She does phone Andy. Her sister is at first alarmed when she hears her voice, and then, elated when Claire has to ask her to help with an airline ticket home. In fact, she is ready to come and fetch Claire herself, and the doctor has to refuse four times before she capitulates sulkily.

Next, Claire considers whether she should phone the police to report that she is not a hostage anymore. She does not want to get Ryan into any trouble, but she is not sure what the consequences could be. She is also not sure of the jurisdiction of the situation, and so, after a moment's deliberation, she phones doctor Tilley-Clapham at the Fairwater Institute. His secretary puts her through and when he answers his tone is short.

"Tilley-Clapham here."

"Doctor Tilley-Clapham, this is doctor Claire Walsch."

There is a definite stunned silence at the other end before he speaks again. "Doctor Walsch! Are you all right?"

The concern is polite and cursory at best. "I'm fine, thank you. Captain Ryan … discarded me early this morning in Harlowton."

"Oh. Good. That's good to know. Can Fairwater arrange a flight back here for you?"

"No, thank you. My sister has already arranged something for me. I would, however, appreciate it if you could have my handbag and coat sent to my house."

"Not a problem." He is hearty, and it is fake. "Do you have any idea where Ryan may have gone?"

"No." Her reply is curt.

"Well, all right. It is good to hear that you're safe, and if Fairwater can do anything at all to make up for the inconvenience of what has happened we will gladly do so. Of course our security department will have to get into contact with you regarding Captain Ryan sooner rather than later."

"That's fine. You have my contact details." How like him to describe it as an 'inconvenience'. "Actually, there's one thing you can do, doctor. Can you arrange for a vehicle to take me to the airport in Helena?"

"Sure thing." He takes down her details, also jotting down the description of the SUV at her insistence, and then rings off with another hearty insincerity.

------ When the taxi stops in front of the hospital she says a heartfelt thank you and goodbye to nurse Danni Delaney and Doctor Jensen, whose cover girl looks are by now slightly toned down by the lines of exhaustion creeping in on her face. The drive to Helena is without incident - the driver is a quiet thoughtful man who has no need for conversation, a fact she registers with gratitude - and she picks up her ticket from Horizon Air, boarding immediately.

It does not escape Claire's notice that, wherever she goes, she is looking out anxiously for a shaved head and a lean graceful body, and when she is finally sitting in her aisle seat she is glad to close her eyes for a while and try to block out the myriad of thoughts rushing senselessly through her head. The air hostess hovers, concerned about her tired manner and obvious exhaustion, offering her extra cups of coffee which she accepts without protestation.

By the time the airplane lands in Seattle her almost-empty stomach is nervous and unsettled from the overdose of caffeine. She stands at the carousel for a full minute before realizing that she has no luggage, and when she steps out of the arrival area it is another long moment before she comprehends that the mirror image approaching her is not, in fact, a mirror. Andy opens her arms and wraps them around Claire, pulling her closer firmly.

"Jesus, Claire, I'm so happy to see you." She twists her head to plant an earnest kiss on her sister's cheek. "I was so worried. Are you all right?" Holding onto Claire's hands she steps back and looks her up and down. "You look worn out."

"Yeah, it's been quite a ride." The blonde shoots a skew fond glance at her sister. "Didn't I tell you not to come?"

"I think so. I wasn't listening." Andy places her warm palm on Claire's cheek fondly. "I wouldn't let you get home all alone, C. I've been worried sick. By the way, " she raises her eyebrows dryly, "I figured you wouldn't let mom and dad know yet, so I've called them. They've been frantic, sis - they send their love."

"I would've called them. Later." Claire grudgingly smiles when Andy rolls her eyes. "Yeah yeah. Thanks for doing that."

"Not a problem." Andy pulls her closer and wraps an arm around her waist, beginning to lead her to the central terminal. Her hand pats at Claire's waist experimentally. "Have you lost weight, C?" When Claire shrugs she rubs her side. "You haven't got the weight to lose, sis. I'll have to fatten you up while I'm here."

"How long are you staying for, And?"

"For however much time you need me. As long as it's not more than two weeks." Andy smiles, and Claire does too, and a man passing in the opposite direction almost falls over a chair as he looks back at them. They are on their way out towards the parking garage when two men in Navy service dress blues appear from a side door and approach them with intent.

"Hmm. Sexy." Andy nudges Claire, but the doctor simply watches them without comment. They stop in front of the sisters; one man so tall that they have to lean their heads back to look up at him, the other average height and pleasantly handsome.

"Doctor Claire Walsch?" It amuses Claire that the two men look between her and her sister as they say this, obviously unsure of the sudden duality of their quarry. She stubbornly considers the option of staying quiet and letting them figure it out for themselves before exhaustion kicks in and quells her sense of humor.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

They both fix their eyes on her. The taller one speaks. "We need to speak with you regarding the recent incident involving Leah Ryan."

Andy steps closer to her protectively, and she reaches out a hand to pat her sister's arm in reassurance. "That would be fine, officer. Lead the way."

The shorter man flashes a smooth smile at Andy. "We would like to speak with Miss Walsch alone, ma'am, if you wouldn't mind."

"It's doctor Walsch, and yes, I do mind. My sister's not going anywhere without me."

The two officers glance at Claire, but she stares at them reservedly until the taller man capitulates with grace. "All right. Please step this way." They lead the two women through a side door and into a corridor with a maze of doors. Opening one reveals a small conference room. Civilly the men pull out chairs and seat the sisters before they take places on opposite sides of the table.

"My name is Captain Justin Leary, and this is my colleague, Captain Francis Mitchell." It is the shorter man who is speaking. "We are here to speak to you on behalf of General George Turner, who is dealing with the Ryan situation."

