Copyright: This story is copyrighted to the author © November 1999 by Revan. Do not use any part of this story without my written permission. Contact: Revan3@hotmail.com

Disclaimers: See Part 1 for standard disclaimers.

"Well, where the hell have you been?"

Before Bryn could reply, she found herself enveloped in a giant hug. She laughed into the curly chestnut hair.

"So...you missed me?"

"Man, have I ever..." the teasing voice came back. "You’re the only person around here whose butt I can kick."

Bryn scowled. "When I let you...just so you won’t get discouraged."

The brunette smiled. "So...what happened to you? It’s been weeks. We’re never going to be able to test for our belts this summer at this rate. And Jack wouldn’t stop asking if I knew where you were...if I have to fend off his interest in you one more time, I swear, like it or not I’m gonna out you. When are you going to tell him to get lost?"

Bryn sighed, finishing tying up her uniform jacket and pulling out her belt from her gym bag. "Tell me about it...I was on the clinical service last month, and it sucked, big time."

"Yeah..." her friend observed her. "You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks," Bryn shot back. "Now you, Holly...you look great."

"Kindergarten." Holly nodded sagely. "There’s no naps...so the twins have finally been sleeping through the night. What a difference."

"Ah." Now Bryn understood. "Well, at least one of us is getting laid."

Holly grinned. "No complaints here. But you..." Her face fell. "Oh, man, not Maureen...?"

Bryn shrugged. "You look more upset than I feel."

"But what happened? She...she really liked you."

Bryn finished tying her belt, carefully making the knot and pulling hard. "That would take longer than we have until class begins."

Holly nodded. "Well...are you free to go out afterwards?"

Bryn was startled. "Yeah...sure...but don’t you have to get home?"

"Michael will survive...Thursdays are my nights, I can take some time." She shook her head. "Jesus, Bryn..."

"Come on," said Bryn, "now that I have your sympathy, let me kick your butt tonight, OK?" She smiled at her friend as they headed out of the locker room and down the hall to their class.

******

Shit, am I out of shape. Bryn let the hot water run over her aching shoulders. And those puppy dog looks from Jack...how obvious do I have to be? Still, she was in a good mood, delighted to be going out with Holly.

This is just what I need...a friendly, non-hospital ear. With the emphasis on friend. A real friend. She looked across the locker room as the older woman packed up her uniform. Holly Reller had started Tae Kwon Do the same week as Bryn, and from that time on they had always been paired together. The high school math teacher had wanted to get back in shape after the birth of her twins...and needed to do something for herself after the exhaustion of caring for them for a year. She and Bryn had hit it off immediately.

We’re really incredibly alike, thought Bryn. Despite the fact that Holly was six years older, very much in love with her husband, and a mother, they viewed relationships in much the same way, and had become fast friends. She knows more about me than...anyone. They even shared an identical taste in movies and books, and were obsessed fans of the same TV shows.

Holly looked up. "So...the Border Cafe? I figure two or three margueritas...you’ll tell me everything."

"Sure." Bryn grinned. "I’m hungry, too."

"Since when aren’t you hungry?" came the wry reply. "You’re too skinny...didn’t you eat last month?"

"No time," replied Bryn as they walked down the stairs and towards Harvard Square. She didn’t mind...she was happy with the way her jeans fit. "God, it’s cold. I heard it might snow tomorrow."

She glanced over at her friend. She could see that the older woman was ready to burst, anxious to ask about Bryn’s love life, but was uncertain how to begin. I could use a drink...I’m not ready for the sensitive chat yet. "So, what did you think of last week’s episode?" She decided to start with a safe topic.

Holly was ready to vent. "The writers copped out again...missed a lot of good opportunities to work the relationship. And I hated the costumes...not enough skin."

Bryn shook her head. "I don’t get it. I’m the one who’s gay...and you’re the one who gets all bent out of shape because they’re not sleeping together."

Holly laughed. "You don’t need to understand it...just accept it."

Bryn snorted. "For a mathematician, I worry about your logic sometimes."

Holly lifted an eyebrow. "You’re the scientist, not me...you just don’t understand that mathematics is an art, not a science."

"Yeah...right." Bryn’s stomach growled as she spotted the door to the restaurant. "Ah, great. Now where are my tortilla chips?"

They occupied themselves with more small talk until their drinks were in front of them and the food was ordered. Holly took a breath and got down to business.

"So?"

"Oh, shit." Bryn rested her chin on her hand. "I don’t know...it just wasn’t going anywhere."

"She was really nice, Bryn...and boy, did she like you."

"Yeah...there really wasn’t anything wrong...she’s smart, funny, beautiful, thoughtful...all those good things, you know?" And great in bed. "I thought...no, I tried...to feel close to her, but..." Her voice trailed off.

Holly thought for a moment. "H’m...maybe you two were too similar."

"What?"

"Well...as close as we are in some respects, I like the fact that Michael and I are really different, too...complementary." She laughed. "He hates these kinds of talks, for one."

Bryn was pensive. "Yeah...Maureen always wanted to have these heavy conversations with me."

"So? You like these chats."

