When Chris awoke, it was dark. And yet it didn't feel like night. But why was it so
dark? He brought a hand to his burning eyes. His fingers touched gauze around his head and
thick pads over each eye. That made sense, since his eyes hurt like hell.
Last he remembered, he was cold, wet, muddy and in pain. Now he was still in pain, but
he was in a warm bed. And it wasn't a hospital bed. His fingers could feel the careful
hand-stitching of quilt. Around a pounding headache, Chris struggled to remember what had
happened to him last.
He had meant to be up in the mountains just for a few days. He wanted to--needed to-get
away from everything--bad memories and bad cases and...just everything. It seemed like he
couldn't travel far enough.
He was on his way back when the storm hit. He gripped the wheel tightly through the
pelting rain along the curving, slick roads. Flashes of lightning lit up the road in full
relief. The area became unfamiliar and Chris began to wonder if he'd made a wrong turn
somewhere. Every now and then, there was a light from a distant cabin, but they were
intermittent at best He was lost. Lost in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, there was a
dull roar to his left and the Dodge was swept into a narrow ravine by the wall of mud and
rock.
When he'd awakened, the rain was still pouring heavily. The Dodge was on its side near
the bottom of the ravine, surrounded by trees and brush. Chris was halfway out the
driver's window, half-sprawled in muck. He spat mud as he clawed his way out.
He stood on shaky legs. He was lucky, he thought. He seemed to be alright. Chris
glanced back up at the road above him --the road he'd come from-- and started to climb.
Branches along the rock face helped him scale the slippery walls as the storm continued
to rage all around him. As Chris got closer to the top, he reached for a particularly
thick branch. The flash that struck near his outstretched hand was like a bomb.
There was a white light--brighter than he had ever seen--in front of his face. He cried
out in pain. His face felt like it was on fire and his eyes snapped shut. And then he was
falling...falling, back into the soft ooze below. And into oblivion.
Chris had awakened again, vaguely aware of being wet and shivering. His body ached, and
his head and eyes in particular...He thought he heard...a woman's voice?...He opened his
eyes, straining to see, then screamed in agony. He tried to rub the pain out of his eyes,
but someone kept stopping his hands, trying to talk to him, but he wasn't listening. His
eyes burned like they were on fire and his head spun...and then nothing again.
And then here. But where was 'here? '
Chris started to get up. He heard someone move nearby, then a woman's voice. Soft and
warm and concerned.
"Take it easy." A hand gently pressed against his shoulder.
He turned his head toward the voice, as he sank back against the pillows. "Who are
you?"
"Call me Rebecca."
"Chris."
"I know." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I saw your driver's
license. You're in my cabin. I found you after your truck got caught in a slide near
here."
"Did you bandage my eyes?" Silence. "If you're nodding, I can't hear
you."
She gave an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry. Yes. It's pretty remote, so I've got lot of
supplies. Your face had a some minor burns, like a bad sunburn. You need to leave the
bandages on for now. And I've got some ointment you should put on them."
"Am I blind?"
She paused.
"Well?" Chris demanded, impatiently.
"I'm not sure. It's probably temporary, but we'll have to get you to a doctor.
Unfortunately, there's been slides all over the area, with possibly more to come. The road
out of here is pretty much washed out. It may be days before crews can get it
cleared."
He lifted the quilt to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. "My te-- my
friends. I gotta call them."
"Chris, you should stay in bed."
"Why?"
"For one thing, you're not dressed."
She was right. Chris pulled the quilt back over himself. "I need to contact my
friends."
"Storm knocked the phones out. Crews won't get to it till they can clear the
roads."
Chris slumped back against the pillows. Suddenly his stomach rumbled audibly.
Rebecca stood. "You must be hungry. You've been out for nearly a day and a half.
I'll bring you something."
He sat still, listening to the far-off sounds of her in the kitchen and trying to sort
everything out. He couldn't see. And he couldn't be sure it wasn't permanent. No one knew
where he was, and there was no way to tell anyone. And there was no way to get out of the
mountains for awhile. Rebecca seemed nice. Quite nice. And she didn't seem to mind having
him around. In any case, there was nothing he could do about anything for a few days
except make the best of it and hope his injuries weren't serious.
Minutes later, Chris heard her return. He could smell hot food and his stomach rumbled
again. Rebecca set a tray on his lap, then guided his hand across the tray.
"This is soup. Careful; it's hot. And there's a sandwich. There's a glass of water
on the night table to your right."
