It was dim in the room, the curtains drawn against the sun, though a small amount had been allowed to filter in, carefully guided away from the patient in the bed. Outside the clouds were gathering into rolling, roiling black masses of moisture aloft just waiting for a spark to set it free. Reno was sitting in a chair in the shadows, his head leaning back and his eyes closed, disheveled and unshaven, his arm in a sling. He'd been there since he'd woken up the day before. Unless you watched his breathing or had the senses of a healer you'd think he'd fallen asleep.

Tabitha crossed the floor quietly, and tapped softly on Reno's good shoulder to get his attention. Smiling, she whispered, though there was no way the patient would be disturbed by her voice, "You go eat, get some rest. I'll sit with him for a while."

"When will he wake up? It's been almost two days already."

"When he's ready to wake up he will. Mostly he's exhausted. He's healed himself of the burns for the most part. He's not in any danger…not that one."

Reno nodded, unsurprised at the answer. "Tabitha," he began, "Uhm…if I may ask….er…well, why do you work as the housekeeper here when you are a healer?"

She laughed softly. "Well that's a long story. But to put it simply, because I never signed the Covenants I am not allowed to."

That didn't make sense. What did the Covenants…of course. "The Council forbid you?"

"Yes, Eli and myself both," she said it as if it were of no concern to her.

Reno stood and stretched. "You really don't mind?" he asked when he was his usual height again.

"No, I don't. Now you go eat and then sleep in a bed. He'll be here when you finish, I promise you. Besides, if he wakes up and sees you like this he might think you care."

Ignoring her was the only answer. He just nodded and left.

Tabitha, staring thoughtfully after him for a moment eventually shook her head and took her place in the chair he'd vacated. She laid a light fingertip on Marc's wrist and probed delicately. Satisfied with what she found she removed her hand and sat back. He would probably wake up in an hour or so. He didn't strike her as the type to linger on the way, though from the scars she'd seen, he might well have reason.

Tabitha relaxed in the chair, keeping a small fraction of her awareness on her patient and letting the rest subside into peacefulness.

She knew when he was close to the surface of consciousness. She added another filament of awareness to her monitoring of him and was unconcerned by what she found if her continued relaxed posture was any clue. But when Marc opened his eyes, hers were there to meet them, gathering his attention.

She rose and brought him some water, then stilled his struggles to sit up by propping pillows behind him. All the while she monitored him with a delicate filament of connection.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when she'd resumed her seat.

"Like I'm going to live."

"Yes, I dare say you will. When will you be born?"

He answered without thinking, as she'd intended. "2030." He said it before he realized and when he did he brought his whole attention to bear on her. After a time he asked, "How did you know?"

She smiled serenely. "I didn't, not until you told me. It was a guess only. Your mind is unique…the age of it...palpable."

He smiled faintly. "That would not, I think, be apparent to the usual healer."

She inclined her head in agreement. "No. I assure you, however, that I in no way invaded your privacy. It was a healer's probe only."

"A nimble answer, but it doesn't address my question."

Her smile didn't change. "It is recorded that in Scetis an old man once said to the brethren, `The prophets wrote books, then came our fathers who put them into practice. Those who came after them learnt them by heart; then came the present generation who have written them out and put them in their window seats without using them.'"

"Which generation are you?"

"I, like you, am not of the present generation."

"So I gathered. What is it about my birth that interests you?"

Again she chose to answer indirectly, "'It is said that one day one of the brethren came to the skete and questioned Abba Abraham, saying, 'If I find myself eating often what will come of it?' The old man replied in this way: what are you saying brother? Do you eat so much? Or perhaps you think that you come to the threshing floor to thresh grain?'"

"Well," he said reasonably, willing to be tolerant, "you spend your days cooking and making beds."

"I do," she agreed. "I need to get back to it, too. But before I leave you I have…a piece of advice...for you. Transfer Baylee Dalton back Home as soon as you can."

"Why?"

"Because Doni's alive." She stood to leave after that, though she stepped a bit closer to him first and stood looking down at him. "I'll send someone with a tray. You should rest at least another day, though you probably won't." When he said nothing to that she touched his wrist lightly in farewell, her fingertips some combination of soothing warmth and cooling comfort. "I thank you for what you did for my son and his mate. For that there is no possible repayment or gratitude and I would not insult you by offering. But when the time comes, be assured that you only need to ask." She withdrew her hand, and the filament with it.