At the mention of the name Claire is surprised that she manages to keep the flicker of recognition from her face. "What can I help you with, captain Leary?"

"We would like to ask you a few questions regarding your experience with miss Ryan."

"Captain Ryan." She ignores his slight twitch at her correction. "Go ahead, captain."

The taller man interjects smoothly at this point. "Would you mind if we taped this conversation?" He slides a small Dictaphone out of his pocket and places it in the centre of the table, raising his eyes at her enquiringly. When she shakes her head in the negative he presses the record button and states all of their names as well as the date, time and location, before he nods to captain Leary to continue. The shorter man smiles a handsome smile at her.

"Doctor Walsch, please state for the record that you have given your consent for this conversation to be recorded."

"I have."

"Can you tell us on which day you were abducted from the Fairwater institute by Captain Leah Ryan?"

"It was the… " she pauses for a moment, "excuse me. I'm a little tired. It was the morning of the 13th of June. 2005."

"Can you please give us an indication of the subsequent events?"

Claire runs them through the happenings as factually as she can, her voice even and calm and her manner detached. Even while she is pondering the wisdom of her actions she omits the fact that she knows about DEX, choosing instead to say that she was excluded from certain conversations such as the one at Vice-admiral Victor Banks' house. When she reaches the section about the White Springs Hotel and the shooting she instinctively minimizes her part in the escape. The two men listen without comment until she is finished, and then captain Mitchell speaks.

"Why didn't you escape at the hotel, doctor Walsch? You must have had ample opportunity?"

"I was being shot at by your men, captain." She shoots him a fixed and forceful glance. "Come to think of it… why was I being shot at, Captain? Was my safety not a priority?"

"Of course it was. Our soldiers are highly trained. If they were in fact shooting in your direction they would have taken precautions not to hit you."

"They were in fact shooting in my direction, captain. I've just told you that. And how exactly does one take precautions not to hit the hostage in the dark?"

"They didn't hit you."

"Captain Ryan showed more concern for my welfare than your men did, Captain Mitchell." She is clasping Andy's hand so tightly that her sister has to tap hers lightly before she loosens her grip sheepishly. "Be that as it may. Any other questions?"

"Why did you not abandon Captain Ryan at the hospital, doctor Walsch?"

"Because at that point in time Captain Ryan presented no threat to me any longer and I was concerned about her welfare."

Captain Leary sits forward. "Why?"

"Why not?" She looks at him quizzically. "She had been injured, captain. It took nothing from me to show concern."

"Fine." Captain Mitchell knits his big fingers together in apparent frustration. "Did Captain Ryan at any point discuss any matters of national security with you?"

"She'd been locked up for eight or nine years, captain Mitchell." Claire allows a measure of amusement to creep onto her face. "How much exactly did she know?"

"Just a yes or no will do, doctor."

"No. Unless you consider throwing up a matter of national security."

The tall man ignores her quip. "Do you know where she went, doctor Walsch?"

"No." When both Captain Mitchell and Captain Leary watch her unblinkingly she shrugs her shoulders, suddenly irritable. "What? Do you want to see the map she left me with her current location circled in red?"

Captain Justin Leary raises his eyebrows stoically. "Doctor Walsch, there is no need to be sarcastic."

"Excuse me." Andy slips into the conversation gracefully. "Captain Leary, my sister has been through an awful ordeal, which, may I remind you, was brought on due to the laxness of security on the part of, amongst others, your institution. She is tired and needs some rest, and quite honestly you are treating her as if she is the criminal here. If you have any further pressing questions to ask I suggest that you ask them now, so that I may take her home." Standing up she puts a hand on Claire's shoulder. "And may I suggest that you work some sort of apology into it?"

An inscrutable look passes between Captains Leary and Mitchell before Justin Leary stands up, his face expressionless. "Doctor Walsch, I would like to apologize on behalf of General George Turner and the US Army for the trial you have been through. We will do everything in our power to have the perpetrator brought to justice and the situation rectified."

Claire nods. "Is that all?"

Francis Mitchell rises too. Standing up Claire leans back against Andy momentarily. "Thank you, gentlemen. And goodbye."

They are led towards the central terminal and can almost feel the men's eyes on them as they make their way to the National Rentals counter. Leaning on the hardboard surface Claire bumps Andy lightly with her hip. "Thanks, And. I don't know why you didn't become a lawyer."

"It would have been an unfavorable idea for someone who wants to work with dead things." Andy passes over her credit card and scribbled her elaborate signature at the bottom of the form the smiling attendant passes her before she turns abruptly and pulls Claire in for another tight hug. When she speaks Claire can hear the tears in her voice. "I'm so glad you're okay, Claire. I'm just so glad."

Claire stays in the comforting embrace until Andy sniffs once and steps back, taking the car keys from the counter nonchalantly. Her eyes don't meet Claire's. "Let's go."

In the parking garage they find the National sign and get into the green Chevrolet Aveo waiting for them. Andy is an assertive driver, and she steers them safely through Seattle on the I-5 Express Lane, veering off towards the left just before Lake Union. Maintaining a one-sided conversation she occasionally glances towards Claire, who is sitting quietly staring out of the window, and when she touches her sister's leg once tentatively the blonde glances back with distant eyes.

They stop in front of the pretty brownstone building on 31st Avenue West and inside Claire knocks on the caretaker's door. After intensive questioning of her health and mental state he unlocks her door and gives the extra keys to her for safekeeping until hers are returned to her.

It is a surreal experience for her to be standing on her own doorstep, looking in at the small dining room and kitchen as if she hasn't seen them in years, when it's only been a week and her life has been irrevocably changed. Waving Andy forward into the spare room she makes coffee and doesn't realize that she is crying until her sister's arms wrap around her from behind and Andy's small frame is pressed against hers solidly. Claire stands quietly and lets the tears run down her cheeks unhindered, and when control returns she inhales tentatively a few times before giving Andy's arms a loving pat and stepping out of them. Her sister's eyes are concerned as she takes her cup of coffee from Claire.

