyes, and chuckled. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. "Well Ms. Pitts, you certainly look the part this evening," he took in her appearance in the patched up robe, her short blond hair spiked out and standing up in all possible directions. "I wouldn't precisely say you look like a hen, but you'll have to admit, there is the aura of 'flustered bird' about you."

"Well for heaven's sa..." she started, indignant at his mild joke at her expense.

"I'm sorry, Mara." He said, his apology cutting off her incipient tirade. "I probably look like hell myself."

Her short fuse sputtered to life again, but went out as she took a look at the man seated in front of her. The golden glow of the dim light brought out the graceful planes of his face. Mara's jaw dropped. Rafe was devastatingly handsome in this dim light, the sharp angles of his face gentled by the light, his lovely chest and 'oh, Mara, don't you DARE let that gaze wander any lower. We wouldn't want to make an complete ass of ourselves now do we?'

Mara's disobedient eyes did take in that he was wearing midnight blue silk boxers. Her eyes met Rafe's and she saw that he was grinning impudently at her, apparently accurately reading her mind. Damn.

She sat down with a thump in the chair near the bed, pulling her slack jaw shut while Rafe continued to grin at her. "Have a seat, Mara," he gestured at the chair she now occupied.

"Oh, God, Rafe, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..." she stopped abruptly on a gasp when she saw the bruising on his right leg.

"Thank you."

"huh, wha?" her startled eyes met his.

"Thank you for waking me up. That was... a less than pleasant dream I was having."

"Oh, your leg? Are you all right, you didn't hurt it worse falling on the floor?" she babbled a bit incoherently.

"Mara, I'm fine. A bit of a headache..." he lied, the ache in his leg thumping in time to the one in his head.

"Let me get you something, where do you keep your pain pills, or I do have some ibuprofen if that would help..."

"Mara," he interrupted.

Mara shook herself. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"A bit." he said calmly, causing her to giggle.

Calming down, Mara stood up. "I'll be right back."

Rafe contemplated her back leaving his room, her feminine curves, her...what the heck was that robe made out of? He grinned. That robe had certainly seen better days, he'd love to see her curves in deep burgundy silk, the color would be flattering to that thick, wild hair of hers. 'Now wait a minute Rafe, you like your women with LONG hair, remember? Not dumpy little editors with their short hair and, and, and..."

His thoughts floundered to a stop. He couldn't possibly be attracted to her, now could he?

Happy Dance!

I'm just past 12,000 words! (does happy dance) Wh00t!

Chapter the Sixth -- Of A Certain Phone Call and We Meet A Certain Intern

Ten thousand miles away from someone
Ten thousand miles away from you
Who's your friend on the end of a telephone line
A telephone line's like a life line

10cc - Life Line

Chapter 6 -- The Distance In Between?

Back at the newspaper, Mara ushered Rafe to her office, bade him sit at her desk, and punched in the speed dial for Kevin's private line. Rafe looked at her, alarmed, when she also punched the speaker phone button.

They could hear the line ring a couple of times and then...

"Kuntzler here."

"Hi Kev, it's me, Mara, and your friend Rafe, as I promised earlier.

"Mara?" Kevin asked questioningly, the utterance of her name inflected to ask her if she were going to be part of the conversation.

"Oh, don't worry, Kevin. I'll let Rafe and you converse privately, if only just to give you a chance to come up with something better than a fricking picnic." There was no mistaking the edge in her voice now. "I'll be stepping out now, hope to speak with you soon. Ta." She picked up the handset, handed it to Rafe and turned off the speaker phone.

She turned to leave the office. At the door she significantly glanced back at Rafe and left, gently shutting the door behind her.

"Kevin?"

"Well?"

"Mara, ah, stepped out. So unless she has another phone somewhere she can listen in on..."

"She won't. She's not happy that we're keeping something from her, but she's no eavesdropper. So what's going on?"

Rafe rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed. "I saw a page 10 article in the Sun-Times about my special friend, you know, the one with the gun that had a bullet with my name on it?..."

"Oh."

"Kevin, what's going on? I thought all I had to do was wait for the court date a couple months down the road to testify against him. And now he's loose. What the hell happened?"

"He was let go on some sort of procedural technicality. I'm not entirely sure what, maybe they didn't mirandize him properly or something."

"Yeah, it was a little blurry for me at that point," snarked Rafe.

"Mmm, I suppose. You'll be okay in Pittsville. By the time you come back from your vacation, they'll probably have him stitched up for something else. Look at it this way, you won't have to spend any time in the courtroom to testify against the bastard... How are you doing? When Lara and I saw you in the hospital that night..." Kevin exhaled loudly, not willing to go further into what had been a traumatic night all round.

"I'm feeling better, no, no..." this at Kevin's snort of disbelief. "I seem to be healing well and you've taken a load off my shoulders by reassuring me that that punk won't be coming after me. You don't think he will, do you?"

"Not a chance. Besides, he'd have to find you first. The only people that know where you are are Lara, myself, and anyone you've met in Pittsville."

"Which isn't that many people, just yet, but I'm sure I'll be the center of attention soon, if I know my small towns. So why all the games with what phone to use?"

"Just to be on the safe side. I almost never call Mara at home because I know I'm more likely to get a hold of her at the office, so I didn't want to set a precedent on the off chance in a million that someone is actually looking. By the way, don't use your cell phone."

"I wasn't planning to. What about your office phone?"

"I had it swept for bugs after I read your email before I called Mara..."

"Oooooh, Mr. Kuntzler. Going all high tech for lil' ol' me?"

"Shut it. I have it swept on a regular basis. One of the IT guys is specially trained for that and has all the latest gadgets. I certainly don't want any of our stories getting scooped just in case the competition decides to play dirty and bug my phone."

"Damn, Kevin, I never would have pegged you as the paranoid type."

"It's not paranoia, it's more of a case of better safe than sorry."

"What about your home phone. Would you or Lara ever call here or at Mara's home from your home? Hey, now I'm really suspicious. Mara's your ex-now-best-friend, your wife's name is Lara, they almost rhyme. I don't suppose Lara's caught on to your long distance affair here has she?"

"Rafe. No affair. I promise you," Kevin chuckled at Rafe's sally. "You, my friend have a filthy and distrustful mind!"

"I learned it from the best at "Kuntzler Acadamy of Newspaper Etiquette."

Kevin snorted. "So, now that everything is a little clearer, I'll bid you farewell so I don't run up Mara's phone bill too badly."

"Hah. I can take a hint."

