Parental Advisory Rating: L, AC

Break out those V-Chips, everyone!

Credits:

Created, Produced, Directed and Written:

XWPFanatic, TNovan and Tonya Muir

"We’re going to treat this particular nut flake with kid gloves, as any person with a potential, ready supply of anthrax deserves to be. So I don’t want him to see the mike on you when you first approach him for an interview."

I nod and she opens my robe, revealing my bra and panties. I put on the emerald green silk set this morning. She particularly likes it, saying it matches my eyes. I don’t know how she knows that. I’ve never worn them long enough for an adequate comparison.

"Or we could just forget the whole anthrax thing and go back to bed," she groans as she twists the transceiver and the mike in her hands.

"Behave." I give her a gentle slap on the arm and then a little kiss on the chin. "Just wire me up."

She drops to her knees and kisses my stomach. "Are you sure?" She slides the transceiver into the front of my briefs and runs the wire, and her lips, up my stomach. Nibbling one breast through my bra, she runs the wire under the other side.

"Oh God! Harper, behave! I mean it!" I falter a bit under her touch. It’s my subconscious trying to get me back in bed. My subconscious really, really likes it in bed. Hell, my conscious does too, but I’m trying to have a little bit of will power here.

She laughs a little as she steadies me and places a piece of tape over the wire. "See what happens when you don’t have any concentration?" She stands up to her full height and rubs her hand up and down my back.

"I have plenty of concentration. You insist on breaking it." I step back and close my robe, then move into the bathroom to apply my make-up. "So do you think it’s going to be safe to stick a camera in his face?"

"Maybe not right away. I’m going to hang back in the truck with Olson until you get his permission." She pauses, then calls loudly. "I’ll be drinking coffee and eating Twinkies."

I hear her laugh and poke my head out of the bathroom. "You save your Twinkie eating for when you’re with me, Tabloid."

"Right." She winks at me. "Anyhow, I’ll be right there once you get him to agree."

"And if he won’t?"

She shrugs. "Then you get your cute, little ass out of there and we’ll figure something else out."

I spin around and present the body part in question. "You really think it’s cute?"

"Don’t start what you won’t finish, Kels," she warns. "But, yeah, I do. It’s delicious."

I laugh at that description and get back to work. "There’s a good chance he won’t agree, you know. Henry says he’s a really odd duck, something straight out of the 1860’s. A true Texas gentleman."

"Oh, well, this I gotta see."

"Okay, but can I offer you one piece of advice?" I step back into our room to see how she’s gonna handle this.

"Sure." She crosses her arms and gives me her ‘look’. She about the roll her eyes. I know it.

I start anyway. "If he’s really as odd as Henry says, he’s going to see us as women. You know, the ‘breeding’ type. So, take my word for it, around here they’ll shoot you before you get past the ‘s’ in the word lesbian. They even look suspiciously at women named Leslie."

"Oh, I get it. I should be seen and not heard, huh?"

"Not if you’re going to expound the pleasures of being with another woman."

"Nah, don’t worry about it, Little Roo." She grins, an evil little grin. "I wouldn’t tell on you like that."

I return to the bathroom. Now I’m grinning. Tell on me like that, huh? Oh, I like that.

* * *

Kels seems to be relaxed and in her element now. I’ve even noticed a little Texas drawl slipping out. It’s cute, it really is.

"What are you smiling about?" she asks out of the side of her mouth.

"Who me? I’m not doing nothing." Damn, she caught me.

"Right," she laughs at me. "And you’re not doing anything." She crosses her denim clad legs and rests her hands on her knee. "So you think the new clothes will get him to talk?"

I glance her way trying not to look interested. I already took in a complete eyeful of the boots, denim skirt and white blouse with the intricate black stitching along her shoulders. Very Texan, and, surprisingly, very sexy. "I guess you look okay." God, I’m so bad a feigning disinterest.

"Thanks, Tabloid, I’ll keep that in mind later tonight."

