Disconnected
by Pink Rabbit Productions
Page 1

Pleasure washed over her. Sweet, rich, incredibly intense, and far too pure to trigger any of the darker emotions Bianca Montgomery had once feared might appear. A low, pleading whimper escaped her lips as her body arched upward, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on her skin.

"Tell me," a voice, honey smooth and seductively exotic, whispered in the darkness, "what it feels like when I touch you like this."

Bianca could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she fought to draw sufficient breath to answer the question. "Can't," she gasped weakly, threading her fingers into short dark hair and pulling her lover's head up until their eyes met in the faint light.

Lena shook off the surprisingly firm hold, ducking her head again, lips finding soft flesh, holding, stroking.

Taut muscles rippled beneath the surface of pale flesh and soft sounds erupted from Bianca's throat as her head rocked back on her shoulders, slamming into the softness of a pillow. She found Lena's hair again, tangling her fingers in the silky strands and holding on with a certain kind of desperation, as though that was the only thing still tethering her to the earth. And maybe it was. Sometimes when they made love it seemed as though she'd finally slipped those surly bonds and was floating somewhere in the ether where nothing could ever hurt her again.

"Tell me," Lena Kundera repeated the command, her voice a warm purr that vibrated through her lover as the caresses slowed, drawing the pleasure out to near-painful lengths, using the power of their lovemaking to draw Bianca in, not letting her simply slide away and disappear into the physical release. Bianca looked down again, while Lena looked up, gazes that were both dark but in very different shapes and shades meeting and holding. Lena tracked the slender hand that shifted to stroke sweat damp bangs off her forehead. In an instant, she went from totally in command to completely enslaved. "Please," she croaked, her voice threatening to crack, desperate for some acknowledgment that this was more than just a little illicit sexual relief for the younger woman.

They had been back together, or at least semi-back together---which was code for meeting and making love whenever Bianca called, which was usually once or twice a week, though sometimes as often as four or five times---for a little over three months. It wasn't common knowledge, though Kendall was aware since she'd caught them once when she'd been worried about Bianca and stopped by at some late hour. By Bianca's preference though, it was otherwise secret. Certainly Erica and everyone else Bianca cared about had been kept thoroughly in the dark. Which was why Lena found herself parking her car in the back and checking over her shoulder every time she was summoned just as she had when she'd been meeting Michael and for much the same reason. God forbid she should get caught. Michael would have punished her one way, but the sad truth was Bianca would punish her another, most likely by simply banishing her again instead of merely treating her like a dirty little secret. Some days she felt like she'd simply gone from being Michael's favorite waste of time to Bianca's.

She pushed that thought off. It simply hurt too much to contemplate, invariably leaving her with a sense of being caught in the same trap over and over again, only this time it was even worse because this time her heart was at stake not just her body or her bank account. Lena's heart sank steadily lower the longer she waited for an answer that never seemed to come, her hands still sliding restlessly over velvety flesh, a silent, tactile reassurance that no matter how emotionally distant she might seem, Bianca had chosen to be here with her. After all, it was always Bianca who called her and who had from the beginning. As much as she loved and wanted the younger woman, she would never have asked for this, in fact, had ceased to ask for anything when she’d found herself summoned back into some element of Bianca’s life. Finally, accepting that her lover wasn't going to say anything, she ducked her head, intent on using the one tool she had at hand. A light tug on her bangs a moment later brought her head back up until she encountered near black eyes once again.

Her breathing ragged and unsteady, her body quivering with tiny quakes that threatened to slide over into something far more intense with just the slightest encouragement, Bianca ran her thumb along a sculpted cheekbone. She wasn't stupid. She knew what her lover was asking for and it wasn't simply a description of physical sensation. At some level she even wanted to give it to her, but something held her back just as it had for months. Her hand moved on, seeming almost disembodied and under its own control, and she watched as her thumb ran along the edge of a glossy lower lip. She saw the longing in rich, brown eyes, the hunger and desperation...and the love. God, it was the love that hurt the most because at times like this she knew she didn't deserve it.

And then suddenly, Lena blinked, her eyes closing momentarily, just long enough that when they opened again, her emotions were shuttered and contained. She turned from Bianca's light touch, then ducked her head, rededicating herself to burying Bianca in physical sensation. If she couldn't have anything else, she could have that much. In their time together, Lena had made a study of her lover's every response, applying the same drive to the task that had taken her far from home and poverty into a world she couldn't have even guessed existed during her childhood. She controlled nothing else in their relationship, but this much was completely under her purview, at least for the moment. Her hands floated over velvet soft flesh, caressing and teasing, playing the same way her lips did. She was totally lost in their lovemaking, drinking in Bianca's every response, the taste of her body, the feel of her skin, the tiny sounds she made. She knew exactly what she was doing and gloried in it, thrilled to take her lover right to the edge.

Only to suddenly stop.

"Say something," Lena hissed, a hint of a triumphant smile touching curving her lips upward as she heard Bianca's soft moan of disappointment at being denied the physical sensation she so craved.

Bianca's hips bucked upward, her body instinctively seeking a return of the mind-bending pleasure, while her hands tightened in thick hair. Lena resisted the pressure, her eyes blazing, hands braced flat on the mattress on either side of slim hips, refusing to give way this time. It was the first time she'd done anything but accede completely to her lover's wishes since Bianca had chosen to renew their physical relationship, and the younger woman clearly didn't quite know what to make of it. Her hands trembling, chest heaving as she fought to drag air into her lungs, she simply stared at Lena for a long moment as though struggling to understand.

As time passed and Lena refused to continue the sweet caresses, she saw some light of knowledge enter dark eyes.

"Lena," the younger woman whispered, her tone an implicit command, her hands pressing a little harder, though they stayed short of causing pain, while her body shifted restlessly amid the sheets, instinctively seeking more of the sweet caresses.

But Lena shook her head ever so slightly, uncertain why it was suddenly so important to her to get just a little more than the physical satiation that was the normal outcome of their times together, only knowing that it was.

And suddenly needing, wanting, Bianca surrendered just a little. "I...it's ... I can't think ... like this..." she gasped. Couldn't think, couldn't speak, sometimes she could barely even breathe. It was like she became nothing but her body, all past and future driven from her mind, existing only in the present. For just a little while she could just escape all of the ugliness, not think, just forget. The irony that it was this that allowed her some respite from her darkest thoughts didn't escape the younger woman, though at that precise moment that fact, like everything else, was barely even a distant memory. "Please," she whimpered when Lena still hadn't moved after a beat.

Suddenly, Lena slid up the length of her body, bisecting Bianca's torso with the tip of her tongue, pausing only briefly to taste the swell of each breast, before stretching languorously over her lover, her braced hands taking most of her weight. "Anything for you," she whispered, her lips dusting over Bianca's cheeks, then teasing her mouth before sliding down the length of her throat.

The dark haired woman whimpered softly, wrapping an arm around the back of Lena's neck, tipping her head back and opening her throat to exploring lips. A low, pleading moan vibrated up from her chest as a graceful hand trailed down the length of her torso, then fitted itself to her hip, guiding her into a slow rhythm that brought their bodies together in all the right ways. "God, what are you doing to me?" she panted.

Lena laughed softly, the sound soft and a little grim, though Bianca was too lost to hear the broken note in her lover's voice. "Nothing you don't want," the Polish woman breathed as she pushed up on one hand to nibble on the point of Bianca's chin. "After all," she added, her voice little more than a low growl, "tell you me you don't like having me watch you like this." She leaned down to run her tongue along the upper curve of a taut breast before swirling it around the coral tip. "And taste you like this."

Bianca dug her fingers into Lena's back so hard her nails left half moon indentations, then reached up with her other hand as if to grab, only to meet her lover's hand halfway. Fingers twined together, and Lena pressed their joined hands into the softness of the mattress. She leaned across Bianca, dragging her tongue to the center of her chest, then rubbing her cheeks against the inner curve of rounded breasts. "Tell me you don’t want me to feel you like this," she dared the younger woman, challenging her to try and play the game as though she didn't really care and wasn't really involved.

"God," the tiny bit of sound burst from Bianca's chest, half curse and half prayer, as her head slammed back into the pillow again. She needed this, needed the escape, the peace that no one else seemed to be able to give her no matter how much she might have wished it were otherwise.

Half draped across her lover's body, Lena slowly slid up to share another languorous kiss, deliberately playing with Bianca's mouth while she matched time with the slow undulations rippling through the smaller woman's body. "That's it, love," she praised between kisses that fell everywhere she could reach, onto Bianca's lips, across her cheekbones, over her closed eyelids, then along the hairline at her temple. She trailed lower, nibbling her way along the rounded curve of Bianca's jawline before closing her teeth very lightly on either side of her lover's carotid artery, her tongue pressing there, tasting the unsteady throb of Bianca's heart. She waited a beat, then released the possessive hold, licking softly while she adopted a slow, thrusting rhythm. Bianca was fighting it, she could see it in her eyes and feel it in the stiffness that entered her muscles. It wasn't fear. They'd faced and avoided that particular obstacle and Lena had learned by paying careful attention what to do and what not to. It hadn't been an issue in weeks. No, it was an inborn desire to maintain control, and Lena was tired of being the one on the losing end of that battle. More than once Bianca had pulled away at times like this, and she had accepted it every time, afraid of moving too far or too fast, well aware that she was being tested at every turn. "Be with me," she pleaded. She thrust, grinding their bodies together, and played over velvet flesh until she felt Bianca thrust back again, her control not merely slipping, but shattering completely.

Point, counterpoint; they moved together in graceful syncopation, bodies sinuous and perfectly matched, while their mouths blended together in intimate mimicry of the game played between their bodies.

"Tell me," Lena whispered again as she dragged their woven hands over Bianca's head until her lover's body was stretched taut, every muscle standing out in sharp relief. She leaned down, tasted the underside of her jaw, pressed lower, her muscles strained to maintain both the position and the rhythm of their lovemaking. Sharp teeth ranged over Bianca's heaving chest, scraping softly, but never leaving a mark.

"Damn you," Bianca gasped, loving and hating the other woman at the same time, her body no longer her own. She didn't want to have to talk or think, certainly didn’t want to be pressured to look at the things running through her head in order to give them voice and life. It threatened to make them much too real, and she wasn't sure she wanted any of this to be real. The moment it became real and not just a heated, late night fantasy, she'd have to start dealing with things she didn't feel ready to face, like her mother's disapproval, the inherent conflicts that came with this relationship, and hardest of all, her own actions. She hooked a leg over lean hips, trying to draw her lover even closer and hold her there as if they could become one body. But want it or not, she couldn't deny the need, not when Lena's body was bound so intimately to her own.

Lena arched up, kissing her lover hard as she watched the shifting play of emotion and arousal in her dark eyes. "...if I am damned..." she growled through the blending of their mouths, ashamed to be so thrilled by finally drawing some kind of emotional response instead of just a physical one, "...it's for you...all for you..." She covered soft lips once again, drinking in, Bianca's aroused groan.

When the kiss finally broke, Bianca trailed soft kisses along her cheek into the soft flutter of hair near her ear. Her voice little more than a ragged whisper, she hissed, "Why...you? Why not...someone ... easier?"