"If it helps," she said from the doorway, looking back at him, as serene as always, "my son is convinced I'm a witch."

He'd have sworn then, if he'd been asked, that it was a graceful woman, tall and beautiful, in her mid thirties, who bowed to him from the doorway murmuring soft words he didn't catch, but the room was dim and growing dimmer from the thunderstorm beginning to pound on the window, and he was suddenly feeling tired and very much alone.

"Dinah," Tabitha called, "Here, could you give me a hand with this? It's for Marc. Would you mind…?"

So Dinah, her attention occupied by the picture Mabel had painted, nodded and accepted the chore. "Sure Tabitha. How's Doni?"

"She's recovering. It'll be a slow healing, I expect. Now take that right away. I don't want that man thinking I serve cold food."

Dinah laughed and headed towards the infirmary. It wasn't until she was outside the door that she got nervous. She flushed and bit her lip. Maybe he wouldn't remember. Fat chance. Maybe he'd be a gentleman and not mention it. In pig's eye, she thought. So she'd brazen it out, she decided, firming her shoulders and lifting her chin. And, if she needed to she could tell him about the Reverend baptizing the mage to distract him.

Satisfied with her plan she toed the door open with her foot and walked in.

It was close to dark in the room, Marc merely a shape on the bed from her position just inside the door. As her eyes adjusted she placed the tray on a table and turned on a light. Then she eyed the patient, propped up by pillows, his eyes closed and his face as informative as a blank page.

She moved a bit closer, trying to decide if he was awake or had dozed off. She was still undecided when his voice made her jump.

"I'm awake." He turned his eyes towards her, smiling a bit, his face more relaxed now or so it seemed. "And I promise not to bite unless it's the only way to get some food."

He was teasing her. She raised her chin, firmed her backbone and brought him the tray, balancing it on his knees using the time to come up with an answer. She couldn't find one. So she settled for, "How are you feeling?" She decided that had gone well enough that eye contact might be safe. She was wrong. She met his eyes and missed his answer. A fair trade in some circumstances, but not this one…

"I'm sorry? What did you say?" she said feeling quite stupid.

"I said, 'like I'd been kicked by a jack ass.'" He repeated as he examined the tray.

He was still teasing her. But at least his eyes were somewhere else. "Oh," she said, not stopping to think, "You've been to see your relatives?"

The hint of a smile played on his lips. "I apologize for that day. I was not at my best. But then again, I'm hardly at my best now. Are you well? Anything you want to get off your chest today?" She blinked. Off her chest? She narrowed her eyes at him and almost gave into the temptation. "No, nothing that I can think of." She said it sweetly, promising herself that later...

"I'm relieved to hear it. Thank you for the tray. And thank you for sitting with me the other,... how many days have I been out of it? I'm feeling a bit," he frowned down at his food, which he hadn't touched, "confused." "Iit's been close to two days since you were hurt. Would you like me," she asked, beginning to get a bit concerned, "to get Tabitha for you? You seem a bit..." Her voice trailed off.

"No, please. Can you stay?" He looked up and met her eyes. They should be illegal, those eyes, they left her brainless. "Uhm...well, yes, if you'd like me to. If you're sure...I'd be happy to." She ventured a smile that became a grin. "How long are they keeping you confined to bed?"

"We could break out of here. Although I don't think I could manage dancing. I understand you are very good at it."

"I have no objection to helping you make a break for it, but first, just tell me the truth...Have I any privacy left, do you think or is it a lost cause?" 

He smiled. "Are you ashamed of enjoying yourself? I envy you the ability."

"No, not at all. It's an ability I acquired late...it can be learned you know. With a bit of willingness and the right teacher. At least that's how it worked for me."

"Ah. And are you the right teacher?"

It stopped her dead. "I don't know," she said, giving it serious consideration. "I'd be open to finding out."

"As would I." He paused a moment. "At the moment, however, I'm a bit .. " He looked away then, down at his food.

She reached out her hand and touched his cheek lightly with her fingertip. When he looked up again she grinned at him, "So, are we breaking out of this joint or have you resolved to be well behaved?"

"If you can find me a pair of pants," he replied with a grin. "Shoes might be helpful too."

She laughed, taking the tray away. "I'll find the clothes, you pick the destination. Then we can figure out the transportation...though I know how to hot wire a car if that helps."

He laughed, "I'm afraid I've no idea where to go... although.. No, not perhaps at night. My house is rubble, I'm afraid. Stephen and I commiserate on that together."