"Now, there’s no need to go saying stuff like that," I protest.

She laughs at me. She points to the road I need to turn down. Christ, could we get any further into Texas?

"By the way, I like your shirt," she offers with a smile.

"Only because it snaps and no buttons. Easy access." I look down at the shirt she bought for me this morning. It’s black with white piping and has snaps up one side of it. The cut and design allow you to lower one side so that it folds down the front at an angle. I am also the proud owner of a new belt buckle that has my initials engraved in it. It gold and silver inlayed, very well carved. Ugly as hell, though, and I’ll probably never wear it again. Kels says the look is important out here. Since I absolutely refused to wear a skirt, she decided I may as well go with the cowboy look. I absolutely drew the line at a hat and she wouldn’t let me get a six-shooter.

She looks at a rough, hand-drawn map, pointing again, which puts us on a road that hasn’t been graded since the 1800’s. Bumpy is a polite word for this road.

"Damn, Harper!" Jims yells, from the back, along with a thud. "Try not to kill the crew!"

"Shut up, kid," I growl. "I can kill you if I want. It’s in my contract."

Once we finally make it to the ranch, not only am I relieved, but every internal organ I have is as well.

"Ready, partner?"

"Oh yeah," I groan, turning my neck from side to side to get a very satisfying pop in each direction.

"Remind me to adjust your back when we get back to the hotel," Kels offers as she climbs out of the truck, smoothing her skirt down.

My back and a few other things, Little Roo.

I watch her as she walks to the front door of the sprawling ranch house. It really is like being back in time here. There’s the ‘big house’ (where Ben, Little Joe, Adam and Hoss would live), to the right is the requisite red barn, and to the left is a smaller house for the ranch hands. I don’t see any vehicles here, so we might just be shit outta luck on the whole deal anyway.

Kels is singing softly as she approaches the house. I’ve never heard her sing before. She’s not bad. Of course, she’s not going to get a recording contract anytime soon, but she can sing to me anytime she wants. Just not this song.

"This frog has a song to be sung;
"This frog isn’t gonna spend his life in a swamp, catchin’ flies with his tongue;
"This frog may slip and stumble, but this frog tries again;
"This frog never will grumble, but fall to rise again;
"This frog is staying with it, like a tick sticks to a dog;
"I’m gonna win!
"You’re gonna love this frog!"

I look at Jims, who is laughing in the back of the truck, having been listening along with me. "What in the hell is she singing?"

Between laughs, he replies, "It’s a Kermit the Frog song."

The woman needs help. Professional help.

She stops singing, mercifully, when she knocks on the front door. We all wait to see whether Professor Dale Sams is home. She’s starting to turn around, give up, when the door swings open and the professor stands before her.

Even from my vantage point, I can tell he’s from a different era. He’s tall and lean, as you imagine a cowboy being, and weathered from being out in the sun the majority of his life. His hair is jet black, like the oil in the ground beneath most of Texas, and he has a handlebar mustache that I could use on my Harley. The fact that I can see it from the truck is scary.

"Hello, Professor Sams?" Kelsey asks, opening up the screen door to shake his hand. I love it. Kels has done well as a reporter because she instantly breaks down barriers between herself and her subjects.

He takes her hand and nods. "Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you, Miss?"

She indicates the truck. "My name is Kelsey Stanton, I’m an old friend of Henry Richardson, and I’m with a television station out west."

I snicker. California is certainly out west. In fact, if you don’t stop there, your ass is in the Pacific. I’m pretty sure the professor thinks the west ends right around El Paso.

"Henry and Clay Jackson were telling me about the help you’ve been giving Clay down on his ranch. I was wondering I could impose on you for a few minutes for an interview. I am hoping to draw attention to this health crisis and get ya’ll some help down here."

The professor shrugs. "I don’t reckon we need much help from the government, Miss, they’re probably the ones who got Clay’s cattle infected in the first place. Damn anthrax – pardon my language – is actually more a sheep disease than cattle. But, once the government starts monkeying around with the virus, well, then it can go just about anywhere."

