Coffee.  And food!  She realized she was ravenously hungry and opened her eyes.

And screamed.  There was a strange man at the end of her bed.  And wait a minute... this wasn't even her bed.  Or her room.  She backpedalled up the bedhead, belatedly realizing that this was a hospital and there were tubes running in and out of her arms and connecting with complicated looking machinery.  It didn't help any when the man -- she recognized him now -- came around to the side of the bed and dragged her off the wall, screaming and kicking all the way.  He got a hand over her mouth which almost suffocated her, so she stopped struggling and sat stiff with fear in the bed.   When he asked whether she was going to scream again she gave a little shake of her head.  Slowly, he removed his hand.  Alex, now beginning to notice things like his two day growth and glean of insanity in the eyes, tried for a calm, pacifying tone.

"Uhhh... okay, I'm not going to scream any more.  I'm nice and quiet, see?  So... back off, will you?"

"Alex, it's me."

"I know it's you, Tyler, now... just... back off, will you?"

Tyler grunted, realizing he had been holding onto her shoulders.  He let go and stood back.  Alex rubbed them vigorously, not taking her eyes off him.

"Alex... what's wrong?  If it's the fight, I -- "

"Don't 'Alex' me, I hardly know you.  And -- look, just move back, will you?  Further... thank you.  What are you doing here anyway?  Weren't you hitchhiking through Canada last time I saw you?"

"Goddamnit, Alex, don't play games with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she told him sincerely.

At that point, three doctors and several nurses/orderlies burst into the room, looking shocked and dismayed.

"Why didn't you call us, Mr. Tyler?" once asked in a whisper.

"She... just woke up."

"She seems to have had a rather severe reaction to you, from the E.C.G. readings.  Are you sure nothing else happened?  She wasn't due to come out of it for another four hours."

"Excuse me," a dry voice said from the bed, "do you mind not talking about me in the third person?  It's one of the things I hate most about hospitals."

Van Driel, the doctor Tyler had been dealing with through all this, raised an eyebrow.  "Your wife," she said pointedly, "seems to have come through this just fine, Mr. Tyler."

"Wife!!!  Hey, look, enough of the practical jokes.  I can't remember how I got here, but I'll bet I know who put you up to this Tyler."

Everybody started speaking at once, until Van Driel held up her hands for silence.

"All right Alex," she said, finally addressing her directly, "just what exactly do you remember?"

Alex frowned and stared at her inquisitors, unable to make up her mind whether they were for real or part of some incredibly realistic hoax.  Nevertheless, she thought back.

"Well, there was him -- " she pointed at Tyler.  "He... knocked on my door last night... last night?  Well, he was hitchhiking and got caught in a snowstorm."

Tyler went to say something but was hushed by Van Driel, who motioned for her to go on.

"He slept in my barn... I think.  Yes.  And... he cooks an omelette better than I can, which is no great recommendation, of course, but it did taste good... " she stopped, lost in thought, trying to patch together the jumbled memories into chronological order.  "I seem to remember... did you get shot by Visitors?"  She looked quizzically at Tyler, who nodded.  She shrugged.  "That's all I can remember.  You seem to have mended all right... What happened after that?"

Tyler could keep silent no longer, and stepped forward, "Alex, that was over fifteen years ago.  We married.  You're my wife."

"Mr. Tyler!"

"Are you sure you've got the right person in this bed?" Alex inquired sweetly, then backed off as she saw the anger sweep over his features.  The man was vicious.  He probably had psychotic periods, too, and she had the feeling that if he decided to attack, having all these people here probably wouldn't save her.  It was easier with dogs -- she could just throw him a bone.

She tensed as he made a sudden move toward her, but he reached past her for a small hand mirror lying by the bed, and shoved it forcefully at her.

"Look at this.  You've aged, Alex.  You're not young any more.  This is Seattle, Washington, not Canada, and you're my wife!"

"NOOOOOOO!!!"

A glimpse was all she needed to send the mirror crashing against the nearest wall, only just missing Tyler's head.  She buried that awful face in her hands, and didn't see the man snarl and stalk out.
 
 

"Now wait a minute... "

"No, you wait."  She stopped mid-stride and turned to face him.  "What's the matter with you?  You could see that something was wrong.  I told you the drug was experimental -- results unpredictable.  Compound that with the head injuries and damnit, I should have seen something like this happening."  Van Driel rubbed at her forehead, obviously upset.  "Did you have to go barging in with brutal home truths in her first few minutes of consciousness?  Do you know how dangerous that is?  Amnesia is 90% unconscious -- there was a reason for her to forget her life with you, and you've hardly given her any good reasons to remember, have you?"  The doctor glared at him, but Tyler's expression gave nothing away.  She threw up her hands and turned to keep walking, but Tyler grabbed her arm.

"Where do we go from here, doctor?"

"For now, nowhere."  Van Driel's expression softened a little.  "Mr. Tyler... Ham... I've known you for a good many years.  I think I must have stitched every part of your skin, splinted or operated on just about every bone in your body over the past decade.  You and Alex... you're two of a kind.  When you're hot you're hot, as they say, and when you're not... well, you can both be incredibly stubborn.  Try working with her, not against."

"I didn't know you doctors doubled as social workers," he muttered, looking away.  Van Driel snorted.