"C? Let's talk about it?"

It is with a sense of amazement that Claire realizes exactly how long ago Andy last saw her cry. After that night she has never opened herself to anybody, including her sister, and this makes Andy even more worried about Claire's state. Smiling a small but genuine smile Claire picks up her cup and nods.

"I'd like that."

They move into the living room with its gorgeous view of the park, and Claire sinks down into one of the brown distressed leather sofas and pulls her legs in under her, sipping from her cup inattentively. There is a moment of silence before she suddenly notes Andy's blue eyes on her, and the worry hidden in them. Smiling, she cocks her head.

"I'm okay, And."

"Is it true?"

Stopping the urge to answer immediately, she pauses and ponders. It is a set routine between them, the slow honest asking and answering, and she knows better than to reply without thinking it through. Andy would know. An image of Ryan's fierce green eyes flashes into her mind. "Yes. It's true."

Andy knows not to push her sister. She keeps quiet, watching the play of emotions on Claire's face, until the blonde speaks again.

"She was different than I expected."

"Did she do anything to you?"

"Yes." Claire can see the anger washing through her sister suddenly, and waves it down. "Whoa, Andrea. Wait. It's not what you think."

"Don't make me have to ask you, Claire!" In spite of the frustration in her sister's voice, or perhaps slightly because of it, Claire grins a little, and even though Andy's still angry her lips twitch slightly at the sight. "Come on. Talk."

"Everyone's wondering whether she hurt me, And. Whether she touched me or anything." She smiles at her sister. "She did touch me - but in a way that I never expected."

"Was she crazy?" Coming from Andy it is a straightforward question, no sensationalism or opinion.

"Not even close. " Claire begins to tell her then, about the abduction and the flight and the events that ensued. The difference, though, between the story that Andy has heard at the airport in the conference room and the one that she hears now cannot be more pronounced. Her sister is not taking care at this moment to keep the emotions from her face or her voice, not the facts which she withheld from the Navy officials. She relays the facts about DEX with a breathless intensity that draws her sister into the story effortlessly, and keeps her listening perched at the edge of her seat with a stunned expression. Even at the end she considers leaving off the part where she kissed Ryan, but she understands that Andy will know there's more and cannot keep it from her. When she finally finishes speaking her sister sits back and scowls, an expression born more of compassion than confusion.

"When you walked in here … I could see that something had opened in you." Andy's voice is quiet. "You've been pulling back for such a long time. I hated not being able to reach you."

Claire smiles. "You would have liked her. She has this way of looking right through you, past the barriers you put up, without judging what she sees. I was so vulnerable and emotionally exposed, Andy, and she was so very gentle." She puts down the cup. "Now, looking back, I don't know why I did what I did. Ryan wrote it off to my charged emotional condition - ever gracious - but that wasn't it. She has a strength inside her that goes beyond anything I've ever experienced. Being with her I felt safe - absurd considering that I was in physical danger most of the time, due to her!" She chuckles at herself, causing Andy to laugh softly. "She had some sort of peace - and I wanted a part of that, too."

Andy nods thoughtfully and turns her next words over in her mouth before she speaks them. "I don't understand any of it, C, but seeing you like this, so animated… I don't think I need to. I do think it's a pity that it was her who brought that out in you." Claire considers protesting, but brushes the thought aside impatiently almost immediately, trusting Andy not to disappoint her. And of course her sister doesn't. "Not because she's dangerous, or a fugitive, or even a woman, Claire - simply because she won't be around to build on that with you. You've found a sensation worth holding onto and you can't." Smiling at her sister over the rim of the cup Andy takes a sip of her cooling coffee, and Claire waits silently until she speaks again. "I'm sorry, sis. That's the only thing I can say. I've always wanted the best for you."

"Aw, Andy." Claire gets up and crawls onto the couch next to her sister, laying her head in Andy's lap and looking up at the ceiling. "That was the best thing for me. She woke something in me, and even if she can't be around to see that, I can't make it go back to sleep again."

"The gift that keeps on giving?"

Claire smiles at Andy's dry quip. "Yeah. Something like that." Rolling over she wraps her arms around herself. "Jesus. I'm so tired."

"Then sleep, little sister." Andy begins to stroke her hands soothingly through her sister's disheveled hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."

------ With her sister at her side two weeks just fly by, and when Claire sees her off at Sea-Tac on the 5th of July Andy can't help but marvel at the change in Claire. Her usually edgy personality has eased up somewhat, and she looks younger and happier as she strolls through the airport arm in arm with Andy, both of them drawing appreciative glances.

They say an emotional goodbye and Claire makes Andy promise that she will visit again soon. When Claire watches the airplane lift off she blinks away a tear and smiles to herself before she drives back to her apartment.

She has not been to work yet - the institute knows of the incident with Ryan and feels that Claire needs some time off to gather her thoughts and recover. When first they called her to suggest a month's holiday she balked against the idea immediately. It was only Professor Caitlyn Stevens' firm tone and refusal to budge that finally saw her taking some of the days she'd been hoarding since her first year there. And she has to admit that it is doing her a world of good. She has been seeing a therapist, a gentle older woman who lives in her suburb and makes her feel at ease. They have not yet begun to discuss Ryan, but are working through her rape slowly and surely. Most days Claire feels like a completely new person.

She has not yet managed to stop looking for Ryan wherever she goes. Her eyes automatically search out the lean, the tall, the shaven-headed, and once she even rushes forward to grasp at the shoulder of one of those, only to find a startled young man staring at her with large brown eyes.