"I don't know...but it's like this for both ... of ... us," Lena groaned, turning her mouth into the roving kiss, then whispering ragged words through the blending of their mouths, "...dangerous...frightening...and safe at the same time...anyone else would be safer than you...but you're the only one...who's ever touched my heart...." Sometimes she thought it would have been better if she hadn't fallen, had simply seduced Boyd, stolen the formula, and gone back to her old life. Bianca would have hated her, but she would have been safe. Michael would have moved on if he'd just been allowed to win. And while Lena knew she would never have known heaven, she also knew wouldn’t have known the depths of hell. Her life before had been a kind of unfeeling Nirvana and there was a kind of safety in being that uninvolved in the world.

Now there was no safety, no certainty, nothing really but whatever Bianca chose to dole out which never seemed to be anywhere near enough.

"Please," Bianca groaned, her body reacting to the gasped words, the knowledge that despite everything Lena loved her driving her passion. Writhing desperately, all control lost, she was so close that just breathing had become a strain, and she could hear a buzzing in her ears that she instinctively knew was the pulsing flow of her own blood. Their mouths met in ranging kisses and their hands trailed over sweet curves with confident familiarity, fingers dancing over sweat damp flesh, stroking, teasing, leaving no inch untouched.

Releasing the hands bound to her own, Lena pushed up on her hands to stare down into her lover's eyes, watching the shift and play of arousal, seeing the burn as they drew closer and closer to the edge.

Bianca slid her fingers into damp strands of chestnut hair, toying with them as she shaped fine boned hands to Lena's face, watching the intensity of emotion playing over her features. She loved and feared these moments when her lover's eyes were an open window to the deepest parts of her soul, no longer shuttered to hide her secrets from any and all who might try to look too deeply. It was when she knew that Lena loved her with a frightening kind of totality, and the responsibility scared her to death. She wasn't ready for it and had already abused it horribly. Given everything that had already passed between them and the fact she truly didn’t know what her own emotions were when it came to the other woman, she honestly didn't see how Lena could still feel the way she did.

Lena's breath caught and she experienced the by-now familiar flood of emotion as she stared into dark eyes and felt her lover's response, still tasting the musk of Bianca’s body on her lips and smelling it thick in the air. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the depth and intensity of her own feelings. Later there would be plenty of time for recriminations, but for the moment, this was everything she needed. She'd spent so much of her life alone even when she wasn't alone, that it still shocked her to realize just how deep her feelings ran, how integral this woman had become to her life. "I love you...."

Bianca held Lena tightly, staring into passion-dazed brown eyes uncertain whether she really wanted to hear the depth of Lena’s emotions when her own were so torn and confused.

"...more than my life...." Lena whispered, her heart in her eyes. She would die for Bianca. It was just that simple. And if she really did cause the younger woman more pain, she would gladly leave her even if it destroyed her.

"Don't say that," Bianca hissed, a shiver running down her spine as though someone had walked over her grave. She didn’t want that gut-wrenching level of emotion and the reality of it scared the hell out of her because she didn’t see any way she could ever live up to it. She looked away, pulling back mentally if not physically. Focused on her own response, Bianca missed the shadow that crossed Lena's expression, but she felt it when her lover started to draw away as if to leave. She tightened her hold, fingers digging in and nails pressing until they were close to drawing blood. "No," she gasped, pulling Lena back to her with desperate strength. "Stay," she breathed, making the single word a command even though part of her knew it should be a plea.

Lena nodded, allowing herself to be drawn back down, and then she was moving with Bianca again, pressing her into the mattress, muscles flexing and drawing them together and apart again in a staccato rhythm, her passion a piano wire drawn impossibly tight until it had to either snap or break the instrument.

Bianca heard the scream bubbling up in her chest, felt the bowstring tautness of her own muscles as they strained more with every passing second. Time slowed, each second becoming ten as she hung poised at the edge of an abyss, her only tieline to earth the sensation of her lover's flesh against her own. She tasted Lena's breath in her mouth, felt the matched pounding of her heart where they lay breast to breast, smelled the sweat and musk of their lovemaking thick in the air. She was everywhere and nowhere, her entire existence spinning down until there was nothing but their coupling in this moment. Then the bowstring snapped, electricity flaring outward from the center of her body along overheated nerve endings and oversensitized skin, the invisible arc encompassing both of their bodies in its sensual fire.

Her own body screaming its need, Lena pushed up on one hand to stare down into her lover's eyes, intently watching the emotions that traced their way across her features, seeing all of the familiar signs of the final moments. The sight and the knowledge that she'd caused it, swept over her, triggering her own pleasure. Lena cried out, her lover's name torn from her lips in the conflagration that followed as she clung to sleek curves, all self-control lost. Pleasure condensed, thickened, coalesced in a secondary pulse almost as intense as the first that left her barely able to think or breathe. "Oh god," Bianca groaned after an eight-pointer's worth of shocks and aftershocks, muscles going completely limp as she tumbled back to earth, sinking into mattress in a puddle of sweat and satiation.

Muscles trembling violently, Lena collapsed into her, her chest heaving, her breathing ragged.

Bianca turned her face into the curve of her lover's neck. Nails that had dug in hard enough to leave scratches pulled away from soft flesh as she spread her hand, her touch gentling. Her other hand was in Lena's hair and went from holding on with punishing strength to petting very lightly. She wanted to say something, but there weren't words, or at least she didn't know of any.

Lena would have preferred to remain wrapped in the textures of silky hair and velvet flesh, but well aware that she was a limp deadweight and afraid that would bother her lover, physically or otherwise, she summoned the wherewithal to ease to one side, bracing her weight on one elbow, muscles working despite the desire to remain utterly still. She was surprised when Bianca didn't release her hold, instead rolling onto her side and continuing to nuzzle close. More often than not, after their lovemaking, Bianca pulled away, usually to the point that Lena felt unwelcome and simply slipped from bed, dressed, and quietly left without a word. On those occasions, Bianca had never called her back or asked her to stay. In fact, only a few times had Bianca cuddled or shown any real affection in the aftermath, which was why Lena didn't question her good luck, simply rolled onto her back, wrapping her arms loosely around the smaller woman and tugging her close as she moved. She was surprised when Bianca nosed into her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to bare flesh. Lena exhaled a sigh, tenderly petting silky hair, content for that moment to simply enjoy any affection she could get.

They lay there for several minutes, both catching their breath. Finally, Bianca pushed up on one elbow, peering at Lena, a hint of a frown touching her brow. "Lena," she said very softly, a hint of a questioning note in her voice. Reaching up to stroke her lover's cheek very lightly, Lena ended the caress by settling her fingers over Bianca's lips, silencing her. "Just sleep," she whispered, her expression soft and pleading. All she wanted was a little peace, even if it was nothing more than an illusion. She slid her hand back, fingers combing into silky hair, and tugged Bianca's head back down to her shoulder.

For once, the younger woman made no effort to resist, simply sagged against her, her breathing slowing as her body relaxed into sleep.

* * * * * *

Bianca woke alone, wrapped in blankets and equal measures of disappointment and relief. Disappointment that she wasn't wrapped in Lena's arms the way she sometimes dreamt of being, and relief for exactly the same reason. Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, she swallowed hard and blinked away the threat of tears. It was for the best this way, safer and easier. It would have been safest for both of them if she could have stayed away from Lena entirely, and god knew she tried, but then the night would close in and the loneliness would threaten to overwhelm her, and Bianca would find herself dialing Lena's cell number again, and it would start all over again.

That was how it had happened that first night. She hadn't meant to call Lena, but with the night terrors crushing her down, she'd reached for the phone, dialing other numbers first only to find no one answering. Then, lonely and terrified, she'd dialed Lena's number before she could think better of it. Half hysterical, she'd barely known what she was saying, only that a low, soothing voice was in her ear, the accent warm and exotic. She'd been vaguely aware of the background sounds of traffic, but hadn't really considered that within moments Lena had been in her car and driving her way. And then Lena had been there, standing at the door, visibly scared, wet from the rainstorm that been part of what had left Bianca so shaken, and staring at her through impossibly deep brown eyes. Bianca had found herself forgetting everything but the love, and then she'd found herself dragging Lena close, holding on and sinking into the arms that wrapped around her. Lena had driven the storm back in moment, and she’d been safe, warm, protected. Then a flash of lightning and an ear shattering crack had thrown the world into darkness as a power line went down somewhere, and the fear had returned in full force.

Looking back, Bianca was still shocked that rather than reacting with terror the way she would have predicted, she'd suddenly pulled Lena close in an altogether different way. Frantic to feel anything but the gut-wrenching dread that came with storms, she'd dragged Lena's head down, capturing her mouth hungrily, tasting her shock, the tiny gasp that escaped her lips, and the confused tension that suffused her muscles. Not giving herself time to think, she'd pushed that lean body down onto the couch, reacting at an instinctive, animal level, escaping the sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning by losing herself in human silk and velvet.

It shook the young woman to think back and realize that she'd been the aggressor, taking Lena in a way she never would have considered in the sane light of day, her pleasure coming not from being touched in return, but from the way that long, lean body bucked and twisted under her control. She’d fed on the other woman’s arousal and the soft, begging sounds that had escaped full lips. Almost detached, she'd watched the hard shudders and uncontrolled contortions of the first orgasm. Then, still fully dressed, she'd slid higher, straddling slender hips and catching the hands that reached for her before they could make contact, pressing them into the cushions over the Polish woman's head.

In retrospect, she was a little horrified by her own actions that night because there'd been no gentleness, no love, only wanton instinct overlaying some deeper need to lay claim, though whether to the other woman or some part of herself, she still wasn't sure.

Lena had started out dressed, her clothes pulled this way and that to make room for hands that claimed and commanded, but those garments had been stripped off one orgasm at a time until Lena had lain naked beneath Bianca, nothing held back, not her body, not her emotions, not her responses. No words had been spoken beyond a few mindless pleas, as though they were both afraid of what anything else might do to both of them. In any event, she'd driven Lena to the limit over and over, making her beg and cry out, pressing her until her muscles trembled and her hair and skin were damp with sweat, needing the power that came with driving the thick pleasure that had rippled through the taller woman.

When Lena finally couldn't move any longer, her body totally spent, Bianca had found herself staring down at her, silently watching, confused and ashamed for reasons she couldn't even begin to name. The storms outside and inside both abated, she'd scrambled away, unable to face what she’d done, and left without further word, thoughts swirling in her head. To her shame, she'd been relieved that Lena had made no effort to follow her. In her room alone, she’d listened to the sounds of the front door opening then closing again as she silently vowed that it was a one-time event, that whatever madness had overcome her, it wouldn't happen again.

Then just a few nights later, the fear and loneliness had caught up with her again. She hadn't meant to pick up the phone and dial that number, had planned on calling Kendall, her mother, Maggie, anyone but her.

But it was Lena’s number she dialed that night.

And other nights that followed.

And in spite of any aftermath-generated resolutions to the contrary, it had happened again and again. She'd felt lost and alone and called, Lena had come over, few words had been spoken, and they’d touched and couldn't stop touching, the carnal need driving out the terror, giving her a little respite despite the guilt that always came afterward.

It wasn't until their fifth night together that she'd allowed Lena to touch her in return at all, and even then she'd maintained control over the situation, allowing only so much, testing the other woman, letting her have so much and no more, and afterward, she'd turned away again, and again, Lena had silently left.

Guilt ridden over her behavior, she’d finally broken down and told her counselor the whole sorry story, surprised to find her amazingly understanding without any hint of the judgment Bianca had both feared and expected. She’d been calm and very kind, asking gentle questions clearly intended to elicit more information, not so subtly checking on Lena's physical condition as much as Bianca's mental state. She'd been almost clinical, pacifying the worst of Bianca's fears and easing some of her guilt, explaining that the need for control wasn't an unusual response and trying without success to chase out the shame.