"With your family, I should get danger money.  Look, for the moment, it might be best if you stayed away, gave her a chance to come to terms with things, and to remember."

"Susan, will she remember?"

Van Driel's answer to that was a helpless shrug.

"Give it time, Ham."

"Time, I don't have time.  I've got to find Davie.."

Van Driel watched the man stride off up the corridor and shook her head.

By the time she re-entered Alex Bailey's room, the small vet was sitting bolt upright in her bed with arms crossed, her expression just daring anyone to tangle with her.  Van Driel suspected that may be the cause of the empty room -- not many patients could clear a room of inquisitive specialists who just loved to poke and prod, but she didn't doubt Alex could and would, amnesia or no.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hello," was the suspicious reply.  "You're not going to tell me I should remember you, too?"

She shrugged, pulling up a chair.  "I'm just your doctor.  My name's Susan Van Driel.  And you must have a million questions.  Fire away."

Alex's expression altered to ne of new respect.  For the first time since she'd woken up this morning, here was a sane person asking sane questions.  She mustered herself, then hesitated.

"Something wrong?" Van Driel asked mildly.  Alex's smile was weak.

"I've got to admit -- I'm a bit afraid of the answers I might get."
 
 

So intent was she on making her way safely to the TV room and keeping her gown secure at the same time, she didn't see the trolley until she bumped into it, creating just the sort of racket she was trying to avoid.

"Goddamnit!"

"Here, let me help you... Alex!"

Alex looked up into the face of yet another complete stranger and sighed.  "Not another person I supposedly know."

The stranger looked chagrined.  "I'm sorry, the doctor did tell me.  I was just expecting to see you in your room..."  He handed over a bunch of flowers.  "These are for you."

"Thank you, Mr. ...?"

"MacKellar," he said hurriedly.  "Nicholas MacKellar.  I'm a vet.  In San Francisco."  He hesitated, went to go on, then pulled a face.  "I'm really botching this, aren't I?"

Alex grinned.  "Vet, huh?  That's the first thing anyone's said today that makes sense.  C'mon, if you can smuggle me into the TV room you, too, can fill me in on the last fifteen supposed years of my life."

"Well, actually, I don't -- didn't -- know you that well.  We only met at a convention a week ago."

"Oh really?  Well, in that case, you're doubly welcome.  C'mon."

They snuck in without too much trouble, and the room was relatively empty, being visiting hours.  They settled into a corner and Alex said,

"So.  Tell me.  What was I doing at a convention -- vet convention, I take it?"

Nicholas nodded.  "You were giving a speech, actually.  It went over very well."

She seemed to digest this.  "And how did we meet?"

MacKellar smiled, an attractive, cheeky sort of smile that caused Alex to smile in reply.  "I confess -- I sought you out.  Your speech was... interesting, and controversial in a lot of ways.  I asked you out to dinner to discuss it further and you accepted.  The next day I had to compete in a dressage competition -- my hobby -- and you came along to watch."  He grimaced.   "I got 57th.  Not exactly a personal best.  I was disgusted with myself. So you insisted on taking me out to dinner, since you felt it was all your fault -- which it wasn't.  I had... other things on my mind that day."

Alex, who'd been studying him closely, asked, "Were you good in bed?"

Nicholas looked startled.  "You do remember!"

"No," she smiled, "but I haven't forgotten what I like in a man.  At least I still had taste."

"Thank you -- I think."

"You're welcome," she smiled from behind drawn up knees, suddenly shy.  She was always direct, but she couldn't quite fathom what prompted her to be so obvious.  It was more a feeling, a sensation of 'rightness'.  The words had been out of her mouth before she could censor them.  And by the pleased look on his face, she hadn't been wrong.  Alex found herself wondering what that homicidal maniac she was supposed to be married to would have to say about all this -- and if he'd known.  Maybe that's why he was so agro.

Well, no matter.  As far as she knew, she was single -- divorced from a carbon copy of that gung-ho Rambo-clone, Tyler -- and could do as she pleased. And she pleased rather in this nice vet's direction at the moment...
 
 

It was as simple as that.  She'd lost track of time -- how could she keep track when all her senses were being deprived.  In her more... uncomfortable moments she feared that her brain had been surgically removed from her body and was floating in a tank of fluid, suspended, aware, yet cut off from everything.  Surely insanity could not be far away.

Of course, in her lucid periods (and these were becoming fewer and fewer), she knew that she was held fast in a cryogenic solution of amniotic-like gel.  That was hardly more comforting, especially when she now knew why.  Having scored brilliantly on their 'research tests', being merely a series of questions designed to discover how socially well-adjusted a person was, and if they had any function on the planet that was going to be missed (Tash was both mal-adjusted and of no real use to the planet at all), she had been led down to a lower level and told she would make an excellent main course on the Homeworld, and bring a juicy price into the bargain.  Then wham, bang, thank you ma'am, she was flat out on a table being prepared for stasis.  Some top operative, she thought sourly.

Dying didn't bother Tash too much -- it was a occupational hazard -- but this helpless awareness was beginning to wear her mental reserves down.  She thought of her parents and their condition after they'd been revived from statis.  No wonder they had been shaky!  She quickly clamped down on a hysterical giggle bubbling up inside her mind, knowing that if she gave way to it, she may never stop.  That way lay madness.