"Sure...but she didn’t like hearing the truth about what I was really feeling."

Holly’s voice was gentle. "Because you didn’t love her...and she loved you."

Bryn nodded, mutely. She thought about Holly’s words. "Maybe you’re right...maybe we were too alike. Perhaps I should be looking for something really...different." And don’t I have something in mind. She took another sip.

Holly sat back, staring at her. "Oh...damn. You’ve met someone. You stinker..."

Bryn was more than surprised. "Huh?"

Holly was chuckling. "I didn’t see it...you’re over Maureen. It’s someone else that’s bothering you."

Bryn disposed with denial. "Since when did you become psychic?"

The older woman leaned forward, interest radiating from every pore. "So, who’d you meet?"

"Meet would be the wrong word...confront, maybe." Bryn grimaced at the raw memory.

Her friend’s jaw dropped. "You’re in love."

Bryn scowled. "Don’t be crazy...we’ve exchanged about twenty words, most of them unprintable." At Holly’s pointed silence, she elaborated. "She’s a doctor at the hospital...we’ve had a few run-ins...arguments, really. Anything more is all just in my deranged mind."

Holly persisted. "I can tell."

"You’re being ridiculous." Bryn took a sip from her glass, tasting the salt. "Well, as if I would know if I were in love, anyway. I don’t have anything to compare it to."

The brunette pinned her with a look, leaning forward and jabbing a tortilla chip at the doctor to punctuate her next words. "OK...you’re obsessed, you feel like you were meant to be together, and you’re acting out of character, as if she brings out a completely different soul from inside you."

Bryn’s mouth fell open. Her jaw worked, but nothing came out.

Holly sat back, pleased. "Sound familar? Told you so."

"Jesus." Bryn’s mind remained blank.

"You don’t need to understand it..." Holly started.

"Yeah, yeah." Bryn took a breath, then forcibly dragged herself back into reality. "Well, it doesn’t matter...I don’t have any reason to see her again, anyway."

"So ask her out." Holly shrugged.

Bryn bit her lip. "I don’t know if...she’d be interested."

"Since when have you not been able to tell?" Holly was puzzled. "You’ve picked ‘em out from across a restaurant."

The doctor raised her hands in surrender. "Honest...it’s wierd, I can’t read her at all. It’s like...there’s no surface emotions."

Holly pursed her lips. "Well, that’s sure different from Maureen, right? Remember that Fourth of July party at our house?" Her eyes caught Bryn’s and twinkled. They both laughed at the memory. Maureen had gone through one too many beers at that barbecue, and had become rather...affectionate.

"So?"

"What?" Bryn looked up.

"What are you going to do next?"

"Um...work on my grant, get ready for my talk at the big Microbiology conference in March..." And jerk off, a lot. She looked across the table, grim.

Holly’s face worked. "Do I get a name?"

"Dana." Bryn closed her eyes. "Dana Sanders." She couldn’t catch her breath. Fuck. What’s the matter with me?

Holly was studying her, thoughtful. "Well, you don’t need any advice from old Mom over here, but it’s free so you get it anyway. Um...I don’t think I’d drop this one just yet."

Bryn smiled back at her.

******

What, again? Bryn shook the empty coffee pot, morose. Why is it that it’s always empty when I come to get a cup? Who’s the fucking idiot who took the last cup and didn’t make a new pot?

She heard a giggle from behind her. She didn’t turn. "Are you reading my mind again, Julie?" she growled dangerously.

The secretary in the main Infectious Disease Division office laughed. "You make it no fun for me, Bryn...you’re far too easy to read."

Bryn slouched, busying herself with finding a new filter and filling the pot with water from the bubbler. "Where’s the damn coffee...who put it over here?"

Julie’s voice was wry. "It’s been there for months...what’s the matter with you?"

Bryn turned, leaning against the file cabinets as the water ran through the machine and the scent of fresh coffee filled the area. "Just the usual." She leaned forward, looking at the secretary’s desk. "Oooh...new pictures. Nice. Let me see." She thumbed through them. "How’d Josh do with Santa this year?"

"Much better...no screaming fits. And Christmas was fun, too...though he still likes the wrapping paper the best."

"That’ll change," observed Bryn, collecting a cup and pouring the coffee. She made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk, sniffing it before pouring. "Wow...it’s not gone bad." She took a sip. "Man, I needed that."

"Did you do anything for the holidays?" Julie was already turning back to her monitor.

"Nah." As usual. "Just tried to get caught up on some stuff. I’m submitting a grant for the February 1st deadline, so..." Bryn didn’t need to say any more. The ID Division staff knew the grant deadlines better than anyone. "See ya."

She wandered down the hall, back to her lab. She was tired of sitting on her butt in front of her computer, but at least the grant was coming along. I’d better get it this time. Ellen had been cranking, and they’d made a lot of good progress, collecting a lot of exciting preliminary data. At least I think it’s exciting. Yeah...I’ll make those guys on the NIH Study Section drool.

She made her way through her lab and settled back into the chair in front of the computer in her office. Let’s see... She pulled up the results of her latest Genbank homology search. Print this out... Moving from database to database on the Web, she lost herself in the details of her work.