Growling a curse under her breath, Bianca ran a hand through her hair, scraping disarrayed strands out of her eyes, blinking rapidly to chase off the threat of tears. It all just felt so...so not right...and yet she couldn't seem to do anything else. It was a damned compulsion, one she often felt she’d be better off without, and yet she kept coming back for more.

She was still trying not to look too closely at her own emotions when the soft sound reached her ears.

Tyler.

Bianca was out of bed and reaching for the velour robe slung over the chair next to her bed in an instant. There was a small attached room off the master bedroom. Intended as a dressing room, she'd turned it into a temporary nursery when she’d decided against having a full-time nanny. This way, her son could be close until it was time for him to sleep in his own bedroom. There was a baby monitor, but with the door open, she could easily hear him if he cried without the electronic aid. She instantly came to a halt as she stepped through the doorway, freezing in place, her expression etched with shock.

Lena hadn't left. Instead she was standing near the crib, her body swathed in a black, silk robe of Bianca’s that revealed more than it covered, a small figure in her arms, her head down as she whispered. "Shhh, let's let your mama sleep a little longer, little one."

For the briefest second, Bianca couldn't move, her heart in her throat. As illogical as it was, all she could remember was Lena's intensity on the subject of abortion, how she'd insisted Bianca couldn't have a monster's child. Some part of her instinctively afraid of some unnamed something, Bianca had kept her son well out of Lena's way during their clandestine meetings, carefully keeping those two parts of her life completely separate, in fact keeping Lena separate from every part of her daylight life. The truth was that she’d done everything in her power to keep their affair hidden, barely even speaking to the other woman if they accidentally met in public, afraid that others would see what she felt if she showed any interest.

Lena abruptly pivoted, her eyes going wide as she realized she was no longer alone. She glanced down at the infant in her arms, then back up at Bianca, her expression seeming guilty to Bianca's eyes. "I-I was just...he was fussing...and I heard him...I just...." She looked down again, stammering uncomfortably under the suspicious gaze turned her way. "I was just...up ...and-and heard him." She turned away, settling Tyler back into his crib.

She was reaching for the blankets to tuck them around the child when Bianca stepped forward and around her lover, leaning over to check on her son.

"I probably should have gotten you," Lena murmured, backing away quickly as Bianca took over fussing with the blankets, blocking the taller woman out with her body as though she expected her to do something untoward to the child. "I'm sorry...I just...I heard him and you were deep asleep...and he started to quiet when I picked him up, so I thought perhaps he’d fall asleep again without waking you."

Her attention completely focused on making certain her son was all right, Bianca was only distantly aware when Lena backed up another step, "You should have gotten me," she confirmed, her voice little more than a tight rasp. It was insane. She knew that. Lena would never hurt any child, but she couldn't help but remember Lena's hatred of Michael and the fact that she'd been so intent on the abortion.

"I realize that now," Lena said too quickly. "but when I heard him cry, I just checked on him without---"

"I'm his mother," Bianca cut her off, not quite angrily but close to it as she continued checking on her son. A quiet child who was seldom fussy for more than a few minutes unless he was hungry or wet, he was dry and so having had a few minutes of attention was already sliding back to sleep.

"Right," Lena exhaled. "And you wouldn't want him anywhere near me."

It took Bianca a moment to register both the words and her lover's tone, hurt with an undercurrent of anger. By then Tyler was almost asleep, close enough that she could leave him, and she hurried into her bedroom to find Lena yanking on her clothes, her movements fast and jerky. Not bothering with her bra, she'd pulled on her blouse and was struggling with the delicate buttons that ran up the front, the dark maroon silk slipping and sliding in her fingers. Her hands were visibly shaking, making the task almost impossible.

"Lena?" Bianca whispered very softly, her ire disappearing in a blink. Torn in a thousand different directions, uncertain what she felt, wanted, or feared, she was nonetheless well aware that the other woman was upset even if didn’t want to look at the reasons too closely.

Brown eyes briefly rose to touch on Bianca. "My fault," Lena said sharply, her voice tight and ragged around the edges, as though she wanted to just let go of her emotions, but didn't dare. That said, she looked down again, focusing on stubborn buttons. "I forgot the rules."

"Rules?" Bianca repeated on a confused note, instinctively aware of what Lena was referring to and at the same time, wanting to deny it. So far every aspect of their affair had been totally under her control, only that seemed to be blowing up in her face, leaving her uncertain just how Lena was going to react.

Lena looked up again, a derisive smile twisting her lips, her eyes harder and darker than Bianca could remember seeing them, at least when focused on her. "The ones that say I’m supposed to be a good girl and quietly slip out while you’re sleeping...with no trace left behind to prove I was ever here," she responded after a beat, laying it all on the line with quiet brutality. "My apologies." She ducked her head in an acid mockery of courtesy. "For a few minutes, I forgot my place." Then, as if realizing she was much too close to some invisible line in the sand, she shook her head and took a step back, the bitterness in her expression replaced by an exhausted sort of depression.

Stung, Bianca tensed. "I never said---"

"No, of course not," Lena confirmed, her tone hardening again, the hint of mockery returning to the faint twist of her lips. "You didn’t need to. You made yourself quite clear without words that I could accept the hidden late night assignations or nothing at all." Her gaze dropped away again, a sad sigh escaping her lips, the anger slipping away in an instant to be replaced by a defeated sense of hopelessness. "I was a fool to think...." She trailed off, shaking her head, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. "It doesn’t matter," she said at last, noting that she’d misaligned the last two buttons, and finding she didn’t care. She didn’t look at Bianca, knowing full well that if she did good judgment would be out the window and she’d be back under that spell. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she could resist that particular siren’s song and stay away. Looking around herself, she hunted for her shoes until she spotted them under a nearby chair.

"Look," Bianca said, ignoring the accusing words she was nowhere near ready to deal with. She folded her arms across her chest as she watched Lena retrieve her shoes and yank them on, "I’m sorry if I was a little short, but---"

"It doesn’t matter," Lena said again, cutting her off, sounding tired this time rather than angry. She just didn’t want to hear it. She did a slow pivot, brows drawing together in a frown as her gaze touched on the slender figure standing stiffly in the doorway watching her closely. In spite of her determination not to, she stood studying Bianca, trying to get some sense of what she was thinking only to find herself once again denied the knowledge she was seeking. "Obviously I should have gotten you. I just thought...he’s settled down quickly the time or two he’s stirred in the past...and I thought he would again...and that you needed the sleep." She looked down again, unable to face Bianca and continue. "And I forgot my place for a moment." Her teeth clenched as she finished that admission, hating the way it made her feel, but knowing that anything else was likely to get her banished from Bianca’s life once again. Even knowing she would likely have been better off to simply walk away, she couldn’t seem to do so, so instead she settled for even the slightest crumbs of affection, no matter that she didn’t like herself at all for doing so.

"I just...it just startled me," Bianca muttered.

"I’m sorry," Lena found herself apologizing again and borderline to hating herself for it because she honestly didn’t see what she’d done that was so wrong. Faced with a crying infant, she’d checked on him before thinking to get his mother. She truly couldn’t see the sin in that choice, and she couldn’t escape the memory of the horrified, accusing look on Bianca’s face, not so subtly reminding her that her only place in the younger woman’s life was sexual. "But you didn’t need to...I mean, what did you think? That I was going to hurt him?" The question was actually facetiously intended, the closest she could come to offering a rebuke for Bianca’s hurtful response because it never even remotely occurred to her that Bianca could ever think that of her.

Until she saw the guilty confirmation of just that in her lover’s expression.

Lena froze as though struck, her expression falling, mouth gaping, eyes wide. A moment passed during which her only movement was an impossibly high blink rate. "You think that I...." She couldn’t finish, couldn’t quite believe she was even contemplating such a thing, or rather that Bianca would.

Realizing that she’d let far too much of her admittedly irrational fears show in her expression, Bianca tried to repair the damage. "Of course not. I just---"

"Don’t lie," Lena interrupted, more shocked than angry. She snapped her mouth shut, still staring at Bianca, her thoughts swirling, wanting to deny the obvious, but unable to escape that look. "You actually thought I would...."

No anger, but Lena’s hurt was thick and visceral, shaming Bianca with its intensity. "No, of course not," she denied the accusation, sounding a little panicked this time, the truth of what she’d thought and implied starting to sink in, the mere idea seeming hopelessly ridiculous now that she was forced to face it.

"I knew you didn’t think much of me, but I had no idea you actually...." Lena trailed to a halt, still shaking her head dazedly. "I had no idea your opinion was so low," she exhaled at last, her voice coming out as a pained rasp, as though she’d been struck in the solar plexus and had to struggle just to drag air into her lungs.

"I didn’t say that," Bianca muttered, though her denial sounded painfully weak even to her own ears.

Lena moved back another pace, nearly stumbling, her normal grace taking flight. "I have to go," she muttered, her tone becoming distant. She turned, trying to flee before she lost all control only to be pulled back as a hand caught her forearm.

"Lena, I didn’t say---" Bianca started to repeat the denial.

As Lena came back around, her eyes narrowed as the truth sank in. Bianca was going to deny it all, put the onus on her. One more time she was going to get the pleasure of bearing the full responsibility for all the evils in the world, or even just the paranoid fear of all the evils. For months she’d borne it all, her guilt over her past and her ties to Michael driving her to accept the blame for almost any accusation anyone wished to hurl her way. Hell, none of them had equaled the accusations she’d directed at herself anyway, so it hardly seemed to matter. But not this, not the inference that she would harm any child, and particularly not that she would ever harm Bianca’s child. In an instant, hurt turned inside out, revealing the bitter anger she’d doubtless been nursing and holding back for months. "No, of course not," she snapped, taking a certain pleasure from the way Bianca’s eyes went wide in response to her tone, "as that would require actually speaking to me beyond saying, ‘Harder, faster, slower, there, no there.’" Brown eyes went a little wider still at the obvious sexual connotation of the words, and Lena found she quite enjoyed her lover’s shocked look. No, not a lover, since that implied emotion on both sides, and she was far from certain there was any such thing involved in their frenzied couplings, at least for Bianca. God help her, she was still so desperately in love with the younger woman that she’d tolerate almost anything to be with her, as she’d proven over and over again in her willingness to accept being yet another dirty secret because it seemed better than nothing. Only suddenly it seemed far worse than nothing if Bianca could think her that evil. Seeing it that way, she felt something let go inside, cracking at that core of painful love and letting bits of it float away, maybe never to return.

Bianca meanwhile had rocked back on her heels and was staring up at Lena as though she’d grown a spare head. Her gaze dropped as Lena yanked her arm free, then rose again.

"I have to get out of here," Lena rasped. Now, quickly before everything exploded the way she could feel it threatening to do. She’d never been one to lose her temper easily or lightly, but on the rare occasion it happened, it tended to do so explosively and in a way that left her totally out of control. The last thing she wanted to do was hit that particular boiling point. It would destroy any hope of a future and she wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. Reaching for her coat where it was tossed over a chair, she slung it on, striving to find a mental place that was cool and above it all. Once upon a time she’d been so good at that sort of apathy, but coming alive again had made it almost impossible.

"Lena," Bianca’s voice was small, almost childlike, stopping Lena before she could flee. "That’s not fair."