Natasha Petersen forced herself to think:

     1 x 1 = 2

Too simple.  Concentrate...

     157 x 23 = .............

        ................................................... uhhhhhhhhh

okay, two sevens are fourteen, carry the one... add the zero...

................ 3, 611 !!!!

Yeah!  That pushed it.

Mathematics had never been her forte, however, and the 'challenge' soon gave her a headache.  Which was the last thing a person in stasis needed! (She almost giggled again from the image she'd presented herself).  So she summoned up a calming, relaxing image...

A scene from her early days with Chris.  Now where did that come from?  She hadn't thought about that picnic in years, and if he'd commented on it, she was sure she would not have recalled the brief, impromptu stop-off in the small park, while supposedly on their way to meet a client.  Chris pulled a bottle of champagne out of nowhere, though they never got to drink it as her comment that he had lots of... 'natural camouflage'... caused a tussel that spilled most of the stuff...

Tash was smiling now, and she felt a little calmer.  More in control.  Mentally she took a deep, steadying breath.  It was going to be a near thing.
 
 

"Nine of clubs," Alex said, and stifled a yawn.

Van Driel frowned.  "This is important Alex."

The vet made a rude sound.  "It's repetitious.  What have you learned in all this time?  I can see okay.  I can hear okay.  Every sensory response is okay.  It's just my memory that's screwed, pardon the expression.  How much longer am I going to be puddling about in this... this... whiteness, anyway?  God, it's worse than being snowed in for a month."  Alex picked up a corner of her hospital gown and dropped it again with exaggerated distaste, and summed up her feelings with a, "Yergh!"

When she bothered to look up again, Van Driel was standing with hands on hips, a bored expression on her face.  "Finished?" she inquired.  "Good."  She held up another card.  Alex restrained an impulse to stick out her tongue, then said,

"King of diamonds?"

Van Driel's eyes narrowed.  "Okay, okay.  Two of hearts ....  three of spades?"  Alex clutched her head in mock anguish.  "OhmyGod, I can't remember, I'm cracking up, my brain, my brain, ahhhhhhgh!"

"I would call in your new boyfriend to beat some sense into you," Van Driel said, "but you'd probably enjoy it too much.  Should I go call Ham Tyler?"

"Six of hearts," Alex muttered sourly.  Why the mention of Ham Tyler should put a damper on her spirits she didn't know and it irritated her.  It also puzzled her.  Her main reaction to Ham Tyler, when she stopped to analyze it (Alex was always analyzing things), was one of... discomfort.  Perhaps his presence when she first woke up was having more of an effect than she'd bargained for.

Out of sorts, she tried to shake off the mood, doing her level best to concentrate on Van Driel's useless tests.  She'd have to get out of her soon, though.  And they couldn't keep her much longer.  As she'd told Van Driel, they were finding out very little from their 'observations'.  All her reactions were normal, right down to her early childhood memories.  If it wasn't for the total blank on the last fifteen years of her life, nothing might be wrong.  She certainly didn't feel this dreadful sickness everyone insisted she had -- except when that shrink started putting her through hypnotherapy and she didn't think he'd be wanting to visit her again after their last session...

Maybe she'd just check out tomorrow or the next day and go see her parents.  Maybe invite Nick along.  They'd like that.  He was the direct opposite of Do-or-Die-Dennis and therefore certain to win points in their eyes.  How long had it been?  A year?  Last Christmas?  Before that?  Well, too long, anyway.  She resolved to call them up just as soon as she could dump this Van Driel and her dumb tests.

"DR. ALEX BAILEY!!!"

Oops, speaking of which... Alex offered a weak smile, bringing her attention back to her doctor who was glaring daggers at her.

"Eight of spades?" she hazarded.

"Uuuh!" Van Driel threw up her hands and the cards and pointed her to the door.  "That's it, I've had it.  OUT!"

Alex went, trying to hide her grin.  She liked Van Driel.  The doctor didn't pussyfoot around.  A person knew where they stood with her.  She felt they'd have a lot in common if they ever got to know each other on a social basis.

Outside, she made a bee-line for her room, intending to go down to the shopping complex in the basement levels of the hospital and buy some decent clothes.  Nicholas was coming by tonight and she was getting sick of looking like the spectral haunt of Seattle General.  She might look a few years older, her eyes mightn't match and she might be carrying a few more kilos than she'd like, but she was still very much a woman.  Smiling, Alex increased her pace.

On her way down, she was bumped into by a tall, well-built young woman who tried to get out of her way but only succeeded in blocking her path each time she moved.

"Don't mind me," Jeremi Lowell said with a grin, then looked up.  "Oh, Alex!"

"Do I know you?"

"Oh, right, no, you don't, sorry.  I mean, yes, you did, but not now.  I mean..."

"I think I know what you mean," Alex interrupted, aware she was being rude but a sixth sense telling her that this woman needed regular interrupting.  The woman in question didn't seem to mind, but smiled cheerfully and handed over a pot plant, a quaint old fashioned ceramic base shaped like a cat ready to pounce with a single yellow chrysanthemum growing out of it.  When she looked more closely Alex could see tiny little ceramic critters littering the pot.  She loved it, and her smile of thanks was quite genuine.