"Would you mind if I got my crew, so I can record what you’re saying? I’d really love to get you on camera, given your expertise in this field."

He hesitates, but finally agrees. I slap Olson on the back as I gather up my camera, mike, light pole and assorted other equipment. It takes a few minutes, but soon we’re ready to shoot. The professor and Kelsey are sitting on the front porch, both wired for sound – though I just clipped the mike on his shirt lapel – and I’m checking the lighting. I give Kels a little nod and begin rolling the tape.

"Professor Sams, you’re a professor at the University of Texas, San Antonio, in the biology department, correct?"

"Yes, Miss. I’ve been there for nearly fifteen years now. My focus is on environmental science."

"And how is that different from biology, Professor?"

"Well, it’s more a subset of it. My concern has been, and continues to be, the need for what I call a Caretakers’ Movement in today’s society to counteract the pollution and destruction of our environment. Most people in this world don’t have a caretaker’s heart for the environment. They use and abuse it and then expect everything to remain the same. It’s insanity, really. People like that don’t deserve the beautiful earth we’ve been given."

Kels pauses and checks her notes, keeping her expression neutral. He just concerned me with that comment too. "So, Professor, what should we, as responsible users of the environment, be aware of or sensitive to? I mean, I recycle and try not to waste resources, but it sounds like you have a deeper concern. Can you explain the real issues here?"

"Part of the problem is exactly in how you phrased the question, Miss. We aren’t supposed to be ‘users’ of the environment. If you read any of my publications, you’ll find that I have consistently advocated a Caretaker role. We borrow the earth from future generations. We may have the power to ‘use’ the environment, but we have no right."

The last four words come out harsh, staccato. This appears to be a sore point with the good professor.

Kels nods. "I understand your concern. Professor, what should we be doing about it then?"

"I think we need to get back to basics, to way things were supposed to be from the beginning. We were given this great, garden paradise as a gift. We were told to populate it, name it, care for it. And, what have we done? Everything we possibly can to destroy it."

"Are you referring to the biblical Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden myth?"

The words are barely out of her mouth when the professor’s face clouds over in anger. His eyebrows come together and he looks long and hard at Kelsey, trying to decide what to do with her. In the past, heathens were stoned. I’m glad they’re on the porch and not near any handy rocks.

"The Garden of Eden was no myth, Miss Stanton, despite the current vogue of discrediting the Lord’s word."

Kelsey remains silent, not rising to the provocation, nor providing any of her own.

After a long moment, he continues. "I’d like to return to your original question: what should we be doing about the current disaster we’re faced with? I think we need to look back again to the very beginning and follow the pattern we’re given. When the original Caretakers broke the rules, they were banished."

Where are we gonna send them, fella, the moon?

"That seems a bit extreme, Professor."

He bristles at her suggestion. "How is that extreme? If you have cancer, what do you do? Sit around and tolerate its presence in your body? No, you cut it out. You get rid of the disease before it kills you."

"So what is the cancer that you would expunge from today’s modernized and industrialized society?"

"The modern and industrial society is the cancer."

Oh boy. Houston, we have a problem. Seems the professor is one can short of a six pack. He ain’t the coldest beer in the fridge. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not the brightest … ah, hell, I get my own point.

Personally, I’ve grown kinda fond of electricity, running water and modern medicine. Not to mention motorcycles. I really like my Harley. I gotta get Kels to take a fun ride with me, not just one from the clink.

Focus, Harper. You got a nut flake sitting on the porch by the woman your Mama invited into the kitchen.

"So, Professor, are you suggesting that we need to reduce the population?"

"Exactly. Or the earth herself will do it for us, with a vengeance. Drastic measures need to be taken to protect the earth from its attackers."

