::  The Lost Boys ::

Part 2

She stepped into the bedroom to find him gone. She’d rather hoped that he would’ve joined her in the shower. However, she heard voices coming from the living room. She quickly dressed from the suitcase she’d left here the night before. After running a comb through her wet hair, she took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. The heavenly smell of coffee assailed her.

Robert and Clay were sitting on the sofa, cups in hand, going over a map that lay on the table. When she walked up behind them, she half expected them to grab it up. But Clay just smiled back at her. "Coffee’s ready. I’ll make breakfast later."

"You forget. I don’t eat breakfast," she said.

"But I bloody well do," Robert said irritably. "And considering that I slept in the back seat of the car, I think I deserve it."

"I’m sure you do." She poured a cup and returned to the living room. Instead of looking over their shoulders again, she went and sat across from them, on the floor. She didn’t look at the map. Instead she silently drank her coffee, watching him. In her relief at finding him, she hadn’t noticed how he’d aged. There were a dozen new wrinkles around his eyes, and gray hairs interspersed in his dark brown ones.

"So you think this is best?" Clay said as Robert folded the map.

"It’s a lot like here. There’s a small town nearby. The land is flat and it’ll be easy to spot any approaching traffic. Security will be easy to install. Plus…" Robert looked at Sarah and then at Clay. Sighing, he stood. "We don’t have too much time. Commander Rabb…"

"Don’t!" Clay quickly cautioned. But it was too late.

"What do you mean?" Sarah demanded. "What were you going to say?"

Robert looked at her closely. "You may need to make a serious choice, Sarah."

"I expected that I might. Tell me why you mentioned Harm?"

Robert sighed. "He is a very forceful man, your commander."

"He’s a former fighter pilot."

"Well, your former fighter pilot decided to storm the gates of hell."

"Oh, God. What did he do?" she asked.

"He demanded to know what the devil was going on with Clayton. I understand from my contact close to Mr. Watts that they kept him there for most of day. Miss Gale…"

"She’s involved?" Sarah snapped.

"Miss Gale has her…"

Just then, Mickey pounded up onto the porch. "Cat called." Mickey’s face softened and his voice dropped. "I don’t like it. Watts is going to figure it out one of these days."

"What did she do?" Robert demanded.

"She went into "The Ops Room" ostensibly to give Watts a brief. She overheard them putting Sarah on the list. Sarah will get the full treatment. Open surveillance, harassing phone calls, IRS audits. The works. Cat heard that Watts ordered Morris to send Sarah to Langley as soon as she returned. Cat wasn’t sure what Morris said in response to that."

Sarah sat there stunned – and afraid. The thought of having Robert arrange her death became momentarily appealing. She needed to talk to Harm to find out what was said. Looking at Clay, she saw the indecision in his eyes. "I have to go back," she said with more resolve in her voice than she felt. "I need to talk to Harm and I need to see the Admiral." She stood and looked from Robert to Mickey. "Give us a minute, then tell me how I’m going to get back."

"I’ll drive you back," Mickey said.

"We need to set up a alternate plan for why I was down here." She looked at Robert. "Can you come up with a story on short notice?"

Robert returned her look with one of deep respect. "You are a treasure, Colonel MacKenzie. I’m working on one." He stood, sparing a look for Clay, then motioned for Mickey to follow him out to the porch.

They stood there just watching each other. "I’m afraid for you," he finally whispered.

"I know. But I have to go back. You have to get away. I don’t know what they’ll do, but I don’t want to be the cause of you dying, or worse, getting pulled back into working for Watts. I couldn’t stand that, Clay. Get away; take Emily with you." She moved around the table and stood before him. "You wait for me, Clay. I will find you again and…"

His mouth claimed hers. They stood there, holding each other until they heard an ‘ahem,’ from the door. Breaking the kiss but not their embrace, they turned their heads to look at Robert.

"Sorry to break this up, but the plane leaves from Nashville in six hours and we still have things to go over, Sarah. I’ll drive you. Mickey can stay only a little while to help Clayton pack the bare necessities." He looked around the room. "I’ll arrange for the sale of the items of value."

"I don’t care about that. I just need to figure out what to do about Emily. If she can’t travel, then…" The torment that’d left his face for a brief moment returned full-force.

Sarah leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "You’ll figure it out. You’ve come up with some great plans." She tried to pull away from him, but he held her for a moment longer. "I love you, Clay."

"I love you, too." One more desperate kiss and he released her. "Take care of her, Robert."

Robert grunted. "I suspect that Colonel MacKenzie can take care of herself. However, before we go, give me a copy of the book."

"No! It’s awful."

"Well," Robert said in disgust, "it’s not like I’m going to take it to a publisher, now am I?"

Sarah hurried out to the car. Mickey was just putting her suitcase in the truck. Much to his consternation, she gave him a rough hug. "Take care of yourself." All Mickey could do was blush and hurry back to the house.

After buckling her safety belt, she twisted around to watch Clay as Robert drove up the hill.

"They’ve worked together before. Several times in fact."

"That’s good."

"No. That’s important. Now turn around and listen carefully."

They drove north towards Nashville. Robert gave her all the details of the story that he and Mickey had concocted. It was simple and fit the details, just in case anyone had actually seen Sarah and Mickey together in DC.

She nodded but added, "Just two people, who both knew Clay, getting away for a quiet time? Watts doesn’t know that Mickey knows Clay is alive?"

"Not yet, though I’m beginning to think that it’s the worst kept secret at the agency. Others are beginning to have doubts about what happened with Kershaw." He looked like he was going to say something else, however, he looked away.

"Did I know Mickey before? I don’t think Harm will buy that."

"You haven’t lived with the Commander for nearly four months. Does he know every detail about your life? Are you certain you can do this?"

"I’m certain. Now drive me by the property where Mickey and I were supposed to have stayed. And why isn’t Mickey driving me back?"

"Because the new ADCI has sent for him. He has a mission."

"Oh." Just one more person to worry about. "How does he do it? Does he never rest? Does he have…" She remembered the way Mickey’s voice had softened at the mention of Catherine Gale’s name. "…anyone who worries about him?"

"Some of us are cut out for it more than others. Clayton would’ve been, had you not entered his life."

"Is that a bad thing?" she shot back. Anger was better than worry.

"No."

Finally, at the airport, he parked in the short-term lot and turned to her. "Remember what I said: Don’t anticipate, don’t volunteer information. You’re a military lawyer; you know your rights. Never assume you’re not being listened on." He reached across her to the glove compartment to hand her what appeared to be a small MP3 player. "This will indicate if and from where you’re being monitored."

She held it in her hand. "Electronics for fairy dust, Glocks for broadswords and boarding pikes."

"Well, my dear, if I’m to be the crocodile to Watts’ Captain Hook, Clayton’s disc will be the bloody ticking clock." When she didn’t answer, he sighed. "I hesitate to suggest this, however, perhaps you should take Commander Rabb, or someone else, if you have no recourse but to go to Langley."

"Why should I go?" she said. "Why can’t I ignore his summons?" But she knew. She was playing their game now. "Very well, Robert. Take care of yourself. I hope that ticking clock doesn’t give you indigestion."

She called the office from Nashville, brightly overriding Coates’ gasp. "Hi, Jen. I’m coming back early. My friend got called away. Any messages?"

Jenny was almost speechless, finally gasping out. "Where have you been?"

"I told you four days ago I was taking vacation."

"But we called you."

"I didn’t realize that I’d lost my cell phone somewhere. Heaven’s Jen, what’s wrong?"

"Uhm…" Sarah heard the phone being pulled away from Morris’ petty officer.

"Mac!"

"Yes, Harm?" She kept her calm.

"Mac, you better get back here right away."

"Fine. What the hell did you do?"

"Me!" She’d never heard him squeak before. But she was playing the game now.

"Harm. Listen, they’re calling my flight. I’m on my way back. Do I need to come into the office?" She couldn’t let him know that she knew she was UA.

"Mac," his voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "Where are you?"

"Nashville. Oops. Gotta go."

The look on Morris’ face was damned near priceless. He really looked surprised that she was in his office. "Where have you been, Colonel?"

"Vacation. Didn’t Coates tell you? I’ve more vacation…" she bit her tongue. She had to remember what Robert told her. Never elaborate. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Where. Have. You. Been? And. With whom?"

"Sir!"

"I suggest you answer his question, Colonel McKenzie."

She jerked around to see the man she’d never met face to face before. He hadn’t even come to Clay’s funeral. "Mr. Watts?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Watts?" Morris demanded. "I told you that I’d handle this."

"This is national security, Admiral. Well, Colonel?"

She decided to have a bit of fun with Captain Hook. "I was with one of your agents."

Morris gasped, and she could see Harm standing in the open doorway. Watts turned to slam it but motioned for Harm to join them. "Indeed, Colonel. And how is Mr. Webb?"