"Thank you." To his surprise, Chris had a little trouble finding his mouth
with the end of the spoon.
"Want some help?"
"No," he said quickly. "I mean, thanks." He tried again, slowly and
carefully. He found that, if he bent toward the spoon, he got more of the food in his
mouth instead of on his face.
After he was done, Rebecca took the tray out of the room. When she returned, she put a
cloth in his hand. They were his boxers, freshly laundered.
"Your jeans were pretty messed up. I don't think those mud stains will ever come
out. And it was tough getting them off you," she added, teasingly. "When you're
ready, I'll show you around so you can get used to the place while you're here."
Chris reached under the quilt, arched his hips, and shimmied into his shorts. This was
all so surreal to him. Here he was, in his underwear, in a strange woman's house. And
blind. Temporarily, she'd said. He hoped so. Chris fingered the bandage. God, his eyes
hurt. If he really did see again, he wanted to see Rebecca. Her warm voice made him
curious to know what she looked like.
"Ready."
She gently took his elbow. "This is the guest bedroom you're in. You're my first
and only guest here."
"I'm honored," he smiled faintly.
As she led him through the cabin, he carefully noted the location of the rooms and the
furnishings inside them: master bedroom, kitchen, dining area, living room, the little
corner where she did her writing, and finally the bathroom.
Chris was feeling confident he could move through the cabin with relative ease. Maybe
he'd survive just fine the next few days. And maybe...if he really *was*...blind...maybe
he'd be all right in spite of it.
She showed him where the shower and commode were located. Chris did feel a need, he
realized.
"Will you be all right on your own?"
"I think so," he smiled.
She left him alone, closing the door behind him.
When the door opened a few minutes later, Chris sagged against the door frame, his head
down. Rebecca looked up in surprise.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I couldn't see to--"
She looked past him at the small wet spots on the floor near the toilet. She quickly
brought him over to the sofa. "It's okay. It's okay, really. Sit here. I'll take care
of it."
Chris drew himself into a ball at the end of the sofa. God, he couldn't do the most
basic things. He never felt so helpless, so vulnerable. So scared. This had to be
temporary. It HAD to be.
When she came back into the room, he was still tightly curled into a ball. She could
tell he was just starting to fully realize how vulnerable, frightened and dependent he
was. And Rebecca could tell this was a man not accustomed to such feelings.
"C'mon," she said soothingly. "It's all right."
Chris let her help him to his feet. He felt her arms encircle him, holding him. She was
about as tall as he'd imagined. He could feel every curve of her. He lowered his head into
the crook of her neck and allowed himself to get lost in her arms. His whole body
trembled.
"Cold?" She stepped back, breaking the embrace.
"No," he lied.
Silence. He heard her moving away from him. Had she left the room?
"Rebecca?"
There was silence, then "Put out your hands...These belonged to an ex. I don't know
why I kept them, but I did. Let's see how they fit."
He shrugged into the sweatshirt. The jeans were baggy and the fly was broken, but he could
still fasten the top button. The jeans rode low on his narrow hips, but at least they
stayed up.
He sat down again, his head in his hands. Rebecca sat beside him, slowly rubbing his back.
Finally he sighed and leaned back against the cushions. He found her hand and squeezed it
gently.
"Thank you," he said softly. "You've done so much for me... I don't even
know you..."
Rebecca took his hand. "Why don't you get some rest. You've been through a lot."
Chris nodded and allowed her to lead him back to his bedroom. He quickly shucked the
sweatshirt and jeans, groped his way to the bed and crawled back under the quilt. He
almost regretted that he was alone in the soft, warm bed, but minutes later, he was
asleep.
Day and night looked all the same to Chris Larabee. He'd been in Rebecca's cabin for 3
days. In that amount of time, she'd told him about her life there, the cabin, her writing.
She'd even read some of it to him. He liked it. And yet he knew so little about her,
really. Where she was from and such, but she didn't seem like she wanted to share that.
Chris could understand someone wanting to keep their past their own, so he respected that
and didn't press the issue. He told her about his job and his team.
"They sound very special," she'd said.
"They are."
He was sitting on the bed now, wondering about her, when he heard her come in.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
He smiled. "I was thinking I could probably use a shower."
She led him to the bathroom and guided his hand in turning on the water, then she left him
alone. He shucked his boxers, stepped in the shower, and felt the hot water cascade
against his body.