"It's not what I really wanted to get you," Jeri explained as she accompanied her boss down to the shops.  "There was this really neat coffee mug that said, 'I can't believe it.  I forgot to have children!'.  But Dermott wouldn't let me buy it -- he said it was tactless.  And that you were a coffee mug hoarder and I wasn't to encourage you."

Alex grinned, pleased by this revelation.  So she'd still retained her fascination for coffee mugs, after all these years?  Nice to know at least one aspect of her personality had not changed.  And Jeri's instinct had been right -- she did love the sentiments on the mug.  She was imagining the shock it's give all those visitors so terribly worried about saying the wrong thing and was tempted to hunt it out and buy it herself.

Alex let Jeri ramble on as they entered the large shopping complex, able to pick up many interesting bits of information, such as the fact that Jeri was employed by her, that she owned a veterinary practice which was on the same property as the house she and Tyler supposedly lived in, and that the practice was doing remarkably well now that Alex wasn't there to frighten away the customers.  As she spoke, Alex would occasionally feel a tingling of alarm, as if she was on the brink of remembering something.  It happened when she mentioned the horse patient, Miss Moneypenny, a dog called Flat, and of all things, ducks on a pond she hadn't even seen.  That was the strongest sensation -- she received a sudden impression of a small boy squatting down among a flock of the animals, throwing twigs and urging them to fetch.  Bizarre.  She pushed aside the heavy emotions and shook herself mentally, staring around at the brightly lit shopping complex.

"Right.  Now, Jeri... "

"Yeah?"

"One question:  am I... rich?"

Jeri frowned.  "I guess so.  I don't know.  I've never heard you complain about not having credit, and you always pay me on time!"

"Ah.  So how does a person go about... buying things these days?  I don't have any money on me..."

"Noooooo problem!"  Jeri assured her with a delighted grin.  "Step right this way.  Nothing I like more than spending credit.  Especially other people's credit..."

Linking an arm through Alex's, Jeri Lowell steered her boss in the direction of the bargains with an unerring nose.  Her easy, comfortable manner which demanded little in return was a blessing, and Alex felt truly grateful.  She decided that her judgement of character had not gone too far amiss either.
 
 

But she'd gotten what she wanted -- a decent pair of denim jeans, sneakers, a couple of sweatshirts, as well as an array of colourful tops and a few other pieces of clothing of interesting cut or style, which, when she inquired, Jeri assured her were quite legal to wear in public these days.  All her purchases set her 'credit' back several thousand dollars.  Jeri laughed that away as being the normal cost of things and wasn't inflation a bummer?  and good thing a person didn't need to carry around paper money anymore, eh?  Alex didn't grumble too much -- after all, it didn't feel like she was spending her own money.

By the time she finally said goodbye to Jeri, nurses were harassing her to eat dinner, and she chased them out of her room with threats of schizophrenic violence.  She locked the door and ate a calm, unhurried meal in front of the TV (which was now known as a vid-text, apparently).  The news reports reassured her that the world had not changed too greatly in fifteen years.  Just as many hold-ups, hi-jacks, death-threats, rapes, assaults, and murders as she remembered.  Ahh, the good old days.  She speared a chunk of potato and munched with wry amusement.  It was oddly comforting to find that the world had not become some marvellous Utopia.  Not only would she never have believed it, she was having a hard enough time trying not to kill someone herself out of pure frustration in this goddamned hospital.

Pushing aside the tray of food half-easten (though it really was quite good), Alex thumbed the remote control to 'off' with a satisfied click and rolled off the bed.  She felt more like her old self in the jeans and khaki & red sweatshirt but decided, looking down, that she'd have to get into a regular exercise programme.  Size 14 indeed!  She made a face to no one in particular and went to find a phone.

Making a simple phone call in itself proved not so simple.  For a start, they weren't phones anymore, they were vid-phones (was everything a vid-something these days?).  When Alex finally logged on using the credit-card sized piece of plastic she'd been using for her shopping, she punched in her parent's number and an operator's face flashed onto the screen, informing her with pre-recorded courtesy that the number was no longer connected, and would she care to consult a directory first next time?

She made a rude noise, but punched up directory assistance anyway.  Some strange person supplied her with the details and a twelve digit number and she punched those in.

The face on the screen was unfamiliar.

"Yes?" it inquired.

"Er... does Rebecca and Samuel Bailey live there?" she asked.

The person on the other end looked surprised, then peered closely at her.  "Alex?  Alexandra Frances Bailey?"

"Yes!"

"Don't you recognize me?  It's Franz de Lucia."

"Franz!  God, no, I didn't, you've... well, you look older."

The man's face crinkled into a smile and he chuckled.  "Don't we all, my dear!"

Alex looked chagrined.  "Franz, where are my parents?  Directory assistance gave me this number.  Didn't you used to live up the street from them?"

De Lucia looked puzzled.  "Alexandra, my dear, don't you remember?  You went to the funeral three years ago."

By her expression, she obviously did not remember.  "How?  Just tell me how."

"Transport accident, of course.  My dear, I'm so dreadfully sorry... "

Alex held up her hands.  "That's okay. And Phillip?  My brother?"

"I haven't heard from him in years -- almost as long as you.  Alexandra, if there's anything wrong..."

"No, no, I'm fine.  Thanks Franz, I'll keep in touch."