Ellen stuck her head in the door. "Bryn...want to see the PCR results?"

"Sure...did we get any product?"

"Yes, in all the lanes...but I can’t remember what size you were expecting. I have to admit, I’ve lost track of all these different constructs..."

Bryn laughed. "You’re not the only one. Let’s see..." She got up and went into the lab over to Ellen’s bench.

She was puzzling over the results with her tech when the phone rang. Ellen picked it up. "Hello, Dr. Mallory’s lab..." She listened. "Just a moment, who may I say is calling?" She turned to Bryn. "It’s for you...her name is Cassie."

"Huh...let me take it in my office." Bryn stepped to the sink and washed her hands. Am I up for this?

She closed the door behind her. "Hey there, how are you?"

An exasperated voice came back through the receiver. "So there you are...I thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth. It’s been freaking months; what happened?"

Bryn decided that evasion was a good strategy. "I’ve been working on a grant...haven’t been able to come up for air."

"Well, I haven’t seen you at any club since...what, November? You want to do something this weekend?"

"I’m sorry, Cassie...I’m just too busy." Bryn hoped she was sounding sincere.

There was a pause. "So...what happened with that person you went home with from the Tavern?

One thing about Cassie...she didn’t beat around the bush. Bryn let out a breath. "It didn’t go anywhere. Ancient history." She decided to turn the tables. "And what about Curly Hair...what was her name...Corinne?"

Cassie laughed. "I still see her sometimes...nothing steady. Are you blowing me off, Bryn?"

"No...really, Cass, I’m just too stressed by this grant, and it has to be perfect. Things’ll be better in February, I promise." I’d better be better in February.

"OK, expect a call from me in a few weeks, then. Bye."

"Bye." Bryn set down the receiver, regarding it. I could have gone out with her; why didn’t I? She knew why, but she wouldn’t even let her mind form the thought. Forget it. Stop being so crazy.

She grabbed her lab coat and went back into the lab to continue reviewing the day’s results with Ellen.

******

Bryn’s emotions were decidedly mixed as she waited at the gate for her US Airways shuttle from Boston to Washington, D.C. She was looking forward to the annual March Microbiology meeting, as her work had gone well, and she was happy about the results that she was going to present. Most importantly, she had lots of old friends that she would see. These conventions are more about socializing than research, anyway...twenty thousand microbiologists in the Convention Center. Yuck. You never know, though...maybe I’ll meet someone.

Right, forget that idea. Since when has this crowd been particularly wild? This group had never been invited back to Las Vegas after they had held the convention there five years before; it turned out microbiologists didn’t gamble much, and were really bad tippers. She grinned.

God, I hope I don’t run into any...old history. She felt her stomach clench momentarily, and tried to dismiss the panic. Why did it have to be in D.C., anyway? Damn. Well, she’d just have to be careful. She knew what places to avoid. They wouldn’t recognize me, anyway. It’s been too long, and my hair’s too short. And I’ll be wearing my doctor suits...I’ll look like an old fart.

"Hello, Bryn, are you on this flight, too?" She turned to find Anthony Call, the fellowship director from her Division.

"Hi, Tony...yes, I wanted to get down before the opening session tonight...given this weather, it would be fun to walk around a bit on a nice Sunday afternoon, right?"

"Uh huh...where’s the reception after the opening session? In the Convention Center?"

"I think so." She looked at her program book. "Yep."

The older doctor put down his briefcase and settled into the chair next to hers. "Are you presenting anything here?"

Bryn nodded. "Yes, I’m giving a talk on Tuesday morning...the "Host response to intracellular organisms" session. Should be fun."

Tony looked impressed. "Good for you. Don’t forget, we’re having the Division dinner Tuesday night."

"I won’t. I’ll be ready to celebrate after my talk, that’s for sure." Bryn smiled. Although always potentially painful, the Division dinners were consistently a lot more fun that one would expect. It was the best time to catch up on old colleagues and former trainees, and the chairman had a knack for picking great restaurants. This time, I’ll make some suggestions...it’s my home town, after all.

Tony was getting up to meet another colleague from a different institution across town. Bryn watched them talk. The old boys, networking. What’s scary is...I’m starting to know them all, too.

The airline crew was boarding, and Bryn studied them. There was a woman pilot, and the doctor examined her. Nice. I like the tough look. She caught herself. Oh, come on...you’ve been reading too many online novels. She sighed. I’m just going nuts, here.

Soon, her row was called, and she gathered her bags and made her way down the jetway. She couldn’t help stealing a look at the cockpit as she passed by. The door was closed. Fuck.

She read through the abstract book to take her mind off her nerves during takeoff. Isn’t this fascinating reading? At least it’s a short flight. She distractedly drew circles around sessions that looked like they might be interesting. Well, I definitely want to buy some books...I’ll spend some time at the publishers’ booths.

Bryn caught up with Tony and his cross-town friend as they were walking down the concourse towards the airport exit.

"Where are you staying, Bryn?" Tony asked.