Sarah didn’t need to act. She put her hand to her lips and her face paled. "Excuse me?" she whispered. She was shaking so badly in real fear that Harm quickly came to her side.

"You heard me."

"He’s alive?"

"You just said…"

"I said I was with one of your agents, an old friend of Webb’s. We ran into each other a few weeks ago and he told me that if I ever needed to talk to someone, that he was available. I called him… after a rather embarrassing incident with Clay’s mother." She glanced at Harm, praying that he wouldn’t repeat his assertion of that night that he didn’t think she’d been drunk. "He suggested that we get out of town for a few days and have our own little wake."

"Who?"

"I don’t see why I have to tell you." She looked to Morris for support. AJ Chegwidden would’ve already thrown Watts out of his office. Morris saw that in her face.

"Damn it. I’ll have you arrested under the Patriot Act if you don’t tell me who the hell you spent the week with!" Watts bellowed.

"Mickey Kostmayer."

"Who?" Harm demanded.

"Liar!" Watts yelled.

"That’s enough!" Morris finally remembered just whose office they were in. "Watts, we’ll talk later!"

Watts must have realized that he was on thin ice. He spared Morris a glare then, without another word, turned on his heel and left.

Sarah stood there for a moment trying hard to regain her composure.

"Colonel?" Morris began.

"Sir?" Never volunteer.

"Never mind. You’ve got a stack of work on your desk." She met his gaze and she knew that he’d never trust her again.

For the next week, things got progressively worse. Morris wouldn’t even look at her in the morning meetings. He gave cases that should’ve been hers to Bud or Sturgis. Harm avoided her. Bud tried to talk to her, but she feared that his career might suffer if he became too close and she pushed him away. She wouldn’t return Harriet’s calls.

She couldn’t even reach Clay using the blind email addresses that Robert had supplied her with. She knew that he was on the long road to his next hiding place. She was glad she hadn’t looked at the map that day in the cabin. She refused to be the instrument by which Watts found him. But she was completely alone.

She didn’t spot the tail at first. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was so preoccupied that she’d just not noticed him, or if Watts hadn’t started the detail for a week. However, after coming face-to-face with the man, he’d smiled cockily and held the door open for her as she left the Safeway. "Just want to make sure that no one bothers you, Colonel."

That night Harm demanded entrance to her apartment again. She calmly opened the door and ushered him in with a resigned, "Let’s get this over with."

He faced her, hands on his hips, ready to give one of his noted closing arguments. "I thought I was at least your friend. I went to Watts. I told him that I knew that Webb was alive. I demanded to know just what the hell was going on. I told him to keep Webb away from you, that you didn’t want to be sucked into another mission."

"You know, you never really explained how you knew he was alive." She held her breath. Admitting where he’d seen Clay would do no harm. Had he told Watts about seeing Webb in Kenmore?

He didn’t answer for a very long time, pacing back and forth across her apartment. He paused at her window and looked out, as if he expected to see Clay standing there — or as if he knew she was being watched. "He’s gone rogue, Mac. He was in cahoots with Kershaw. Watts admitted it."

"Really?" It took every ounce of strength to keep from attacking him, defending Clay, railing against Watts.

"Why didn’t he come to me if he was in trouble?"

Her eyes were on the small indicator on the table. The red light practically screamed its warning. "Harm. This is over. I have no idea where he is. I spent the week with a man who used to work with him."

Harm laughed harshly. "You know, for over a year you’ve told me more than I ever wanted to hear about Clayton Webb. Funny, you never mentioned knowing anyone named Mickey Kostmayer."

"You hated listening to me talk about Webb. You hated him. Mickey didn’t. Mickey understood him."

"Like your MI-6 buddy understood him?" he said snidely.

"Perhaps. But Clay was never like Simon Tanveer."

"Yes, he was. Only Tanveer understood what happened to him. Clay is still out there fighting against this country."

Sarah thought of Emily. She had to protect Clay and Emily. "Harm, until Watts said what he said, I had no proof that Clay was alive."

"You’re telling me that Kostmayer didn’t know?" Harm yelled, growing more and more agitated.

"If he did, he never mentioned it."

"Why? Or didn’t you bother to talk at all?"

"What the hell are you accusing me of?"

"Come on." She didn’t think she’d ever seen him this out of control. "It wouldn’t be the first time you slept with a guy just to…" his eyes grew round with horror. He finally sank to her couch, and buried his head in his hands. "I’m sorry."

"You should be." She stood there over him, the disgust and anger nearly choking her. "What I did or didn’t do in Martinsville is no business of yours, Harm. I really thought you were my friend. If you could say such a thing to me…" her bitter laughter brought tears to her eyes. "But after all these years, after all the truly terribly things you’ve thrown in my face, I guess you never have had any respect for me."

"I just don’t want to see you hurt, Mac."

"Why? You prefer that privilege for yourself?"

"That’s not fair. I said I was sorry."

"I’m sorry, too. Instead of going to a stranger, I could’ve used a friend."

"Why? What are you planning?"

"Why do you ask? So you can run to Watts and tell him everything?" She picked up the indicator and held it in front of his face. "Don’t worry...he’ll know."

He didn’t even blink. He’d know their conversation was bugged. "Webb’s a traitor, Mac."

"You really believe that? You really believe that the man you’ve known for nine years could do that?"

"That’s what the people said about Walker." He stared at the red light like it was laser searing his eyesight. "Mac?"

"You need to go now. It isn’t safe to be around me. You never know when my apartment might develop a gas leak and just go boom. Or perhaps you’ll find me dead of an overdose of sleeping pills and booze. Or…"

He’d stood then and gripped her shoulders. "Stop it. You’re overwrought. How can you think…"

"That a man would go that far to protect his political career? Please. Angel Shark, Harm. This all started with the Angel Shark case. And you were there from the beginning."

He left as confused and as broken as she felt. She didn’t really think that Watts would go to the extreme of killing her. No, she was his lodestone to Clay. He’d play the game. Her shadows were there to intimidate her.

That night, she was awakened at 0345 by the phone. "Is Clay there?" the woman huskily demanded. Each night thereafter, someone would always call right at 0345.

Watts waited a week before he issued his summons to his office. She’d tried to argue with Morris, but he finally insisted, "Just go and get it over with."

"I won’t go there by myself."

Chegwidden would have gone with her. Morris looked away, then grabbed up the phone. "Coates! Ask Commander Turner to come to my office."

Sturgis didn’t know what to say during their uncomfortable car trip to Langley. Sarah sat rigid beside him. Watts himself met them in his 7^th floor antechamber. "You felt the need for a guard dog, Colonel? For your protection or mine?" From anyone else it might have been a patronizing joke. Sarah just glared at him. "I’m afraid that he’ll have to do his guarding from out here. "This is ‘need to know,’ Colonel."

"If Colonel MacKenzie needs legal advise…" Sturgis started.

"Then it’s a good thing that she’s a lawyer."

"It’ll be okay, Commander," Sarah said formally. "I appreciate you coming with me." She followed Watts into his office, feeling guilty for involving Turner. Once Watts closed the door, she’d silently repeated Robert’s instructions as a mantra. "Keep it simple. Don’t lie if you don’t have to. Never volunteer."

"Would you like something to drink, Colonel?"

"No."

"What?" He gave her an indulgent smile. "Are you afraid of me? Do you think I might drug your coffee?"

"Yes...to both questions."

"Come now. I don’t know what Webb told you about me, but I’m not the villain here." She held her tongue and didn’t volunteer, didn’t vent her loathing. "Mr. Webb is playing a dangerous game. If you support him, you’ll ruin your career." She met his angry gaze silently. "Damn it! Where is he?"

"I have no idea."

"But you saw him that week." She chose to consider it a statement instead of a question. She was very pleased with the results: he glared at her menacingly, his face growing redder as she remained perfectly calm — on the outside. On the inside she was as nervous as she’d been before her surgery. She wondered what he’d do if she threw up on his shoes.

"Do you think that Robert McCall and his merry band of outlaws can protect you?" He said directly behind her.

She jerked her head around to face him, and without thinking said, "I believe that Peter Pan and the Lost Boys is a better analogy."

"What!" he shouted, his nose flaring slightly. "What the hell?"

She mustered the last of her courage and stood. "Are we finished here?"

"You think I won’t discuss this with Kostmayer when he returns?"

She was scared for Mickey, but she kept her calm. This was his game. He’d chosen to play it. She just hoped he was a good as he thought he was. "I see no reason why you can’t discuss it with Mr. Kostmayer."

"What did you two find to talk about, or did you talk at all?"

Perhaps Harm throwing it in her face had been a blessing in disguise. She met his leer with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. "We drove down to a cabin in Tennessee. It had two bedrooms, Mr. Watts. I never saw his; he never entered mine. We talked about a lot of things, but mostly about Webb. In fact, he really didn’t talk all that much. He certainly didn’t divulge classified information. He listened. He listened to my rants and but didn’t answer my questions. He just listened. At no point during the week did I see or talk to Clayton Webb. Until that day in Admiral Morris’ office, I was under the impression that Webb was dead. I can only assume that Agent Webb has no desire to see me, or he’s afraid that if he does, you’ll kill me." With that she’d calmly walked to his door and opened it. She was almost surprised to see Sturgis standing there, waiting for her.