She broke the connection before she could break down herself.  Why should it bother her?  Neither parent had been young, it was not unexpected, was it?  And they hadn't been close, any of them.  Why did she feel so... so... dislocated?  So... hurt?  Betrayed?  Guilty?

Trying to hold back the tears, she stumbled back to her room, bumping into Dr. Van Driel coming the other way.

"Alex, I just... what's wrong?"

"Nothing."  It was a big ragged, but her voice didn't quite crack.  Van Driel was not fooled.  She took her favourite patient by the shoulders and sought out her eyes.

"Don't give me that," she said more gently than Alex would ever have expected of her.  "C'mon, come inside and tell Doctor Susan all about it."

Damnit, if it had been anything but compassion, she might have been able to summon up enough grit to get rid of the woman, but Van Driel had reached inside of her and turned on the waterworks, and now it wouldn't stop.  Alex curled up on her bed, leaned against her doctor and cried her eyes out. Van Driel patted her reassuringly, but looked otherwise unworried by her patient's breakdown.  If anything, she looked satisfied, making all the appropriate noises in all the appropriate places as Alex related the story and poured out her feelings.  When she was almost through, the vet sat up and pulled away, sniffing and regarding Van Driel with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you all this.  I... where's Ham?"

"He should be visiting soon."

Alex frowned.

"No, I meant Nick.  Didn't I?"

The images associated with Nicholas, although appealing, did not seem to match the image she'd had when she'd asked for Ham.  But.. Tyler?  He was the last person she'd want around right now.  What was wrong with her?  She came to the conclusion that there must have been someone else in her life besides Nick or Tyler, and she'd said 'Ham' by mistake.  But for the life of her she couldn't recall the person's name.  She thought hard, and was rewarded with a hazy impression of rich male laughter and her own, more brittle, tinkling variety.  The emotions accompanying it were heavy with a warm, vibrant love forged of deep kinship and understanding.  And happiness, the sort of happiness Alex had rarely known in her life.  Her job gave her satisfaction, and her animals gave her their unqualified affections, but never their understanding and acceptance of her -- faults, flaws and strengths.  She felt she'd give a lot to find this man from her past -- but didn't quite know how to go about asking Van Driel who he was, where he was, what had happened to him.  For a start, she very likely wouldn't know who she was talking about, and she didn't quite feel up to it in her current emotional state.  She resolved to make discreet enquiries as soon as possible.  Jeri might be a likely place to start... yeah.

She wiped at her eyes with the tissue Van Driel handed her.  "Thanks, Susan.  I needed that.  God, how dumb can you get?  I should have known... fifteen years, after all.  I guess it just didn't sink in, really sink in, I mean."

Van Driel shook her head.  "I should have thought to fill you in on these things, bring you up-to-date.  But I was kind of counting on your family to do that for you."  She grimaced.  "And you are a weird family, pardon me for saying."

"So... my dogs, Homer and Solomon.  They'd be dead now, wouldn't they?"

"Very likely.  I'm sorry, Alex."

"No, no need.  If they had a good life, that's all that matters.  That's nature.  Just like with good old Mom and Dad.  Bit of a shock, but well, it had to happen.  Transport accident, huh?  Guess that's those anti-grav thingos the Visitors drive?"

"Yes, and they're called Saurians now."

"Oh yeah?  Huh.  I'll bet Mom made Dad buy one and she took him joyriding.  She liked to do that, you know.  Used to be hell on wheels when she was younger, always hanging out at the drag strips.  Well, at least she was happy doing what she liked best when she went.  Good luck to her."

"Your mother?"  Van Driel shook her head.  "It must be genetic."

"Yeah, that's what the shrink reckons too," Alex said solemnly, but a mischievous twinkle had entered her eye.  "I invent a new complex for him every session.  I think he'll do his post-doctoral thesis on me, if I play my cards right."

"Oh, Alex Bailey!"  Alex started to grin, then laugh and Van Driel smiled too.  "You really have the most appalling sense of humour!"

"Yeah, that's what... what... " She frowned briefly, then shrugged, "well, what someone I used to know always said."

"Well, I've got rounds."  Van Driel got to her feet.  "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine.  Nick said he'd drop by tonight.  Should be here any time, if you're worried about me slashing my wrists or anything."

She pulled a tortured face, hands to throat, and fell back onto the bed, her laughter following the doctor out. Alone, Alex rolled over onto her back and contemplated the ceiling.  In a way, it was a weight off her mind, about her parents.  She felt a bit guilty about that, but, hell, she couldn't lie to herself.  Alex had been her own person for all but the first 17 of her years.  She moved out, put herself through vet school (with the help of Dennis, admittedly), worked hard and eventually established her own practice.  A person grew apart from parents under those conditions.  And no love had been lost on either side for long before that, she thought sourly.  Face it, kiddo, you feel guilty, not sad.  Guilty? she thought, okay, I can live with that.  Guilt's okay.  It was also a favourite of Morton's, the shrink.  Hell, she'd have a field day with him tomorrow.  And here's a thought, Alex:  if you ever fail as a vet his post-doc studies will keep you employed as a research subject for years.  The idea quite amused her.
 