"At the Grand Hyatt...right next to the Convention Center."

"So are we...we’re going to get our bags, then take a taxi. Do you want to join us?"

Bryn shook her head. "Thanks anyway...I’ve just got my carry-on, and I’ll take the Metro, the blue line goes right to Metro Center, next to the hotel. I grew up here, it would be too weird to take a taxi." She grinned at them, and waved goodbye, heading away towards the subway entrance. I’ll likely be there hours before you two show up.

Forty-five minutes later, Bryn was already checked in and making her way to her room on the ninth floor. She slid in her card key and pushed open the door.

This is OK. Her glance took in the two double beds. Great...I get to choose. At least now that she wasn’t a post-doc, she didn’t have to share.

She looked at the clock. There was plenty of time for a run before the six o’clock start of the opening session, and she started to unpack, extricating her shorts and running shoes. Who knows...maybe I will meet someone at this convention. Ironically, though, the really small meetings were better for...networking...than these mega-events. At the small, more specialized scientific meetings, everyone would always gather at the local bar after the evening sessions. Those weeks were sometimes notorious. She remembered that Cold Spring Harbor conference a few years back, with the skinny-dipping at the beach and that French woman, with the punk haircut...Now that was different...

Laughing at herself, she tucked the card key into the pocket in her shorts and headed out. There were only three more weeks to go until the Boston Marathon in mid-April, and she was aiming for about five or six miles. She pulled out her mental map of downtown DC and set off down 10th Street to the Mall.

Washington in March--sixty degrees--while there’s snow on the ground in Boston. So why am I still living there? Turning left along the Mall, she headed toward the Capitol, struck as always by the grandeur of the buildings and the setting. Settling into her rhythm, the distance passed quickly.

Bryn slowed in front of the Air and Space Museum, always her favorite part of the Smithsonian. She debated going inside--she had time. Maybe I can see that great IMAX movie again--the one on the space shuttle. Deciding to save it for another afternoon, she continued on, past the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial. Here she took the time to climb the steps and admire the statue and the view back to the Capitol.

Wow. It’s always great. But there’s no damn way I could ever live here. She jogged down the stairs and finished her tour, arriving back at the Grand Hyatt sweaty but relaxed.

The Convention Center was directly across the street from the hotel. Bryn took one last look in the mirror, straightening her jacket before leaving her room and walking over. She arrived in time to register, receive her badge, and wander past the vendors on her way to the enormous ballroom.

This place is a zoo...over twenty thousand people. What’s incredible is, that won’t stop me from running into everyone I want to see...and all those that I don’t. She winced. Well, there wasn’t anything truly awful that would rear its head at this particular meeting. She was a grown-up, right? She could handle it. She shuddered. Yeah, right.

"Long time, no see." Bryn felt an arm around her shoulders, and relaxed gratefully, recognizing the voice. At least this time the good luck struck first. It was Charles Langdon, who had been a clinical ID fellow with her back in the stone ages, and was now an HIV expert in San Francisco, on the UCSF staff. He touched her cheek. "It’s great to see you...but it looked like you were frowning just now. What’s up?"

"Hello, Charlie...it’s great to see you too." Bryn gave him a kiss. "Ah...I’m talking Tuesday morning, and I’m woefully unprepared."

Her friend grinned. "Why don’t I believe a word of it? Since when have you not been prepared for anything and everything?"

Bryn slapped him on the shoulder. Thank god, a friend...and one I wanted to see. "Are you heading to the opening session?"

"Yes...Saul’s talking, can you believe it? I’ve been looking forward to hearing him. Remember him when?"

"What, like I could forget the skinny geek at morning rounds? And now he’s this HIV guru...what a meteoric career." Bryn shook her head, happy for her old colleague.

"Are you going to the reception afterwards? I’ll introduce you to the UCSF crowd...you’d like them. Hey, if you’re free, come to dinner with us tomorrow night...it will give us a chance to catch up, and it’s a wild crowd...I promise it’ll be fun." He grinned at her.

Bryn was delighted. "Yeah, that sounds great...I’ll need a few drinks after a day of this." She gestured at the crowd. "Do you know where yet?"

Charles thought for a moment. "The Willard...we have a large table reserved, eight o’clock."

"OK, I’ll meet you there...but I warn you, I might crash in my room and get room service, and practice my talk."

Charles looked at her sideways. "I don’t think so. If you’re not with us, it’ll be because you got a better offer."

Bryn pouted. "I’m not that fickle."

"Sure you are. We’re old friends, remember? I’ve known you for a long time." They laughed, finding seats in the packed room as the lights went down and the first talk began.

******

Bryn yawned, looking at her watch. One o’clock...she had been sitting through these talks for four hours now. Shouldn’t have had that last beer at the reception last night...I’m getting too old for this. True to his word, Charlie had introduced her to his friends, and she had enjoyed talking to them, as well as running into some other former colleagues and collaborators. She hadn’t gone out drinking with them afterwards, though...she’d leave that until after her talk.