Damn, he thought. I should've asked her where the soap is. He groped
around the stall, knocking over a couple of plastic bottles. One of them landed on his
foot.
"Ow!"
"You all right in there?"
He didn't answer her right away. Was he? No, he wasn't all right. He was blind, and having
trouble doing something as simple as taking a shower.
Her voice was just outside the shower stall now. "Want some help?"
He considered it a moment. She had undressed him earlier, so it wasn't like she hadn't
seen him already. And he needed to trust her while he was here.
"Please," he said at last.
A bar of soap was placed into his wet hands. It slipped from his grasp. He bent over,
searching for it, and cursed softly as he struck his head against something, he couldn't
tell what.
"Stand still," she ordered. She was scrubbing his back for him, loosening the
tightly knotted muscles. "Now turn around."
Chris hesitated. "I think I'll be okay now."
A moment later the soap was back in his hands. He heard her leave the bathroom. As he
finished his shower, he thought about his team. They had to know by now that something was
wrong. Maybe they had even started looking for him. No, not if the only road up here was
closed. He wondered how long he'd be here. Rebecca, whoever she was, seemed very nice, so
he supposed the wait wouldn't be a bad thing.
Chris hated to have to depend on someone else. But he needed her. He needed to trust her.
He was a little surprised to realize he already did. And so easily, too.
"Feel better?" she asked as he emerged from the steamy bathroom, a towel around
his waist. "Your boxers are in the wash. Your clothes are here on the sofa. Can you
find them okay?"
"Thanks," he said, as he dressed. "I'm afraid my bandages got wet."
"I should probably change them anyway. Sit down, and keep your eyes closed. I have to
put this ointment on you."
Her fingertips lightly applied the cream around his eyes. A soft pad was placed over each
eye, and then the gauze was wrapped around his head to hold the pads in place.
"C'mon. You should probably rest," she said at last.
"You always say that," he grinned, resisting her attempt to lead him to the
bedroom. "I'm clean, I'm dressed..." He moved closer to her. He could smell her
perfume...like roses, he thought. He could feel her body start to yield against his.
"That's not all you are," she whispered. He felt her hand brush lightly against
his hardening shaft. He hadn't realized the smooth, hot tip of him was protruding from the
broken fly.
"I've changed my mind," he said softly, brushing his lips against her cheek.
"Why don't you show me the way back to my room, after all?"
But it wasn't his room she took him to. She led him by the hand into her room, then lay
back on the bed, pulling him on top of her. She pulled his sweatshirt over his head,
tossing it aside.
His hands fumbled with her clothes. She pushed his hands away and he knelt over her,
uncertain what to do next.
A moment later, his hands were guided to her naked breasts. He covered one nipple with his
mouth, pulling at it gently. His tongue lightly teased the pink rosebud of each breast. He
felt her body arch toward him.
Chris wanted to so much to be able to look at her, to rip the bandages off that covered
his eyes. She must have sensed his desire, because her fingertips brushed the sides of his
head, tracing the gauze. Her hands drifted to the back of his head. She gently pulled his
head down to her till her warm lips brushed against his.
Chris felt a throbbing in his groin in response. He ran one hand down the length of her
torso, exploring her. She reached up to do the same. She kneaded his shoulders, then
traced her fingers down his chest. Her hands continued their downward journey. She ran her
nails lightly through his pubic hair, until she reached the root of him.
Rebecca grasped him firmly and guided him towards her while thrusting her hips up to meet
him. Chris felt her hunger meld with his own.
He sank deeply into her, feeling the most glorious heat, wetness, and pressure surrounding
him. He wanted to prolong this for both of them, but he was too close to the edge.
And then it carried him away.
Chris felt as if he were falling. He cried out, barely able to catch his breath even as
his orgasm jetted into her. Rebecca gasped, trying to draw him as close to her body as
possible, even as she was lost in her own climax.
He lay against her, spent, his limbs heavy.
With one hand, she stroked his hair and the back of his neck. She kissed his ear lightly.
Chris took her in his arms. He wished he could see her face, see her response, but instead
he relied on the touch of her--the way she'd moved closer to him, the small movements that
indicated what pleasured her. And the sounds of her gasps of delight in his ear. It was a
different experience for him. It was sex as he had never known it before. And when it was
over, he was reluctant to let her go.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
The next day, the radio sat amidst a pile of dishes, following a late, leisurely
breakfast. "...and it looks like some of those roads may be opening up..."