Art has been around to visit her, and if she did not understand that he was utterly sincere she would laugh at his suddenly soft tentative manner and hesitancy. He imagines rough things to have happened to her, and even her assurances have not settled his unease. It is, perhaps, made worse by the change in her attitude, which he seems to consider an unnaturally bright reaction to her ordeal. In his solicitousness Claire has begun to notice a faint indication of personal interest in her, beyond the close friendly relationship they have always had, and she tries hard not to engender in him any ideas of reciprocation from her side.

When a month has gone by she returns to work, and is almost sent home again summarily, as she manages within the first two hours to kick plastic surgeon Jack Nesbitt securely in the privates in the elevator. A disciplinary hearing is called, he is threatening to sue, and Claire is considering another kick, when Nesbitt's own secretary stands up and informs the board quite explicitly of his tendency towards sexual harassment. This snowballs and by the end of the day there are almost twenty women on record saying that the man has approached them all at work with equally odious suggestions. Though Claire is not off the hook for grievous bodily harm quite yet, she is assured by the board that no further action will be taken on their part, and when Nesbitt sulkily withdraws his threat of litigation after the security videotape of the elevator reveals what exactly prompted her foot to find its way towards his crotch, she is greeted with grins by all of the woman in the building as she returns to work.

------
It is two months since she returned from Harlowton, half past six on a Thursday evening, when her doorbell rings. Busy in the kitchen, she tosses the dishcloth over her shoulder and approaches the door with a frown, standing on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Her eyes widen.

Through the slightly distorted lens she sees Leah Ryan standing in her hallway.

Clearing her throat in astonishment she runs a hand through her blonde hair, recently cut, before she grasps the door handle and opens the door. Ryan has been studying something down the hall, and when her head turns at the sound their gazes meet and the sight of those vividly green eyes staring into hers almost has her trembling.

"Walsch." The voice is as gritty and hoarse as she remembers it. "You look good."

"You too." And it is the truth. Ryan's dark hair has grown out to a ragged short style with a modish sharp widow's peak. Though her skin is still pale, it is now the natural shade of a light-skinned person rather than illness, and beneath the tight black t-shirt Claire can see that her frame is still lean, but slightly more solid. She is wearing a pair of jeans, the denim faded over her thighs, and a pair of black boots, and she looks gorgeous.

They look at each other quietly for a moment, the silence sitting quite easily between them, and then Claire smiles. "Well, come in, soldier."

Ryan walks past to stand just inside the dining room. She looks around, taking in the kitchen and the part of the living room that she can see, the lovely view of the park. "I imagined your place would look like this."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please." Ryan moves to the kitchen counter and watches Claire as she bustles around, her hands shaking almost unnoticeably as she pours in the filter coffee. When the blonde glances up, the green eyes meet hers inscrutably. Taking the coffee cup she hands it over, acutely aware of their fingers brushing together when Ryan takes the cup from her.

"Thanks." She remains standing as she takes a sip of the hot beverage. "That's good."

"Why don't we sit down here?" Claire moves to the doorway of the living room, and when Ryan approaches she suddenly finds herself unwilling to move. The soldier stops next to her and studies her face thoroughly before she raises a hand and drags her palm over Claire's cheek slowly, her fingertips caressing the skin briefly before she pulls away.

"You had flour on your face."

"Oh." Breathless, forced out of her suddenly straining chest. Their eyes meet in a fiercely intense collision, and Claire finds herself parting her lips slightly in an effort to catch her abruptly short breath. Ryan's eyes fall to her mouth and the soldier rapidly steps back, breaking the moment.

"What are you here for?" It could sound terse, but the soldier sees beyond the brevity, almost-smiles (those curved lips that Claire sometimes sees in her dreams) and shrugs.

"I'm not entirely sure."

Claire shakes her head. "I don't believe you. You always know what you want."

"Tough rep to maintain." Ryan still stays standing just inside the door, even when Claire moves back to sink into her favorite chair. "I want to know how you are, to start with."

"And then?"

"First things first." Ryan arches her black eyebrows. "How are you, Claire?"

The doctor cannot help but smile at the exaggeratedly solicitous tone. "I'm fine, Ryan - in fact, better than fine. I'm great." She notes the soldier's eyes flickering around the room. "You're safe here. Sit down."

Ryan remains standing. "How's your sister?"

"Andy's good. She came to fetch me from the airport, and stayed with me for a while. It was really nice to have her around for that amount of time. Made me realize that I don't see enough of her."

"She must be upset about what happened to you."

"Some of it." Claire smiles. "She knows me better than anybody else. She can see I'm okay, though."

"You gone back to work?"

"Yep." In quick strokes Claire tells Ryan about the Nesbitt affair. She realizes as she is doing so that she's telling Ryan more in a desire to see her smile than to impart the information. Ryan's response is as close to a smile as she ever gets, though the enjoyment in her eyes is real.

"Good. You stood up for yourself." She drains her cup and glances around for a place to put it, settling on the small table next to the couch. "Have you been driving?"

"I have, yes. No car yet, I haven't decided on what I'd like, but I will soon. In the meantime I'm driving Art's car when he lets me."

"Art? Oh, Arthur Clarke?"

"Yes. He's a very good friend." She doesn't understand why she feels the need to clarify that. Ryan nods thoughtfully.

"Right. You should get yourself a red car, low-slung. That would suit you."

"Why?" If she were in complete control she wouldn't ask - it's the type of statement that you don't pick a fight with unless you're ready to take the consequences.

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Because it would match your charm." Brushing off whatever else it is she is tempted to say she shrugs. "You look very good, Claire. Healthy. Happy."

"I am." The blonde frowns slightly. "So what's happening with the DEX thing, Ryan?"

The soldier looks at her inscrutably. "I can't tell you that, Claire. It's not something you can know."