"I think the sooner you are back on your feet and doing a little light reporting for the Prairiedog, the better you'll feel about the whole thing. Goodbye, Mr. Moretti."

"I'm wholly reassured now that you've brought that to mind. Goodbye, Mr. Kuntzler."

Rafe shook his head at the dialtone and hung up the phone.

-------------

Mara, meanwhile, had been passing the time with the intern, a fluffy brunette named MarySue Tschetch, who seemed to have an even fluffier brain. She was trying to derail the young woman's latest chuckleheaded idea for a story. The woman had utterly romanticized the news media business and was hell bent on writing the next Pulitzer winning story. Unfortunately she didn't have the skill to write that well, yet. There was hope, she certainly had a way with words.

"But, Mara, I've seen at least three brown spiders in the past week. Shouldn't we be alerting the town to the danger? I read just recently that brown spiders are even more poisonous than black widow spiders. And you know what they say about roaches, you see one, there's probably a thousand more hidden in the wall. Three thousand brown spiders is practically a plague!"

Mara had to cover her mouth to hide her smile at that interesting leap in logic. She wanted to encourage the woman, to hone her writing skills, but, DAMN, the stories she kept coming up with...

Hmmm. Maybe she should sic Ms. Tschetch on Rafe. He looked like the type that could distract MarySue long enough to set her on the trail of a real story, no matter how light it might be. Spider plagues, indeed. MarySue Tschetch's take on the Book of Revelation would no doubt be next.

She felt a faint twisting in her gut at the thought and shook herself mentally. 'Mara you silly twit, jealous over an intern? Besides she's pretty enough to keep Rafe entertained, oh dammitall!'

At that point, there was a knock on the small conference room's door. Mara called out "Come In!"

Rafe slowly opened the door and stuck his head inside. The intern saw him and immediatly perked up. And fluffed her hair some more. Mara groaned to herself and ran her hand through her thick blonde hair, messing up the short style even more.

"Rafe. Please do come in. I'd like you to meet our intern, MarySue Tschetch. Rafael Moretti. She's from South Carolina and has joined the staff here for a few months."

"University of South Carolina, College of Journalism and Mass Communication?" Rafe hazarded a guess.

"Why of course, Rafael, if you don't mind me calling you that."

Her slight drawling of his first name made Rafe flinch internally. He quickly corrected her, "Just call me Rafe, MarySue, plain ol' Rafe."

"Okay! I must say that name suits you either way, Rafael or Rafe," said Miss Journalism 2005, liking the taste of his first name and his looks.

Mara rolled her eyes as Rafe turned his full charming smile onto MarySue. "Rafe I was wondering if you and MarySue would work together on a story or two..."

"Oh I'm sure he'd be excited to explore the Brown Spider Plague with me..." MarySue butted in.

Exasperated, Mara burst out, "There IS no spider plague, brown or otherwise..."

It was Rafe's turn to butt in, flashing a wicked grin in Mara's direction, "A spider plague? That sounds most serious..."

"Oh, yes it is..."

"You think that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, not to mention the State Department of Health would be utterly unaware of this spider 'plague'? They've been hyper-vigilant about bugs ever since the West Nile virus was set loose..." said Mara, trying to stem the fictious plague.

"You see Mara, they're just watching mosquitos, not spiders, but if you like I could call them first to see what they have to say on the subject. I could do an interview with them..."

"Oh by all means! Do. Don't let me keep you from doing your research first before you go off on a tangent about spiders, for pete's sake!"

In the face of that mildly scathing bit of information from her editor, the intern was silent. Rafe jumped in and said gently, "Do let me know what you find out. I certainly don't want to get stung, or is it bitten?, by some brown spider in my sleep? You do use insecticide in your home, don't you Mara? What with all the crops around here, bugs must be a real hassle..."

"Rafe, I'll be sure to let you know if I see ANY spiders in my home. You'll know when you hear the shrieking, and the stamping as I take out whatever bug I see."

"It is bad luck to kill a spider, Mara."

"How so, Rafe?"

"I'll do my research and let you know how!"

Mara rolled her eyes again. "MarySue why don't you go and start your research while I have a word with Rafe about his?"

The intern reluctantly stood up and left the room, looking at Rafe longingly all the while. After she had shut the door, Mara burst out, "is that the effect you're going to have on this town's female population?? Oh shit, never mind, I did not just say that."

"I can't help it if the ladies think I'm charming. You do think I'm charming, don't you?"
Opening his eyes wide and batting them at Mara, Rafe caused her to burst out laughing.

"Moretti, I'll say this. You are completely and utterly...unique. The jury's still out on charming though. Sorry. And while this has been a pleasant diversion, please do clue me on what transpired in your conversation with Kevin, if you would be so kind?"

Seeing that she was back to business, Rafe decided to tell her what had happened. He did so in a rather terse manner that didn't invite questions. "The man who shot me? He's free now due to a technicality. A FUCKING technicality!" He sneered at the table.

Mara, a bit taken aback at this sudden burst of rage, quietly looked at Rafe waiting for him to expand further on the topic. When he didn't, she said, "Well that certainly does explain why you looked so..."

"Why I looked so... Huh. I never thought I'd be shot in the line of duty. It hasn't been too much fun. Now if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay. Just know that I'm here if you do want to talk about it."

bloggity blog

Sigh. I feel like I'm draggin' my heels a bit, but I'm worried that this is going to turn into a 25,000 "short story" rather than the aforementioned 50,000 word novel/novella...

Chapter the Fifth -- Wherein the Plot Thickens a Teensy Bit

The dust settles on my skin,
Making a crust I cannot move in
And I'm hovering like a fly,
waiting for the windshield on the freeway.

Genesis - Fly on the Windshield


Chapter 5 -- A Flicker of Darkness

Mara wasn't surprised when Kevin called her that afternoon. She had expected him to call yesterday, actually, just to make sure that Rafe had actually showed up and hadn't bolted in Sioux Falls to parts unknown.

"Hi, Kev, the thoroughbred is just fine."

"Uh, hi, Mara. Um. Huh?"

"Rafe arrived in one piece. He seemed to be settling in okay, though something he read in the news must have troubled him. He was awfully pale when I came in for lunch, and had a bit of that "deer in the headlights" look about him. Other than that, he's just fiiiine." Mara drawled out the last word, giving verbal notice that she was going to be picking Kevin's brain to find out what was going on.

"Great! I'm delighted to hear he's settled in well."

"Kev?"

"Yeah?"

"Cut the crap."

"Ummmm, exactly what crap am I supposed to be cutting?"