She got up with the rest of the departing crowd and headed downstairs to the Convention Center exhibit hall, knowing from experience that she could scrounge the facsimile of a lunch from the lavish drug company exhibits. They were always handing out free food, as well as bags, pens, books...anything to get people to stop by and listen to their pitch. There was never time in the schedule to actually go out for lunch and still make it back in time for the afternoon poster sessions. Her instinct unerring, she found a sandwich and a drink, and finished it off with some Hershey bars. There are too many posters that I want to see today...I’ll never get through them all.

By the late afternoon, Bryn’s feet were hurting, and she looked for a place to sit. What...I’ve been here one day, and I’m already sick of this? She found a pharmaceutical company whose ritzy display included a free coffee bar, and picked up a cup. Taking it over to a nearby table, she sat down and began thumbing idly through the program book. These afternoons can be black holes, sometimes...just nothing of interest.

She glanced at the session titles. Bioremediation...what the hell was that, anyway? She never had figured that one out. Anaerobic methods...Yuck. Archaebacteria...Mycotoxins...forget it. New approaches to surgical prophylaxis...well, that could be useful for when she was wearing her clinical hat.

She scanned the list of talks in that session. Fuck. Her heart skipped a beat. There...the last talk. The authors were D. Sanders, R. Halichek, V. Thomas, Boston, MA. Holy shit.

She set the coffee cup down carefully, no longer sure of her ability to keep it steady. Don’t spill it, idiot...this is your favorite suit. God, what time is it? She peered at her watch, unable to calculate. OK, still half-an-hour before her talk. Let’s see...Room 214. She sat for a moment, collecting herself. You are just fucking out of your mind, Mallory. Yeah...but you don’t have anything better to do, right? Grinning, she tossed the coffee and set out in search of Room 214.

Bryn arrived at the room midway through the next to last talk. The lecture hall was dark, the speaker droning on, flipping from slide to slide. Bryn stood at the back and let her eyes adjust to the darkness, then moved forward and slid into an empty seat on the aisle. She glanced around. The guy next to her was sleeping, his head lolled back, his mouth open. Lovely.

She turned her attention to the slides. I don’t have a clue what’s going on here. Bored, she dug her program book out of her bag and looked up the title of Dana’s talk. What’s she doing here, anyway? She doesn’t belong at an ID meeting. Huh...antifungal prophylaxis following abdominal surgery. Well, that’s certainly controversial. She studied the names of the co-authors. I recognize them...must’ve been a SICU study. She settled back, noting her elevated heartrate. You fool.

Finally, the talk was over, and Sleeping Beauty next to her stirred, sitting up and clapping enthusiastically. The lights came on, a few questions were asked, and then one of the moderators was introducing the next talk.

As Dana climbed the steps to the podium, Bryn caught her breath. Who the hell’s going to pay attention to her talk? She’s...gorgeous. I’ve never seen her in a skirt before...just those damn scrubs. What a knockout. The lights were turned down, interrupting her view. Damn.

Bryn could still make out Dana’s face, partially lit by the small podium light as well as the shine of the slides projected behind her. They highlighted her angular features, which were sufficiently entrancing that Bryn was barely able to absorb more than the low, modulated voice, the clear delivery, and the inflections as points were made. Although the subject was outside of her area of expertise, Bryn was paying enough attention to realize that the data supported a treatment regimen that was clearly unorthodox.

That the results suggested less than conventional management of these patients was obvious from the tone of the first questioner. Whoa, thought Bryn, what’s his problem? The doctor was clearly outraged by the implications of the presentation, and his contempt for the study was apparent. Bryn looked up. Dana’s face hadn’t changed, despite the hostile attack, and she rebutted the points, reiterating some of her data.

The next questioner was even worse, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Man, she’s a lightning rod for a lot of anger here, realized Bryn. Sounds like they have some reason to hate the senior authors...the staff surgeons who directed this study. This attack is too personal. She felt the rest of the audience shifting uneasily, with murmurs from one person to another.

Again, Dana deflected the questions, calm and unmoved. She’s good, noted Bryn with admiration. And she’s a resident...she can’t have done this much before...if at all.

One more unpleasant question later, the session was concluded, the moderators thanking the participants. Bryn couldn’t keep her eyes off of Dana as the surgeon went to collect her slides from the projection booth, then packed her briefcase and made her way slowly up the aisle in the now nearly-empty auditorium. In an unguarded moment, the surgeon’s shoulders slumped, and Bryn sucked in a breath in response. Man, she looks tired...and unhappy.

Dana felt the eyes on her as she was walking. She looked up to find Dr. Mallory--elegant as always, that’s a hell of a suit--watching her.

What the fuck? The surprise in the surgeon’s eyes was instantly replaced with cold.

"Well, here’s your chance," she spat out. "Best to kick me when I’m already down."

Bryn studied her, then raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I’m going to buy you a drink." She leaned down to get her bag. "Maybe two."

Dana was silent, blue eyes glinting. "Why?"

"Because..." Bryn paused, considering. "If you can’t have a friendly face, sometimes a familiar adversary is second best." She began walking towards the door, and felt the surgeon hesitate, then follow. "Anyway, I’m already used to you yelling at me, so that won’t be a problem."