"Okay." Though she attempts to be nonchalant the upset shows and Ryan steps closer, almost extending a hand before she thinks better of it.

"It's truly dangerous. I don't want you involved any more."

"I understand. How are you getting around without being caught? Did you drive all the way here?"

Ryan smiles and slips a passport out of her back pocket. When she flips it open she only holds it out long enough so that Claire can only identify her picture (albeit with long lustrous hair) and the name Isabella Carmen before she closes it and slips it back into her pocket. "I know people I really shouldn't."

Claire grins. "I should have known. Isabella - do you speak Spanish?"

"Yes. My mother was Spanish. I grew up in Mexico."

"When did she pass away?"

"A long time ago." Ryan leans against the doorframe a little.

"Sit down, please?" For emphasis Claire pats the couch next to her chair. With amused eyes Ryan pushes herself away from the door and sits down on the edge of the couch, but even then her bearing is erect and stiff-backed. She sits as if she is at attention, Claire muses. "How is your shoulder?"

"It's fine." Catching the grin Ryan cocks her head. "All right, a bit stiff now and then, but mostly fine." As if to demonstrate she rolls it around, thought it doesn't escape Claire's notice that the movement isn't quite as loose as it should be yet.

"And your hands?"

"All healed." Ryan lifts a square hand towards Claire, and without thinking the blonde grasps it in her own and draws it nearer to inspect the limb. There are faint white scars visible in places, but the skin is neatly healed. It is when the hand in her own twitches slightly that she begins to feel the heat of Ryan's hand seeping into her flesh. Studying it wordlessly she covers every inch of skin, from the long tapered fingers to the narrow bony wrist, memorizing all of the scars and marks, and when she looks up it is to find the green eyes fixed on her with a muted hunger burning in them. Taking a slow breath she raises the hand to her lips and places a blazing kiss on the pale skin, feeling the fingers shift slightly against her hand as she does so. She lowers the hand but does not let it go.

"What else?"

Her voice is low and throaty, and she does not care. Ryan watches her greedily. "What?"

"What else did you come here for, Ryan?"

The soldier's eyes don't shift from hers, and her rough voice is hoarse when she speaks.

"For you."
At the words Claire swallows convulsively. She wants to be levelheaded, she wants to be clear, but the energy from the woman is washing over her mercilessly and the memory of their kiss is setting her mind on fire. Has been doing so night after night. Withdrawing her hand Ryan moves forward, kneeling in front of Claire as she cups her cheek with hot fingers.

"You can tell me to go right now, and I will."

"I don't want you to go." Claire does not remember saying the words, but even as she imagines she thinks them Ryan's green eyes flash.

"Claire." The soldier's voice is ragged. "I can't promise you anything. I don't have anything. All I want is to see if this … attraction between us is real."

"I don't want promises. I want you." Claire closes her eyes against the fingertips stroking her face so softly. "Just for tonight. I don't care about tomorrow. I want you."

When the soldier's lips brush against her own she opens her mouth in a silent sigh and leans closer. Ryan caresses her mouth at a slow languid pace, nipping at her bottom lip and then drawing it into her own mouth gently. Her tongue passes over it lightly and Claire moans against her mouth, beginning to return her kiss with rising passion. Their mouths clash and withdraw. Reaching back Claire wraps a hand around Ryan's neck and pulls her closer, forcing their lips together fiercely, and with a groan the soldier wraps her hands in Claire's hair. Their tongues collide and stroke, thrust and tease, and when Ryan drops her head and begins to drop burning kisses on Claire's neck, the doctor gasps, trying to recover her breath. Her attempt is brought to a short sharp halt by the intensity of sensations flooding through her as the soldier briefly sinks her teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder before she kisses the abused spot fiercely. Her hands slip from Claire's hair to her knees and she parts them firmly, moving forward between them to press her lean torso against Claire's. Her hands slide up the blonde's thigh to cup her buttocks as she moves her mouth to the other side and begins to caress the sensitive skin just under Claire's ear. When the soldier's hands pull her forward and her throbbing center presses against Ryan's stomach she wraps her arms around the lean strong shoulders and arches her back helplessly.

"Ryan… "

It comes out very soft and breathless, but the soldier is listening. Her mouth stills momentarily at its amazing motion. "What?"

"I…"

When she pauses Ryan sits back immediately, her hands slipping from Claire's buttocks to her knees. "If you want to stop, I will." The flush on her face and the breathy quality of her voice belies the statement, but Claire doesn't doubt her. Shifting her hands from the woman's solid back Claire caresses her shoulders and neck with feather light touches.

"No, I don't want to stop. It's just… I'm not good with intimacy. I told you."

"You seem to be doing fine to me." Taking a deep breath Ryan sits back on her haunches. "What can I do?"

"I don't know. I'm just worried that I might not be able to … " Claire looks down. A hand under her chin lifts her head and Ryan looks into her eyes frankly.

"You're in control, Claire. Set the pace. Take the lead. I'll do whatever you ask me to."

The blonde smiles a little shakily. "Okay." Leaning into the hand on her face she licks her bottom lip. "Kiss me?"

"That I can." Ryan leans forward and the kiss begins again, slowly and tentatively. The soldier's soft lips brush against hers in rhythmic strokes, and it is finally Claire who pulls Ryan closer and deepens the contact. Splaying one hand against the back of Ryan's head she pulls the soldier as close as she can, and the other hand slips over the lean woman's shoulder and down her back. When Claire parts her legs and drags Ryan closer to her she stills for a moment, feeling the heat of her groin pressed once again to the soldier's stomach. Ryan's mouth slows its movement as she waits for the blonde to make a decision, and when Claire's hips tilt forward to press against her she groans into the other woman's mouth and slides her hands slowly up Claire's legs, skimming her thighs and buttocks to rest her fingers loosely on her curved hips.