Once they were in the car and driving back to JAG, Sturgis took a deep breath and said, "Mac? If you want to talk..."

"Better not, Sturgis. I’m persona non grata. Being seen around me might not be good for your career."

"I think I can…"

"No you can’t. Trust me on this." She knew what she had to do. As soon as they arrived back at JAG ops, she marched into Morris’ office. "Sir," she said without preamble, "I would like to request a transfer."

Morris sat there trying hard to keep the look of relief off his face. "Very well. Let me see what I can do."

Two days later, he called her in his office.

"The senior JAG on the Enterprise broke his leg in a freak accident. It’s a three month posting. Maybe you can get your head out of your six by then."

"My head is just fine, sir. But thank you. I’ll take the assignment."

Harm came by that night. She let him rant while she packed. "You see! You see! Your career is already imploding. He’s done this to you. How the hell can you love someone that could do that to you?"

She didn’t point out that he had finally admitted that she might actually love Clay. She knew that she was to blame for his uncertainty on that issue. However, she’d forgiven herself as well as Clay. She paused in her packing and turned her head to him. "Harm. Someday we will talk about this. But it’s no good for me here. I have to do this."

"But sea duty? You get sea sick."

"I’ll deal."

And she did. Once again, she braved another helicopter ride out to yet another aircraft carrier. Either Morris or Watts had obviously spoken to the captain. He kept her at attention for a very long time before demanding, "You think you can do a good job here? You won’t be distracted by... outside influences? This is a ship of war, Colonel, not a hidey-hole."

"I’ll do my best, sir." Once inside her very cramped quarters she lay down on the bed and wept — in relief. For the first time since returning from Tennessee, she felt that no one was listening in. The indicator backed up that assumption. She was determined to serve out the duty and when it came time to transfer out she would request JAGPAC or even Okinawa again. Then she would quietly make her escape.

She set up her computer and fired off emails to Clay and Robert, letting them know where she was. She had no idea how it worked, but Robert had promised her that if she used the server and the code system, even the CIA couldn’t prove anything against her or track Clay through her.

The first month she thought she just couldn’t get over her seasickness. When she missed her first period, she thought it was just anxiety. Her periods were anything but regular. But she was worried enough to send Robert an email.

After another month, the Eisenhower anchored off the coast of Rio de Janeiro. She requested leave. For a moment, she was afraid that the captain would deny her request. But on the second shore party, she’d walked down the gangplank and hailed a cab. The tails were waiting for her. After checking the photo id affixed to the back of the driver’s seat, she breathed a sigh of relief. Robert had send an email telling her the number of the cab and that she’d understand the sign he’d send.

"Interesting name," she pointed out.

The young Brazilian gave her a cocky grin in the rear view mirror. "I do not look like a Kostmayer?"

"Actually, not my Kostmayer."

"You are disappointed?"

"A little," she admitted. She really worried about Mickey sometimes.

"I will not disappoint you." For nearly an hour, he drove all over Rio, acting the tour guide, making subtle turns, picking out the men following them. Finally, he accelerated, turned down an alley and entered a garage. She panicked for a moment, but Robert himself opened her door.

"Hurry. There’s another car waiting for us."

The private clinic was just outside Rio. The doctor, one of the finest obstetricians in the city, confirmed that she was pregnant, and that the fetus was attached to the wall of her womb instead of her fallopian tube.

She was ecstatic for all of ten minutes when, afterward, in a nearby café, Robert pointed out, "Watts will use this against you to get to Clayton."

"I understand. I know what I have to do."

One month later, two days before her thirty-eighth birthday, and two full years before her twenty years with the Marines, Sarah MacKenzie presented the captain of the Enterprise with her request for separation. "You couldn’t have waited until your next posting? You lay this on me! Are you out of your mind?"

"No, sir."

Admiral Morris ordered her back to DC. She’d been prepared for him to yell at her, even for him to threaten her with some trumped up charge. She hadn’t been prepared to see AJ Chegwidden, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting in one of chairs before Morris. It didn’t look right; he belonged behind the desk – in uniform. But she held her tongue.

Morris sat there and glared, then threw up his hands. "You talk some sense into her, AJ! You know what this is really about."

Chegwidden studied her for a long moment, and then to Morris’ surprise, he cut to the chase, just like he always had when he ruled JAG. "Mac? Are you sure?"

"Sir, I no longer feel that I can do my job under the cloud of suspicion, even though I’ve had no contact with Agent Webb. When I was here, I felt like if I made a phone call to Harriet Sims, I was putting her in danger. So I transferred to the Enterprise, only to find that the men didn’t trust me and my legalman kept looking at me like I was going to ask her to steal state secrets."

"That’s ridiculous!" Morris snapped.

However, Sarah had seen the concerned acceptance in Chegwidden’s eyes. "You’re giving up a lot," AJ pointed out.

"I know that, sir. But I…I need to think. I guess I’m going to have to go into hiding to do so."

"You’re going to go find Webb!" Evidently Morris had chosen to align himself with Watts. "He’s a traitor, Colonel. And, if you have any contact with him, you, too, will be brought up on charges, separated or not!"

"If you say so, sir.

Glaring at AJ, he’d added snidely. "I don’t play games." He quickly signed her papers. "MISS MacKenzie. This is over. You are no longer a Marine."

"Your pardon, Admiral, but I will always be a Marine." And she saluted them both smartly, turned on her heel and left the office.

She was used to the scrutiny by now. However, Bud insisted on hugging her. "Please, ma’am, take care of yourself."

Sturgis offered his hand. "Mac I never knew how to talk to you, but I want you to know you’re a hellava brave woman."

"Thank you."

Harm stood there in his office doorway. She’d never seen him so tortured. "Take care of yourself, flyboy." He closed his eyes in pain and just nodded. She hurried from the bullpen.

The doors of the elevator were almost closed when AJ pushed his way in. "Have dinner with me tonight. I’ll be on my boat in the harbor in Alexandria."

"I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sir."

He moved so close to her that she was reminded of that night years ago when they’d almost kissed. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Perhaps, but McCall thinks it is. Bring your suitcase." She stood there stunned, unable to move off the elevator while he calmly returned his visitor’s pass and walked outside without a backwards glance. One part of her was upset that Robert had involved AJ. The other part was so relieved that he was helping her that she wanted to sink to the floor and weep.

Instead, she returned to her apartment. She stood there looking at the few things she’d left out. Before fleeing to the Enterprise, she’d decided what she could take with her and what she needed to store. All her photos had been removed from frames and consigned to one large photo album. It and several boxes of treasured mementos were packed in sturdy boxes. McCall had arranged for a storage facility. There was little left that she would miss.

She did as AJ had said and packed a backpack with casual clothes. She was glad that she had left the little Hummel out. She carefully wrapped it and put it in the middle of the backpack, then put that inside her suitcase. Then, she spent several hours leading her tails on a merry chase. Not for the first time, she asked herself, "When did I become Wendy?" However, she directed the cabby to drop her off at the public library in Alexandria. After disguising her appearance, she discarded the suitcase, shouldered the backpack and walked to the public docks to find AJ’s boat.

AJ greeted her perfunctorily. "Let’s set sail."

As she threw off the lines, she commented. "This is a very nice boat."

"She’s seaworthy enough. She’ll get us there."

"Where?"

He’d lifted his head as if in thought, then winked at her. "Wherever the mood takes us."

"Sir?"

"AJ." He pointed to a small box by the cockpit. Its light was green but he lowered his voice so that she had to strain to hear him. "Are you absolutely sure you want to disappear?"

"Yes."

"Then let’s disappear."

They’d sailed down the coast, stopping at inlets and large ports. Not hiding that they were together, not pretending that they were anything but friends. They’d talked of their years together and his plans for the future. He’d even shared a story about Clay that she’d never heard before.

"So it was the first time he’d killed anyone?"

"He did it to save Tim Fawkes."

She smiled sadly. "You know, there was a time, in Colombia, when I thought he didn’t even know how to use a gun."

AJ grunted a laugh. "Roberts told me a story once. Is it true that he got Webb to stare into the sun?"

"Now that story, Clay told on himself, though he insists he just did it to maintain his cover."

He worked her hard, but she’d never felt so invigorated, so fit and relaxed. When she would ask him how far they were going, he’d smile and say, "You’ll know when we get there." And, as soon as they dropped anchor at Key West, his entire manner changed and she did know. Where before, he’d been casually interested in their surroundings, now she recognized the former Seal who’d helped rescue Josh Pendry. "The sun’s very hot down here, Mac." He pointed to a bummish looking man, selling cheap souvenirs. "Why don’t you go buy a hat?"