Rebecca had just handed Chris the last dish to dry. He paused. "Did you hear
that?"
"We can finally get you to a doctor..."
A doctor. That hadn't been his first thought, he realized with a shock. His first
thought had been that he'd be sorry to leave here. To leave Rebecca. And he wasn't sure he
wanted to do that.
What was he thinking? Of course he'd have to do that! He had his team and his
responsibilities. That is, if he'd be able to see again.
Rebecca interrupted his thoughts. "Chris?"
"I'm okay. I was just thinking that..." He let the sentence hang. She knew
what he was trying to say, he was sure.
She kissed him gently. "Time to re-bandage your eyes. Do you think you can find
everything?"
He smiled. "Wanna time me?"
"That won't be necessary."
Chris left the room. He didn't hear the knock on the door, or a soft familiar voice--a
voice he'd known for years--say, "'Scuze me, ma'am, but my friend and I are looking
for a fella who mighta come through here a few days ago..."
Rebecca wordlessly opened the door wider. The tall man, and the smaller one with the
long hair and blue eyes stepped inside. The smaller man's eyes narrowed as he glimpsed
someone moving about in one of the bedrooms.
"Chris-?" he asked softly.
The figure stopped suddenly in the doorway.
Buck turned to see where Vin was looking. "CHRIS!"
"Buck? Vin?"
Time seemed to suddenly speed up. Introductions were hasty and abbreviated. Medical
treatment for Chris had been delayed enough as it was, and with the possibility of more
mudslides, everyone was aware that they had to get Chris out of there *now.*
Rebecca hastened the three men into Vin's jeep when Chris hesitated. "Rebecca?
Aren't you coming?"
"No," she said, as she put her arms around him in a farewell embrace.
"You got 3 people squeezed in that thing as it is. Now get going."
Chris struggled to find the words to express the many things he was feeling.
"'Thanks' just doesn't seem to be enough...But I'll come back. You know that, don't
you?"
Rebecca kissed him in response. "I know," she whispered. "Good
luck."
To Chris, it almost sounded as if she'd said "Good-bye."
She stood looking down the road even after the jeep was out of sight.
It was weeks later when the bandages finally came off for good. Chris's corneas had
healed, but he was still on medical leave for awhile longer. He had been told his driving
was to be limited for awhile. That was all he needed to hear. The Dodge wasn't totalled,
but it had been through some heavy repair work, and now he had somewhere he wanted to go.
It surprised him a little that he hadn't heard from Rebecca. She'd seen his driver's
license; surely she knew where he lived. Chris had thought about her a lot and now that he
was able to see again, he very much wanted to see her at last. And to hold her again.
But how to find her? He'd phoned Vin to find out how to get there. Vin hesitated a
moment, then said he was coming over. Before Chris could respond, Vin had hung up.
Chris was in the process of shoving some clothes into a duffel when Vin arrived.
"Headin' out?" Vin watched as Chris packed. "Reckon I can guess
where."
"Reckon you can. Now that you're here, you can tell me how to get there."
"No, I can't."
"Don't tell me you don't remember." Chris smiled. The smile vanished when Vin
didn't answer. "Look, I don't know what the problem is, but I'll find her myself if I
have to."
"Don't do this." Vin caught his arm as Chris passed him. "Chris...you
can't."
Chris shook his arm free. "And just why the hell not?"
"Do you know anything about her? Her last name...Her history...Anything? I bet you
don't."
"There'll be time for that."
"No, there won't be. You know why? We got a call from the U.S. Marshals,
Chris..." Vin paused to let that sink in. He knew Chris would figure it out. His
voice softened. "They've moved her...You can't see her."
Chris sat down on the bed as his knees threatened to give way. He knew without being
told. U.S. Marshals meant witness protection. That explained the remote location, the
mysterious history...even her 'good-bye' to him. She knew she wouldn't be seeing him
again. And if he tried to see her...
Then she really was gone. Just like that. He sat there for a long time as the idea that
he'd never see her again slowly took hold.
"Sorry, Chris," said Vin softly, watching Chris's reaction to the news. Chris
had only been with her a short time, but clearly it had been time enough for some feelings
to develop.
Chris leaned forward and put his face in his hands. He sat like that for a long time.
At last Vin broke the silence. "You okay?"
He nodded at last, hands still covering his eyes. "Yeah...I'm just memorizing the
only picture of her I'll ever have."
The End