The blonde is kissing her ferociously now, the initial hesitation lost to the wild intensity between them, and Ryan can feel the muscles in her straining thighs flutter as she struggles not to press forward into Claire's slowly thrusting hips. The feeling of the blonde's rocking motions against her body, combined with the overwhelming force of the kiss and the fingernails trailing over her shoulders roughly is sending shivers down her spine and rendering her completely light-headed. So much so, in fact, that it takes her a moment to realize when Claire abruptly shifts her mouth from the soldier's and leans in to kiss a hot trail down Ryan's neck. Arching towards the mouth the dark woman wants to gasp, but she doesn't seem to have the air in her lungs, and she can only close her eyes as Claire's right hand begins to caress the opposite side of her neck. Her hands tighten convulsively around Claire's hips, and it is with real effort that she loosens her grip and shifts her hands around a little helplessly. The blonde's lips trail down her neck, alternating between gentleness and fierce passion, and the throbbing left both in their trail and in other parts of her body leaves Ryan weak.

As Claire pulls a little at the v-neck of Ryan's shirt to find access to the swell of her collarbones she marvels at the feeling of the soldier's smooth skin beneath her hands. Her hips are still rocking rhythmically against Ryan's torso and she has given up trying to control them; the wet aching warmth that is spreading in her groin drives her forward pitilessly.

A part of her mind is telling her to slow down, to see this for what it is - lust, pure and definite - and to pull back, not to succumb. This is the part of her mind that she is pushing backwards without further thought to make way for breathtakingly raw passion while she slips a hand under Ryan's shirt and drags her nails over the soldier's side. When Ryan moans throatily, the vibrations purring against her mouth - she can feel the dark woman fighting to keep herself under control - she pulls back to stare into the feverish green eyes hungrily.

Without warning she suddenly stands, hoisting Ryan up with her by her black shirt. The soldier rises to her feet, her breath short and jagged, and when Claire completes the motion by pulling her shirt over her head she lifts her arms silently to let the blonde peel the material from her body.

Flinging the shirt carelessly into a corner Claire moves forward with a predatory motion that sends a shiver through Ryan's body. In a sure action she places both hands on Ryan's tight stomach, feeling the muscles tremble underneath, and runs them upwards strongly, her fingers kneading gently as they cover Ryan's high small breasts. Gritting her teeth the soldier wraps her hands around Claire's waist, and involuntarily they slip under the blonde's shirt and begins to caress her skin impatiently. Claire seems not to notice this as she runs her hands ardently over the body she has been dreaming about, her fingers and palms and nails everywhere at once. When she briefly brushes over Ryan's belt buckle the soldier stiffens, and when her fingers return to fumble clumsily at it the soldier takes a deep ragged breath. Stepping back Claire undoes the belt impatiently before she unsnaps the top button, and then pulls Ryan closer again. Her left hand slips upward to draw teasing nails over the soldier's tight rigid nipple as her right caresses Ryan's stomach, slowly slipping into the waistband of her underwear to drag through the soft silky hair.

When her hand slips down lower, Ryan's back arches and she leans against Claire, her knees abruptly inadequate. The blonde runs trembling yet urgent fingers into the warm soaking folds, her breath straining against Ryan's neck as she strokes the soft wet skin. The soldier's shoulders twitch when Claire's fingers tentatively explore the entrance of her sex, and when they carelessly flick over the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex she releases a guttural groan.

A feral smile crosses Claire's mouth at the throaty sound. Leaning forward she tilts her head and captures the soldier's earlobe between her teeth, nipping at it sharply before she begins to caress the skin beneath it warmly with her mouth. The rhythm of her fingers is relentless, dragging through the slick folds slowly and torturously to culminate every stroke with a firm caress of the clit, and when Claire finally follows it by slipping her fingers into Ryan the soldier almost falls. Wrapping her hands around Claire's hips tightly for support she tries to spread her thighs, her motion constricted by the jeans still hanging around her waist.

Claire is marveling at the softness, the heat of the flesh under her fingers. When she captures the sensitive bud between two fingers and squeezes it gently an unintelligible word escapes Ryan's throat, and when she enters the other woman her back arches helplessly, gooseflesh dotting her torso unexpectedly. Feeling desire speed through her Claire begins to thrust her fingers strongly into Ryan, her heel dragging roughly over the lean woman's clit with every stroke, and when she realizes that her motion is being constrained by the taut fabric of the soldier's underwear she growls and withdraws her hand, forcing a sharp exhalation from Ryan. Reaching down impatiently Claire pushes down the jeans and underwear to Ryan's feet, not bothering to undo the boots before she moves the soldier backwards a few awkward steps to press her against the wall.

Her hand finds its way back between the lean thighs and this time Ryan can lean back against the cool plaster and tilt her hips forward. As the blonde enters her and begins to thrust again she reaches out with an unsteady hand to clasp the top of the dresser against the wall closest to her. The brush of the heel against her swollen and sensitive flesh is urging her upwards rapidly, and as her body explodes powerfully and she tightens around the fingers inside her convulsively, her green eyes lock onto the blue ones watching her liquidly with fierce intensity.

As Ryan's body begins to arch and her muscles start to tighten uncontrollably Claire keeps thrusting, desperate to feel the connection between them until the soldier's hand on her wrist cautions her to withdraw. Leaning forward she rests her palms against Ryan's heaving ribs and her forehead in the hollow of her neck, smiling slightly as she feels the lean woman's hands caress her back bonelessly. Finally Ryan takes a more controlled breath.

"God." Her voice is husky.

"No, Claire's still fine."

Leaning her head back against the wall Ryan shoots the blonde a smoldering look.