It was the wrong thing to say at every level. "Not fair?" Lena exhaled, going absolutely still for a long moment. Finally she looked back over her shoulder. "Very little in life is fair," she said very softly. Had Bianca been more attuned to her moods, she might have recognized the inherently dangerous note in her lover’s voice, but focused on her own thoughts, she missed it completely.

"Do you think I don’t know that?" the younger woman demanded, well aware that she was sounding faintly petulant and not liking it but helpless to do anything else.

Lena’s response was a tired sigh. "Of course you do," she allowed, looking away again. Reminded of what had happened to her lover, her temper was cooled several notches simply by the horror of it all. Her eyes slid closed as she tried to block everything out for a second and regain some equilibrium. Except the effort wasn’t working because she could still hear Bianca, and just the roughened sound of her breathing served as a reminder that she was there, seemingly standing in judgment yet again, which in turn triggered some very dark emotions. She could feel the cliff’s edge crumbling beneath her feet, tiny rocks and stones trickling away, and knew she was going to tumble over if she wasn’t very careful. And if that happened, god help them both, because she was going to lose all control and even she didn’t quite know what might be said in that event. She’d spent so many months sublimating her emotions, she wasn’t entirely certain what they even were anymore. "I have to get out of here," she muttered at last, more than a little desperation in her voice. She started to flee, made it perhaps two steps and felt a hand on her arm.

"Lena, not like this." Bianca’s voice was a strange mix of command and plea and Lena froze in place.

"Then how?" the Polish woman asked too quietly, clamping down so tightly on her emotions that her voice came out unnaturally flat. She looked back over her shoulder at Bianca, who made the mistake of reading her calmness as something more than just an illusion.

Bianca tugged lightly on Lena’s arm, pulling her back around until they were facing each other. "Look, you just misread things," she lied, then slid a hand up Lena’s chest, fingers toying with her coat. "There’s no need for you to leave yet."

Lena’s expression remained fixed, but Bianca was staring at her own hand where it was smoothing the line of her lover’s coat.

"Meaning?" Lena asked very softly.

Bianca curved her fingers into the soft fabric of Lena’s lapel, tugging lightly. "Come back to bed," she invited, looking up through thick lashes as she spoke.

"At least for a little while?" Lena murmured on a questioning note.

Bianca nodded. "For a little while." It was the final nail in the coffin.

Cupping Bianca’s cheek in her hand, Lena slowly shook her head, then used her other hand to peel Bianca’s fingers away from her coat. "No." She carefully stepped back a pace, letting go of Bianca’s hand and breaking contact with her cheek. "I can’t do this anymore," she murmured after a beat, her voice thick from the effort required to force it past the tightness in her throat, the words startling her more than they did Bianca. It wasn’t what she’d planned to say and yet the words had come out all the same.

"Look, if this is about---" Bianca began, but Lena held up a hand, silencing her.

"It’s not about any one thing. It’s everything." Lena shook her head, her expression maintaining the same too flat cast. "I can’t do this," she repeated, the enormity of what those words really meant just beginning to sink in. She wasn’t talking about leaving for the night. She was talking about leaving and not coming back again. Ever."I’d die for you," she continued with a softly-spoken kind of rage, "but most days, you’re barely willing to speak to me on a public street." She shook her head, disgusted with her own willingness to give her self-respect away yet again.

Bianca paled, a none too flattering image of herself suddenly flashing in her head, but still not really comprehending the extent of what Lena was saying. "You know," she muttered, though she had the good graces to flinch, "why that is."

"Do I?" Lena questioned, then shrugged. Actually, she didn’t because Bianca never really told her anything. She called, commanded, controlled, and expected. She was completely in control of the situation and seemed to have neither any desire nor any intention of explaining or rationally discussing much of anything. She simply didn’t seem to want to communicate beyond the obvious sexual limits of their present relationship, all of which suddenly felt intensely hollow. And the fact that Lena had momentarily felt like she was gaining ground only made it that much worse now that she knew Bianca thought she might be capable of the worst thing imaginable. When the sexual relationship had begun, Lena had thought it was just part of the process, that things would change and normalize as Bianca realized she could trust her. She’d made the tactical error of allowing herself hope that it was the beginning of something rather than simply an end in and of itself. Precious little chance of it going anywhere if the younger woman considered her a danger to her child. Now it all seemed like a wasted effort, and she felt like a fool for thinking that she had any place in Bianca’s life beyond the sexual.

"It’s just that---" Bianca began.

"It’s easier for you and I’m not worth anything more---" Lena laid the truth as she saw it on the line with quiet brutality.

"I’ve never said that," Bianca insisted. It wasn’t like that and she would never have said anything like that. Lena was being unreasonable when she knew perfectly well how difficult things were. "It’s just complicated. You know that."

Lena shook her head, unwilling to let Bianca off easily for once. "Given the lack of communication, I don’t know anything," she disagreed without raising her voice but also without giving ground, "except that it’s clear you don’t need me for anything but that." She waved a hand to indicate the twisted sheets that still showed the signs of their intimate struggles. "I’m not really a part of anything in your life that matters. For that you have the people that you truly love...your mother, Maggie, Kendall, Jackson. I’m just a convenience you make use of when you’re in the mood."

Bianca rocked on her heels as though struck. God, didn’t Lena know? It wasn’t the way she was saying at all. "That’s not---"

"Fair," Lena finished for her, the bitterness that slipped through finally beginning to give Bianca a clue that things were changing in ways she wasn’t prepared for. Lena wasn’t going to be a good girl and simply follow orders any longer. "There are a great many things in life, Bianca," she said in the tone of a professor giving a lecture to a class of not-too-bright freshmen, "that simply are not fair." She shook her head again, hands fisted so tightly at her sides that her nails were digging into her palms, her head suddenly throbbing in time with what seemed like a flood battering the dam holding back her emotions. The dam was cracking badly and she needed to get out of there. Quickly. She stepped back another pace as though more distance might allow her to regain some control.

"Lena, I---" Bianca started to speak, though she had no idea what she was going to say, only to be interrupted by the ringing of the phone next to the bed.

"You should answer that," Lena said quietly, perversely grateful for the real-world intrusion into a situation on the verge of exploding. "It might be someone important." Her lips twisted into the faintest of smiles as she saw Bianca flinch, clearly getting the intentional implication that she didn’t fit into the category. She was tired of politely overlooking that harsh reality and allowing Bianca simply ignore anything beyond the meeting and mating of bodies. They stood there in some impromptu kind of staring contest, neither one certain what was going to happen next. This was all new territory.

It was Bianca who cracked first, grabbing for the ringing phone, her voice instantly smoothing out and becoming almost too friendly when whoever was on the other end of the line started speaking. "Oh...hi, Maggie...."

Lena’s mouth twisted in the faintest of ironic smiles, while Bianca turned away as though to gain some privacy, though she couldn’t actually lower her voice for fear of alerting Maggie that she wasn’t alone, and god knew, they couldn’t have that happening.

"No, nothing’s wrong. Tyler just woke me up...oh...you should have stopped by if you saw the lights on."

The ironic smile turned to an outright smirk as Lena envisioned herself hiding in yet another closet had that happened. Shaking her head, she reached up to massage her temple. How strange was it that she suddenly found herself being perversely grateful to Maggie Stone of all people for unintentionally reminding her of so many things. It made it so much easier to do the best thing for both of them.

Bianca was still assuring Maggie that everything was fine and she was welcome any time of the day or night when Lena silently turned and walked out. She moved comfortably through the darkened house, pausing in the livingroom to find her purse where she’d discarded it on the couch. As she took a moment to dig out her car keys, she wondered how Bianca would have explained away that little slip had Maggie knocked. Oh, well. It hardly mattered now. It wouldn’t be a problem in the future. Maggie could play guard dog to her heart’s content. Hell, the two of them could set up their own asexual little house as far as Lena was concerned. It was no longer her problem. A wry smile twisted her lips as she finally found her keys, the last step before leaving. She could finally stop pretending she didn’t despise the younger woman and her need to own Bianca. The need to be polite for Bianca’s sake had left her on the verge of grinding her molars to dust on more than one occasion as the girl had gotten in assorted accusations, digs, and low-level insults, all without any payback. It was going to be a relief not to feel that pressure to be nice any longer. She almost hoped Maggie was foolish enough to be rude to her sometime in the near future so she could have the pleasure of teaching her how that game was really played.

And then she was standing at the front door and it all struck her like a hammer blow between the shoulderblades. The momentary bout of wry humor fled in an instant, melting away like a hard snowfall in hell, fast and with a certain sizzle. God, what was she doing? She gripped the front doorknob, muscles rippling beneath the surface of her skin with the force of the conflict. After months of rejection and sneaking around, it should have been easy to simply walk out that door. Whatever her dreams had once been, they should have been completely shattered, especially in light of the latest revelation.

And yet, standing there in the darkness, she couldn’t forget that initial euphoria at feeling her emotions come alive again after so many years of being dead to the world. For a little while it had seemed as though anything could be possible, as though she’d been given her life back and made whole again.

And she couldn’t help the tiny bit of hope that it had meant as much to Bianca as it had to her.

Which was why she couldn’t resist the need to turn and glance back the way she’d come, her eyes going to the top of the landing in hopes of seeing someone there ready to call her back.

Her heart sank when she found nothing but dark shadows.

It seemed like a sign from the god she hadn’t believed in in years. It really was over.

Suddenly numb---she supposed it was the mind and body’s way of protecting itself from the sort of pain that felt like it ought to have fatal implications---she swung the door wide and stepped into the night. The air was cool and there was a hint of a breeze to ruffle her hair. It helped clear her head a little, and she managed not to stumble as she staggered down the porch steps to the front walk, moving slower than usual and feeling far older than her years.

It was time, she decided with an oddly objective sort of practicality, to crawl into a bottle of cheap scotch---the kind that burned one’s throat until it was raw and turned a human stomach to little more than acidic pulp---and not come out until absolutely necessary. She ran a hand over her hair and kept walking. She was moving around the side of the house headed toward her car where it was parked in the back when she heard the sound of the front door.

"What are you doing?" Bianca was slightly out of breath. She must have taken the stairs two at a time. Only moments ago, Lena would have been thrilled. Now it was like something had finally broken inside and she was just tired.

Lena stopped, but didn’t turn back or look up. "Leaving," she answered simply.

"Without even talking about it...while I was still on the phone?" Bianca demanded, resenting the position the other woman had put her in, feeling defensive and irritated with the sudden shift in everything.

Lena shrugged, still not looking up, half afraid that she’d break completely if she looked into Bianca’s eyes. "It seemed like the best choice."

"So you’re just going to run away," Bianca accused.

Lena had the urge to demand, ‘From what?’ but held off on the impulse, well aware that it was only likely to spark a fight that wouldn’t do either of them any good. "Bianca," she sighed after a long beat, sick and tired of the whole subject. Even though had never come up before, it had been there between them, unspoken but very real, and avoiding something as studiously as they had required an amazing amount of effort. "What do you want me to do?" She wasn’t surprised when no answer was forthcoming, leaving them both to stand there helplessly. "You accuse me of leaving without talking, but that implies there was some other choice." She finally did look up, a beaten, strained kind of agony showing in her eyes. She was so damn tired she hurt. "We don’t talk." She felt no pleasure at the way Bianca winced, but there was a curious sense of satisfaction.

Bianca took the softly spoken words for an accusation and tensed. "And I suppose that’s my fault," she snapped.