"Your Arabian was looking mighty white around the eyes, like he wanted to bolt. He hasn't even been exposed to the full glory of Pittsville yet, and I certainly haven't tried to interview him. So as far as *I* know there shouldn't be anything setting him off at this end."

"Mara, I'm sorry, I haven't the foggiest what he might have read that would, as you so delightfuly phrased it, 'be setting him off.'"

"So, he hasn't been in touch?"

"Well other than a vague email from him to let me know he was in Pittsville..."

"..."

"I heard that. He really didn't say much in the email, certainly nothing about what might be going on. He did have a question about a big picnic we're planning later this summer..."

"A picnic?? You're pulling my leg. So, any nasties from the Windy City looking to do some horse rustling that you know of?"

"Damn it, Mara. Stop with the livestock references," Kevin growled under his breath not so much at Mara, as at her blasted perspicaciousness. And, wondering what the hell was going on that Rafe had spotted in the news that would rattle him so much that he'd set off Mara's unerring news radar.

"Well? No more dog and pony show. I promise. But, what's going on??"

"Mara, I really don't know. How about if you tell Rafe to call me tonight when you go home..."

"I'll do you one better. Give me a couple minutes and I'll call Rafe and tell him to call you now."

"Welll..."

"Well what? You're stalling something here. Do I need to get out the shotgun and keep it loaded by my bed?"

"You don't have a shotgun. You are so anti-NRA liberal..."

"Do so have a gun, Dad's hunting rifle. I don't have any ammo for it, but I hear Wal-Mart's got a sale going for spring hunting season..."

"Mara. Full stop! This isn't anything that will send you to the extreme of shopping at your all-time favorite store. Yes, I'll talk to Rafe, but have him call me from your office."

"Anything special about my office you need to know about. Or, hey! Worst case scenario -- you're worried someone is tapping my home phone??" Mara was starting to steam a little herself. If there was something to worry about, she wanted to know.

She hadn't lived in Chicago for almost 8 years now. However, even the news covered in Pittsville got a little too exciting in a negative way every now and again. She didn't want to get blindsided like they had been a couple of years ago when there was a major federal bust on a meth lab 10 miles into the middle of nowhere outside of Pittsville.

Seems they had been supplying the five state area and then some, having set themselves up as a fictitious hardware store. The bust took out enough inventory for a nice sized hardware store, as well as most of the chemicals for the various 'recipes' for methamphetamines in existence. Danged slick front they had had, and, where they were located and how they picked up their supplies, no one noticed, the lab having been buried in about three layers of various addresses.

The FBI and the fed's hazardous waste cleanup bunch had been around for several weeks, cleaning up the mess and making sure there weren't chemicals stashed elsewhere for retrieval later. It had been a gawdawful mess in more ways than one.

Mara smirked. She had taken up skeet shooting after that debacle, and did keep the rifle in good shape. Not happy with owning a firearm, but compromising as it wasn't exactly an Uzi that she was packing. It was Dad's old deer hunting rifle for cripes' sake. She hated the taste of game so skeet shooting it was to keep up some semblance of knowledge of the gun.

She had ruefully shaken her head when she realized this was what the framers of the constitution had in mind for the right to bear arms. Pittsville was in the middle the southeastern plains of South Dakota. She supposed if a determined motorcycle gang, or whatever!, decided they wanted the town for their own, it would be easy enough to take, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Mara, you still there?" Kevin's voice called her back from her brief mental wandering.

"Yes."

"So will you have Rafe call me from your office?"

"How about I go get him right now? Give me 20 minutes and I'll have him back here and even dial your number for him. If THIS phone's tapped," she giggled, "good luck getting anything newsworthy to scoop on!!! At least at home, there's about one chance in a million that I'd call an interesting 900 number or something. Wouldn't want to do it on the paper's dime."

"Mara, you wild thing. You've got yourself a deal. Go get Rafe. I wanna know what's going on, as well."

"Kev, if we're making a mountain out of a mole hill, I'm charging that call back to you! Gotta save my dimes for my paycheck for those lascivious phone calls from my home phone."

-----------------------------

Rafe had made his way through Mara's most recent scrap book and then had grabbed his ratty copy of Chomsky's tome on media control. He was presently well into that short book, wondering if seeing a work by Noam Chomsky, that economic dissident cum theoretical linguist cum political activist would piss Mara off. Their conversational topics so far hadn't ventured into what her particular political / economical leanings might be. He presumed because she was editor and owner of the paper that she'd be rather conservative in her economics, but beyond that...

He heard the back door open and put down the book. Surprised to see Mara in the middle of what was supposedly a busy afternoon, he silently raised an eyebrow in query.

"Hi, there, sorry if I startled you again, but I just had a nice chat with your boss. He expressed an interest in speaking with you this afternoon. In my office no less," she raised her eyebrows back at him.

She smiled pleasantly at him, but there was an edge there, just a touch of a shark of some sort showing. He knew that look, and if the shark could speak it would be saying something like 'I'm going to get to the bottom of this, whether or not it goes into print.' He could see, even more plainly now, why a woman like her, growing up in the middle of the plains would be accepted into the prestigious Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University.

He found that look...attractive. It brought her face to life and he knew a bit of what her thoughts might be at that moment.

He mentally shook his head to bring himself back to the present. No drooling unless it was Miss South Dakota, remember, Rafe? Certainly no saliva lost over his boss's best friend ex whatever.

"So did Kevin say what he wanted?"

"He told me some cockamamie story about your sending him an email about a picnic three or four months down the road."

Damn.

"Well, it is a very, very large picnic he throws every year for the crème de la crème of the Chicago nouveaux riches and news hounds."

"Hmmm," her smiled had moved a very small notch to show even more disbelief at the 'cockamamie story,' "I'll have to get on his case about that, he's never invited me. Maybe while you're talking picnic you can get me ***added to that guest list??***"

He smirked at her, to let her know he knew she wasn't talking picnic at that point.

"So, are you telling me I'm not enough of a... awww, what would it be, my French is SOOOO rusty. I'm not enough of a chienne de chasse de nouvelles."

"Ms. Pitts, I would NEVER call you a chienne," he quipped back with a straight face. "Not unless you gave me cause to..."

Mara gaped at him, delighted that he was able to return the thrust and parry of sarcasm, in two languages no less. Her mouth snapped shut and she shot back at him, "Darn straight! You had better not call me a bi..."

"So how about a ride back to work," he butted in smoothly.

"Yes, that works. Maybe you can ferret out just why YOUR boss..."