Jimmy hadn’t said a word. He handed her a large floppy hat and a matchbook embossed with a gaudy parrot and the name and address of a popular Key West nightspot. Inside the matchbook was a cryptic handwritten message. "8 o’clock tonight. Bring the hat. M.’ She returned to the boat, her sense of calm evaporated.

"Take a nap." AJ demanded. "I’ll wake you when it’s time."

That night, he led her, holding her arm, something he didn’t usually do, as they entered the noisy bar and grill. "Welcome folks!" Mickey led them to a table. "I’ll be right back to take your order. When he placed her lime and tonic before her he said, "Bathroom, hat, in five."

AJ reached out and took her hands in his. The music was loud and the light on the indicator was green, but he leaned closer. "Good luck, Mac. Call me if you ever need help."

She thought she’d burst into tears. She struggled with her emotions and thought to just work on a smile. However, she knew she needed to get it out. "AJ, your guidance, your friendship have meant so much to me. Through the years, I strove so hard to live up to your expectations. Few things in my life bothered me more than not coming to you when I needed your help." He started to say something, but she squeezed his hands tightly. "Just knowing you were there waiting for us was sometimes the only reason I made it back. Just thinking about how you would handle a situation gave me the strength to make the right decisions." At exactly five minutes, she stood up from the table, leaned over and kissed him soundly. "Thank you," she whispered. Then louder, she added, "Be right back!" She plopped the huge sunhat on her head and went in search of the ladies room. A very large man was just telling two women that the bathroom was closed and they’d have to use the one at the other end of the bar. He took one look at Sarah and nodded for her to enter.

The woman waiting for her wasn’t her exact copy. She was the same height and coloring and her hair, like Sarah’s, was brown and pulled back in a ponytail. However, she was a bit older and looked more relaxed than Sarah could ever remember being. She was also dressed in just her bra and panties. "Take off your clothes. Your stuff is in the handicap stall." Once Sarah had donned the sundress, strappy sandals and blond wig, the woman grabbed the hat off the counter and gave Sarah a bright smile. "I just adore bald men. Go flirt with the bartender." And with that, she strolled out the door.

She sat at a stool that a man ‘just happened’ to vacate. The bartender placed a tonic and lime before her and for fifteen minutes she watched AJ and her doppelganger laugh and joke, touch and even kiss, until AJ stood and pulled the stranger to her feet. Sarah sat and watched as two men quickly followed them out the door.

"So, beautiful," Mickey whispered in her ear, "you busy tonight?"

He drove her to the Miami.

Jimmy met her on a charter fishing boat to St. Augustine.

She didn’t know the pilot of the helicopter ride to Orlando, but he matched the picture that Jimmy had showed her, who showed her a picture of the cab driver that would drive her to the train station.

"From here on, you travel alone." The cabby told her. "Here’s an envelope with money and a transit locker key. Inside the locker will be another envelope and a small suitcase. Follow the instructions."

Atlanta to Indianapolis by train.

Indianapolis to St. Louis by bus.

At the bus depot in St. Louis, the envelope had directed her to a small used car lot close by. There, the owner handed her the keys to an old Dodge Charger that didn’t look like it would make it off the lot. "Make sure the manual is in the glove box." There was no manual, but there was a map, instructions and a service revolver.

She drove across the Midwest, gradually veering northward, though never knowing her final destination. She longed to stop at a cyber café where she could check her emails. But places like West Point, Nebraska, Kadoka, South Dakota, where she traded in the Charger for a brand new Jeep Cherokee, Story, Wyoming or any of the other small towns she stopped in didn’t have one. The cell phones that she picked up at each blind drop were the simplest, cheapest prepaid models, meant only for emergencies before she discarded them. She never used the emergency number Robert had given her. She was truly alone.

The trip took three weeks. Four months to the day from when she left Clay, she arrived in Boise and followed the instructions to the rest area on Route 55. Another bathroom. This time, a woman met her, but said nothing more than, "These are the keys to the 26 foot RV," when she handed the envelope to Sarah. The note was signed. "There are things that our friend can use. Drive back east to Butte, Montana, then North to Missoula and then north again to Polson. There, ask for directions to the Double Cross Ranch. Don’t laugh. That’s been its name for 150 years. Besides, Neverland would raise too many eyebrows about its owner. Robert." The rest of the note detailed her and Clay’s final cover stories.

The highway stretched before her. In the distance, the Mission Mountain range cut across the horizon, its snow capped peaks shrouded in gray, shifting clouds. The wide stretch of brown prairie was spotted with the occasional farm. A few hardy head of cattle and horses huddled against the swirling, wind-tossed snow. There wasn’t much snow on the ground, though.

The sun was peaking through the clouds, casting odd patterns the desolate landscape. She’d be there in less than an hour. Her stomach churned in anticipation and she gently rubbed it, calming herself and the child who couldn’t feel it yet.

She spotted the sign proclaiming she was entering Polson, Montana. She didn’t need gas, but she followed the instructions that’d been in the glove compartment.

"Afternoon." A woman dressed in overalls, wiping grease off her hands, stepped out of the repair bay. "Gas?"

"Yes, please."

"Sure thing." The woman studied her. "Sure is cold. You looking for a place to park this?"

And here it began. Her last reincarnation. "Actually, I’m looking for the Double Cross Ranch. I’m an old friend of Mr. Barre."

"No kidding! Well, welcome to Polson. I’m Molly French."

Sarah took her hand, breathed a prayer that she’d always remember her new name, and said, "Hi, Sara Darling."

"You’ve never been here before." It wasn’t a question.

"No. I’ve never been here before." She gave the woman a wistful smile, knowing that her story would be the talk of the town tonight. "I was Lily Barre’s best friend before she died. I’m Emily’s godmother. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral four years ago, but we ran into each other four months ago." She shrugged. "Who would’ve thought…" She left it to Ms. French to fill in the blanks.

"Oh, my. How wonderful. Emily’s a sweetie. Mr. Barre keeps to himself. I’m so glad you’re here. He’s working real hard to get that ranch off the ground again. Been empty for years. Not a lot of call for mustangs. But I guess he has his plans. Now that you’re here, I’m sure that you’ll whip those two boys into shape."

"Two?" Sarah couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

"Yepp." Molly French eyed her speculatively. "Victor Matthews showed up about three months ago, not too long after Mr. Barre moved in. Real good lookin’ man, if you like them dark." The wink was broad and gleeful. "Our middle school teacher thinks real highly of him."

"Well," Sarah managed, "I’m afraid I know nothing about Mr. Matthews. I’m sure that, if he’s a friend of Clay’s, he’s just fine."

Molly nodded sagely. "Mr. Barre is real protective of Emily. Guess cause of her leg – she fell down a hole, right before they moved up here. He’s so good with her. Brings her into town to the library once a week or so. I see the three of them at church every Sunday. He doesn’t talk much about himself. Guess that’s why he never mentioned you."

"Yes, he’s definitely shy. Is the ranch hard to find?"

"Come on inside. I’ll draw you a map."

****

C. W. Barre, who everyone, including his daughter, called Clay, sat at his computer and sighed. The long winter was stretching out before them, and there was only so much work he and his ‘foreman’ Victor Matthews could do around the house in the dead of winter. The cabinets for the kitchen and bathroom weren’t due for another week. Robert had recommended several books on self-editing, but Clay had no idea what to do with the mess before him. "Dreck," he muttered.

Willy Wonka, the Great Pyrenees, rescued by Victor, named by Emily, and stubbornly devoted to Clay, lifted his huge head and waited for his beloved master to continue. "Go back to sleep; pity you can’t eat this." Willy galumphed his agreement and lowered his head back to his paws to wait for Clay to demand something of him.

Clay closed out the program, considered looking at his email account, but finally just shut down the computer. There was really only one email he’d wanted and he hadn’t heard from her since before she left Washington to meet up with AJ Chegwidden. Every time he voiced his concerns to Robert, he received the same reply: Calm down. She’s fine.

He went to stand at the window. In the distance, Flathead Lake was gray and cold; the Mission Mountains behind it, black and forbidding. The grass of the prairie where he hoped to graze horses next year was brown and uninviting. He should email Robert and ask him, once again, why this was the perfect place to hide? At least Tennessee had been green. Sarah, if she ever joined him, would hate it here in the winter.

The events of the past four months seemed as farfetched as the book that had inspired many of their aliases and screen names.

After Sarah had left with Robert, Mickey had helped him pack up a few belongings, then left for his assignment overseas. After quickly filling out the necessary paperwork, he’d told Rosenberg and Willis that he wanted to take Emily away from the bad memories. They’d left directly from the hospital, taking little more than one suitcase each, a few stuffed animals she directed him to bring from the house, and Emily’s favorite DVDs. He’d made her as comfortable as he could in his pickup truck and had begun the trek north. He’d traded cars in Nashville, buying an Escalade, using the first of many name changes. He’d stopped in Chicago and went to two different banks to empty out safe deposit boxes of cash and documents. Robert had arranged for the necessary birth certificates, marriage license and death certificate for Clay Barre’s late wife to be waiting for him at a bank in Fargo.