"Is Claire?"

Blood rushes to her cheeks - and other parts of her anatomy. Studying the flush with suppressed amusement Ryan moves to pull up her jeans, leaving the belt unbuckled. When she reaches out and runs a slow hand across Claire's side the blonde exhales somewhat raggedly.

"Can we go to the bedroom, Claire?"

When she nods Ryan lets her lead to the main bedroom and the soft bed standing against the wall. Kneeling down the soldier unties her boots as quickly as possible and discards them along with her socks and jeans, leaving her in only her black panties. When she stands Claire cannot stop her eyes from roaming over the sensual expanses of pale skin and the long lean legs. Now, after the blinding haze of hunger for the soldier has settled down somewhat, she can see the star-shaped scar that decorates Ryan's upper bicep. When the lean woman walks towards her slowly she reaches out a hand and touches the raised skin carefully.

"It still hurts?"

Humming a low insufficient answer in her throat Ryan takes the hand trailing along her shoulder and pulls Claire closer, until there is barely a foot of space between them. Placing her other hand lightly on the doctor's side she looks down into the blue eyes.

"I'd like to kiss you. May I?"

The words are so simple. Nodding, Claire closes her eyes and tilts her head, slipping her arms around the lean shoulders as Ryan's warm mouth descends on hers. The kiss is less raw this time, more sensual, and even as she feels the soldier's hands slip under her shirt to brush over her lower back she runs her right hand up and twines her fingers in the short shaggy black hair. Ryan's mouth is firm yet gentle, her tongue asking for entrance before it explores her lips with a feather light stroke. Sinking into the sensation Claire lowers her hands and journeys them across the bare back, tracing the still slightly protruding bones and scars that feel like velvet under her fingertips. The soldier's hands begin to mimic her trail, caressing her back in sure swirls and touches, slipping up over the bra strap and under it. When Ryan pulls back her mouth Claire almost mewls in protest. The soldier's green eyes are heavy-lidded and quiet.

"Will you take off your shirt?"

The blonde's hands are trembling when she begins to undo the buttons, and once or twice she fumbles and has to try again, but the soldier does not move her hands from their resting place on Claire's lower back. It is only when Claire shyly opens the shirt and slips it from her shoulders that Ryan steps back a little. Her expression is filled with desire as she studies Claire's pale torso, her firm round breasts barely covered by the neat white lace bra. Reaching out Ryan extends a forefinger and trails it over Claire's lips, down the side of her neck, into the dip at the base of her throat, over the clear line of the collarbone, down the swell of her chest… Where the bra strap meets the cup she pauses for a moment before she traces the outline of the bra, dipping in ever so slightly, so that her finger passes barely half an inch above the rapidly hardening nipple. When Claire's back arches slightly the ghost of a smile creeps around her mouth.

"And this, too."

Claire reaches back with both hands to undo the clasp and the motion pushes her breasts forward sharply. Ryan's finger continues its trail down into her cleavage and up the other breast, but when the blonde lifts her hands and slips the straps from her shoulder to let the bra fall to the ground, the soldier lowers her hand to Claire's hip and pulls her closer. She gazes at the blonde's breasts in clear appreciation before she closes the gap between them, pressing her bare torso against Claire's smoothly as she runs her hands over the naked back offered to her. Claire's rigid nipples press against the underside of her breasts as the blonde arches into her. Kissing Claire's face and neck teasingly she begins to run her fingertips down Claire's side, each time brushing closer to the side of her breasts. When the blonde exhales shakily and lifts her arms to wrap them around Ryan's neck again, the soldier smiles a little and brushes her thumbs lightly over the side of the pale full breast so readily accessible, repeating the motion when it brings forth a soft gasp. As she repeats the motion a third time Claire moves out of her arms, her breathing strained. Reaching down she takes Ryan's hands in hers and places them on her breasts.

"Please. Touch me."

Ryan's hands are firm and tender, sensual as they stroke, and teasing as they nip and knead at the pale flesh. The soldier runs her thumbs lightly around the hard pink nipples until Claire is twisting uncomfortably, her body aching, and then Ryan abruptly leans forward and wraps her lips around the nub, teasing it further with her hot tongue. The blonde parts her lips and gasps, straining forward in an attempt to prolong the contact, and when the soldier's lips move to the other breast she wraps her hands in Ryan's hand and moans softly. Leaning back the soldier watches her unashamedly wanting expression hungrily before she slips a finger into the waistband of Claire's pants and pulls slightly.

"Off?"

In answer the blonde unsnaps the waistband without objection and pulls down the pants, stepping out of them and immediately into the soldier's arms again, her breasts pushing against Ryan's chest. The solider lazily runs her hands down Claire's side, over her ribs and fleetingly against the sides of her breasts, then strokes downwards again, back over her sides and down to her soft hips. Hooking her thumbs in the sides of the white lace panties she leans in for another kiss, this one searing and breathless, her hands splayed across the blonde's narrow hips, and when Claire presses herself against the lean body the soldier pulls her in closer, caressing the flesh under the material steadily.

Wrapping her hands around Ryan's shoulders Claire pulls her backwards to the bed, stumbling a little in her hurriedness and sighing in relief against the soldier's mouth when she feels the edge of the mattress pressing at the back of her knees. Pulling back, Ryan looks at the bed over her shoulder, and then at Claire, and when she moves out of the soldier's grasp to sit on the edge Ryan follows, propping one knee on the bed. Leaning forward she supports herself on her hands either side of Claire's hips and tilts her head for a kiss, surprised when the blonde slips both hands into her hair and pulls her closer sharply. Claire's mouth is insistent and demanding, and it is finally she who pulls Ryan down on top of her, sliding a hand down to the soldier's hip to hold it against hers. Growling, Ryan runs a hand down her side, dragging her fingertips over the smooth skin of her thigh before she slips her leg between Claire's. Her lean thigh shifts against the blonde's wet centre and the curvy body beneath hers jerks a little as the doctor arches her back with a low groan. Supporting herself on her hands above Claire Ryan leans down and captures her lips relentlessly, her hips undulating rhythmically and her thigh brushing against Claire's hot aching center insistently.