"Hey, I thought he was your friend!"

"As I was saying, YOUR BOSS? You know? Mr. Kuntzler? You wouldn't have to ferret too much, all I want to know is why he'd rather you call him from my office when I've got a perfectly good phone sitting on that end table right next to you," she said pleasantly and smiled sweetly at Rafe. And moved in for the kill, "and why you couldn't possibly call him from your cell phone that I'm sure you've got hidden away somewhere in your belongings. And don't say anything about being in a coverage-free zone, I'll have you know..."

Rafe jumped in again, "Mara. Let's go." He rose, a little stiffly, she noticed, from the sofa but he didn't seem to be anywhere near as lamed as he had seemed yesterday. Rafe grabbed his cane and saw Mara looking rather fixedly at his leg.

"What can I say, Ms. Pitts, you have a wonderful hot water tank that I took full advantage of this morning. That water must be from a healing artesian well somewhere, I sure as heck wouldn't drink it," he paused for a moment as he thought back a half hour earlier when he had poured himself a glass of tap water to quench his thirst. He had promptly spit the first mouthful out into the kitchen sink. "But I'm a new man. Have you thought about opening a spa in the area?"

Mara grinned, "I'll take that under advisement, Mr. Moretti. Shall we?" She gestured in the direction of the back door. "I keep bottled water in the refrigerator. Please accept my humble apologies for not having informed you of that fact."

Rafe grinned back, and they left to go to her office.

Chapter the Third, Our Protagonists Meet and Dine Together.

20,000 miles to an oasis
20,000 years will I burn
20,000 chances I wasted
Waiting for the moment to turn
I would give my life to find it
I would give it all
Catch me if I fall

R.E.M. - Texarkana


Chapter 3 -- Oh My.

Mara's first thought as Grove handed the visitor his cane as he stepped out of the airplane was 'Oh my.' This was a little involuntary mental gasp, almost subconscious.

Her next thought was 'Here comes trouble,' as the man slowly walked toward her.

Rafael Moretti was taller than she expected, with dark hair and a splash of silver at one temple. His face wasn't conventionally handsome, more hawk-like, but with a definite charisma that made up for what he might be lacking in looks. His face was...compelling.

'Mara, get a hold of yourself,' she berated mentally, as she approached her visitor to introduce herself. She held out her right hand for a handshake and introduced herself.

Her rakish visitor, for she had now in her mind pulled the words "rake" and "rogue" to assign to her guest, smiled and shook her hand. "Rafael Moretti," he said, his voice a pleasant, clear baritone. "But please call me Rafe."

'Rafael, indeed,' Mara thought, 'this one could almost be a fallen angel with his looks...' "I'm so pleased to meet you," she said out loud. "Kevin's been singing your praises and warning me to keep an eye on you because, for some strange reason, he's concerned one of his best reporters may go missing if I didn't."

Rafe grinned at Mara, seeing a plain yet spirited looking woman in her late thirties. "Kevin is concerned I'll go AWOL if neither you nor he mother hen me -- he thinks if you don't keep an eye on me, I'll go hunting down stories and not take a vacation."

Mara grinned back at him, unconciously running her hand through her short, wheat-colored hair. "Well, I'll go get my car and we'll get your luggage loaded up and be on our way. Be right back."

Rafe limped after her, now frowning, but her brisk trot quickly carried her away from him. He really hated the fact that she was going have to bring her car out to him as if he were some sort of invalid. He was so used to being completely independent that any kind of dependence galled him.

Shortly, she returned with her pickup, wheeling the deep blue Sierra around and backing towards the baggage door of the Cessna. She parked it and hopped out of the cab. Rafe had anticipated her, and was loading his suitcases out of the baggage space of the airplane. She dropped the tailgate and helped him load his luggage into the back of the pickup.

She smiled again at Grove, "Thank you again for being our 'charter service,' Grove. You saved Rafe a rather boring drive from Sioux Falls."

"My pleasure, Mara. Rafe, any time you need a flight somewhere in the vicinity, just give me a few days' notice and I'll do my darndest to accomodate you." Grove had been watching the younger man, and had seen his face reflect his impatience and his scorn at his own weakness. That would bear watching, he didn't look like a man that would settle down and be cozy with the small-town pace and life.

"Hey Grove, you'll have to take us up for a flight over the state. Rafe, when it starts getting green around here, it's just gorgeous to fly over."

"Now Mara, you can't expect him to enjoy the prairie and the farm lands as much as you do."

"Well..."

"Mara, you know I'll take you for a spin, but sometimes you've just got to be born to the plains to appreciate them."

"Well, if anything, we could take him to see all of our West River tourist traps," she grinned at Rafe in a conspiratorial manner, and wondered why he was looking so dour. "We'll take you to see Mount Rushmore and you won't have to deal with a six hour drive across the state to get there. If you don't really care for the prairie, you'll love the Black Hills. Let's wait til you're free of that cane and then we can go on some gorgeous hikes."

Mara was slightly taken aback to see that the dour look had turned into almost a glower at her. Grove had moved back to the Cessna, with the intent to taxi it into the hangar, so he missed Rafe's darkening expression.

"So," exclaimed Mara a little too heartily. "Shall we?" As she walked towards the pickup she wondered why her visitor's expression looked like an approaching thunderstorm when he had seemed pleasant enough just a few minutes before.

She climbed into the pickup and slammed the door. A few seconds later, Rafe joined her, still looking crabby. They drove for a few minutes in silence.

"Er. Ah, whatever it was that I did to upset you, I apologize," Mara broke the silence, paused, then continued, "I think?"

Rafe let out a long breath. "It's not you. It's just this damn leg."

"Well, how about if I let you know that, other than making sure you don't reinjure yourself, I promise I won't mollycoddle or mother-hen you. We'll leave that up to Kevin, okay?"

Rafe grinned at her and she felt her composure slip a notch at his smile. "Mollycoddle. Now there's a word I haven't heard in a while."

Mara, noting Rafe's tired eyes, just smiled back and didn't comment further. Silence resumed for the rest of the ride, but not the awkward silence of before.

--------------------------

Rafe felt a hand gently touching his shoulder.

"Wake up sleepyhead." A woman's voice. He opened his eyes and remembered where he was.

"Sorry, Mara..." Rafe trailed off groggily.

Mara's pickup had come to a stop in a driveway and garage a small distance from a large Victorian-style home, he counted two stories, plus what was probably a usable attic, and probably a usable basement as well.