Clay had been astounded that Emily had taken so quickly to their subterfuge. He hadn’t been sure how much she’d need to lie. He’d hated putting that on her young shoulders. He still remembered their conversations as they’d driven north.

"Clay? Is he really dead?" she’d asked somewhere in Indiana.

"Who, honey? The man who chased you?"

"Yes. He killed grandma, didn’t he?" She was still confused sometimes about the actual events that’d caused her so much pain and trauma.

Perhaps someday, he’d tell her the whole story. But for the moment, he’d decided that he wanted her to just heal and put it all behind her. "Yes."

"Are you taking me somewhere and leaving me, like Mr. Peterson did with that raccoon that kept bothering him?"

"Oh, honey, no." He’d stopped at a rest area to give her his full attention. "You remember when you asked me if I could be your daddy?"

She hadn’t say anything for several minutes. "You mean that?" she’d finally managed. It’d almost broke Clay’s heart. He’d hugged her gently.

"Sure do. It’s what your grandmother wanted, too."

"Okay." She’d fallen silent again.

"Is that okay with you?" Clay had asked nervously.

"Yeah," she’d sighed. "But I’m really going to miss Mr. Whitcomb’s horses."

"I see. Well, what would you think if I bought a ranch someplace?"

"What’s a ranch?"

"It’s a place where we can raise our own horses."

Her eyes had widened, and in a hushed whisper she’d demanded, "You really, really mean that?"

"I really, really do. But, there’s a few things we have to go over."

She’d listened carefully as he’d told her what their new name was going to be. At first, he hadn’t caught the implication of the name Robert had set up for them. It wasn’t until one night, in a small hotel in Missouri, when they’d sat up and watched ‘Hook’ with Robin Williams that he’d made the connection.

That’d led to the strangest dream he’d ever had about Sarah. Dressed in a rather sexy rendition of Wendy’s nightgown, she’d stood there and berated Captain Hook, who’d looked decidedly like George Watts. Mickey Kostmayer had been one of the lost boys; the crocodile had eyes – and glasses – that could only belong to Robert McCall. However, Peter Pan had looked exactly like Harmon Rabb. That morning, Emily had been very quiet. He wasn’t sure if he’d talked in his sleep or if she’d sensed something in his manner. Fortunately, by the time they’d crossed into Kansas, she’d once again been pestering him with the dreaded, "How much longer till I see the horses?"

She hadn’t minded that the ranch house was in shambles. "I’m good at cleaning up. Grandma taught me to be neat." Clay hadn’t pointed out that, with her cast, she wasn’t going to be doing much for a while.

Even after cleaning two of the four bedrooms, and the first delivery of furniture, Clay had been worried that they’d have to camp out in sleeping bags in front of the fireplace. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out the furnace. Help, in the strangest guise, had arrived shortly thereafter.

He’d been standing staring at the furnace, praying for divine inspiration, when Emily, from her wheelchair next to the large window overlooking the road, had excitedly called to him. "Clay! Somebody’s coming to visit."

His heart pounding, he’d surreptitiously tucked his revolver inside the pocket of his barn coat and stepped outside to await the approaching truck.

All Clay could do was stand there and stare.

"Mr. Barre?" Victor Galindez had given him a cocky smile that he had to have learned from Clay himself.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Name’s Victor Matthews. I hear you need a ranch foreman."

"Clay?" He’d looked down to see that Emily had maneuvered her wheelchair next to and just behind him. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine. Emily. I’d like you to meet Mr. Matthews. He’s here to help us with the ranch."

And Victor, as did everyone who met her, had instantly fallen under Emily’s spell.

That night, once Emily was in bed, Victor had given him the short version of how he, too, had left the CIA.

"I’d had enough. The kids coming out of the Farm don’t know shit. After your death, which I only found out about by accident, I really began to question my decision to join the CIA. I requested to be returned to the Marines. That got me called back to Langley. I’m telling you, things are very strange there right now. I mean Watts was out of control. He kept hammering at me, wanting to know where you were. He didn’t seem to believe me when I kept telling him I thought you were dead. Of course, when the head guy at the CIA is acting like that, you begin to wonder if you’re going to walk out of his office alive."

"I completely understand. But that doesn’t explain how you got here."

"Well, once I managed to convince him that I really did just want out, he let me go. I met Miss Gale in the lobby. She invited me to see her baby. Which I thought kind of weird because, as nice as she seemed the few times I talked to her, we weren’t close enough for that. But she kept staring at me like I was supposed to understand something. So I agreed. When I went to the address she gave me, I found Mickey Kostmayer playing with the baby."

"Yeah. Not a lot of people know about them. They both like it that way."

"I guess. But Mickey filled me in. Said he heard I was leaving and wanted to know what I planned on doing? When I mentioned that I wanted to return to my unit, he very calmly suggested that I wouldn’t live long enough to get into combat." Victor had sighed and leaned his head back, his coffee forgotten. "You know, I always knew it’d be different in the CIA, but damn, how did you live like that for all those years?"

"You’re not the first Marine to ask me that," Clay had sadly admitted.

"When I first heard that you were dead, I felt really sorry for Colonel MacKenzie. Then, when I learned you were alive, I thought you were the biggest bastard on the planet. Mickey set me straight." He turned back to meet Clay’s sad gaze. "You ever talk to her?"

"Actually, yes. Someday, when it’s safe, she’ll find me. She promised."

"What about Rabb?"

"I haven’t spoken to him since he got kicked out of the CIA for pulling that grand rescue. When Sarah and I were dating, he was a bit of a sore point. Then after…" He’d let it hang, not wanting to hash that all out again. "Did you see him while you were in DC?"

Victor had managed to convey great sadness and anger at the same time. "He looked like shit. Offered to buy me a beer. I wish I’d turned him down. He kept insisting that the CIA was one of the things fundamentally wrong with America. It’d ruined his life and Colonel MacKenzie’s, too." Victor had sighed deeply then, the anger gone. "He really misses her."

"I know. Sarah’s on sea duty."

"That’s what Commander Rabb told me. He also let it slip that he knew you were alive. Thought I knew where you were." Anger had darkened his face and only the fact that Emily was sleeping kept his voice down. "I’m glad I never faced him on the stand. Hell, I’m glad I didn’t know anything. He kept hammering at me, telling me that he had to help the Colonel. Man, he’s hanging by a thread. After a couple of drinks, I thought for sure he was going to start crying in his beer. He kept saying, ‘I was wrong. I wish Webb had come to me for help. I should’ve known he wasn’t a traitor.’ What the hell was that all about?"

"I have no idea." Clay had been stunned. Later he’d emailed Robert and questioned him.

Nibs: Thanks for sending help.

Croc: Matthews checked out. Tootles gave him his seal of approval.

Nib: Tootles? Oh, dear Lord, he must love that.

Croc: He could have been Smee. Regardless, it occurred to me that the place might need some repairs that you couldn’t handle alone.

Nibs: A few. What’s up with Peter Pan?

Croc: Seems he found a copy of your book.

Nibs: You didn’t.

Croc: Actually, he’d gotten around to bothering Tink.

Nibs: Tink? You call… Should I call him?

Croc: Someday. But wait until you see Wendy.

Nibs: When?

Croc: When she gets there.

At first it’d disconcerted him that Sarah’s mention of the classic story had seemed to take on a life of its own. But the thought that Porter Webb, at sixty-eight, was being referred to as Tinkerbell tickled his fancy. Had a noted rock star, with an odd penchant for exotic animals and young boys, not tarnished the name for a generation, Clay might’ve gone all the way and renamed the ranch Neverland. However, the original name somehow seemed fitting too. He’d have to research the history of the Double Cross Ranch.

Glancing back at the computer and his life story, the idea of researching the ranch suddenly seemed very interesting indeed. He sighed deeply. He really wished he knew where Sarah was on her journey. He worried deeply about what had caused the acceleration of a plan that they had thought would take as long as a year.

Off to his right, the barn door opened. Emily, her hand tight in Victor’s was slowly walking towards the house. It’d taken three months, but she was finally out of the cast. The doctor said it could take as long as a year for her complete recovery. Clay was just happy that such a recovery was possible. Halfway to the house, Clay smiled in amusement as she stopped and lifted up her arms. After shaking his head just once, Victor hoisted her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way. "She is going to be so spoiled. Sarah will probably kick both our asses."

Since receiving her cryptic email telling him that she was on her way, he’d slowly introduced Sarah’s name into conversations with Emily. As far as Emily was concerned, Sarah was an old friend of his and Victor’s. He’d mentioned how much he liked Sarah, and hoped that Emily would, too. But that’s as far as he’d gone. Some part of him still didn’t really believe that Sarah would actually show up.