"Seems to me you’re the one who does most of the yelling," observed Dana quietly.

Bryn gave a small start. "Really? Guess you just bring out the worst in me."

Dana shrugged. "It happens."

Blue eyes met green and Bryn almost felt...ill. This was getting out of hand. Who was this person that Dana pulled out of her with a single glance?

"So," the surgeon was asking, "where are we going?"

"Depends on what you’re looking for." Whoa. Watch out, kiddo. Bryn’s mind roamed over the possibilities. "Loud? Wild? Quiet? Stuffy?"

Dana didn’t hesitate. "Relaxed, quiet enough to talk but some music."

"Can do." Bryn leaned into a taxi window. "Twentieth and Connecticut."

The driver nodded and she opened the door for Dana. The surgeon gave her a bemused look as she entered the cab and sat down. "So...how do you know Washington so well?"

"I grew up here," answered Bryn, hoping this conversation would end. She was wrong.

"Your parents still live here?" The surgeon had her eyes out the window as they passed Dupont Circle. When Bryn didn’t answer, Dana turned, and Bryn felt as if she was being dissected by those blue eyes. "Guess I shouldn’t go there, huh?"

Bryn forced a laugh. "I’ll need a lot more than a few drinks to end up there."

Dana deftly changed the subject. "Did you go to school here? I always took you for a member of the 4H club."

Bryn let out a breath. "Only three...I went to Penn for college, but then Harvard for med school, residency, fellowship. Never left."

Dana’s face was in profile, the street lights accentuating her strong features. "Preparation H, anyway. Why’d you stay around?"

Bryn hesitated. This wasn’t the time for the truth. "At the times when I might have left...there were reasons to stay. Now? I don’t have any good reasons to leave."

She was relieved when the taxi pulled up to the curb, effectively ending that thread. Shit, this was looking like a big mistake. If Dana wasn’t going to tone down her edge, the next hour or so were going to be positively painful.

She paid for the taxi, dismissing Dana’s protests with a curt "I get paid more than you do." The surgeon bristled but thankfully kept quiet. Bryn decided she had to lighten up.

"Look, when you go into practice and are making five times what I do, you can return the favor, OK?"

Dana nodded. "Absolutely." She didn’t meet Bryn’s eyes.

Bryn had chosen the bar belonging to the Pueblo, a very upscale, very trendy, vaguely Southwestern restaurant. When they entered, she was relieved to see that the atmosphere was as she remembered it from the previous year’s visit--classy but relaxed, a good-sized crowd, a piano player. She was looking forward to the restaurant’s appetizers, which also served as bar snacks. Her stomach growled.

Amazingly, they were being taken toward a table, despite the long line at the door. She absorbed the fact that the maitre d had a bill in his hand and Dana was leaning towards him, filling up the space with sexy charm and confidence.

"Wow," was all Bryn could manage as they were on the way to their table.

Dana shrugged, and Bryn suddenly realized that her companion was used to running the show. "I really wanted to sit down...and have that drink you promised."

"Yeah...it’s been a long day," Bryn got out. Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Reaching the table, she took her suit jacket off and hung it on the back of her chair, leaving her in a sleeveless silk top.

Dana was struck by the defined muscles of the blond doctor’s shoulders and arms. Huh. What’s that from?

The waitress appeared almost immediately. She took in the two of them, her eyes lingering on Bryn with appreciation. Bryn fought not to blush.

"What’ll you two ladies have?"

"Gin and tonic," said Dana briefly, not missing the attention or the color on Bryn’s cheeks.

Bryn reviewed the options. "Scotch...on the rocks...single malt. And some menus."

Dana’s eyebrows lifted. "You planning to stay for dinner?"

"Well..." Bryn was suddenly hesitant. "The food’s great here."

"Sounds good to me." The surgeon seemed about to say more when the drinks arrived. Dana picked up her glass and saluted. "Here’s to all those fucking prickfaces who asked me all those shitty questions."

Bryn found herself unable to stop laughing, and her heart lifted when she saw that Dana was joining her. The two women looked at each other, the tension finally gone. Bryn raised her glass. "Cheers." She took a swallow of her drink. "Oh, man...that’s just right."

"Single malt?" Dana leaned closer. "I wouldn’t have picked that as your drink. I’m starting to suspect that there’s more to you than that conventional exterior, Dr. Mallory."

Green eyes met blue. "Call me Bryn."

"We’re not friends."

"No," Bryn agreed. "But after a few more of these, I won’t respond to anything else. I’m a real cheap drunk."

Dana laughed again, easily now. "I’ll keep that in mind. And given these prices, it won’t be so cheap."

Bryn nodded and took another sip. She was surprised when the surgeon kept on talking. "So, what do you like about Scotch?"

Bryn pitched her voice low. "I like...the way it burns going in, then spreads down each limb...then settles in the core."

Dana’s eyes flashed. "Are we still talking about Scotch?" She stopped, flustered. Whoa. Usually I’m the one controlling this game. But not tonight. She studied the blond, who had begun reading her menu. Is she playing? For the life of me, I can’t tell.