Mara clambered out of the pickup and went to the back to unload Rafe's luggage as he slowly eased himself out the passenger door. She had unloaded both suitcases and his backpack by the time Rafe walked to the back of the truck. They had a momentary standoff over who was going to lug what in, and Mara ceded the backpack to Rafe.

"...these have wheels on them, Rafe -- I'm not actually going to carry them." She grinned at him and added: "besides if they didn't have wheels, I'd take the backpack!"

They made their way slowly into the house as the last of the sun disappeared under the horizon. She showed him his room and stashed the luggage just outside his closet door.

"I'm going to go start something for dinner, why don't you just go ahead and grab a couple of winks, sleepyhead."

Rafe glared at her.

She shook her head, "Those must be some pretty good pain pills you have going there. Most people complain that they CAN'T sleep in my truck. The suspension is so tight, so the ride's a little bumpy. I like to feel the road under the seat of my pants, especially in the winter." His glare softened into a rueful almost-smile as he sat down on the large bed that dominated the bedroom.

"This is the master bedroom for this floor and probably for the whole house," Mara explained, gesturing at the large bedroom. This was a boarding house for a while during the early 1900s, so each floor, including the basement has its own bathroom. You'll find yours through the door here. I did have it modernized to include a shower but the taps for hot and cold are reversed. The whole house is that way"

Mara threw open the door to a large bathroom. "There's a laundry chute in the bathroom so anything you want laundered you can just drop down the chute," she said, pulling open the small door to the chute, revealing a dark space behind it with a glint of the metal of the chute. "I'll let you get settled in and will come get you for dinner. Give a holler if you need anything. Oh, and, if you feel you really need privacy, this door locks from the inside. I do have the skeleton key for it, but won't barge in unless I have good reason to presume I should." She stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Rafe sighed and contemplated his luggage. He needed to get unpacked, but sitting on a bed, with a comfortable mattress that, most importantly, wasn't moving, was making him feel lazy about standing back up again.

Deciding to save the packing for later, and mildly annoyed that the meds were beckoning him back to slumber, he propped his cane up against the bedside drawers. Swinging his long legs onto the bed, he grabbed the afghan folded at the bottom. Pulling it over him, he lay back and closed his eyes.

---------------

Mara's dinner was simple, tasty and filling: chicken casserole with green beans on the side. Rafe kept her laughing throughout dinner with stories about some of the crazier news he had gathered information on.

"...so, fortunately, Punxatawney Phil was rescued in time to not gaze at his shadow on February 2nd."

Mara burst out laughing. "So why on earth would anyone kidnap a groundhog, or THE groundhog??"

"The guy was a ski nut. He wanted to make sure there would be six more weeks of primo skiing weather, even though it was an early spring and much of the good snow had already melted," Rafe grinned at her, enjoying her hearty laughter. It lit up her face and made her look more pretty than plain.

She grabbed her sides as she kept laughing, "Oh, stop, stop. My ribs are killing me." Rafe was proving to be another good story teller, especially of the more off-beat crazy-funny variety.

They sat in silence for a moment while Mara caught her breath. She started laughing again, "To think I told Kevin... no, never mind..."

"What?"

She exhaled and smiled a little ruefully. "When Kevin first called me and asked me to open my guest quarters for you, I made a little prediction of my own..."

"What was that?"

"Well, I figured when you got here, you'd be laughing so hard at having to stay in a tiny burg like Pitts, when you could be recuperating in Chicago and undoubtedly be more entertained. I told him you'd strain your ribs laughing..."

Rafe chuckled and their eyes met and held for a long moment. Mara felt a blush climbing into her face and was glad that she had turned on the overhead chandelier with its dimmer bulbs so he couldn't see her reaction to his direct gaze.

As the silence stretched out a little uncomfortably, Mara chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then spoke, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but is there a story behind your injury? Kevin didn't really say..."

Rafe cut in a bit abruptly, "I was covering a bank robbery in Lincoln Park by one of the city gangs. Someone called me to scoop me on the story as it was breaking and I guess I got there a little too early. Thus, the gunshot wound in my right leg," his face had become rather blank. Mara intuitively knew she wasn't going to get the full story out of him, at least not tonight. That blank look had the flavor of shellshock to it, so she didn't push.

Changing the topic, she smiled at him and said, "So. I'm afraid I crash a little early for the night tonight. Thursday, besides the regular Evening Prairiedog, we start the layout for the Sunday paper. That way I can be ahead of the game, and can take Saturday off if everything's ready to roll by Friday night. Tuesday's the same thing, because that's our big ad day with sales starting on Wednesday at the area grocery stores."

She continued with a touch of sarcasm in her voice, "it's been a sad trial for this night owl to be up at three or four in the morning some mornings. Can I help you with anything after I clear off here, before I head upstairs?" She stood and began clearing the table.

"May I help...?" he started.

Mara held up her hand to stop him as he rose. "I told you I wouldn't mollycoddle you, but let me take care of this. When you're feeling a bit steadier on your feet, don't worry; I'll be making you wash all the dishes. No undue slacking allowed in this house."

With that, Rafe grinned and stood. He thanked her for dinner and bid her goodnight, saying he would just spend the rest of the evening unpacking and maybe get a little reading done.

Sleeps With Newsletters

The monthly newletter I edit has been put to bed, printed, folded, sealed, and labeled. It's all up to the USPS now. I did write about 500 words, but nothing cohesive to post here. More coming SOON!

Bloggity Bloggity Blog

Sorry, no updates tonight, I'm wiped.

Chapter the second, wherein our Hero gets closer to Pittsville and our Heroine fidgets

But I would walk five hundred miles
And I would walk five hundred more
Just to be the man who
Walked one thousand miles
To fall down at your door

The Proclaimers -- I'm Gonna Be


And I would walk five hundred more

Grove Larson was an old-school farmer who had raised one son to follow in his footsteps, to love the land, to raise the wheat each year, and to take over the farm when Grove was ready to step down. Grove was getting up in years, but he was hale and hearty and nowhere near ready to step down. His oldest granddaughter was almost old enough to start learning the more detailed nuances of the farm, so Grove was delighted to have two generations of Larsens learning the land under his benevolent eyes. The child already had a love of the land, showing her delight freely to her grandfather, chattering about the type of wheat they would be planting.

Another son had gone on to do very well as a stock market trader and had retired early. This son was the one responsible for Grove's owning a Cessna Skylane modified for crop-dusting. Grove never thought he'd see the day he'd be dusting his fields in an airplane with comfortable seats and a cruising speed of 145 knots for day trips to the western end of the state. Comfortable leather seats. That plane flew so smoothly, well, he thought it was superior to rides he had had in some of the higher elevation commercial puddle jumpers. But he was the one flying the plane, so his passenger this afternoon may find his ride a little different.