Lena simply shook her head in the face of the other woman’s obvious anger. "It’s no one’s fault," she sighed. "It just is." She looked away again, not wanting to see the condemnation she expected in brown eyes as she continued, "It’s obvious you’re ashamed of me...of wanting to be with me in any way. I thought I could prove something to you, but it seems that’s not possible. As a result I just don’t think this is healthy for either one of us."

Bianca was suddenly utterly silent, barely able to even draw breath. She shook her head stiffly, wanting to deny what Lena was saying, yet not quite able to do so.

"Now you should call Maggie back," Lena continued, her voice low and husky, allowing herself one small twist of the knife. "She’ll be upset with you if she’s feeling ignored."

Bianca reacted instantly to the pointed chiding, her eyes flashing resentfully. "Is that what this is about?" she demanded, seizing on the obvious and clinging to the self-righteous anger it engendered. "Your jealousy?"

Hands tightening into fists, Lena held back a caustic reply. "No," she denied. Of course, she was jealous of Maggie, but that had nothing to do with why her reasons for walking away. She would have easily tolerated it if she felt she had some place of her own in her lover’s heart and life that wasn’t purely physical, if she just once felt Bianca supported her in the least. The jealousy was just a symptom of that denied longing, and Bianca was a fool if she couldn’t see that. "It’s about what’s between you and I...or what isn’t."

But Bianca didn’t let it go, instead seizing on what seemed like an easy answer. "Oh, come on," she snapped. "It’s been obvious just how jealous you are more than once."

This time Lena couldn’t hold back a sharp response, her own resentments after months of being pushed aside, slighted, and insulted catching up with her in a rush. "I can’t imagine why," she growled. "You only parade her around as your best friend ever while she insults---"

"Maybe that’s because I know I can trust her," Bianca shot back before thinking better of it. Hurt and angry that Lena could even consider walking away, she struck back where she knew the other woman felt particularly vulnerable.

Lena stiffened as though struck and felt something give way deep inside. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her temper finally getting the best of her as Bianca threw that at her after she’d spent months doing everything in her power to prove herself. Suddenly dangerously calm, she tipped her head to one side, appearing to consider Bianca as she spoke, "Well, then perhaps Maggie can overcome her squeamishness about such matters and you can finally have everything you’ve ever wanted." She would never have hurled that particular comment were she not so hurt and angry, but the harsh reality was that she had long been terrified that the day Maggie was interested in sex, she would lose Bianca completely, and Bianca had done little to soothe that fear. In fact, if anything, she’d nursed it along by her refusal to publicly admit to their relationship.

"You have no right to say that," Bianca snarled. "We’re just friends." Yes, there had been a time when she’d wanted more from Maggie, but not since meeting Lena. The Polish woman’s entry into her life had ended any thoughts along those lines because she hadn’t been able to think of anyone else that way since even when it would have been easier.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot for a second that I have no rights," Lena shot back, finally losing all control over her temper, "that I’m good enough to fuck in the dead of night, but no more than that."

Bianca flinched, startled out of her own rage by the obscenity. Lena almost never cursed. In fact her language tended to be borderline to courtly. On the rare occasion some minor curse slipped out, it was usually only because she was utterly furious and English had become something of an effort. For her to let that slip meant she was well beyond anything Bianca had seen before. "Lena---" she began, intending to deny the charge in an effort to undo the damage, but uncertain how without revealing more of herself than she was ready for. Unfortunately, the other woman wasn’t listening.

Lena shook her head, fighting for some measure of control without much success, the disgust she felt for herself coming out as anger. "Oh, no," she growled. "Don’t you dare put this all on me," she warned Bianca. "Not when you control everything...and the only choice I have is nothing or sneaking around like your whore." She swallowed hard as the last word escaped her lips. Suddenly reminded of too many dark moments in her life, she let go of the rage as quickly as it had come over her and was left feeling like she’d been beaten and was still punch drunk. "I’m nothing to you," she muttered more to herself than Bianca, then continued before she could stop herself, "Just like I was to...." And then she regained control, falling silent before the final words were out of her mouth.

Bianca stiffened, rearing back as she gripped the porch railing so tightly the edges threatened to cut into her palms. She hated this, hated the pain and fear, and yet she was totally powerless to make it stop. For a moment, she’d been feeling guilty, seeing all too clearly what Lena was saying, and then her lover had said that and suddenly her stomach was rolling, fury sliding over her. How dare she even start to say that. How dare she even think it. "Just like you were to who?" she demanded even though she knew the answer just like she knew full well she should just back away before they both said even more things they’d have cause to regret. This conversation was far too dangerous. The emotions between them were too intense and too twisted. That was why she’d so studiously avoided anything more serious than the weather, preferring the safety of simply losing herself in the physical because everything else seemed hopelessly threatening. So many times she’d backed away, only suddenly backing away wasn’t an option for either of them.

Lena blinked away the haze of tears threatening to turn the world to a blur, sanity struggling to reassert itself. Despite her anger, there were some lines she didn’t want to cross. "Don’t make me say it," she pleaded, pulling back from the cliff’s edge at the last moment, well aware that answering that question would just hurt them both when they were already slashed and bleeding. Tired as she was of the situation, she didn’t want to cause Bianca that kind of pain. Not for the first time, it struck her that she should have simply left town once she was no longer a suspect in Michael’s murder. It would have been kinder for both of them. Maybe then they could both have moved on with their lives. It would have been hard to do and certainly it would have hurt, but it would have been a kind of relief as well. Anything to free them both from this strange pas de deux from which they couldn’t seem to escape, and which seemed to cause them both so much pain. "I should have known this was a mistake," she said at last, "but I was so damn pathetic and wanted it so much." She looked down at her own feet, all of it sweeping over her with damning intensity. She should have known better than to think someone like Bianca would ever be able to see through her past or be able to completely accept her. "I should have known," she repeated almost inaudibly, anger suddenly forgotten in favor of sick guilt and shame. She was never going to escape her past and had been a fool for thinking otherwise for even a moment. Michael and Bianca had only one thing in common, their mutual opinion of what she was good for.

Perfectly unmoving as though cast from stone, Bianca stared at her lover, caught in an swirl of dangerous emotions. Lena looked so damn hurt and shattered that a part of Bianca wanted nothing more than to wrap that elegant frame in her arms and offer whatever reassurances were necessary to make things right again. Unfortunately there was the other part of her, the part that resented like hell that Lena was rocking the boat and making things difficult when she just wanted her to leave things alone. They had something together. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Lena wanted, but it was comforting and offered Bianca a much needed respite from the internal storms. She didn’t want to risk it for something that was fraught with anger and discord and threatened to do nothing but make everyone’s life harder.

Bianca was startled out of her silent musing by Lena’s exhaled, "I’m sorry." Something achingly sad and final in the Polish woman’s tone held her silent. She blinked as though to clear her vision and for just a second she had a sense of truly seeing Lena for the first time in months. She’d looked past her, around her, even through Lena, but carefully had never looked at her as though she couldn’t bear the intensity of what she might see and feel. Or maybe it was that she couldn’t bear to see and acknowledge the other woman’s feelings because once she did everything would have to change. The moment that happened, she couldn’t go on pretending that Lena was hard and cold and hadn’t been hurt by everything that had happened, including her actions.

Bianca was still struggling to process her own thoughts when Lena turned, trudging strides carrying her toward the back of the house where she always parked in a protected spot in the alley. She wanted to call her back, even drew breath to make the effort only to gasp as the phone rang again and she automatically clicked it on. She heard a voice and responded automatically. "Oh...hi, Maggie...sorry, I just had to run when Tyler cried...no, everything’s fine...."

Hearing that, Lena lengthened her strides until she was nearly running by the time she reached her car.

Bianca barely heard her friend’s comments, her entire attention absorbed by the sound of Lena’s car surging to life, the sound an angry roar as she gunned the engine hard. It screamed for a moment, and then faded as she disappeared into the night.

* * * * * *

She was driving too hard and much too fast, cutting corners by a hair, skidding on tight turns, and careening along in the straightaways.

And Lena Kundera couldn’t possibly have cared less.

Friends---back in the day when she still had a few---had often teased her about her wild driving, and more than one had suggested she had a suicidal streak that came out when she was behind the wheel of a car. She’d denied it then, insisting that she just liked speed, but at that particular moment she would have had to admit there was some truth to the charge. She was close to that edge. Very, very close.

Death by fast driving. She should have gone for that rather than poison. Maybe it would have taken and she could have avoided the whole damn mess by taking a nice quiet rest in the cold earth.

Wonderful, suicidal ideation. That would make for yet another uncomfortable session with the counselor Dr. Grey had recommended. The poor woman was probably starting to dread their sessions. God knew, she was getting a sort of rabbit in the headlights look in her eyes every time she saw Lena in the waiting room. Of course, the Polish woman couldn’t really blame her. Her problems weren’t exactly the sort of thing generally faced by small-town psychologists.

‘Hi, what’s your problem?’ she conjured the counselor’s overly chirpy voice in her head, followed by a sarcastic version of her own history. ‘I tried to commit suicide because the woman I love was raped and had a child by my former employer, whose bed I was blackmailed into sharing, and for whom I served as a corporate spy...which principally involved sleeping with whoever he told me to.’ Yes, that was definitely not the sort of thing small town counselors heard every day. Then again, this was Pine Valley, so it was possible she was wrong.

God, what a mess. After a beginning that would have done a Russian tragedy proud, her life of late had turned into the worst of soap operas. She was definitely on a downward spiral. So what was next? Sitcom hell? She really would have to finish herself off if it went that way. Better dead than Friends as far as she was concerned.

She gunned the engine on a tight curve, clutching the steering wheel tightly as she felt the rear tires grind and kick gravel as she tried to avoid imagining that same syrupy counselor’s voice explaining to her that she was falling into old, unhealthy patterns.

Gosh, d’ya think? She thought, mentally mimicking a clueless American accent that she couldn’t have done in reality if her life depended on it. Not too surprisingly, the voice in her head bore a distinct resemblance to Bianca’s.

And speaking of clueless.

"Have a few issues, do you?" she demanded sarcastically of herself.

Issues? Yes, she definitely had a few on that front. Not that she’d allowed herself to face them before. Overwhelming guilt had kept her from admitting to anything so human as resentment and frustration at being locked out and thrown away only to find herself pulled back and treated as little more than a plaything once again. For both of their sakes, she should have refused, but instead she’d acquiesced as Bianca used her, fooling herself into believing it would eventually lead to something more. In reality, that didn’t seem likely to happen if Bianca had so little respect for her that she would think she’d hurt a child. Now there was a bit of knowledge she could have done without.

The woman she loved thought she was so inhuman as to be able to harm a child.

Lena automatically downshifted into a turn, then accelerated hard at the midpoint. The car threatened to fishtail when a rear tire hit more gravel, but she held on and pulled it out, her response mechanical, her brain on everything but her driving.

The woman she loved thought she was so inhuman as to be able to harm a child. The thought just kept repeating over and over in her brain like some nonstop torture session, except a few hours on the rack or in the nearest iron maiden would have been far more pleasurable than that particular realization. Bianca actually thought she could....

She couldn’t even finish the thought this time. It was too horrifying.

Apparently Bianca wasn’t the only one with a clueless streak, although as Lena thought about it, she was inclined to think she was more delusional than clueless. She’d seen all the signs, but had chosen to ignore them in favor of believing what she wanted to believe in the face of the obvious evidence.