Bryn was acutely aware of the examination, but forced her eyes down until she heard Dana ask, "You seem really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Um...maybe in some past life," Bryn ventured.

Dana laughed, reaching for some chips. "What, do you believe in reincarnation?"

Bryn laughed as well, pleased that the tension had dissipated again. "No...not at all...I meant like in school, or summers...stuff like that."

Dana considered, pushing back her hair in an unconscious gesture. "Well, I grew up in Colorado...college in Boulder, med school in Denver...didn’t come east until residency."

Bryn swirled her glass absently. "Yeah, you seem familiar, too. Must be from the hospital."

******

Pushing open the door to her hotel room, Dana dropped her briefcase, kicked off her shoes, and flicked on the TV. The Weather Channel rolled by, unappreciated, as she flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes.

A small smile played on her lips as she revisited the parting conversation in the cab.

"Well, I’d say that was a great day, wouldn’t you?" Bryn had asked.

Dana let out an obscene sound. "Huh? What universe were you in during my talk?"

Bryn laughed. "I just meant that we made it through the evening without killing each other. That has to rate as a success in anybody’s book."

Jesus, thought Dana, that was the most fun I’ve had in...ages. True to her word, Bryn had become a little drunk, but that only seemed to make her less talkative, while with Dana it had the opposite effect. The smaller woman hadn’t seemed to mind...to the contrary, she had encouraged Dana’s uncharacteristic narrative with thoughtful questions and comments.

Dana’s mind wandered. I wonder how old she is? Must be a few years older than I am...maybe more than that, given all the travel that she hinted at. I bet she’d look younger if she didn’t wear those damn conservative clothes...

Realizing the way her thoughts were headed, she stopped, thunderstruck. Oh god, Sara, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...

******

Dana dreamed that night, as she feared she would.

It started the way it always did, but this time the images seemed sharper, the air colder and clearer, the snow burning as it hit her cheeks. She leaned in, letting their thighs touch, the skis bumping together below the lift. She could almost see the heat coming off the tall, muscular body beside her.

Sara was in her teaching mode, being analytical. "You didn’t let yourself go enough. You need to be at the edge."

Dana laughed. "Are we talking about the ski run...or last night?"

The larger woman’s gloved hand tightened on her arm. "Both."

"Guess I just need to practice more. Any suggestions?" Dana leaned closer.

"Whoa...you’re doing this on purpose," Sara chided.

"What?"

"Distracting me...so I’ll be slower the next time down."

"Sure...I always want you slow going down."

"Oh, Christ." Sara slapped her shoulder. "You’re impossible." The tall blond grinned. "Now listen..." She launched into a detailed analysis of Dana’s last run, describing ways to improve over different parts of the course. Dana was only half-listening, enjoying the closeness. Her hair’s too short...she practically had it all cut off this last time. She knows I like it longer.

Sara looked at her as they prepared to get off the lift. "Did you hear a word that I just said?"

"Ah...no." Dana was sheepish. They skiied down the ramp and stopped next to each other, tightening their boots. She raised her hands, surrendering. "Sorry...I’m in love."

The last Dana saw was Sara’s face, looking back over her shoulder before she pushed off, lit with a brilliant smile. "Yeah, me too."

Dana woke, clutching the blankets, disoriented. It took several moments for her heart to stop pounding, and for the realization to hit. It didn’t happen...for the first time, the ending was different. She caught her breath, tears forming. The dream had changed. It had always finished...with the red blood, spreading into blindingly white snow. But not this time. Her jaw clenched.

******

Bryn’s power of denial, although finely honed, had crumbled. She couldn’t pretend to herself any longer. She tossed her shoulder bag onto the desk in her hotel room and hung up her jacket. I’m in real trouble.

That was an...unbelievable...evening. Bryn had quickly realized that Dana’s subtle wit was only the tip of a frightening intelligence, softened by humor and self-deprecation, intertwined with a commanding presence and a forceful directness. And a gorgeous body. It made for a dangerous combination, and Bryn realized she was totally enthralled.

So why didn’t you invite her up? She had been wondering this ever since they had said goodbye at the cab. She examined her feelings, but it was hard; they were fleeting, far more slippery than usual.

Face it, you’re scared. Yes, that was it. Scared of her...scared of being refused, so you won’t have the chance to know her better...scared of losing her as a friend...scared of your reaction to her.

Wow, that hit close to home. There was no denying the reaction. Bryn finished undressing and set the clock--my talk’s tomorrow morning, better not miss that--then lay back on the bed, her left hand reaching for her right breast in an instinctive gesture. Wow... Feeling the hardness, she bit back a groan as her back arched. It only took of moment of visualizing before she felt the wetness between her legs, and moved her other hand down, and in. It won’t take much.

Which fantasy, now? She sifted through them. Dana’s breasts...she had fixed them in her memory during dinner. Yes, that would do...Oh, god...

She woke up the next morning, still aroused. What would it be like to wake up with Dana next to me? Unfortunately, her body had a very clear idea of what that would be like, and Bryn finally had to force herself out of bed and into her running gear.