He pushed those dark thoughts away as the two slowly made their way up the six steps to the porch. Emily waved to him happily. He waved back and worked hard to get the frown of worry off his face. She was the most intuitive child he’d ever known. And now, with Victor as her ally, she was relentless when he started to mope.

As they climbed the porch steps, he could see that the cold had reddened both their faces. He opened the new door that he and Victor had installed last weekend. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please!" Emily cried as they stepped inside.

Victor set her down on the couch in front of the roaring fire. "That’ll be great. I think I figured out what we’ll have to do in the barn. It’ll take some work but we can start by ripping out the guts, laying down a concrete floor and rebuilding the stalls. The tack room just needs a cleaning."

"That’s all?" Clay laughed as he started for their makeshift kitchen. They had an ancient refrigerator that hummed and clanged and made all sorts of noises, particularly at night. Clay was proud at his growing expertise with the two-burner hot plate, toaster oven and microwave. The appliances weren’t due for another two weeks. They’d laid the quarry tile in the kitchen last week, and Victor even managed the necessary plumbing and electrical. Since the contractors were twenty miles away and always booked, Clay was doubly glad for Victor’s presence. And from what he could tell, the former New Mexican was fitting in quite well here in Polson. He took out the milk and cocoa and prepared their afternoon treat.

"Victor says he wants to watch Shrek tonight," Emily gravely informed him when he brought the hot mugs out.

The two men rolled their eyes at each other. Emily was good at transferring her desires to them. "He does, does he?" Clay said.

"Yes, please. I really think we shouldn’t disappoint him."

"No, we can’t disappoint..." A high-pitched beeping sound interrupted him. Clay looked at the clock; it was too early for the postman and UPS had arrived three hours ago. Without comment, Victor went to the large safe that Clay had found on one of their recent trips into Billings. It looked like something an antiques nut would adore. It fit in with the décor perfectly, but served a more important purpose. Victor quickly spun the combination and reached in for two barn jackets, which were their concession to protecting Emily’s sensibilities from the realities of life in hiding. Clay suspected she’d already worked out the fact that the coats held semi-automatic pistols in built-in holsters. As the two men carefully donned the coats, Clay said to Emily. "You know the rules."

She nodded gravely; all trace of sparkle had gone from her eyes. Clay knew she didn’t understand, but for the life of him he didn’t know how to explain. Neither did Victor.

As if he too understood the drill, without being called, Willy came and put his bulk between Emily and the door. "Good dog," Clay patted Willy’s monstrous head that, even with the dog sitting on his haunches, hit Clay at the waist. He and Victor stepped out onto the porch. "The motion sensor is fine," Victor said. "But I want to get the cameras in place. You’ll have that old storage closet cleared out."

"Yes." Clay watched with narrowed eyes as the RV made its way down his rutted road. He had no intention of ever fixing that. It would serve them well to slow down intruders. Just then the sun decided to peak out from behind the clouds, just in time to make seeing the driver impossible. Clay’s hand caressed the semi-automatic pistol. "Can you see who’s driving?" he asked tersely.

"No. Can’t see a thing with the sun reflecting off the windshield." The RV stopped next to Victor’s pickup truck. The door opened and Clay vaguely registered Victor’s "I’ll be God damned all to hell."

Clay stood there in complete shock. She came to stand just below where he stood on the side of the porch. Even though her eyes never left his, her first words were, "Hello, Gunny. They told me you were here."

"Ma’am!" Clay could hear the happiness in Victor’s voice. "You let the Army bring you? We heard you left two months ago."

She didn’t bother to answer him. She started to walk around to the front of the porch. Her eyes pulled Clay with her. "It seems like nice country. Cold."

"It’ll get colder. Are you really here? Victor? Is she really..."

"I’m here. Victor went inside," she said as they finally reached the steps. They stood there for a long time before she took that first step up. By the time her foot hit the second she was in his arms and their lips were fused. He held her, breathing in her scent, trying hard not to burst into tears of joy. Finally pulling back, he saw answering tears in her eyes. "You’re really here."

"I’m really here." She pulled back enough so that she could free herself and take his hand. "And it really is cold out here."

He led her inside, still in a daze. Victor opened the door for them and Sarah gave him a tight hug. "We have a lot to catch up on, old friend."

The grin filled Victor’s face. "Yes, Ma’am."

"You’re going to have to knock that off…Victor. It’s Sarah."

His grin grew. "Yes, ma’am."

Sarah shook her head and finally approached the small child guarded by the large dog. She waited for the dog to sniff her and make sure that she wasn’t a threat to his charge. "Hello. You’re Emily. I’ve heard a great deal about you."

"You’re Sarah! I know all about you, too. Are you going to be my mommy?"

She looked back at Clay and smiled. "We’ll see, sweetie." They hadn’t talked about marriage; they hadn’t needed to. Without or without a license that might somehow be traced, she was never going to leave him again if she could help it.

"Clay?"

"Yes, Emily?"

"It’s okay, isn’t it?"

"Very okay."

"Good. I’d like my cocoa now."

"Oh, cocoa would be lovely." Sarah sighed then looked at the giant dog. "Let me guess. You’re Nana?"

Emily giggled. "No! This is Willy. Willy Wonka."

Sarah properly greeted Willy, who seemed to sigh in contentment before returning to his place by Clay’s chair and flopping back down to sleep. "May I sit next to you, Emily?"

"Yes, please. You’re pretty." Emily announced.

"But you’re prettier." Sarah gently placed Emily on her lap. She accepted the mug that Clay held out to her, smiling into his eyes. "It’s good to be home."

Emily, in the way of all six-going-on-seven year olds, quickly took control of the conversation. "Did you drive through town? Did you see Miss Gloria? She’s my teacher. She’s likes Victor."

The adults shared a nervous laugh, and Victor blushed a very bright red.

"I see I have a lot to catch up on," Sarah said eyeing the former Gunnery Sergeant carefully. "So, fill me in. What are we doing out here?"

Emily snuggled in Sarah’s embrace. Clay breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was all finally coming together. He swooped his hand around the room. "As you can see, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. But, that can wait. Have you eaten dinner?"

"No. Nothing since breakfast."

"Emily," Victor suddenly said. "You want pizza?"

Emily looked to Clay. "Can we, please?"

Clay, who was very serious in his attempts to feed her a healthy diet, sighed. "Will you eat your oatmeal in the morning before school?"

Emily pouted.

"I like oatmeal," Sarah said. "Especially with raisins and brown sugar."

"You can do that?" Emily glared at Clay, who always fixed it with milk and a little honey.

"Oh, sure you can," Sarah said.

Clay grimaced. He hated raisins. "I guess."

"You can put them on after it’s made, Clay." Sarah laughed softly. "This place definitely needs a woman’s touch."

Victor stood and glanced from Clay to Sarah. "Emily, you want to go and pick up the pizza with me?"

Emily was torn. She loved the bumpy ride down the lane and she loved going to town. But she didn’t want to leave the lady who was going to be her mommy. She looked at Clay, certain that he’d say no.

Clay smiled at Victor’s bald but appreciated attempt at giving him some private time with Sarah. "All right. Be sure to go to Papa Cesar’s – he has the best pizza."

That rather innocuous statement was met with a fit of giggles from Emily, who, even though Victor had hoisted her up into his arms, struggled to explain to Sarah. "Papa Cesar is Miss Gloria’s daddy. She helps him sometimes at his pizza store."

Victor gave them all a mock glare. "You know, Emily, it’s a school night, maybe you should stay home."

"Don’t be mean, Victor." Emily hugged him tightly and Victor carried her out to the truck.

Suddenly it was very quiet in the large ranch house. The fire crackled, Willy snored, and the refrigerator clanged as it cycled. High above them, ductwork expanded and contracted. Sarah carefully considered her empty cup. She didn’t know how to tell him. It’d been the one wonderful piece of news she’d carried with her like a precious gift. But now, seeing how happy he was with Emily, she didn’t know how he’d react.

"Sarah?" Clay put down his mug and stood. Willy opened one eye and watched as his master cautiously approached the newcomer’s chair. However, he saw nothing of interest and went back to sleep. Clay stood over her for a moment then sank to his knees, parting her legs to get as close to her as he could. "What’s wrong? Why the sudden flight? Robert wouldn’t tell me anything. How did you get here? Is there…"

She leaned forward and calmed him with her kiss. "I’m pregnant – exactly four months and three days."

He rocked back and she saw the added burden in his eyes. "Wow," he whispered.

She gave him a teary smile. "You’re okay with this?"

"Oh, God." He answered that question by pushing her back into the soft overstuffed leather of the chair and gently kissing her stomach through her sweatshirt. Then he lifted the garment to place a chaste kiss on her bare skin. "Hello, baby."

"What will Emily think?" She caressed his hair, reacquainting herself with the silky feel of it.