Kelsey takes a deep breath and settles back in the chair she’s sitting on. She wants to go in for the jugular, but is also mindful that this guy may have a handy supply of anthrax at his disposal. "Are you suggesting that certain people are the primary attackers? Isn’t that a little harsh of an assessment?"

"Hardly!" he scoffs. "Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, the Exxon Valdez, the recent radiation leak in Japan, the list goes on and on. All of those were caused by mankind and our precious, industrial, modern society. Harsh? We poison and pollute and destroy. Surely you would agree that is an attack on the earth?" He doesn’t wait for her to respond. "The reason why you came to visit me today is indicative of our attack on the planet. We’ve recently found an anthrax strain in cattle which had previously only been found in sheep. These things don’t happen accidentally, in a vacuum. Someone caused it."

"Are you suggesting that we may be facing a major epidemic, rather like the Black Plague in Europe in the 14^th century?"

He shrugs, crosses his legs. "It wouldn’t be entirely unexpected."

No, I bet it wouldn’t be to you. Man, I owe Henry an apology for thinking he was over-reacting to this guy.

"So, Professor, you believe some illness or plague or event will occur in the near future to reduce the human population significantly?"

"I would say it’s pretty much a given at this point." His words are spoken softly, with assurance. This is a man with a plan.

"Do you think there are people or organizations out there who are willing to ‘help’ this process along?"

"Again, from the beginning of time, there have always been Caretakers. I think it’s time for these gardeners to start pruning before the whole garden is lost. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my work." The professor stands up to his full height and smoothes out his jeans. He unclips the mike pack and sets it down on the chair.

Yeah, and we need to get the hell out of here and get some of that anthrax vaccine. Jesus. This is one scary son-of-a-bitch.

"Thank you so much for your time," Kelsey closes, the consummate professional. "If I have further questions, would you mind me calling on you again in the future?

As he walks through his front door, the professor answers, "What there is left of it, sure."

* * *

No, no, no, no, no.

I open my eyes and peer at the clock as the phone continues to ring. Six a.m. Say it isn’t so.

I try reaching for the phone, but somebody has both my arms neatly pinned to my body with her arm. How in the hell can she sleep through this phone ringing? "Harper, honey, let go. I need to get the phone."

She groans, and I manage to get my arm free and pick up the receiver.

"Stanton."

"Hey, Little Girl."

My foggy brain barely lets it register that it’s Henry on the phone and that he sounds a tad panicked. "Henry? What’s wrong?"

"The Professor bolted last night."

"What?" Oh, he has my full attention now. I squirm free of Harper and sit up against the headboard.

"We think he left late last night. He had an evening lecture at the university. After it, his GA says he went to his lab, collected some samples and left."

"Shit. Do we have any idea where he went?" Where would I go if I wanted to release the second Black Plague?

Harper grumbles next to me and starts to say something. I quickly place my hand over her mouth as I listen to Henry. Glancing down I find two very sleepy, annoyed, blue eyes looking back at me. I shake my head, but remove my hand, when she nods her understanding. She crawls quietly out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I ask when I hear him say that he thinks Dale is headed for New York City.

"That’s what my contact at the university said. He told his GA that he was going up to do a presentation at the U.N."

"Henry, I hope your contact was right because millions of lives could be at stake." Jesus, the thought is incomprehensible.

"I know, Kelsey. You’ve got to stop him."

"We’ll do our best. See you soon, Henry."

"No, you won’t. Just remember I love ya too, Little Girl."

"I will. Good-bye, Henry."

"Good-bye, Kelsey."

** *

"I don’t care what it takes!" Harper yells into the phone as she zips her jeans. "We need to be on the next damn plane to New York City! I don’t give a rat’s ass which airport we fly into, just pick one of them, for Christ’s sake!"

I’m packing us up so fast, I’m not sure I’m keeping all our stuff separate. If it weren’t so critical that we get to New York, it wouldn’t be so bad. This is most definitely a pack and dash. I hate it when a story goes like this.

Of course, I love it too, but that’s beside the point.