Not exactly a first in her life, now was it?

She revved the engine, accelerating hard enough to make the tires squall even on wet pavement. It had rained earlier in the evening, not enough to leave any deep water, but enough to leave the road glossy and a little slick in places. Lena neither noticed nor cared. She was too lost in her own thoughts to worry about such minor matters as her own survival.

She’d fooled herself where Michael was concerned too, so desperate for the money he’d dangled in front of her that she’d allowed him to him draw her steadily deeper into his machinations until she’d become something she despised. Then Bianca had found her, looked into her eyes, and somehow seen someone worth caring for. That faith and love had pulled her out of a pit of her own making, the younger woman’s gentleness and decency overcoming her cynicism and reminding her that such things still existed in the world.

How could something so good have drawn her into yet another pit, one twice as deep and five times as painful because she’d actually started to care and have hope again.

Maybe it really was true. Those whom the gods would destroy they first make mad.

And wasn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

Which meant by that standard, she probably qualified as being mad as the proverbial hatter. Oh, hell, probably by any standard.

That thought running through her brain, she nearly fishtailed on another corner, surviving mostly because her reflexes were good and there was no one else on the road at that hour. Accelerating hard, she exited the turn far faster than was even remotely prudent. Lost in her own thoughts and wondering how far and how fast she’d have to drive to escape her own past, she almost didn’t hear her cell phone. Her first thought when she heard the distinctive musical tune was that it was Bianca calling to....

What? Call her back? Make sure she stayed away? Apologize for her actions? Vent her fury at being denied? A whole range of possibilities ran through Lena’s head during the seconds it took for her to dig the phone out of her purse one-handed.

She experienced a mix of relief and disappointment on noting the number on her caller ID. Not Bianca, but Adam Chandler. Oh. Joy. He’d been calling and leaving messages for well over a week, and she’d been carefully ducking his efforts to make contact. Experience and all available information told her that whatever Adam wanted it wouldn’t be to her benefit only his own. Given that she already had quite enough of that sort of thing in her life she just wasn’t interested in getting involved. She seriously considered just shutting the phone off and continuing on her path of avoidance. Then again, he didn’t seem to be backing off and she was getting tired of his pursuit. Maybe it was time to turn and face the devil in hopes he’d go away when he didn’t get what he wanted.

She held the tiny phone to her ear and clicked it on, then cut right to the chase, "All right, Adam, what do you want?"

"That’s what I like about you, Ms. Kundera. Always straight to the point," Adam Chandler’s too-smooth, dangerously cheerful voice came back to her almost instantly, as though he’d known she’d finally answer. And maybe he had. The man had a knack for exploiting people’s weaknesses. "A woman after my own heart."

"Hardly," she drawled, her voice rife with sarcasm. Adam was a gameplayer and the last thing she needed in her life was more games. "Now I suggest you tell me what you want before I hang up. You have five seconds."

He chuckled, clearly not taking her lack of welcome to heart. "Now let’s not get impatient---" he began, but she cut him off.

"Make that four seconds." She was in no mood to be teased.

"I’m not feeling very civilized at the moment," which was the understatement of the year, "so I strongly suggest you talk fast."

Apparently he’d finally figured out she wasn’t going to be charmed that easily because he didn’t try to push the point any farther. "I have a job offer for you---"

She almost laughed. "Sorry, not interested," she cut him off before he got any farther and started to hang up.

"Hear me out," Adam said quickly. Too quickly for Lena’s comfort. She knew enough about the man to be very distrustful of his aims. He wanted Chandler Enterprises back and since that was now under Kendall’s control on Bianca and Tyler’s behalf, that put people Lena cared about---whether she wanted to or not---right in his path. "I think you might find my proposition interesting."

"All right," she said cautiously. Maybe it was best to know the enemy’s intentions.

A note of triumph leaked through as he offered a few ego strokes and praise. "Good girl. I knew we could deal with each other."

Then again, maybe not. "You should know, Adam, that calling me a girl only irritates me, while false praise truly gets on my nerves...and since I’m already on my last one, it’s not helping your case. Now what do you want?" His five seconds was down to one or two and she wanted him gone.

This time he dropped the friendly, lighthearted attitude entirely, becoming all business in a blink. "My company back."

Which was hardly unpredictable. "And I want my idealism back, but sometimes we don’t get what we want in this life."

No, he hadn’t. He’d gotten where he was by being a ruthless bastard. God, she was sick of his kind. "That would be more impressive were it not for that fact that where you presently are is not so high on the food chain---"

"Higher than you, my dear," he reminded her sharply, her refusal to fall into line pushing him into intimidation mode.

Which wasn’t likely to work either. She’d faced down men who would make even Adam Chandler run for cover. "Of course you are," she sighed, wishing he’d just go away and stop reminding her of things she already knew. "In case you haven’t heard, I’m the town pariah. Everyone’s higher on the food chain than I am."

He went back to using a voice so smooth she could almost hear his smile. "What if I offered you a chance to move up a few notches?"

"I’d wonder whose dinner plate you were fattening me up for," she replied honestly. If Adam wanted her to higher on the food chain it was only because he didn’t think she was currently tasty enough bait for whatever fish he wanted to hook.

He laughed, but there was a forced timbre to the sound. "I want my company back...but I can’t exactly do it myself---"

"Yes, I suppose having a serpent in the nest could make that challenging," she allowed. "How is your son? Doing well running Chandler Enterprises, is he?"

She smiled as she heard the tiny gasp of air that signaled his flinch. "Careful, Ms. Kundera," he warned her, savagery echoing just beneath the cultured surface. "You don’t want me for an enemy."

"Believe it or not, I don’t want anyone for an enemy," she explained a little impatiently. She was tired of being on everyone’s hit list and associating with Adam wasn’t likely to change that fact. At least not for the better. "Which is why I’m ending this call now."

"You haven’t even heard my offer," he said quickly, unwilling to let her go so easily.

"I don’t need to. It doesn’t matter what it is, I’m not interested," she responded, her exhaustion slipping through. She was so sick and tired of all lies and game playing. Even Monte Carlo was more civilized than Pine Valley, and she hated Monte Carlo. "Which is why whatever it is you have in mind, you’ll have to do it without me."

"I’m offering a great deal of money...and a hell of an opportunity to show a lot of people what you’re capable of," he offered, clearly hoping to entice her over to his side.

"That’s what I’m afraid of," she admitted, her brain racing in an effort to understand his plan. She spun it around in her head until she was pretty sure she had it all figured out, and it wasn’t pretty. "Because if you’re offering me an opportunity, my guess is it’s only so that I can play the villain until you rush in and play the hero. No, thank you. Not a role I’m interested in, no matter how much money you’re offering."

He was absolutely silent for a long moment which only confirmed her opinion. "So instead you’ll keep sneaking around, playing the role of Bianca Montgomery’s dirty little secret."

It was Lena’s turn to exhale a startled gasp. He knew. Somehow Adam knew and that did not bode well. "Whatever you think you know---" she began hotly, but he cut her off.

"Oh, I know," he quickly assured her, then some tiny measure of humanity must have asserted itself because he sighed softly and sounded almost sympathetic. "Just like I know that as long as you allow her to use you that way, that’s all you’re going to be."

The understanding in his voice did what all the cajoling and threats couldn’t, getting past her caustic shields. "I work for Kendall," she reminded him.

"Right, shepherding the Cambias fortune...paid a quarter of what you’re worth by people too immature and uneducated to truly appreciate what you’re capable of. They’ve completely underestimated and undervalued you." He wasn’t playing to her ego any more, at least not in an obnoxiously flowery way, just telling the honest truth.

Lena swallowed hard, not wanting to admit he was right. She’d taken the job out of gratitude to Kendall, and kept it because it was the only way she could protect Bianca and her child, but she got little or no credit for the work she was doing---it was all about making Kendall and Ryan look good to the press---and the pay, while better than what she’d gotten of late, was far below what she should have been earning.

Which was true. The corporate great whites had scented blood on the water and been looking for a chance to take a bite out of the Cambias fortune for months. She’d kept them at bay in ways the others couldn’t even begin to imagine. Without her efforts, it would have all been gone very quickly, probably with little to show for it. She kept driving, focusing on the road, not wanting to hear his insinuating voice, but unable to summon The strength turn the phone off.

"And they repay you how? By treating you like garbage," he added quietly, understanding her too well. Like her, he came from poverty and had faced a world where he’d been considering nothing. He knew just what buttons to push.

"True enough," she admitted, his softly spoken words acting like an acid dipped knife twisting in her guts because they stabbed at her worst fears. That she really was nothing. "But if I do what you want I become everything anyone’s ever accused me of being." She had precious little self-respect left, but she had enough to see that. She’d been Michael’s tool, and then Bianca’s. She was damned if she was going to become Adam Chandler’s. "Sorry, I’m just not interested in that. Now don’t call me again."

Adam was silent for a long moment before he responded. "Fair enough." He didn’t try to argue this time, apparently accepting that she wouldn’t be falling into line with whatever plans he had for her. "But if you change your mind, call me...anytime of the day or night."

"If I change my mind," Lena murmured, then hung up without further goodbye. She’d had enough of Adam Chandler reminding her of things she’d have preferred not to think about. She was about to toss the phone aside when it rang again. She noted the number. Kendall this time. More and more fun. God, why couldn’t a person get an out of area signal when it would do some good?

Lena clicked the phone on. "Lena Kundera," she answered before the caller could speak.

"Lena, it’s Kendall," Bianca’s half sister said without preamble.

Lena didn’t let on that she’d already seen the caller ID. "Kendall, how can I help you?" Her tone was cool and formal, purposely not letting on anything was wrong. If Kendall wasn’t aware of the situation between herself and Bianca, Lena had no intention of letting it slip.

Since she didn’t have a subtle bone in her body, Kendall didn’t try to sugarcoat things, just jumped straight in with both feet. "I just spoke to Bianca."

"I see," Lena said cautiously, still playing her cards close to the vest. Given Kendall’s tone, it wasn’t good news, but perhaps it wasn’t the worst either since she had a hard time imagining that Bianca had told anyone, even her sister about what had transpired between them. God only knew what Kendall might know, or think she knew, but Lena doubted it was the truth. There were both advantages and disadvantages to Kendall’s being aware of her affair with Bianca. Instinct told her she was about to discover the another of the disadvantages.

"I’ve become a liability," Lena said dryly, wondering at the timing that had her turning Adam down only moments before Kendall’s call. Some days god had a very strange sense of humor. Which was why she should have known this would happen. Bianca must have called Kendall quickly indeed. No question who the villain of the piece was. She shook her head disgustedly. Once again she was showing loyalty to people wholly uninterested in returning the favor. How much more foolish could she get?

"As far as business is concerned, of course not," Kendall disagreed, sounding frustrated and guilty. "Frankly, without your help, things would have been a disaster...but on the personal front...well, I just don’t see how---"

"I’ll save you the effort of firing me and messenger my resignation to you in the morning." If Bianca wanted her gone, well, she wasn’t going to fight it any longer. Months of resisting her banishment had only made things worse and delayed the inevitable. Time to accept her fate and get out.

Kendall had the good graces to be ashamed of what she was doing. "I’ll make sure you get a hell of a severance package---"

As if money would fix anything. Lena had at least learned what a lie that promise was. "Keep your money, Kendall. I don’t want it." Things would be tight for a while, but she’d enough set cash aside to see to her mother’s needs for several months. Poverty didn’t frighten her and she could always wait tables or tend bar until she got something better. God knew, she’d done it plenty of times before.