"We’ll work it out." He gazed into her eyes. "Everything’s okay this time? Do we need to make an appointment with a doctor?"

"Everything is fine, but yes, I need to see a doctor. Robert mentioned there was a rather good doctor right here in Polson."

"We’ll see her tomorrow," he said firmly. Resting his head on the gentle rise of her belly, he sighed in contentment.

They stayed that way for a while, neither wanting to move or talk. However, Sarah finally shifted. "So? How are we going to work this? Is there a room for me? I don’t want to shock Emily by sharing the same room right away."

"Well, actually, there isn’t a lot of choice for a while. Emily has her own room down the hall from mine, but there’s only a small junior bed there. Victor is in the other wing. There’s an empty bedroom down by him. But it’s a mess." He gave her the same smile he’d given her when they were still playing at marriage in Paraguay, sharing the same hotel room. "I have a queen size bed in mine. Of course, I guess you could live in your RV."

She pushed him back and stood. "Well, I guess I better see my choices."

Clay started to lead her down the hallway. Willy rose to follow them. Sarah looked at Willy, then pointed at him. "Stay." Clay waited to laugh. Even Emily didn’t boss Willy around. But the big dog looked from Sarah to Clay and then flopped back down with a disgruntled groan.

"I’ll be damned. I guess we know who’s the boss," he said.

Her nail traced the line of his nose. "Just you remember that, buster."

She entered his bedroom and gasped. "Oh, Clay. It’s beautiful." The century-old logs that formed the walls were burnished a golden red. Two of the three windows looked out on the mountains and the lake in the distance. The bed was of heavy, rough-hewn log construction. "You have a thing for quilts, don’t you?" she asked as she studied the well-made treasure.

"Who knew?" he shrugged. "I bought it from an old woman in town." He pointed to the armoire that stood in one corner. "There’s a guy in town that makes those. I’ll buy you a matching one. I know better than to try and share a closest with you."

She walked over to the large cast-iron wood-burning stove. "This our heat source?"

"The furnace works – thanks to Victor. We haven’t gotten around to cleaning the flues on the stoves."

"You’re glad he’s here?" She turned to watch his response.

"I couldn’t have made it without him. Not just the fact that, while I can hotwire a car and there’s not a lock that can keep me out, I’m generally useless when it comes to home repairs. But, it’s good to have an adult around. Particularly an adult who understands the score."

"This school teacher? Is he serious about her? Can we trust…" He was before her now and took her into his arms.

"There’re a dozen things to worry about: security, repairs, our baby. Don’t worry about the town or its people. Robert found this place circuitously. No one here has a clue or gives a damn about what happens at the CIA. We’re just Clay and Sarah. If…when… do you want to get married?"

Grinning and mimicking the little girl who had brought them back together, she nodded, "Yes, please."

He placed his forehead on hers. She could feel some of the tension ebb away. "Then we will be Mr. and Mrs. Barre." He looked up and the tension returned double fold. "Are you sure you can live with the lies, Sarah? Are you sure you can give up the law?"

"I’m here with you, and Emily, and Victor. I’m not going anywhere ever again." She kissed the stubble on his chin. "Besides, who says I can’t practice law? I’m sure that Robert can fake some law school paper for me. Sarah Barre will pass the Montana Bar." As fear sparked in his eyes, she quickly kissed him on the mouth. "But right now, I’ve got other things to worry about." She stepped away from him and counted off the points. "I want to take my time to let Emily get to know me. Lord knows this place needs work, though you and Victor are doing a wonderful job." She rubbed her belly absently. "Will there be room for a nursery?"

"We’ll figure it out."

They stood there at the foot of the bed, a few paces apart, just grinning stupidly at each other. Finally Clay sighed. "You want to get your stuff inside?"

She shook her head. "Depends."

"On?"

"How long will it take for Victor to bring the pizza?"

"Oh!" His smile grew as he glanced at his watch. "I don’t know when they left, darn it."

"Thirteen minutes, sixteen seconds ago."

"Hmmmm. Another ten minutes to reach town."

"At least." She languidly crossed her arms and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.

"And, uhm, it takes them, what, thirty minutes to make a pizza?" His mouth was suddenly dry as he watched her shimmy out of the slacks she’d worn. He didn’t remember when she’d shed her shoes and socks. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered; her stomach was no longer flat. But she was more beautiful to him than ever. "I love you, Sarah."

"Good. Because I plan on using every single second that we have showing you how much I love you."

"You’ve already done that," he whispered in awe as she released the catch of her bra, freeing her breasts to sway before him. He gulped and waited as she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. However, she waited and crooked one eyebrow. It took him a moment to get her message. His own clothes went flying in every direction. He nearly tripped getting his boots off – after his jeans had been stopped in their descent by them. She stood there waiting until he was naked, before she slowly lowered her panties to the floor. He groaned at the sight of it. "I can’t believe you’re here. I…" Emotion made him inarticulate. He took the few steps that separated them and gently touched her cheek. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome. Now. I believe it’s my turn to touch you."

He wasn’t sure he could move, let alone walk to the head of the bed and pull back the bedding. He settled back in the center of the bed, his cock already at attention. She stood there studying him. He looked so much healthier than she remembered. This place was good for him. They would face the dangers together. She straddled his thighs, rubbing his cock across her stomach.

Worry crossed Clay’s eyes. "This, I mean, we can’t hurt…"

"No. We can’t hurt our baby." She ran her hands over his chest until she was lying on top of him, her breasts molded against his chest, his cock nestled between her legs, held tight in her already wet recesses. She traced his lips with her tongue until he sucked it deep inside his mouth. Their moans filled the room. He couldn’t keep still and began his own quest of rediscovery. His hand tracked up her sides, tickling her heated skin. He buried his face her skin at her neck. "I’ve missed you so much." She sighed and rose up until she could sink down on his shaft.

Her hot channel sheathing him was more than he could stand. He had to think about the work ahead of them, the mess that the barn was, anything to keep from coming too quickly.

She sat up and took his stilled hands and placed them on her breasts. "Touch me, Clay."

He whimpered in the effort. "So close," he whispered.

"Yeah. Me, too. Been too long." She rose up on her knees and slowly lowered back down, forcing incredible amounts of her own fluids out to bath them both. As he fondled her breasts, she rubbed her swollen clit against his coarse pubic hair, sending shockwaves through her body. "Clay!" she whispered as she became more frantic for her release.

Clay finally opened his eyes, accepting that this first time would be over too quickly. He had to watch her. Her face flushed with her imminent orgasm, her nipples so hard between his fingers. Her pregnant belly just beginning to show. The emotions and the sensations were too much. He felt his balls release and he groaned in pleasure and regret. "Too soon," he sighed.

She began to buck on him, trying for that perfect spot. He had no idea how he found the presence of mind, but he found her clit and began to circle it, putting pressure where he knew she liked it. "Oh, yes. Just like that. Just a bit more." Her head thrown back, her breasts arching out, she cried out as she shook from her own release.

"Oh, man." She fell forward into his embrace and they kissed hungrily. "We have to do that again, soon."

His gentle laughter caused him to fall from her. "Later tonight." He glanced at the clock and groaned. "Definitely. I think that’s a new land speed record for us, babe."

"Well, we’ll get better with practice." She snuggled into his embrace for a bit. Then she asked, "So what do you think? They’ll be here in about another ten minutes?"

"Yeah. Let’s clean up. I have to warn you that Miss Emily is a perceptive child. I have no idea what kind of interrogation she’s going to put you through, but be forewarned." Clay rolled out of bed and held out his hand to her. "The shower’s a bit primitive."

She eyed him carefully. "Primitive? As in outhouse?"

They laughed together as they entered the still cavernous unfinished bathroom. "No, it was never outside. But as you can see, we’ve still got lots of work." The toilet stood there in the between the uncovered studs. "We still have to insulate, get up that damned cement board then tile. We focused on the shower stall because it’s the only one in the house so far. There are two other baths. All we’ve had time to do is clean them out." His nose wrinkled. "They’re pretty nasty. Victor wants to just gut them."

After finishing a quick shower, they dried off and Clay offered to go outside for her toothbrush. "That’s okay, I’ll use yours this time?" She gave him a sunny smile. He leaned in to kiss her roughly. He might have continued on, but the security beeper went off and Willy gave a deep-throated bark, just in case they hadn’t heard it. "They’re right on time," she said. "Go on. I’ll be just a minute."

They sat around the fire that Clay had stoked and ate the almost hot pizza. Emily quietly watched the three adults, working something out in her mind. Finally, Sarah asked, "Is something wrong, Emily?"

Emily’s face twisted in thought then she sighed. "You can’t sleep with me. My bed isn’t big enough."

The three adults shared a worried glance. "Well, I guess I could sleep out here on the couch," Sarah offered, figuring she could make up a bed for appearance sake. However, Clay cleared his throat.