"Then get me a goddamned private plane, you moron!" she yells again, waving her hands, which is a dangerous thing because she’s holding the phone in one. I’ve had to duck twice to keep from getting hit.

Man, is she in her element.

I finish zipping the last suitcase when she slams the phone down. "Idiots!" She grumbles, grabbing for her boots.

"Are we…?"

"Yeah, we’re on the next flight out, but we have to hurry. Jims and Conrad are already downstairs with the car. You ready?"

"Oh yeah, we’re ready. We’re gonna have to sort things out in New York, but I figured, no big deal." I shoulder our carryons, she takes our bigger cases.

"Very true, our underwear are not strangers anymore." She winks at me. "Let’s hope there’s a New York to sort things out in."

I grab the door, holding it for her as we begin our mad dash. I love this job. And I love doing it with her.

* * *

We’re sitting in the New York field office for the Federal Bureau of Investigation waiting to see the agent in charge of counter-terrorism. I have an unedited videotape of Kels’ interview with the lesser Professor in my bag and I’ve sent Jims and Conrad over to the network to work on editing the master tape.

Kels is pacing the hallway, burning a groove into it, actually. She does not like the lackadaisical response to our presence. In point of fact, we’ve only been waiting fifteen minutes.

"Miss Stanton? Miss Kingsley? Could you come with me, please?" a secretary asks, stepping out of a nearby room.

Kels mutters, "Finally" and we follow the nonplussed secretary into the adjoining office.

Special Agent Kyle Donovan rises from behind his desk and extends his hand to both of us. After we do the meet and greet thing, we settle down in the chairs across from him. "So, tell me about what brings you here."

I open up my briefcase, pull out the portfolio of information we’ve gathered on Professor Dale Sams and slide it over to him. "We went down to San Antonio a few days ago based on a story lead provided to us …" And I tell him our story.

* * *

We leave the FBI with two important objectives accomplished: one, the FBI has taken us seriously and is launching an intensive search for the professor, and two, we got the exclusive. The second wasn’t really that hard. There is no way in hell they want this information to get out.

New York is already on full alert for the holiday season. Christmas is in two days and New Year’s Eve – and one point five million people in Time’s Square – is coming fast. With the nutso arrested in Seattle in the last couple days, security has increased, given the fact he had a plane ticket here.

Maybe there’s a convention of paranoid, psychotics being held in New York?

Well, other than the usual.

We’re heading over to the network to do background work for our story. Finding this guy shouldn’t be too big a problem for the FBI – he sticks out like a sore thumb even in Texas. We’ll need a full background on him for when we run our segment. And I want to find out if he has ties to any other Eco-terrorist organization. I doubt it. He seems like a lone gunslinger, but I don’t want to miss a connection.

And it’s always good to see what’s happening at the network level. Especially when my Little Roo has ambitions for bigger and better assignments. And, well, so do I. It’ll be good to stir the pot a bit while we’re here.

* * *

I smile as I wrap my arms around her pillow and crush it to my chest. It holds her scent, like the entire room holds the scent of our loving-making from earlier, before she went out to dinner with one of the high mucky-mucks from CBS.

Funny how after a short time I can miss her like this. Odd really. This is a unique sensation, to actually miss someone. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. Of course not, Harper, you have to know their names to miss them.

Since we checked in with the station, our cell phones and hotel room have been inundated with calls from the networks, ours and the others. And as we work on our story, we’re taking time to be courted. We’ve done some damn good work together these last few months – the library shooter, Omaha, and now this one. If we play our cards right, we’re poised for something big.

I have two or three lunches set up and I know Kels has at least one lunch and another dinner at some point. Of course, nothing says we have to make this move together.

I wonder if she plans on leaving me. Or if she even is considering doing this together. Just because we’re partnered up at KNBC doesn’t mean we would have to be anywhere else. She may just get a fabulous offer and take it and not even think twice about me. It’s not like we’ve made any promises to each other. Of any kind.