"Don’t apologize," Lena snapped impatiently. "You don’t do guilt well...and I’m not really in the mood." She was getting very tired about being so damned nice about everything.

Lena shut the phone off while Kendall was still trying to talk her into accepting the payoff. Maybe she was being foolish for refusing the money, but she just couldn’t stomach the idea, not when the mere idea made her feel like all of the things she’d been called since coming to Pine Valley. She took another sharp turn, avoiding a skid without even thinking about it, only distantly noting that it had started raining again sometime during the last few minutes.

She could probably pack in an hour, and it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to write Kendall a letter of resignation. She supposed if she was honorable she’d stay around long enough to make certain her replacement was brought up to speed on business matters given that Kendall, Ryan, and Bianca were all hopelessly ignorant about the corporations for which they’d become responsible. Lucky for her, rumor had it that honor wasn’t something she was overly cursed with. Unluckily for them, she wasn’t feeling so charitable as to shepherd in her replacement to save that bunch. No, this time they were on their own. Everything she owned fit in two suitcases and if she did everything right, come lunchtime tomorrow, she could be halfway to....

Where?

She was debating between Munich and Nice when a shadow flittered at the very edge of her peripheral vision, then abruptly leapt straight into her car’s path. Lena registered a dark sleek body and night-glitter eyes---a deer, smallish and panicked by the oncoming lights---even as she whipped the wheel hard and slammed on the brakes.

Unfortunately, enough rain had come down in just a few minutes and she was going fast enough that her car was already hydro-planing which meant the brakes grabbed, but the tires didn’t. The skid that followed was perversely silent, her tires sliding over the highway as though greased in a blinding spray of rainwater. With no time to consider her actions, she turned into the skid in an effort to get things under control, only to realize too late that it put her too close to the steeply banked edge of the highway. She began to realize her mistake when the passenger side rear tire dropped off the tarmac, spinning uselessly in deep mud and battering itself against the edge of the road. It blew and in an instant was dragging her car sideways over the edge. At 80 miles an hour she was suddenly completely out of control.

No more than a half a second and the front wheel dropped off the edge of the tarmac, tipping her car violently to one side. A single heartbeat passed while she fought to try and regain control, but it was hopeless. The embankment was too steep and slick with mud. Another heartbeat and then all hell broke loose as momentum sent her skidding sideways down the sheer dropoff. Then the strange silence gave way to an overwhelming din as her car, still moving far too fast, hit a sharp ledge and was briefly airborne. Hurled against the restraint of her seatbelt with brutal force, Lena barely felt the pain amid the sensory overload of the world spinning by as her car went into an uncontrolled tumble. It hit on the passenger’s side first, crumpling plastic and steel, then rolled onto the roof, collapsing it to the built-in roll bars before momentum carried it on around. Still careening forward, it bounced and rolled again to hit on the driver’s side, crunching the door inward with enough force to snap bone where Lena’s left forearm was trapped between the panel and the steering wheel. Pinned, there was nothing she could do as her car kept rolling, the wheels briefly touching the ground before momentum carried it on over up where it landed on the passenger side at the bottom of the embankment in a narrow streambed. Skidding in a flare of sparks, it burned out the last of its energy tearing through the rocky streambed before finally coming to a halt still lying on the passenger’s side.

Hanging in her seatbelt, her left arm still pinned between the steering wheel and crushed door, Lena was barely aware of her surroundings for several minutes. Her chest and shoulders were in agony from the way she’d been thrown around and her head had hit the steering wheel sometime during the wild ride, opening a cut at the hairline and spraying blood all over the interior of the windshield in a fine spatter. Her headlights were still burning and they shone on the surrounding landscape through crimson droplets of blood and a spiderweb of shattered safety glass. Lena blinked, struggling to focus without success. The red wasn’t just on the glass she realized after a long moment. She was staring out through a haze of crimson and it took her a beat to process the fact that she was bleeding heavily, red streamers running over her face, into her hair, and falling away to gather on the passenger’s side window below her. In an effort to clear her vision, she tried to wipe it away with her free hand, but it only smeared and got worse until she gave up.

Staring at her other arm, Lena noted the way it was clamped in place between the steering wheel and the collapsed door panel. A weak attempt to move her fingers sent a sharp bolt of pain up her arm, confirming it was probably broken and also that she still had feeling in the nerve endings. Good news, bad news, she supposed. On the other hand, if she could just work it free and climb down, it looked like the front windshield would be easy enough to kick out. She could at least make her way to the road then, and hope to be found reasonably soon. Unfortunately, her efforts to free her arm jarred shattered bone and had her close to screaming, the pain was so intense.

Her arm didn’t move an inch.

She reached for the seatbelt catch, thinking that maybe if she freed it, she’d fall, her weight enough to pull her arm free. Bent sometime during the crash, the catch didn’t release, and she had no way of cutting the belt itself. She was trapped.

This was bad. She wasn’t going anywhere without help.

A soft, ironic burst of laughter escaped full lips as it occurred to Lena that she was probably going to get her wish. Death by speeding. Only it wasn’t a nice, neat, quick death. Instead, it was apparently going to be a very slow and painful one. Not exactly what she’d been hoping for.

She looked down, saw a few more fat droplets of blood spatter onto the expanding pool directly below her, the color almost black in the thin light reflected from her headlights. The sound of rain playing on steel and glass echoed inside the small vehicle as she watched another drop of her blood join the growing puddle. And then another, and another. There was something almost hypnotic about it all, lulling her and seducing her into simply accepting her fate. It was what she’d wanted after all. Okay, so not exactly, but maybe it was for the best this way.

No! She couldn’t give up that easily. She tried again to work her arm free, but succeeded only in making herself even more lightheaded from the pain. That wasn’t going to work, so she shifted tactics, scrambling desperately in a one-handed effort to find her cell phone. Only it was nowhere within reach and the attempt sapped even more of her limited strength.

Her body growing more lethargic with every passing moment, Lena watched a few more blood droplets hit the black pool below her. Shouldn’t the bleeding be slowing? No, maybe not. Head wounds were infamous for bleeding heavily now that she thought about it.

And hers seemed to be getting even worse. The flow of droplets turning to a slow stream, and then a faster one.

Maybe it was the position hanging nearly upside down that was doing it. Or maybe it was just her usual piss-poor luck.

The darkness didn’t come swiftly, didn’t wash over her in a sudden wave. It snuck in on little cat feet, swallowing her slowly, numbing her body a piece at a time, muting her struggles, stripping away any hope of escaping, and finally sapping her will to survive before she finally gave way and knew no more.

* * * * * *

Faintly bored with the monotonous view visible within the glow of his headlights---with only an hour before sunrise nothing was moving---David Hayward glanced over at the delicate figure in his passenger seat, noting her perfect posture. Not a hair of her silhouette was out of place and he knew perfectly well that would be equally true if he turned on the dome light. Flicking quick glances her way he once again amazed at Erica Kane’s ability to look totally unruffled after a night of...well...things that left most people decidedly ruffled. But no, not Erica. Erica didn’t do guilt and apparently regret was off the table as well as any number of other emotions that might have involved Erica feeling Erica might have made some kind of mistake or misjudgment. Erica didn’t do those either.

Of course, if he was honest, he was no better since he wasn’t exactly overly cursed with guilt either. A hint of a smile touched his mouth. In fact, there was a certain grim pleasure to the whole situation, though he strongly suspected that came almost as much from putting one over on Jackson Montgomery as the more obvious benefits. He really just didn’t like the self-righteous prig. It was that simple. Okay, so the guy had helped keep his backside out of prison in connection with the whole Cambias mess, but David was under no illusions that Jackson had done it for his sake since Erica would have been in the cell right next to him had the DA pursued assorted perjury and tampering with evidence charges. And god knew, Jack didn’t want that. When it came to Erica, he was even more whipped than the rest of her entourage.

Which was why he wasn’t feeling overly guilty for cuckolding the other man. Ah hell, who was he kidding? He wasn’t feeling guilty at all. If anything he was enjoying the way his unplanned tryst with Erica had come out. After all, husband or no, it wasn’t Jackson Erica had turned to when it all got to be too painful. Despite all of Pine Valley’s insults regarding his trustworthiness, he was the one that Erica had turned to and trusted would simply listen to her fears regarding her feelings about her grandson and not stand in judgment.

No question about it. He was definitely enjoying this a little too much.

David risked another quick glance at Erica, some of his triumph deflating as he noted that her head was down now, her posture decidedly...odd.

Maybe he was wrong and Erica did do a few doubts because she almost looked upset. With no traffic on the road, he probably watched her longer than was prudent, but—

"DAVID!!" Erica’s head came up and her scream echoed through his car at the same instant.

David slammed on the brakes even as he looked up and saw the dull gleam of headlights ahead and to the right.

Too close. No way to stop in time.

He fully expected to hear and feel a solid crash as his brakes locked and his tires left a long set of skid marks in damp tarmac before the car came to a halt. Blink. He glanced sideways, spotting the lights he’d fully expected to run into and took a moment to process what he was looking at.

The roof of a car that was apparently lying on its side in the ditch next to the road. As he stared, he saw that every surface he could see was dented and scraped and it looked like the front windshield was broken. By the look of it, it had rolled all the way around on the way to landing where it was. The lights were still burning, but only faintly. Signs of a dying battery. The accident had obviously happened within the previous couple of hours. He uttered a profanity that was short and to the point, then eased his car over to the side of the road and flicked on the emergency lights to warn any oncoming traffic.

"Dear Lord," Erica whispered and he realized she was staring at the upended vehicle with a faintly horrified expression. "Do you think...." she didn’t finish her question, apparently too horrified by the concept.

"The lights wouldn’t still be on if the police or fire department had been here," David offered an oblique answer to the unfinished question. It was possible that someone had climbed out and gotten help, but in looking at the volume of damage, it didn’t seem likely. Still staring at the wrecked car, he reached across Erica, popped open the glovebox, and retrieved a mini-maglite he kept there. "Stay here," he ordered and climbed out into the crisp night air. If it was as bad as he half expected, the last thing he needed was Erica getting a look and fainting on him.

The highway had mostly dried after the recent rains, but the embankment was still treacherously slick, and it took considerable care to reach the vehicle without falling. As he reached the bottom of the rise, David reached out, his hand resting on cold steel near the trunk, steadying himself as he reached the bottom of the streambed, only to change his mind when metal creaked and groaned as though even that slight pressure might disturb the precarious balance. He yanked his hand back, expecting to have to leap to avoid a toppling car, but after a few creaks and groans it stabilized and remained where it was.

Lovely. A little bit of luck. Maybe it would hold and he’d find the interior empty, the inhabitants already having escaped uninjured and found transport to the nearest hospital.

David flashed a light over the vehicle. The beam from the mini-mag was narrow but bright, revealing more of the brutal damage to the small sportscar as he moved around to the front. The front windshield was definitely shattered, though the safety glass was still in one piece, and he was sure he could see flakes of brownish red in his flashlight beam. The exact color of dried blood. He couldn’t see anything else though, and there was some part of him still hoping for a little more luck, that there would be nothing to see when he was in position to peer in through the windshield.

His luck ran out.