"Emily. Even though we aren’t married yet, Sarah and I love each other very much. We plan on getting married as soon as I can talk to Father McCormick. Would it bother you if Sarah slept in my room?"

Emily looked shocked. She looked at Sarah for a long time and the adults held their breaths. "You could do that? Have you heard the way he snores?"

Sarah and Victor burst into relieved laughter. Clay glowered and then sighed. "I guess I’ll have to go see the doctor, too."

Emily nodded emphatically. "I think that is a very good idea. Victor can hear you all the way in his room."

Clay looked at Victor who just grinned. Sarah stood. "I think that since it’s a school night that you need to show me what you do to get ready for the next day. Would that be okay with you?"

"Oh, yes." Emily took Sarah’s hand to lead her back to the bedroom. "Clay’s a wonderful daddy, but he doesn’t understand about clothes. Please, could you talk to him, Sarah? You wouldn’t believe what kind of clothes he buys me."

Sarah’s smile lifted Clay’s worries. It would be okay.

Victor rose and picked up his trash. "Well, boss, I think I’ll turn in, too."

"Can you really hear me snore all the way down on that end of the house?"

"No. But I’m not going to pass up a chance to jerk your chain…sir." Victor said as he made his way down the hall.

Clay considered just going back to the bedroom, but he knew he had to check his email. Willy followed him the ten steps to the desk. After bestowing the necessary caresses on the big dog’s head, Clay booted up the computer.

He’d just logged on to the email server when he heard Sarah come into the living room. "She’s darling, Clay. However, you’ve definitely spoiled her. Do you really read an entire book to her every night?"

"Only if it’s a Doctor Seuss," he said as he opened the email from Tink93038. "Darling, IM me if you get this message before 9:30 EST."

"That better not be your girlfriend," she said from near his shoulder.

"It’s mother."

"Porter Webb…Tinkerbell?" She snorted, but then asked carefully, "You want privacy?"

"No." He looked back at her. Somewhere along the line, his mother had accepted the fact that Sarah was going to be part of his life. She hadn’t been effusive, but she seemed content enough.

He quickly brought up the instant messaging window and heard Sarah’s giggled, "Nibs?"

"Yeah, he was the smart and debonair lost boy. Besides, it’s all your fault."

She slapped his shoulder. "Well, it’s true."

They waited for his mother to respond. It wasn’t but a moment, but Sarah had time to pull up a chair and sit next to him.

Tink93038: How are you?

Nibs: Wonderful. Wendy arrived today.

Tink93038: Darling! That’s wonderful. Say hello to her for me.

"Tell your mother I’m reading this, Clay."

Nibs: Wendy is here beside me, where she belongs.

Tink93038: That’s nice. I have company tonight.

Nibs: Gee, let me guess. Croc?

"Croc? Who’s that?" Sarah asked.

"Robert."

"Ah. That makes sense.

Tink93038: Of course. But he brought someone else.

Clay looked at Sarah with concern before typing. "I wonder who? And why didn’t she just tell me."

"Ask her." Sarah nudged him.

Nibs: Don’t tease, Tink.

They waited a bit. Sarah glanced down at the status line. "She’s not typing any…oh, wait, there she goes."

"I hope nothing’s wrong." Clay prayed that nothing ruined the most perfect day he’d experienced in a while.

Tink93038: Darling, may Peter Pan communicate with you?

"Holy shit." Clay stared at Sarah.

"Clay? Who? Oh, my God. Harm? Harm’s Peter Pan?"

"I don’t know what to say," he said looking away.

"Shouldn’t you answer her?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I’m here with YOU, Clay. I’ve made my decision. Tell her no or tell her yes. It’s up to you."

But he knew it’d please her if they could get past all the pain. Slowly he typed and the line appeared on the screen.

Nibs: What’s his mood?

Tink93038: Contrite. Truly.

Nibs: Does he know about Wendy being here?

Tink93038: No and Croc will fix it so that he doesn’t unless you tell him.

Nibs: Very well.

Clay licked his lips, but Sarah stood and began to knead his shoulder muscles. It took a very long time for the next message to appear, even though they could see by the status bar that someone was typing and typing and typing.

"He’s probably typed and erased his message a couple of times," Sarah said.

Tink93038: This isn’t Tinkerbell. I’m not very good at this so it will take me awhile. How are you?

Nibs: Good. What’s up with you?

"Oh, brother," Sarah said.

"Hey what do you want for short notice?" Clay was really getting worried. What the hell did Harm want? Well, he was pretty sure what Harm wanted. Clay just didn’t know if he would tell him or not.

Tink93038: Croc brought me to see your mother. I really regret not seeing her before. She’s a good lady. I really regret…a lot of things. I mostly regret not going after you that day. I’m sorry that I believed Captain Hook. Boy oh….

"He didn’t realize you can only put so much into a message," Sarah whispered. "He was never very good at emails."

Clay heard a wistful trace in her voice and his gut clinched. She was here with him. Harm was 1500 miles away and yet he could still feel jealousy grip him.

Tink93038: Sorry. Talked to a couple of different people. Things here are very strange. I should have known better. Whatever was between us about Wendy, I should never have doubted your loyalty. And I never doubted that you loved her.

Clay looked up at Sarah, the confusion wrinkling his face. "What do I say?"

"What do you feel?"

Clay sighed and thought for a moment then began to type. While he did another message came through.

Tink93038: I know that she’s on her way to you. When she gets there, if you can find it in your heart to do so, tell her that, if she can ever forgive me, to write me. She has my email address. If she can’t do that, then I guess that…

Nibs: I appreciate what you’re saying. You and I go too far back for me to hold a grudge

He looked up at her and released his jealousy in a small puff and a heave of his heart. "Talk to him."

She leaned down and kissed him softly. However, when he tried to stand up, she kept him in his seat. Instead she leaned over him and typed.

Nibs: Peter, this is Wendy. I arrived three hours ago. You’re timing was always impeccable.

Tink93038: Thank God. It’s really you?

Nibs: Do you need proof?

Tink93038: No. No. I’m sorry. Damn. I’m sorry about so much. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Really there. I guess I really acted like a jerk.

Sarah stared at the words before her. "In nine years he’s never apologized." She leaned in again and kissed Clay again, then resumed typing.

Nibs: That means a lot to me. You were there for me. I couldn’t have made it without you. I’m sorry I hurt you. However, you must understand something. I’m very happy where I am. I’m where I belong.

Tink93038: I know that. Can I talk to him again?

Clay quickly typed.

Nibs: I’m right here.

Tink93038: This Croc guy, you trust him. (Man this is weird)

Nibs: I trust him as much as you used to trust a former Seal.

Tink93038: I figured that. You ever need help, you know you can count on me.

Sarah covered the keys again.

Nibs: Peter, its Wendy. Thank you. That means a lot to both of us. Someday. I promise it.

Tink93038: I gotta go. I’m working on something with Croc on this end.

Sarah and Clay both groaned. Sarah whispered, "He’s going to get into trouble."

Tink93038: This is Tink again. Darling, I’ll close now. Croc has to do something with the computer. However, I’m thinking that I might take a trip in April. You know that Tinkerbell and Peter Pan always worked well together.

Clay and Sarah both dived for the keys. Clay typed a frantic. "No!" But the connection was already broken. He leaned back into Sarah’s chest. "She wouldn’t."

"Yes, she would. April is when I’m due. Robert must’ve told her about the baby." Sarah sighed and then laughed softly. "Can you imagine the two of them together?"

Clay shut down the computer. "No! I don’t want to imagine the two of them together. Dear Lord."

"Clay?" She wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to look into her eyes. "You know that Robert would never have allowed him to get near your mother if he wasn’t certain that Harm wouldn’t hurt us."

Clay turned into her embrace, hugging her close, sighing into her bosom. "I know. And I know Harm read the manuscript; Robert gave it to him. I’d really like to talk to him. Hear his voice. Everything he knows. He’d be a good ally."

Sarah smiled in relief. "Yes. He would. But, could we worry about that tomorrow?"

"Are you tired?"

She gave him a wicked grin. "No, quite rested actually. I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?" She wiggled her eyebrows then pulled him toward the bedroom.

"Absolutely."

"Wait. I need to go out to the RV and grab my suitcase."

They walked out together and Clay glanced inside. "What’s all the boxes?"

"I guess my dowry from Robert. He said that it was stuff you need." She handed him the suitcase and then they walked back inside. As they passed Emily’s door they both peaked inside. Surrounded by a dozen stuffed animals from the latest Disney movies, she slept peacefully.

Clay watched her face soften as they gazed upon the little girl who’d always be their daughter.

"Welcome home, Sarah."

"Not yet." She grabbed the suitcase and carried it into the bedroom. Placing it on a chair, she opened it then pulled out a bundle. Carefully unwrapping it, hiding it in her hands, she looked around until she found the perfect spot. Reverently, she placed the small Hummel on the top of the dresser. "Now, I’m home."

Part 3

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