I’m surprised when the phone rings, shaking me out of my morose thoughts. I hope it’s Kels, slipping away long enough to call me. God, Harper, get a grip. Repeat after me: I am not in high school. "Hello?"

"Harper?" The male voice throws me a bit before I recognize it. It’s Erik. Great just what I didn’t need tonight. I can’t feel much worse right now, buddy, so lay off.

"Yeah. Sorry, Erik, Kels is out to dinner. I can have her give you a call when she comes in."

"That’d be great." He pauses, then clears his throat slightly. "Look, about the other day…"

"Ah, don’t sweat it." I want to be bitchy with him, but I know that would be so very, very bad. And it’s not like he doesn’t have a point. My track record sucks.

"No. I was a jackass and I’m sorry. I’m really protective of Kels and I …well, never mind. I only wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I acted. To be honest, I haven’t seen her this happy in years."

"Really?" I perk up. Now the conversation is getting interesting.

"Yeah, really." I can hear him settle back into a leather chair. Apparently, we’re going to chat. "Did she ever tell you our story?"

"No." Can’t say I’ve ever cared enough to ask.

"You interested?"

Ah, hell, I have nothing much better to do right now than miss Kelsey and get depressed about the future. Getting to know Kels’ best friend isn’t a bad thing. Still, "Are you sure you should?"

"Hey, it’s my story too." He lets out a little laugh.

I can tell by his nervous laugh that this is something very important to him. Thus, it’s important to Kels. "Sure, I’ve got the time, if you do."

"For you, I’ll make the time. I think you need to know."

Interesting. I settle into the bed and grip Kels’ pillow closer to my body as I listen to the voice on the other end of the line.

"I ran away from home when I was fifteen. My father drank too much and beat me, and my mother sold her body for drugs. I wanted to get away from it. I ended up in L.A. Big dreams for a stupid kid. You know the story."

"Un-huh." I have seen it one too many times, played out at some crime scene or the other.

"Well, true to form, I fell right into the Sunset Strip pit. Hooked and hooking. I didn’t give a damn who I sold my body to as long as I got enough for a fix."

"Jesus. I’m sorry, Erik." It never ceases to amaze me how adults are willing to fuck over kids for their own pleasure.

"One night this beautiful, young, blonde woman stops at a red light. I don’t know why, but I went over and gave her my pitch. Normally, I didn’t approach the real attractive ladies. They don’t need to pay for sex, you know. But, she just looked so … inviting. That’s not the right word. But, something drew me to her. I gave my speech and she told me to get in. That was another thing. I never would get into a buyer’s car. Kids who did very often died. But, something about her made me get in. She took me home and never let me go back to the Strip. She cleaned me up, and put me in rehab to clean me out. She held on to me for dear life. She saved my life."

"And she made you the centerpiece of her story on child porn and prostitution," I venture.

"Yeah, but under a different name since I was minor. The station paid for my rehab and a couple other incidentals. Look, I was happy to help with her story. And she did everything for me without expecting it."

"So, how old was Kels when you first met her?"

"Twenty-two. She was brand-spanking new in Los Angeles, a little cub reporter for KNBC. She wanted something juicy to start off with and she found me."

That makes Erik my age. I never would have thought. He seems so much older. So serious.

"She was living with a cop at the time. Although the station, of course, thought they were just roommates. CJ was a few years older than Kels and had been around the block a few times. She managed to get guardianship from my parents, her brother was a lawyer and he helped out. My parents were only too happy to be rid of me. CJ, and Kels, put me in school and kept me on the straight and narrow. Three years later, I graduated at the top of my class and entered UCLA on a scholarship."

So, I think Beth was first, then came the cop, then Susan, now me. How many more have there been? Not that I have a right to be asking, but I am curious. I also want to know what happened to the cop, but I don’t ask. If Erik wanted to tell me, he would.