 

Chris sighed and peered into the night through his infra-red contacts.  //Well, Tash,// he thought, //This time I promise to clean up my act.   I'll hang up the shirts behind the TV and get around to throwing out that case of empty beer cans and I'll even wash the dishes more than once a week.  Just be okay.//

He gritted his teeth, realizing his emotional attachments here weren't helping him in his job at all.  He activated the small radio set into his coat collar.  "Tarrington?"

"Here," came the immediate response.  The Texan was actually on the other side of the research complex, but he sounded like he was whispering straight into Faber's ear, which was where the receiver was planted.

"Anything?"

"Dead as a dormant lizard."

"Pretty quiet here too.  I'm going 'round to the east side..."

"That's away from the landing platform," Tarrington reminded him.

"I know that.  You just keep watch there."  The Enemy was hardly likely to use the main entrance, Chris realized, even though that's where most of their victims came in.  The research and interviews he and Tarrington had carried out came up with a distinct pattern.  While some folk going in to volunteer for the tests just vanished on the spot, others were released only to disappear some months later.  The lucky ones were rejecting for a testing from the outset and were left strictly alone.  Chris wasn't sure what they were up to, but he had a suspicion and he didn't like it.

He made his way to the rear of the complex in relative silence where he found a nice, flat oval of land which, though obviously not used as a landing platform, could be.  He hunkered down in the bushes and watched.

Hell of a way to spend a Monday night, Tarrington grumbled inwardly, checking his watch.  Correction: Tuesday morning.  He was supposed to have been going to dinner with Cherry Dixon tonight, and he'd forgotten to vid her and cancel the date.  Maybe if he had time in the morning...

A whooshing noise made him duck quickly into the shrubs and he stared up to see a hover transport skimming close to the treetops as it passed over the building under observation and came to a halt behind it, settling down to a stop below his field of vision.  He keyed his radio.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, I see it... "  Chris was scrutinizing the transport from this vantage point, nothing down salient features in a little book.  Black turn-of-the-century ZA-4 Ford -- very new, tinted windows and seamless undercarriage.  Licence digital... Seattle, SMP 0034... a bumper tattoo proclaiming "I brake for lizards", only some techno-vandals had altered it to read "I aim for lizards".  That brought a smile to his lips. He'd have to get that burned into Ham's BMW.

His limbs were aching again, and his knee in particular felt like the ligament was coming apart, but he dared not move.   As he watched, two men emerged from the transport and went inside a back door.  A third man went to the back of the vehicle and pressed the hatch release.  The back panel folded obediently away to reveal an insulated chamber within.  Chris had a boot like that on his work car, to keep explosives cool and stable, and so the smell wouldn't leak into the cabin. His sixth sense was tingling uncomfortably.

He was crouched there for almost fifteen minutes before the men reappeared at the back door.  Two others were with them -- Saurians, by the faint sound of the voices reaching him -- and between them they carried... a body?  Chris shifted very slightly and fumbled with a second set of contacts, these ones used for amplification instead of binoculars.  He dropped one, and almost poked an eye out getting the other set out, but finally managed to get the amplifier in as the burden was laid in the boot of the transport.

Jesus Christ.

It was a body, all right, but small and shrivelled like a dried pea. Like a human body that had rejected cryogenic suspension and lost all its moisture to the amniotic fluid surrounding it.

It all finished quickly.  The failed subject loaded, the three men got into the transport and lifted it off and away to the west.  The Saurians moved back inside and locked the door behind them.  Cursing quietly, Chris peeled the magnifying lens from his eye -- it was starting to give him a headache -- and contacted Tarrington.

"You see any of that?"

"Some.  I tried to get closer but the building was in the way."

"Looks like they've got a cryo-store in there.   Full of people.  Let's get out of here and trace this transport."

"Right."

Chris moved off to meet Tarrington at the rendezvous point, against every instinct screaming at him to go and get Tash the hell out of there.  Not a good idea, he kept telling himself, you could get Davie killed, Ham'd never forgive you, it's not professional, it's... but Tash was in there and they'd found, eight years ago, what had happened to her brother.  Of all those captured and suspended by the Saurian forces during the war, one in ten thousand did not succumb to the deep sleep treatment.  Their minds remained conscious in a body deprived of all other senses.  There was a definite family link.

And Tash's brother had gone insane and died in the cryo tubes.
 
 

"What made you become a vet?"

"My parents, I guess."  Nicholas was leaning against the end of Alex's hospital bed, a deck of cards in his hands which shuffled them absently.  Alex was propped similarly against the other end, sitting cross legged as she contemplated her own cards.

"Go on, I'm listening," she said, though she was the perfect picture of concentration as she played her ace.

"It's sort of a family tradition," he said, "My mother was a vet who'd moved to the country and my father was a part-time bible-basher and farmer.  Between them they raised 2 hectares of corn, 300 head of sheep, 50 goats, a vegetable patch, and me."

Alex laughed.  "How very flattering.  So you were an old child?"

He nodded.  "Yup.  How about you?  How did you become a vet?"

He played a seven of diamonds, then glanced up when Alex didn't answer immediately.  Her face was set in memory, and for once there were no steel defences in place.  MacKellar kicked himself for asking a question that would have such obvious memories.  The doctor had warned him about the death of her parents.  But Alex had asked him the question first, and although she looked pensive, she seemed to have come to terms with things.