She really started laughing then. "I just found out that mine is too." She told him the story then, ending with Mabel telling her God was rebuilding her hotel. When they stopped laughing she said, "I haven't a clue what would work for you...are you looking for an extended escape or a few hours? You want peaceful or something distracting...?"

"How about a quiet walk in the moonlight. Is there a moon out there? Or did I wreck that too?"

"It's still there and about three quarters full. I'll be right back with your pants."

"Hurry, before Tabitha twigs to us." She laughed and was gone.

He sat there staring at the door she'd rushed out of, rather amazed at himself. When she got back, he'd fallen asleep, a smile still at the corners of his mouth. She stood watching him, debating and then folded his clothes, set them on the table and got comfortable in the chair to wait. It was several hours before Marc awoke, this time from a far more pleasant dream. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw, highlighted with early morning sunshine, was Dinah curled up on the chair beside his bed.

She was asleep, her hair falling in a waterfall of color, shading her eyes. He looked at her face, shorn of its protective armor. She looked younger asleep. Vulnerable, which he knew already she would hate to hear. She had steel in her though. Fiercely independent, not easily swayed. And yet... Was he imagining that she wanted him?

It wasn't wise. His track record on relationships being second only to, hmmm, probably no one. He was in a class by himself on that front. Even his children hated him.

But he'd been alone for a very long time. And although Stephen had so recently offered him friendship, still... Someone to hold.. It was tempting. Far too tempting.

She woke up then, her eyes bright, a smile forming on her lips when she saw him watching her.

"I'm sorry. I can't believe I fell asleep," he said a bit gruffly.

She seemed to read it as embarrassment. "Tabitha said you were still exhausted. It's fine. But our moonlight stroll is now off the table."

"Hmm, so I see. Although there is someplace I'd like to see. Is there a road up into the mountains, the ones on the north side of the valley?"

"Yes, Mostly a good road depending on how much you want to see."

"Can you hotwire a car for us, do you think? I'll have to have Reno find me something permanent if I'm going to spend much time around here, I suppose."

That made her smile radiant. Which gave him a serious twinge of conscience. Still. "I'll shower and dress. See if you can find us a car, or a jeep or something?"

"Even if I have to hotwire it?" she asked, her head tilted to one side.

"Oh, most certainly. What's one more crime on my rap-sheet."

She laughed and left the room, hoping *this time* that he wouldn't fall back to sleep.

When she got back, driving a beat up old jeep she'd scrounged from Michael, he was sitting on the front stoop of the House, a picnic basket beside him.

"What's that?" she asked, as he got up and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Kissing Tabitha seems to work," was all he replied as he grabbed onto the seat as Dinah threw the jeep into gear and sped away.

Dinah headed the jeep away from the House and back towards the abbey, veering off onto a road slightly to the west of the orchard before she reached the cemetery. It stayed westward for about half a mile and then turned sharply north as it began to climb. The road was a graded tar and gravel surface that was obviously well maintained by someone for about two miles or more. It eventually came out into a clearing and became a rutted dirt track that also ended about half a mile on in a small meadow that ran to the edge of the rock face.

Dinah pulled close to the edge and parked the jeep. She fingered her hair out of her face and turned to him, "There's a track that continues up to the summit, but it's difficult and usually just for hiking. You hit the tree line about a mile further up."

He reached out and ran his fingers through the tangles in her hair.

He turned then to look out over the valley below them. It was a magnificent view.

"This still a part of the Refuge, or at least owned by one of Stephen's financial entities?"

She nodded. "National Park begins just over there. No roads up into that, although there are hiking trails along the ridge there. Why do you ask?"

He took a breath and plunged. "Stephen offered me some land up here to put a house on. I'm considering it."

"He started buying the land around here a long time ago...a hundred years almost. He always said he was buying it so there'd be a place for a future."

"A future," he repeated softly. "That seems to be all I ever think about." Then he opened the door of the jeep and grabbed the picnic basket. "Come on, let's find a nice spot with a good view and eat. I'm famished." He held out his hand for hers.

Her smile was dazzling as she took it, sliding over the seat towards him. "Come on, there's a spot over here, as I recall..."

"Oh god, someone has had you here before me. How mortifying."

She stopped. "No, just me bringing me. I used to come up here years ago to get away. I'd park here and either hike up the rest of the way, or spend the day here...daydreaming. It's perfect for it."

"Well, I can't believe some fellow hadn't thought of it before I did. Lead on."