She tried to clear her head during a lap around the Mall. Hello, Mr. Lincoln. Come on, Bryn--don’t think about it now...you can’t afford to be distracted during your talk.

Maybe she could see Dana again tonight? Shit...the ID Division dinner is tonight...I could invite her. Yeah, right. She scowled. How romantic. Well, there were plenty of fun places to go in D.C.; she’d think of something.

******

Bryn rubbed her neck. She was sitting in the front of the large lecture hall, to minimize one of her two worst fears--tripping on the way to the podium when it was time for her talk. That and having your slides in backwards...talk about shooting yourself in the foot. She winced. How many times had she checked her slides? Not once.

She rubbed her neck again. The only problem with sitting in front was that she couldn’t keep herself from surreptitiously looking around to see if a certain surgeon was in the audience. OK, so she wasn’t being so subtle.

Bryn craned her head around, peering at the faces in the darkened hall. There must be three...no, four hundred people in here. This is one big room. I’d never find her even if she was here. Somehow, she knew that wasn’t true.

She turned back to the slides. Her talk was the third of five in the morning’s session. Usually, she couldn’t concentrate at all on any talk given before her own, as she would be continuously rehearsing the lines from her own presentation in her mind. This time, however, she had much more interesting things to think about.

This is stupid...Joey’s giving a good talk, and now I’ll have to ask him about it...he’ll think I’m an idiot. She sighed. He’ll be right.

Finally, her name was called, the title of the talk butchered by the session moderator--As usual--and she called for the first slide. Within a moment, she was on autopilot, moving through her introductory slides into the data, developing the story, supporting her conclusions. When she finished, acknowledging her collaborators and the technicians, she was surprised at how quickly the time had passed.

She blinked as the lights came up, and noted the people moving towards the various microphones in the hall to ask questions. The first was straightforward, suggesting some experiments that she had already done, and Bryn gave a detailed answer.

The next question was unintelligible, delivered in a thick German accent. Halfway through, Bryn found herself looking towards the doors at the back of the large room, catching a glimpse of a tall form with dark hair that was leaving.

Wait... She was rocked by a vision of herself, crazed, leaping off the stage and charging out of the lecture hall, leaving an open-mouthed audience in her wake. Instead, she gripped the laser pointer as hard as she could--it’s metal, right? It won’t break--and stifled the scream. She turned back to the German professor. "I’m sorry, would you repeat the question?"

Sitting through the next two talks was one of the hardest things Bryn had ever done. But I can’t leave...I know both of the speakers.

I’m sure I’m just paying for some past sins here...I must have been really bad in some previous life. And I don’t even believe in reincarnation.

She scowled. What would Holly say? She’d say to ask her out. Well, I did that last night, didn’t I? Sort of...Christ, I don’t know what that was.

Her nerves on edge, Bryn felt as if she’d just been paroled after five years in prison when the session finally ended. However, she was corralled on the way to collecting her slides by two more questioners, and she forced herself to smile. They’re on the NIH Study Section--they’ll be reading my grant. Be good, Mallory. The room was practically empty as she ultimately broke free, with all the conventioners heading to the exhibit floor or out of the Convention Center to find lunch.

Now what? She hurried over to the Message Center, waited impatiently for a free terminal, then pushed in her card and called up her new messages. There were two. She scanned the first eagerly. Nope...it was from the Division Chairman, setting the time and the restaurant for tonight’s get-together. Bryn nodded, approving of his choice of restaurant. Glad to see he listened to my suggestions.

She called up the second message. Damn. It was from Charlie, not from Dana. What were you thinking, anyway? That she’d...invite you out? As if she’s ever made anything that easy... Whoa. Where did that thought come from?

She read Charlie’s note. "Guess you had a better offer, huh? Looking forward to hearing all about it at the Division reunion tonight. See you then--Charlie."

Bryn smiled. Not if I can help it, Charlie. Sorry, that dinner is my second choice...a distant second. She paused, thinking. Spurred to action, she entered Dana’s name, called up another screen and typed in a note.

"I had fun last night. Are you free again tonight? Leave me a message--Bryn."

She hit the send button, feeling momentarily like vomiting. You are such a wuss. Be brave.

There was one more thing she had to do before she lost her nerve. Dana might not check the Message Center. Bryn looked around, spotting a nearby bank of pay phones, and flipped through her program book until she found the list of telephone numbers for the area hotels. There...the Washington Renaissance Hotel, where Dana was staying. She dialed.

"Hello, Washington Renaissance. How may we direct your call?"

Bryn cleared her throat. "Um...I’d like to leave a message for a guest at your hotel...Dr. Dana Sanders."

There was a pause, and she heard the rattle of a keyboard. A moment later, the voice returned. "I’m sorry, Dr. Sanders checked out an hour ago. She was only booked through last night."

"Oh," managed Bryn, "thanks." She hung up slowly, regarding the receiver. Yet another reason to get really drunk at the Division party tonight.

Suddenly, she laughed. I knew she wasn’t going to make it easy.

She shivered, struck by a thought. Why does it seem like both are full of trouble?

******

Continued in Part 4

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