This time it is Claire's hands that shift helplessly along the bare heat of Ryan's spine, her back arching and her thighs clenching with every lazy thrust of the soldier's hips. Yearning is building inside her, tumbling low inside her stomach and throbbing between her legs, and the slow skilled motion of the body stretched out on hers and the thigh between hers is mingling with the inexplicable desire Ryan awakens in her. She lifts her hips a little in an attempt to feel more of Ryan's lean muscled thigh on the sensitive parts begging for it, and smoothly the soldier halts the delicious motion.

"Is this all right?"

The low voice sends a chill down her spine and involuntarily her body shudders. Licking her lips, she closes her eyes against the sudden lightheadedness and when she opens them her words are concise and unambiguous.

"Please. Take me."

And Ryan does.
------ It has stopped raining outside. The moon is bright and insistent, its beam focused through the window on the glistening bare bodies stretched out on the bed with an indolent lack of restraint. The lean woman has one hand propped behind her dark head. Her other hand is tangled in, and lazily kneading through, the blonde hair of the head resting on her torso just below her small breasts. The curvy blonde woman is lying on her back, her right arm stretched out along the lean leg so that her hand is curled around the knee, with her own leg draped off the side of the mattress casually. Occasionally she turns her head to kiss the breast closest to her offhandedly, a motion that causes a half-smile on the dark woman's face every time.

"That was fantastic."

Claire grins a little at the purred words. "It was better than that, Ryan. It was phenomenal."

"Phenomenon. Something exceptional. A singularity." The soldier nods once. "Yes."

Turning her head Claire shoots her lover a mock surprised look before she lightly nips at the underside of the firm breast. "Sex turn you into a dictionary?"

Ryan pushes the blonde head away from her breast with a short stifled grumble. "Stop that. You'll kill me. I need to catch my breath." Rubbing at the now stiffening nipple in a careless motion that causes the blonde to catch her own bottom lip between her teeth hungrily, Ryan continues. "I'm pondering the aptness of the word. You do something quite … foreign… to me."

"Should I patent it?" Rolling over, Claire eyes the flat stomach pensively before she begins to plant kisses along the defined ridge in the centre of it. The soldier groans and closes her eyes, slipping her fingers back into the blonde hair.

"No. Definitely not. People with less stamina than me would just explode."

"That's everybody." Halting the kisses Claire rests her chin on the hard stomach beneath her and raises her eyebrows devilishly. "It's lust, Ryan. Welcome to pure unfettered raw lust. I hope you have a lovely stay." She runs her hand teasingly up Ryan's leg. "Combined with a strong dose of emotional connection brought on by a forcibly vulnerable situation. It's a classic reaction to incredible stress, Ryan - simple adrenaline, amongst other things."

"You're sexy when you're talking shop." The soldier reaches out to caress the smooth shoulder blade with a light touch. "So that's what this electricity is? Adrenaline and lust?"

"Just my opinion."

"I can live with that."

"Sounds like you have your breath back. Good." Pushing herself up the blonde straddles the dark woman and leans forward, her shoulder-length hair brushing over the pale skin under her as she plants a hot kiss on a corner of the square jaw. The soldier's hands splay over Claire's thighs and then shift upwards to caress her small curved hips and smooth back.

"You're gorgeous."

In answer Claire shifts a little and begins to move her hips and her hands in a rhythmic action, and after that there is only the sound of adrenaline and lust, the movement of naked body on naked body, and the beam of moonlight that is gradually diffused by the rain.

------ When Claire wakes up it is raining lightly and she is alone. Everything is saturated with the recall of Ryan. Her muscles ache, her white sheets are disheveled and crumpled, her pillows are perfumed with the dark woman's scent. There is a long lean dent in the flat sheet next to her. When she stretches her naked body drowsily, for a moment she imagines that she can still feel the woman's fingers deep inside her. Ryan is everywhere, and Ryan is nowhere. Ryan is gone.

------ The next time she wakes she rolls over lazily, an appreciative grin on her face at the slightly uncomfortable sensations in certain areas, and pulls open the bedside table drawer to take out a remote. The pressing of one button slides open a rectangular panel in the wall to reveal a small LCD television, and another button switches on the streamlined gadget. Tousling her already mussed blonde hair with one hand she switches from a cooking channel to a nature show, and then yawns as she flips through a few more. The cartoon channel earns a skew amused grin, but she passes that by too, opting for the serious face of the CNN anchorman as he grimly intones something about Iraq. Even the grainy unsteady material flashing across the screen doesn't dampen her mood, and she is reveling in the languid state of her body when her eye catches something familiar on the screen. It is the face of Vice-Admiral Victor Banks. With a start she scrambles for the remote, almost knocking it off the bed before she manages to turn up the volume.

"… two months ago in Fort Benton. The assailant was a personal friend of Vice-Admiral Banks'. Local police believe that there was a scuffle after which Banks was shot at close range by her with his own pistol."

The picture behind the anchorman changes, and now it is Ryan looking out from the screen, her green eyes menacing and cold in the exceptionally bad grainy photo.

"Captain Leah Ryan is extremely dangerous and believed armed. She was last seen in the vicinity of Harlowton, Montana. Authorities caution the public not to approach or attempt to apprehend her, but rather to contact the local police, or General George Turner's office at the number shown on the screen."

The remote falls with a dull thud from Claire Walsch's boneless fingers.

Continued...