But Grove doubted it. The atmosphere was as still as it could be on a spring day, no undue turbulence expect, it would be like gliding on silk. He was looking forward to his little taxi drive to Sioux Falls to pick up Mara's guest. He climbed into the plane and taxied it out to the short 1,300 ft strip behind the hangar, radioing state ground control to let them know he was following up on a flight plan he had filed earlier.

Getting the okay from ground control, he got up to takeoff speed and roared into the sky...

---

Mara grumbled over the final article of the day, not caring for the wording, but not sure how to fix it. She slashed out a couple of lines with her blue pencil and made a couple of other adjustments. Turning to her computer, she keyed in the corrections and sent the article to its spot in the paper. She went out to the pressroom to let Joe, the pressman know that the Wednesday Prairie Dog was ready to roll.

Joe had a big grin on his face, he had seen Mara's expressions as she edited the article.

"Intern turn in another doosey, Mara?"

"Shit, Joe, I don't know where she finds this stuff. She all but said there was a drug conspiracy happening because of some ditchweed she saw on a dirt road she was exploring the other day. And all this in an article about South Dakota wildflowers."

"Did she bring any back with her?"

"Thank god, no. I can just see it, and you KNOW it would be headline news, Joe, 'Intern Imprisoned for Possession of Low Grade Marijuana.' I told her to ignore it, most of it's not even worth smoking, though it would make a nice length of rope if she had the patience to research rope making."

"So you did a little re-write?"

"Hmmmmmm? Yes. Just a little. Maybe she could do a piece on agricultural grade hemp and how it would improve the ag situation in this state. That would rile the Governor a bit, being he's so conservative and convinced that every kid in the state would be smoking rope for fun. I don't know where that man gets his ideas!"

"Now, now, Mara, not everyone can carry the liberal agenda torch like you do. Thank goodness you're objective enough that that doesn't carry over into your editing or our circulation would be about 200 instead of about 2,500. So when does Our Journalist arrive?"

"Now, now, Joe," she said mocking his earlier objection. "You said you would play nice with our visitor and temporary employee."

"I'll play nice if he plays nice..."

"Joe, you will be the first to 'play nice' in this little game. The man has just been through a tough spot and, well, he may be just a little edgy because of it."

"You think?"

Mara smiled at the tall, broad-shouldered pressman. "Well I don't have an answer to that question, all I know is Grove should have taken off by now to go to Sioux Falls to pick up Mr. Moretti."

"When are they due back?"

"Oh in about an hour and a half or so, providing the weather stays as nice as it is. Grove called me earlier and assured me that today affords us prime flying weather. Well, time to go back to the grind," they both grinned at each other, "and see what's going on with that ad Wal-Mart wanted included in the Tuesday Prairie Reminder next week."

"Wal-Mart, I bet you're delighted about that."

"No comment Joe, no comment. It's in Yankton, and I hope it stays there."

---

Rafe sat in the airport terminal drowsing over his copy of the Chicago Tribune. He had an hour to wait before his chartered flight arrived and the Percocet he had dry-swallowed had kicked in with a vengance. Damn pills didn't seem to do that much for the ache in his leg, just seemed to take the edge off, and make him terribly sleepy. He could take another half-dose, but then he'd be asleep and his pilot would have to probably carry him out to the plane.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he opened the paper to the crossword puzzle. He didn't really feel like reading any news, especially anything coming in from his wire service. It would only serve to irritate him and remind him about the stories he wasn't able to chase down right now. Thank you, Mr. Kuntzler. Instead he was stuck here at Sioux Falls Regional Airport trying to stay awake and reasonable comfortable in an uncomfortably hard chair. At least the flight to Denver had taken off and he didn't have to listen to squabbling children and fretting babies.

He sprawled lower into the seat, tipping his head back to rest on the back of the chair. Nothing against fretting tots, but this last set had seemed especially fractious. One of the kids had run past him and tripped over his extended leg, necessitating his most recent dose of pain killer. The mother had apologized and scolded the boy, but the damage had been done. He had controlled his expression with an effort and complimented the harried woman on her offspring. No sense in upsetting the locals.

Closing his eyes, he mused about what he would find in Pittsville. He listed off the usual cast of characters present at a small newspaper office in his head and hoped at least one or two of them would be interesting, and if female, passably pretty.

The corner of his mouth quirked into a half-smile. Maybe this Mara Pitts was personally acquainted with Miss South Dakota and could introduce him. Maybe Miss South Dakota could stay and visit for while between her duties as the state representative of delectable toothsomeness, Dakota style. She'd be perky blond with a beautiful smile and know everything about current events.

Going with that happy daydream, Rafe dozed...

---

...and started awake at a throat clearing near him. He blinked and scrunched his eyes to clear his blurry vision to see an elderly man smiling at him.

"Mr. Moretti?"

"Er, yes?"

"I'm Grove Larson. I'll be flying you for the last stretch to Pittsville."

Rafe slowly stood up and balanced most of his weight on his good left leg, while he retrieved his cane from the seat next to him. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Larson."

"Please call me Grove."

"And I'm Rafe."

"Well Rafe, you ready to go? I made sure your luggage was stowed on the plane, and it's a grand day for flying."

"Yes?"

"Yes, smooth sailing all the way to Pitts. Please, come with me. My plane is through Gate 8. It's just a short walk from there to where I'm landed."

Rafe surreptiously stretched his injured leg and followed Grove. He glanced through the window and saw a small Cessna waiting on the field. 'Hmm,' he mused, 'wonder if it dusts... No, I'm not going there. It's nice plane. A very nice, very...small plane. Look out leg, bumpy ride ahead.'

Grove slowed down to accomodate Rafe's slower walk, taking his time and making Rafe feel less conspicuous by chit-chatting about his farm, the projections for this year's crop, his sons, his grandchildren. Grove was a natural storyteller, and distracted Rafe enough that it seemed like it took almost no time to walk out to the plane. Opening the cabin door of the plane, Grove stepped back and gestured for Rafe to get in.

Rafe was pleasantly surprised to see the plane so well appointed. The plane had seats that looked more comfortable than the last jet he had just been on. The smooth, taupe, leather actually looked inviting and the cabin of the plane was clean.

He grinned to himself. When he had first seen the Cessna, he had a momentary vision of sitting on a milk carton while wheat chaff flew around the cabin. The truth couldn't be further from that image.

