"Maybe two," Tyler said with a feral grin, snatching up his denim jacket and heading for the door.

Chris Faber scratched his head, gave his partner's retreating back a perplexed look and hurried after him.  This David Affair had really screwed him up.  Okay, so it had been a bit rough on him, what with Davie missing and Alex... not remembering anything, but things had turned out okay, hadn't they?  They'd got Davie back, and here he was heading out on a date with Alex tonight.  So what's the problem?  There was no reason to suddenly take a whole month -- two months!  Jesus! -- leave of absence, and not even pretend to be on business.  Usually, the family holiday was planned around some business meeting to keep up the 'Image'.  Hah, and that was the other thing -- how in Hell was he supposed to take two months off and still keep the edge?

"Maybe I don't want the edge so much anymore, Chris," Tyler told him down in the parking area.

"Don't want... ?"  was all the other man got out before Tyler had thrown the few necessities he'd come back to the office to collect into the transport, literally leaped into the vehicle, waved a cheery goodbye and shooting off into the traffic above.  Not want the edge?  How could you not want the edge?  Did a bear shit in the woods?  Was the pope multi-denominational?

"Don't look so surprised," a low voice said behind him.  Chris shook his head, hands on hips as he watched the transport disappear.

"I swear, Tash, that man's full of surprises, even after all these years."

Tash Petersen threw him a sideways glance.

"I thought I was the one with the mental breakdown," she said with some asperity.  "The man's just managed to salvage his marriage. What did you expect him to do?  Repeat the same mistake?  He and Alex'd be in the divorce courts, slugging it out over custody of CT and David by now if she hadn't been assaulted and the whole David Affair taken place."

"Well, when you look at it that way... I guess maybe I've been a little caught up with... other things these past weeks."  He grinned at her, and it was returned with an affection he'd never hoped to see again.  Tash wrapped a wiry arm around his broad shoulders and gave him a kiss on the head, just daring any one of the half dozen employees she spotted lurking at the windows to make a comment when they got back inside.

"Come on, you big dope, there's paperwork to be had in thum thar office.  And I want to get it finished before I have to go over and hold Alex's hand."

Chris groaned.  "Can I get amnesia too?"

"Only if I beat you about the head with a client brief."

"Goddanged @$%$#*^%! paperwork!"

"You said it," Tash agreed cheerfully, and steered him indoors.

"CT... can you tie this for me?"

"Sure, Dad.  Geez, you must be getting old -- your hands are shaking."

"Watch it," he growled, but the thirteen year old giggled, not the least cowed.  Her fingers flew expertly over the complicated knot while Tyler stuck his neck out for her attentions.

"Do it right, CT."

"Well of course.  Can't have you go out on your first date looking less than a total stud."

He glanced sharply at her.  "Where'd you hear that?"

She gave him a teenager's knowing glance and he sighed.  God help him in the next five years.  But he was preoccupied tonight, or he'd sit her down and give her a lecture.  From the expression on her face she knew it, too.

"What's the show?"

"Shakespeare.  Romeo and Juliet."

"How appropriate," she murmured.  Flicking lint off the shoulders and back of her father's suit, she jumped onto the bed to inspect her handiwork.  He held his arms out and did a 360.

"You'll do," she pronounced.

"Do?"

"Dad, you look great.  You'll knock her socks off.  Now, get out there and fly that transport or you'll be late.  You know how she likes punctuality.  Go on!" she shooed him out the door, enjoying every minute of it.  "And be as late home as you like," she shouted gleefully after him, "Just make sure you score!!!"

David Tyler ambled in from the kitchen, his mouth full of Oreo cookies, for which he seemed to have developed a penchant lately, and stood with CT in the doorway, watching their father's transport make a hurried and erratic departure into the aerial routes.

"CT?"

"What, Davie?" The girl slung a sisterly arm about his shoulders.

"Don't you think we're a weird family?"

"Oh, hell, Davie, where's the fun in being normal?"

"The kid's got a point there," he agreed, then his oh-so-innocent brown eyes began to sparkle.  "Hey, Ceets, I got an idea... "

"What?"

"Let's go mine Dermott's transport.  He'll have a heart attack!"

"David!"  But she was grinning too.

"And did you know that Jeremi calls him 'Titus' all the time?"  CT nodded.  "I think I know why.  Dermott McArdle -- Dermott 'Titus' McArdle... get it?  And after he's so shook up over the transport, he'd pay just about anything to shut us up about it!"

"My own brother!"  CT shook her head.  "I can't believe we're related!  If Mom and Dad find out how devious you are, David Anthony Tyler, you've had it."

"Nahhhh.  I'd sweet-talk 'em."

"Yeah, you would too."  CT ruffled his hair in a motherly fashion, then grinned, a familiar gleam entering her eyes.  "C'mon, I think I've still got some plastique under my bed... "
 
 

It would not do to wipe himself out when things between him and Alex were going so well.  He glanced at the bunch of flowers lying next to him in the passenger seat and grinned some more, testing out a smile that had grown rusty with disuse over the past few years.  Hmmm.  Seemed OK.  Just needed a bit of practise to make it come more naturally.  He knew his smile -- his real smile -- could be devastating, merely as a contrast to his usual sombre expression.  Could be handy to have this sort of thing on tap, especially on a date.

God, he hoped he wouldn't muff it.  Did you still slip your arm around a woman in the exciting part of the story?  Or maybe that was picture theatres.  He wasn't sure about dating protocol for live theatre, not to mention Shakespeare.  And anyway, what is she didn't want him to make a move on her?  What if she turned around and whalloped him right there and then?  Or what if she did want him to make a move on her and he didn't?  Would she be offended?