David froze for just a moment, staring in horror at what he could see of the shadowy figure still trapped in the upended driver’s seat. They were just hanging there. No sign of movement. He heard Erica call his name from the top of the embankment, but ignored her in favor of running the fingers of one hand along the rim of the glass. Easily finding a spot where it had popped out of the frame, he slipped his fingers under the rubber bumpered edge and peeled it back like a shattered shell away from a hard boiled egg.

A woman, one arm dangling, the other trapped so firmly it was keeping her from slipping free of the seatbelt, her face streaked with dark blood. He started forward, easing only foot inside the cab of the vehicle as he moved forward, only to grab for the carframe as his shoe slipped in something dangerously slick. David flicked the flashlight beam down. His heel had landed on the passenger side window and he paled as he realized it wasn’t water or mud that had nearly sent him skidding, but blood. A lot of it.

His gaze rose again, instinctively following the logical path that had created the darkening pool as he flashed his light over features that were nearly obscured by a congealed layer of blood. Frowning as he started to recognize bone structure that could only be described as elegant, he reached out, tracing a smooth cheekbone with light fingers. "Oh, god." Suddenly David was moving quickly. Leaning into the car, the flashlight stuffed in his back pocket in order to free both hands, he cupped her head, steadying it incredibly gently as he pressed the fingers of his other hand against her carotid artery. The flesh under his own was ice cold. Too cold.

"David?"

Focused on the injured woman, he only distantly registered Erica’s voice. Unable to find a pulse, he pressed harder, then shifted his fingers fractionally. Still nothing. "Oh no," David hissed. "Don’t you do this to her." He moved his fingers again, hunting desperately for some sign of life no matter how small.

And finally he found it. Just the barest thread of rhythmic pressure under his fingers, so faint he nearly missed it. Anyone other than a surgeon sensitive to the slightest shifts in texture and pressure probably wouldn’t have noticed. She was still alive, but only just. He leaned out of the car. "Erica, call 911, now!"

"David, what---"

"It’s Lena Kundera! She’s still alive, but I don’t know how long she’s got." She’d lost a lot of blood and was deep in shock. God only knew how long she’d been hanging there like that. Long enough to nearly exsanguinate, but not so long that the blood she’d lost had fully congealed. "Then get into my back seat," he added. "My medical bag’s back there. Bring it!"

"David---"

"MOVE!" he shouted impatiently, his attention focused on the unconscious woman as he slid his hands over her body in an effort to assess her condition. The one arm was pinned and undoubtedly badly broken, but he couldn’t find any other serious injuries other than a nasty laceration at the hairline that was probably responsible for the heavy blood loss. Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Given the severity of the accident and how hard she’d doubtless been thrown around, internal injuries and/or spinal damage were a definite possibility even if he couldn’t feel or see any sign of them. The rescue crew was probably going to need the jaws of life to get her free and she’d have to be backboarded out. Blood transfusions were also going to be a must.

"Right, it’s roughly a mile past the turn to Mill Street, on Lancashire Road," Erica explained to the 911 dispatcher as she carefully climbed down the steep incline, David’s medical bag in her other hand. Her shoes weren’t exactly made for climbing, but somehow she managed to avoid slipping. Maybe it was the fact that she was used to maintaining her balance while perched on heels far too high. "And hurry." She still wasn’t sure she’d heard David right, was in fact praying that she hadn’t. Despite everything she’d done for Michael, Erica wished Lena no ill. She couldn’t forget that the Polish woman had loved Bianca enough to try and kill Michael in order to protect her. Nor could she forget that she’d been honest enough to take Kendall’s place on the chopping block when she could have gotten away scot free. It might not have earned her a place in Erica’s heart, but it had earned her a measure of respect. "It looks bad."

"Are they still on the line?" David demanded as she drew close.

"Yes," she answered him, then took a moment to explain that a doctor was with the victim.

He stepped away from the car and reached out a hand, taking the phone from her.

Erica tracked the conversation with one ear as he explained the situation to the dispatcher, letting them know what to expect and making sure the right equipment was on the way, but her attention was on the car, the name David had called up still ringing in her ears, some part of her praying he’d been wrong. She stepped around him, leaning into the cab, her eyes going wide as they touched on Lena Kundera. Without a light shining on her face, the blood wasn’t so obvious, just that very distinct bone structure and silhouette. "Lena?" She reached out, her touch gentle as she brushed blood stiff hair back from the younger woman’s brow. She was caught by surprise by the way Lena’s body shuddered and a soft moan escaped her lips. As Erica watched, a flutter of thick lashes revealed the faint glitter of dark eyes.

Lena groaned again, the sound pained and frightened. "Papa?" she whispered almost inaudibly, showing no signs of recognition.

Given that Lena’s father was long dead, Erica couldn’t believe that boded well. She leaned closer, just barely stroking a high cheekbone in hopes of offering some slight comfort. "No...Lena, it’s Erica Kane. I’m here with David Hayward. You’re going to be all right." She glanced over her shoulder as she heard David tell the dispatcher that the victim didn’t have much time. "You just need to hang on."

Lena mumbled something, the words unknown to Erica, though she recognized the fear and confusion that underlaid them.

"Shhh," the older woman soothed, something lost and afraid in the other woman’s tone scaring her to the core. "You’re going to get out of this," she said firmly. "Do you hear me? You’re going to be fine, but you have to hang on." She was still offering the mindless comfort when Lena groaned sharply, her eyes rolling back in her head, body spasming with brief pulses of rigid tension. "David!" she shouted as she leapt back out of his way.

Hanging up, he lunged past Erica, hands going to his patient. "She’s seizing," he snarled as Lena’s head slammed into the backrest with enough force to make the perilously balanced sportscar shudder. He got his watch off and pressed the leather band between her teeth during a brief letup of pressure to try and keep her from injuring herself, watching helplessly as another spasm jarred and shook her slender frame. The convulsions seemed to go on forever while he did his best to cushion the worst of it. In reality only a few seconds passed and then finally the storm passed and she went hauntingly limp. When he was certain it was over, David pulled back and reached for his medical bag and grabbed the stethoscope out of the top.

"David," Erica broke in, breathless and frightened, "why did she---"

He shook his head, already sliding the chestpiece under Lena’s blouse and shifting it from point to point as he listened to the unsteady flutter of her heartbeat. "Could be almost anything. The head injury, shock, internal injuries..." With so little information and so many possibilities he had no way of knowing what had caused the seizures, only that they threatened to rapidly worsen an already drastic situation. "...what has me worried is if she seizes again...." Her heartbeat was irregular. Listening to it, he could envision the EKG that would accompany the soft, almost random beats, and it wasn’t good.

David glanced around himself, noting their surroundings. It would be at least 15 minutes before the rescue crew could even get there and probably an hour before they could get her into a hospital emergency room. He was far from certain she had an hour, particularly if she suffered from another round of convulsions. The bleeding had stopped, but her heart was already struggling in its effort to pump what little blood she still had left. And then there was the shock. That wasn’t helping either.

He made his decision in a moment.

If he was right, and her injuries weren’t that severe, once in a hospital they could quickly get her stabilized and pull her back from the edge, but she had to survive long enough to receive care. Something that didn’t look terribly likely at that moment.

Crouching down, he quickly dug through his medical bag until he found what he wanted, a small bottle marked with a code only he understood. He’d doubted his own sanity in not destroying the sample, given that it could have been used as evidence if Maria or Anna had ever really pressed the issue. He had the various formulas locked away safely, but those weren’t the same thing, and were so coded that anyone but him would have been years figuring out his method for recording the process.

Yes, he definitely should have destroyed this version along with all the others but he’d never quite been able to do so because that the earlier versions had saved both Maria and Dixie. And though he hadn’t had cause or the ability to test it yet, but he had every reason to believe he’d ironed out the worst of the design flaws while retaining its more valuable abilities.

Oh, it couldn’t replace lost blood, repair a damaged spine, or even stop her from bleeding to death if there were severe internal injuries. But it could stabilize her heart, help fend off brain damage from lack of oxygen due to blood loss, and jumpstart the healing process.

In short, it wasn’t that he thought it would give her a good chance, but that he thought it might give her her only chance.

David filled a hypo, guessing at the dosage, then rapped it lightly to make sure there were no bubbles. This would have to go straight to the vein. Hearing a soft, hurt-animal whimper, he looked up and saw Erica trying to comfort the injured woman who had regained some small measure of consciousness, but appeared to be totally unaware of her surroundings beyond the pain no doubt wracking her body. Straightening, he stepped past Erica, gently pushing her out of the way.

"What are you doing?" Erica questioned.

"Nothing," he responded as he caught Lena’s dangling arm and rolled her sleeve back. He looked over at Erica. "You didn’t see this and I didn’t do it." Holding her arm carefully in place he rapped her inner elbow lightly to bring up the vein, a little worried it might be a problem after as much blood as she’d lost.

"David?"

He glanced over again. "I have no legal right to do what I’m about to do, but she doesn’t have a chance if I don’t." Even in the faint light, he could see the way Erica lost all color.

"You can’t let her die, David. It would destroy Bianca." Even though they weren’t a couple any longer, she’d seen the longing in her daughter’s eyes whenever the Polish woman’s name came up and was under no illusions that Bianca no longer felt anything for Lena. Michael’s attack had hurt her and left her unable to deal with that kind of intimacy for the moment, but despite her discomfort, it was obvious there were still deep feelings there. It might make Erica uncomfortable and she didn’t understand it, but she knew what it would do to her daughter for the other woman to die this way. It was another blow she simply did not need.

"No promises," David answered honestly as he slid the needle into the vein and depressed the plunger. He was just hoping to buy enough time.

Lena whimpered softly, the sound small and frightened and Erica stepped past David, once again offering some measure of comfort, her fingers gentle as she petted dark hair very lightly, every pass dislodging fresh flakes of dried blood.

"Just hang on," Erica soothed. "You’re going to be all right." She glanced over her shoulder, praying she wasn’t lying as she got a look at David’s expression. She leaned closer to the injured woman, still stroking her hair lightly an added note of desperation in her voice as she whispered, "You’ve got to keep fighting...and not let go. I know you can do that. You’ve fought so many things in your life. You just need to fight one more battle."

Stepping around Erica, David leaned past the tiny woman, squeezing into the narrow space in order to use his stethoscope to check Lena’s heart again. As he listened the sound grew a little steadier. It wasn’t great, but better, and realistically, better was the best they could hope for.

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, him listening, Erica offering what little comfort she could, Lena limp and unmoving except for the occasional soft moan, but finally he heard the soft sound of sirens in the distance. Erica tensed and he glanced at her. Even in the faint light David could see her fear. If her name was mentioned in any reports, Jackson might well find out about it and then he’d know she hadn’t been safely tucked away in her penthouse while he was out of town.

He might not like Jackson, but he wasn’t ready to put Erica in that position if he could avoid it. "Erica, go back and get in my car. Stay down...and with luck the rescue team won’t know you’re here," he instructed quietly.

Startled, she initially shook her head. "David I---"

"There’s nothing more you can do here," he pointed out logically. "And it should keep anyone from finding out."

Erica swallowed hard, visibly debating. The sirens were getting closer, leaving her very little time to make up her mind.

"Just go," he ordered her. "I’ll be there as soon as possible."

Finally, Erica nodded, brushing Lena’s hair one last time. "Just hang on," she encouraged and pulled away, climbing back up the way she’d come. She slid into David’s car and dove into the backseat only moments before the flashing lights of a paramedic vehicle rounded a turn and bright headlights shone on the highway.

Ducking down, Erica silently watched the rescue crew work, saw them wave David back, then heard t