He stowed his cane on the floor behind the front seats, gingerly climbed in and slid across to the copilot's seat. He hoped Grove didn't mind a front seat driver, but Rafe just didn't feel up to trying to squeeze his long legs into the rather more cramped seats in the back.

Grove, a tall man himself, smiled at his dark-haired passenger's choice of seats. He climbed into the plane, slid the cabin doors shut and began takeoff procedure. "Rafe, we're going to be in the air for a little over an hour and you look like you could use some shut eye. After I've taken off and attained cruising altitude, you can push that lever to recline that seat back."

He taxied out to his assigned takeoff strip, and received clearance from the tower to take off. After a smooth takeoff and gentle ascent, they were soon cruising towards Pittsville.

---

Mara fidgeted with her necklace as she sat on the Larsons' front porch, waiting for Grove's plane to arrive. She looked out across the barren fields that were finally losing the last of their snow. She pulled her winter coat around her a little more tightly, the air still had the sting of the end of winter to it, even though the equinox had already passed.

Arthur, Grove's younger son, retired from the stock market had invited her to sit in the living room. He had apologized that he couldn't stay to entertain her while she waited, having an appointment in town he couldn't miss. She had demurred and said she hadn't had a chance to be outside in days, and didn't want to miss the lovely early spring day.

She now pondered what was going to happen with this stranger that was coming to her town. Would he be high-maintenance and obnoxious? Would he be an interesting conversationalist? She hoped so, wanting to talk shop with someone who had been 'out in the world' as a journalist. She also hoped, quietly, and to herself, that the man wasn't utterly whacko with stress and, well... whatever. She hadn't been really able to tell if Kevin had been withholding information when they had discussed Rafael Moretti last week.

The hum she had been half-hearing turned into the drone of a not too distance airplane. She stood up and walked out to the landing strip and readied herself to meet her guest.

grrr

Blasted crazy blog code! One of these days I'll figure out how the coding works in the stylesheet for the template and put in "Read More!" links so you don't have to see all of my prose at once. Until then, scroll alllll the way to the bottom, then scroll up to the third blog entry (Praeludium) to read the Prologue and THEN come back up to the top to read Chapter One immediately following THIS blog entry!

Chapter the First, Wherein We Meet Our Hero

Chapter 1 Frightened of This Thing That I've Become

"The wild dog cry out in the night
As they grow restless
longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilamanjaro rise like a memphis above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside
Frightened of this thing that I've become..."
Toto - Africa

Rafael Moretti rubbed the side of his right thigh, trying to get the blood circulating so that when he changed planes he wouldn't make a complete spectacle out of himself. O'Hare airport had been bad enough when the courtesy attendant tried to have him to ride on one of the motorized wheel chairs to get him to his gate on time. He had finally convinced her, with a mix of snarl and flirt, that he needed the exercise so he wouldn't stiffen up.

The walk had had the opposite effect. He was secretly grateful to board the Boeing and take a load off. He was doubly glad that Kevin Kuntzler had booked a flight for him on the same plane all the way to Sioux Falls. He couldn't envision himself making that brisk walk from one of the big gates to the puddle jumper gates at the Minneapolis-St.Paul Airport. He had even less luck envisioning his luggage making that brisk trot and ending up on the same plan as him.

He cautiously flexed his leg in the limited room in front of his seat, Kevin hadn't wanted to cough up for first class, the tightwad. The flight was booked solid so he couldn't even sneak up into first class. Who the hell all was flying to Sioux Falls South Dakota for chrissake? Rafe knew the capacity of the plane was 230, he just couldn't imaging a whole planeful going to Soo-icks Falls.

Well, maybe it was flying elsewhere, like perhaps Denver after Sioux Falls. He wished he were. Instead he had a puddlejumper to look forward to. He HOPED it was a puddlejumper. The last stretch of the flight was chartered so he had no idea what he was flying in to Pittsville. Kevin hadn't wanted him taking chances with mixing driving and Percocet, even though Rafe had assured him that he could drive a couple hundred miles of empty state and county highways and not get into trouble.

He thought back to a few days before when Keven and he had been arguing about the details of the flight.

"Rafe, you know as well as I do, you're a trouble magnet."

"What the hell trouble could I attract in South Dakota, Kev? Of all the remote places on this planet..."

"Please do this for my nerves, Rafe. I can see it already, you're cruising down County Highway 5487..."

"Good God, they have that many county highways that they number them in the thousands?"

"Artistic license for what I'm painting for you. You'll be driving down County Highway 5296..."

"I thought you said it was 5487..."

"Will ya let me tell my story?"

"..."

"Anyway, there you are cruising down County Highway 6, cruise control in your rental set for about 95 mph. You're drowsy from the Percocet and have just come over the top of one of those rolling hills and at the bottom, not 50 yards away is a combine moving along at 30 mph. Whamo! No Rafe, No Hay, No Fun."

"Well, now that you put it that way, we certainly shouldn't stop the South Dakotans from making hay, it's probably all the entertainment they've had all year. By the way, since when do you cut hay when the snow's barely melted off the ground?"

"Artistic license, son, artistic license."

"How the hell did a schmoozer like you end up in the non-fiction newspaper business anyway?"

"A long tale for another time."

"Whatever. Okay. I'll FLY all the way to Pittland, South Dakota..."

"Pittsville."

"Yeah yeah, what was the name of their daily newspaper?"

"The Pittsville Evening Prairiedog."

"Kev, I don't even want to jump into that opening..."

"Don't then. The editor is an old school buddy of mine, Mara Pitts..."

"Lord, the town's named after her?"

A growl. "As I WAS saying, I've known Mara Pitts since we went to school together at Northwestern University..."

"Oooooh, A *Medill* Graduate. Why the hell did she end up in that eponymous town of hers?"

"I'll leave that story for Mara to tell you..."

"Was she your girlfriend, your "chere amie?"

"Rafe..."

"Yep, she was. You're setting me up with one of your cast offs... I *wish* you would quit doing that."

"Since when have I ever set you up with one of my cast... Dammit, Mara isn't, wasn't a cast-off. We parted on amicable terms, she's one of my best friends."

"Hmmm. Amicable. Does your wife know about this?"

"Yes, she does. I'm sure Mara and she had a good laugh at my expense when we went to Pittsville for vacation a couple of years ago..."

"You VACATIONED there??"

"Yes. It's a lovely little town..."