He put out a hand.  She looked up and smiled.

"Why did I become a vet?  Well, my family was a motivating factor, too, I guess.  My brother was the sort who used to tear wings off flies and torture small animals, usually rabbits.  I fixed them up.  Suppose it was a natural progression to vet school."

"Is that why you're always so... positive?"

She grinned.  "You mean pushy.  Yeah, guess it is.  My parents were never really that interested in animals, and they thought the sun shone out of Phil's... you know where.  I learned from an early age to take matters into my own hands."  She paused.

"Sorry, bad memories?"

She shook her head.  "Not... bad memories, well, not all.  Just... memories, y'know?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, and played another card.  He had a nice voice, quiet & melodious, and deeper than one expected of a man 5'5".  Alex liked that.  She inspected her cards again and whooped in delight as she threw the set down.

"Gin!"

"Uh uh, look."  He pointed.  All his cards were down in the last play.  The look of dismay was so plain on her face that he laughed and said, "Let's not switch to poker."

"Huh.  Son of a gun.  How'd you do that?"

"Unfair tactics.  I distracted you."

"Distracted me?!  I was trying to distract you!"  She tugged out a pillow from behind her and pitched it at him.  Laughing, he caught it and threw it back, and before long they were engaged in an authentic pillow fight, cards spilling everywhere.

When honour had been satisfied all round, and they subsided breathless with laughter, neither was too surprised to find themselves in the other's arms.  They stayed that way for a while, getting their breath back, until it seemed quite natural to lean together and share a gentle kiss.

"I was right," Alex said when they parted.

"About what?"

"You are good in bed."

That started off another tussle, which was interrupted by Dr. Van Driel, much to their mutual embarrassment.  Van Driel merely cast an exasperated glance skyward and said,

"I just thought you'd like to know -- Ham Tyler's on his way up, so I'd advise you to clear out for a while, Nick.  While you are in the ideal place to be treated for multiple fractures, I'm sure we'd all rather avoid them, eh?  Oh, and you're scheduled for more testing at 3:30 tomorrow, Alex."

She left, and Alex pulled a face.

"Bucketfuls of good news, isn't she?"

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

He leaned back against the bed.  "Then I won't."

When Ham Tyler entered the room with a sharp tap, the first thing Alex noticed was that he wore a new denim jacket.  Not leather.  Somehow that seemed incongruous.  Sketchily, she recalled a conversation they'd had over his penchant for leather, but she couldn't place it.

"Alex," Tyler nodded, determined to be civil.  "Dr. MacKellar."

MacKellar nodded back pleasantly, looking relaxed, which reassured Alex.  She didn't know how he did it -- Tyler always made her tense and nervous, like being in a cage with a wounded panther.  Then she noticed he had a companion this time, a compact rather stocky child of about twelve or thirteen, she guessed.  The child looked expectantly at her, then dropped her gaze, troubled.  Obviously, her father had warned her.

"That's...?"

"Christine," Tyler introduced, then at the girl's fierce glare, "CT."  She nodded.

"Hello Mom," CT said, digging the toe of her sneaker into the floor.

"Hi CT."

"I had to bring CT," Tyler explained, moving further into the room and shedding his jacket.  CT followed, mimicking his actions almost exactly.  "I don't like her leaving my side and Chris is in Colorado."

"Who?"

"Chris Faber," he said in a dead tone, "my partner."

Alex mouthed an 'oh', realizing that her 'other' self was supposed to know this person quite well.  This was getting awkward.

"Alex..."  he glanced at MacKellar, "do you mind if we talk in private?"

"I'd rather Nick stay."

"Oh."  He cleared his throat.  "Fine.  I just thought you might like to know that we're making progress on the Lawton case."

"Who?"

Tyler sighed.  "Never mind.  Alex, I came to tell you that our son is missing.  And from what I've found out, he might very well be entree on some lizard's table if I don't find him real soon.  Doesn't that bother you in the slightest?"

"What do you mean?"

"The lizards are exporting people, Alex.  They eat people.  Our son might be next."

"People?" MacKellar said sharply.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, I... well, I heard a rumour about exotic animals... that's been going around ever since the War.  Nothing about people, though."

"Yeah, well, it looks like it.  It'd be pretty ironic to find our son on the last shipment out because I couldn't stop it in time, wouldn't it?"  He was staring hard at Alex.

"So what do you want me to do?  Panic?  Fret?  I'm sorry, Mr. Tyler, I just don't remember, so get off my case.  Sure, I'm sorry for the kid -- I hope you find him, I really do.  But don't expect me to break down over it.  Okay?"

"Okay, Alex."  Tyler was grim.  He took CT by the hand, unwilling to prolong the confrontation in front of his daughter.  "Be seeing you.  Maybe."

CT cast an anxious look over her shoulder at her mother as they left the room, and an even more anxious one at her father.  Alex couldn't miss the expression on the girl's face and couldn't figure out why anyone would be worried about Ham Tyler.
 
 

"Damnit, Ham," Chris turned abruptly, "I want to move in on Colorado now.  We can close down the operation and find out from the people there where they're holding David."

"No," Ham was firm, "I won't risk it."