Jeeeezus Christ, he didn't remember it being this complicated when he was a teenager.

Still, he couldn't get this grin off his face.  C'mon, he told himself, enough is enough.  Any more practise and it'll start to come naturally.  Then a novel thought occurred to him: did it matter if people saw him smiling?  he rolled this around for a while.  What would happen if word got around that he smiled?  What would it do to his image, let alone his 'Image'?  And an even more startling thought occurred: did the 'Image' really matter?

It may have taken the kidnapping of his son and an assault on his wife, but he was coming to the conclusion that there were more important things in life than work and 'Image'.  To maintain the 'Image' required large investments of his time and energy, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to make that commitment any more.  His priorities were shifting.  He tested out the concept...  Not Worry About Image...   Hmmm.  Seemed okay.  Felt okay.  At 49, what more could a man have left to prove to the world, anyway?

A wry voice from another corner of his brain told him that 'Image', as it was, had caused him more trouble than it was worth in the past.   More injuries in the defence of said, and the alienation of his wife and family.

Well, damnit, things were gonna change!
 
Eventually.

Not all at once -- it'd be noticed.
 
But soon.

And he'd start with Alex.  That felt right.  Even if she still hadn't regained her memories of their past fifteen years together, the events of the David Affair proved that he had damned little to hide from her.

Whistling off key, Ham weaved his dark blue transport through the traffic at a probably illegal velocity.  He'd be a fried lizard if he was going to be late for this particular date.
 

Alex shoved her nose closer to the mirror and screwed up her face to show the maximum damage.  She prodded cheeks which were no longer taut and youthful, and tried to ignore her different colour eyes entirely.  She should avoid mirrors, she thought sourly.  Her mind's eye picture of herself was still as a 32 year old, not 47.  And that, sister, was a bloody big gap in her life.  She'd never been a stunningly beautiful woman -- attractive, maybe, in a competent sort of way.  How could any man look sideways at her now with these... theses... crevices!  Not to mention the general deterioration of her body.   Alex felt cheated, as if she should have been allowed a bit of a say in the matter before suddenly waking up in what almost amounted ot a stranger's body.

"Tash!" she wailed, "I'm a wreck!  How could I let myself go like this in fifteen years?"

Tash Petersen rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  "Listen to yourself.  You're becoming paranoid again."  The former freelance agent put down the strange paperweight decoration she'd been examining, unfolded herself from the sofa of Alex's small Seattle apartment and padded over to her friend.  "Since when did you get off being so worried about appearances, anyway?" she asked.

Alex grimaced.  "You're right.  I shouldn't.  I've just never been so unsure of myself on the inside, I guess.  And... oh, hell, I'm nervous!  The number of times I've been on a 'date' I could count on one hand and still have plenty of room for differential calculus.  I'm not sure I still remember how to act!"

Tash giggled, went to stifle it, then realized she didn't have to with Alex.  Sudden giggling fits had become an unfortunate manifestation of her time in the stasis tank in Colorado, which raised shocked eyebrows on all her former associates, but which Alex accepted as part of her personality.  Between their respective uncertainties and insecurities, Alex and Tash had become fast friends in the few weeks which had passed since the David Affair, as it was being called.

Most of her old friends and acquaintances saw Tash as... weaker... since what amounted to her nervous breakdown.  The doctors and therapists said she'd been lucky to escape with that and not permanent insanity, and she guessed they were right.  She sometimes wondered about her future as a TFE operative, but found it easier to concentrate on the present, living day to day.  It was the best method for coping.  And not too unpleasant, especially when coping included a Chris Faber who was all but tripping over himself to be supportive of her.  The thought it was sweet.  Well, she did once she'd accepted the idea of being supported, letting someone else into her life instead of circling around the edges.  She privately suspected that this, too, was an aberration caused by the stasis effect, but, like a lot of things, did not question it too closely.

"Alex," she told her friend, "you look fine, really."

"Really?"

"Really!  Stunning, in fact.  The man won't be able to resist you!"

Alex looked uncertain, then offered Tash a tentative smile, reaching forward to give her an impulsive hug.

"Thanks for coming over, Tash.  I need the moral support.  You want another coffee?"

"Sure.  One spoon this time," she called out after her, "and don't get the sugar and salt mixed up either!"

"Fussy, fussy!" Alex yelled from the kitchen, which was decked out with the most advanced microwave and the biggest freezer full of frozen food she could find.  She hadn't had a chance to use most of it, since Ham Tyler would call around every other night with dinner laid-on.  He was even talking about inviting her out to a night at Chef CT's.  Right now, she wasn't even sure she could handle a good, old-fashioned date.  It was Shakespeare, not her first choice as entertainment, but which she'd agreed to simply because it amazed her that someone like Ham Tyler could propose such a thing.  The man was truly full of surprises.  The thought of the impending evening got her stomach churning again and cursing, she brought the two cups into the lounge room.

She'd just set them down when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Tash sang out, grinning as Alex bulldozed past her, almost making her spill the coffee in her haste to get to the door.  "No, that's fine," she murmured, "I guess I'll get it."

Alex ripped open the door, ready with a torrent of greeting, but was rendered totally speechless by the huge bunch of white roses thrust in her face, from behind which Ham Tyler stood with a bashful but endearing smile.

"Hi," he said.
 

He put his arm around her in the exciting bit.

She didn't hit him.
 

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