Dinah still holding his hand, led him along a dim path to a nice little shelter that was shaded by a wild dogwood tree. Soft grass grew underneath it, and a rocky outcropping protected it one side.

"How's this?" she asked.

"Nearly perfect," he replied. He opened the basket to retrieve a blanket which he spread for her to sit on. "Now, let's see what Tabitha came up with on short notice."

She sank to her knees and helped him pull out containers, asking "what would make it completely perfect?' She hesitated just an instant and then added "Or is that too personal?"

He sank back on his haunches and regarded her for a moment. "I knew this woman once. She'd lost her husband, and become latent, that means she lost all her 'pathic abilities due to severe brain damage. She couldn't bring herself to suicide so she did the next best thing. She ran away intent on creating a perfect world for herself. She took with her only the makings of a hot air balloon and wore a bright red jumpsuit. What would make this perfect would be to see her laugh as she sailed past us, waving joyously from her gondola."

"Perhaps," she offered, her head tilted slightly to the side, watching him, "if you build here she might."

He smiled. It was a sad smile though. "She never got to sail in her balloon. She gave it up for a worthier cause. But, if I build here I will certainly think of her often. She lived on a mountaintop too. Her aerie was called Black Craig. For her, though, it was a trap. She both loved it and hated it. I doubt if it had been me, I'd have been that noble." He opened a container and offered it to her, "Cherry?"

"Thanks." She gave them her attention for a moment. "You like the high places too, it seems." She picked one and shifted her eyes back to his. "What kind of noble do you prefer, hypothetically speaking, I mean...since those sorts of things usually aren't multiple choice in practice." She popped the cherry in her mouth and resumed her scrutiny of the container.

He leaned back against a rock, stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed, them then sighed in contentment, as he munched on a cherry. "I've never had much use for any kind of noble, I'm afraid. I'm the type of man who prefers practical to noble. And you? Do you admire noble men? Or women?"

"It's been my experience that noble is usually attached to a cause. And the only noble person I ever admired got himself killed for the cause. But it wasn't his nobility that got my attention, it was his perseverance. So, I suppose the answer is no."

"I'm sorry, Dinah."

"For what?" she asked.

"That you lost him."

"Either I'm slipping or you did that on remarkably few clues. There was a time when I thought people should be sorry about it, but then I realized that just as he chose what he chose and he knew what the outcome would most likely be, I did as well and that that was a gift we gave each other...the freedom to do that."

He sat there looking out at the scenery without answering her, then turned and dug out a bottle of wine from the basket. He found two glasses and a corkscrew. Once he had the wine open he poured for both of them, handing a glass to her.

"A toast. To the freedom to do what we must."

She clinked her glass against his and sipped. She considered him a moment, her face pensive. "What is it that would give you freedom?"

"Finding a way to atone for actions which were, in hindsight, impossible to forgive. God, I'm morbid. Sandwich?" he handed her one.

"Thanks." She looked at it a moment before grinning. "Did you happen to tell Tabitha who you were lunching with?"

"No, afraid not. Why?"

'Well, it's my favorite. She knows that. She's been feeding me off and on since I was a kid almost."

"I have it on excellent authority she's a witch. I suppose she's just proven her talents are more than just window dressing."

After munching for a while he asked, "So, if I build an aerie up here, what shall I call it? Something suitably noble, or regal or possibly cute and disgustingly sweet? I could call it Blacker Craig."

"Beyond a strong suggestion to avoid the hackneyed, I haven't a clue. Why not build it first and then see what suggests itself?"

"You are far too practical," he said with a smile. And both he and she reached for the wine bottle at the same time and their hands met. He reached out and pulled her toward him.

'Not usually," she said, coming towards him easily, her eyes never leaving his.

"I'm not very good at reading women. If I've got you wrong tell me now, no harm done."

"You haven't at all. Actually, I'd say you've gotten it exactly right."

He leant over, cupped the back of her head with one hand, and kissed her.

"Perfect, in fact," she murmured as he started to draw back, before drawing him forward and kissing him again.

When the kiss ended he gave her a tug and she snuggled in under his arm. They both lay back looking up at the sky, heads touching lightly.

"Are you planning to stay at the Refuge for any length of time?" he asked.

"It is my understanding that I am forbidden on pain of something to attempt to leave...at least without permission. So, yes, at least for the foreseeable future."

"I'm very glad to hear that." This time the kiss was a promise.