"We've spent two days covering every angle.  We know that the Ford transport is licensed to the Seattle Marine Park; we know the movements of people in and around the Colorado research centre; we know of at least two Saurian food shippers who have supplied that centre with equipment used in cryo-suspension; and we... "

"We don't know where David's being held, and we won't move until we know that."

"Yeah," said CT pugnaciously.  Ham turned to look at her and sighed.

"Lance, will you take CT out for a minute?"

"Sure.  C'mon CT."

CT glared at him sulkily, but obeyed her father.  As she walked past, however, he reached out to tussle her hair.  "Don't be too tough on Lance," he said, forcing a smile.  "He's only used to hardened mercenaries.  You might scare him."

CT grinned cheekily.  "It's okay, Dad.  I'll be gentle with him."

Chris waited until the door closed again, then renewed his efforts to convince Ham of the urgency of this.

"Ham... "

"No."

"You know what could be happening to her, don't you?  I'm scared that it is happening and I'm just sitting around..."

"I didn't realize you were so close still," the barb was out of his mouth before he realized, and Chris' big bear face bristled with anger.

"Don't you go telling me about my failed relationships, damnit!  At least I never hit her!"

They stood glaring at each other, like bristle-backed dogs, but Ham was ruinously tense about enough things without this.  He shook his head.

"I'm sorry Chris.  I'm a dumb bastard."

"Yeah."  But he relaxed and stepped closer to his partner.

"No hard feelings?" Ham lifted a questioning eyebrow, unsure of the response.

"Aww, no," Chris smiled and the tension between them dissipated.  Ham was disturbed to realize that Alex was not the only person he'd grown apart from in recent years.

"So what're we going to do?" he asked his partner.

Chris frowned.  "You're right.  We can't just move in on the centre.  We have to find Davie first.  It's just... "

"Yeah."  The implicit understanding was back between them.  "So how do we find David?"

"I might have the answer," Julie appeared at the doorway, smiling.  Ham was pleased to see her smiling again.  A lot of the tiredness had gone from her face, though her eyes were still troubled.  She was coming to terms with Dan's death, and doing her level best to see that Ham wouldn't have to cope with David's.

"What've you got?"

"I was thinking... where would be a good place to hide someone if you didn't want them found.  Not even seen.  They must know that you've got too good a network to hide him for long.  So I started snooping into Marine Park files.  Do you know about their pods?"

Ham nodded.  "They've got fixed ones on the bottom of the Sound, for visitors.  We took the kids there last month..." he trailed off on that thought, and pushed it from his mind.

"Well, they have a few mobile units as well, self sufficient for several weeks of food and water.  One is currently out on research duty, assigned under the name of a researcher currently on leave.  That researcher's assistant is Akira."

Ham's eyebrows lifted.

"That wouldn't mean much, except the two men who actually signed for the craft aren't actually on the research register.  I made some calls to the Park and one of the humans fits the description CT gave of the human who kidnapped David.  Ham, he might not be there, but... "

"It's a good theory.  Do we know where the pod is?"

Julie nodded.  "I got one of your hackers to tie into the Park's computer monitor systems.  Your people are good, you know.  The first signal we got of the pod's location was false -- an echo, to deliberately mislead anyone tracing it.  We've got the actual co-ordinates out beyond Port Angeles and heading for the Pacific Ocean."

Ham, swept up in the hope of it, pulled Julie into a hug.  "You're marvellous!"  He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she laughed.  She'd started this line of investigation to keep her mind off Dan, but it had paid off and it was so good to see Ham snap out of his indecision.

"C'mon," Tyler started out of the room, his arm still around Julie.  She slung her own arm around his waist, and behind them Chris raised an eyebrow.

"CT?"  Ham called out in the main control centre of TFE, "CT, where the hell...?"  He froze as Tarrington came tearing out of the elevator.  "Where's CT?" he gritted.  Julie felt his fingers digging into her shoulder.

"I don't know, I just..." Tarrington realized that what he had to say might not be good for his health.  "She just vanished."

"She what?"

"She said she was going to get a drink, and when she didn't come back I went looking.  She's not in the building.  Even the receptionist didn't see her leave..."

The look Ham gave him promised terrible things, and Tarrington mentally apologized for his 'geriatric' remark.  That look was still impressive.  "Search the grounds," Tyler barked.

"Already underway," Tarrington said, proving he hadn't been entirely remiss in his duties.  Only where it counted.  Tyler, holding Julie's hand and dragging her along behind him, headed for the lift, then out through the lobby.  There was no sign of her in the car park.  He called her name.  No answer.  Damn girl, what the hell did she do this for?  He was going to kill her when she got back!  He ran out to the roadway, leaving Julie to scour the building sites around... no sign.  Some of his people drove past, searching down the street; others had already gone in the opposite direction.  Julie noticed several groups searching the surrounding properties.  Chris had followed them out and was over with Ham now, offering reassurances.  She walked over to join them.

"She can't have got far," she said.  Ham merely glared at her, then relented.

"Not by foot, anyway."

"They can't have taken her, Ham, we'd have heard something, or seen... "

"What?  Julie, none of us were expecting someone to try anything on home turf.  Maybe they know we're getting too close."  His jaw set and the frown etched into his face and the coldness of his eyes made him fierce and frightening.  "If I haven't heard from her in an hour, Akira's going to wish he'd never seen Earth."
 

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