"Boss. Mr. Kuntzler. I need to break this to you. I think you left a few of your marbles in South Dakota if you think I'm going to have a grand old time 'vacationing' in Pittsville. Are you *trying* to drive me insane? The doctor told me I had to take a break from stressful situations and here you are sending me into one. I'm going to be bored to tears and I happen to find boredom stressful..."

Rafe snapped out of his reverie as the captain's voice came over the plane's announcement system, advising passengers to put "their trays into an upright and locked position." He snorted to himself. He'd been on so many flights that he could just about recite verbatim the takeoff, landing, and safety announcements made at each flight.

He pondered again for a moment, just exactly what he was going to be flying in between Sioux Falls and Pittsville. Probably somebody's damn crop duster. He smiled bitterly. 'Welcome to South Dakota, son, hope you don't mind while I take a small detour and lay down some insecticide on the corn...' or wheat or whatever the hell they grew in Scenic South Dakota.

How the hell had Kevin talked him into this abysmal trip? Oh yeah. Take time off now in South Dakota or take some time off now at a mental health "resort." All expenses paid, son. Shit, he knew he wasn't crazy, just...stressed. Anyone would be stressed from being shot at, especially when the gun was aimed at his head but deflected down and the bullet buried itself in his thigh instead.

Knowing when to give in, Rafael had chosen the less...'structured' vacation, figuring there had to be something going on in South Dakota... maybe some pretty prairie women. He smirked at that thought. Maybe some South Dakota lovely could teach him the finer points of 'riding barebacked...' That is if this "amicable" friend of Kevin's. Ms, or Mrs. Pitts or whatever didn't have him on too short a leash.

The plane touched down just then, bumping the ground a little roughly. Rafael started and flinched as he was snapped out of his pleasant daydream of Miss South Dakota entertaining him. His leg set up a protest, throbbing in time with the suddenly faster beat of his heart.

He clenched his teeth and waited for the plane to taxi to the gate. When the seatbelt light went off, he pulled his aluminum cane out from under the seat, gritted his teeth, and stood up.

Praeludium -- wherein we meet our heroine and a friend

"Kev, you're nuts. No!!"

"C'mon Mar, you gotta help me out on this one."

"But I don't HAVE another opening at the Prairiedog. It just ain't happening!"

"What if I paid his wages -- we can make a... a sort of active leave of absence sort of thing."

"Kev, now that's starting to sound illegal."

"If you don't tell, I won't tell."

"..."

"What was that Mara? I'm afraid I didn't catch that. Rotten telephone lines sound like we're calling the moon half the time anymore... Mara? You still there?"

"Yeeeessss."

"Well?"

A long sigh. "Okay. Tell me again why you want to babysit one of your best journalists and make him write color pieces for the Prairiedog. God, Kev, you're insane even to think about it. Yeah, he won't be stressed out here in Pittsville, he'll be laughing his guts out. He'll be in the local surgery having his ribs taped from the strain of laughing so much. Shit."

"Mara. You know what it means when you start swearing at me."

"What!"

"It means you're about to cave and help me out here."

"Keeeevin!"

"Okay, you wanted me to tell you why I'm asking this favor."

"That would be helpful, even though I'm still probably going to say No."

"Hmmm. Probably? That's better than the No I got after the first run-through of Rafe's story."

"Dammit."

"Another swear word, m'dear."

"So let me get this straight. On of your first stringers is burned out and needs a little R and R. So Kevin Kuntzler, mad as a hatter, is going to send him from Chicago to lil' ol' Pittsville, South Dakota. The man needs to rest his nerves, not be on the edge of them."

"Nothing that a few peaceful nights on the prairie can't take of."

"What? Rest his nerves or get on his last one?"

"Mara, love, when I came out to vacation in your lovely PEACEFUL burg two years ago, I learned to appreciate the silence. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, the silence was golden. The rustle of the grasses, the crickets, it was a complete paradigm shift of sound that only took me a couple of nights to get used to."

"So what makes you think Mr. 'HotShot High Strung A Few Cards Short Of A Full Deck' will learn the joys of crickets and grasses after learning to sleep to the sound of sirens and gunfire? He's probably got PTSD on top of everything else. He needs to spend a few quiet hours on a shrink's couch, not a couple months amongst the bugs and the ditch weed. Sometime the sounds of silence are LOUD when you've emotional turmoil to work through."

"Mara, honey, you know that. When your father passed so suddenly and you found yourself at a year short of a Master's Degree in Journalism from Medill running the Prairiedog... Hmmm, Mar, I hate to say this, but...

"Spit it out Kev."

"...well, let's just put it this way, I think you're the best person I know to guide Rafe through those loud silences."

"..."

"Now, dear, that was a pretty loud silence right there. I thought I heard a "yes" in there?"

"Keeev..."

"I meant what I said. Okay, okay, I'll figure out a legal way to pay Rafe while he works at your paper. Maybe he could write some color pieces for ME about La Belle Prairie and its locust."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Okay. Send him out here. But make sure he knows I'm in charge of the paper here. I don't want the big city boy taking over, trying to show up us rubes here. I'm all for the master class in the finer arts of writing high-key reporting journalism, but the Prairiedog is MY paper."

"Mara, I swear on the wires that carry my news out to the world, he'll know who's in charge."

"..."

"What was that?"

"Kev, why am I such a pushover where you're concerned."

"Darling, it's meant to be..." a lingering flirtatious hopeful note.

"Kev, you flirt, what we had while we were at school is long gone and I'm sure your wife wouldn't appreciate you wooing strange editors of small newspapers in Podunk. Send your man out here. Tell him to bring plenty of self-entertainment in books or movies or whatever, or he'll have to special order it here. Wamblee's Drug doesn't carry a huge selection of either of those."

"He's a big boy, he'll bring his own computer. So it's a deal."

Exasperatedly, "Yes, Kevin, it's deal."

"Love you, Mara. I'll fax the details out to you tomorrow."

"Love you, Kev, you rotter!"

"Ciao"

"G'nite"

Why?

Okay, so ***why*** prairie dogs? Well, it's on the Prairie. And our heroine's hometown newspaper is The Pittsville Evening Prairiedog.

Why a pink template. Oh, hearts and flowers, darlin' it's a romance novel I be tryin to write!

Why write a novel in a month? Why not? See http://www.nanowrimo.org for more reasons why.

The Pittsville Evening Prairiedog

Why prairie dogs? Why a pink template? Why write a novel in a month? Stick around and you'll see. BTW, as prima facie, all textual and graphical content of this blog (with the exception of my avatar and the blog template) is Copyright 2005 by Dace Liepins. My plot, dammit!