"They didn’t make it past my freshman year together," he offers as if he has read my mind. "Don’t get me wrong, Kels loved her and CJ was wild about Kels. It nearly killed them both to give each other up. But Kels couldn’t stand watching CJ put on a bullet proof vest every night to go to work."

"If they loved each other so much, why didn’t the cop give it up?" Not, why didn’t Kels get over it? But, why didn’t this CJ make her happy?

"She would have, if she’d been asked, I think. Kels didn’t go that route. She loved CJ and didn’t want her to give up what made her happy. I don’t think Kels realized that she was what made CJ the happiest."

So she loved this woman, huh?

"They managed to make a good split. They don’t see much of each other nowadays. But when you see them together, you can tell they loved each other and maybe, to some extent, still do."

You don’t pull any punches do you, Erik, boy?

"The point is, there are a few of us out here who really love Kels, and we don’t want to see her hurt anymore. She’s been badly hurt in the past and she doesn’t deserve it. I’m really, truly sincere when I say if things were different for us, I’d marry her in a heartbeat. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life."

So CJ saved your soul but Kels won your heart, eh? "Yeah, well, we have that in common at least, Erik." I’ll let him decide for himself whether I’m referring to not wanting to see Kelsey get hurt, loving her more than anyone else in my life, or wishing I could marry her.

In fact, maybe I should decide on that for myself.

* * *

"Go!" I grumble at her very quietly, giving her another little shove. "I can handle this." We’re arguing in the middle of the FBI field offices. We’ve been working from here all morning, and now she doesn’t want to leave for her lunch appointment.

"That is not my point, Kels. I know you can handle this. Just like you handled SA Donovan."

Oh, she’s so cute when she’s jealous. I think I’ll keep her.

"Look, I handled him well enough to get us a desk and a phone. Now, I want you to go to lunch with CBS and order the most expensive thing on the menu," I tease, giving her another nudge.

"I don’t like leaving you alone."

"Christ, Harper, I’m surrounded by forty heavily armed FBI agents, who somehow found out about my little problem back in LA." I cross my arms and give her a slightly accusing look. "How do you suppose that happened, hmmm?"

"I wouldn’t know." She kicks the floor with her shoe. It’s adorable.

"Please, go to lunch and enjoy it. I’ll be fine and I’ll be right here when you get back."

"All right, but if you need me, I’m a call away."

"Yeah, well, so am I." I wink, taking a seat at the desk in the corner. "Go!" I smile, shooing her away. I hear her grouse as she turns on her heels to leave for lunch.

A little while later, I’m finishing up a call on the professor’s’ background when Kyle comes up and tosses a notepad and a sandwich down in front of me.

"Well," he pulls up a chair, flips it around backwards straddling it as he unwraps his own sandwich, "we know where he was."

"Was?"

He gestures to the notepad. "After arriving in New York very late last night, he took a taxi to the Best Western near Times Square."

I groan. "Of course he did. What other hotel would he stay at?" I unwrap the sandwich, continuing to look over Kyle’s notes, careful not to make a lot of eye contact with him. He might get the wrong idea and I’d rather Harper not kill him. It could be bad for our relationship if she gets convicted of killing a FBI agent. "But he’s not there now?"

"Nope, but if he comes back, we have a man waiting for him. Right now, as best we know, he’s out wandering around New York City. We’re also following up on a few calls he made from his room."

Great, just great. He’s out there and so is Harper.

With our luck they’ll run smack dab into each other while she’s at lunch.

* * *

I used to hate hotel room beds. Until I found a better way to wake up in them. I smile as I struggle into consciousness, feeling Kels cuddled up against my back with her arm around my waist. I run my hand over her arm and inhale deeply, feeling totally satisfied. Very content. This is an interesting sensation. One I could get used to.

She stretches behind me and groans. This is the way she wakes up in the mornings. Funny, I not only know that she has tea every morning, but I also know what signals the fact she waking up. This is definitely a first in my life. I’ve never had time to learn anyone else’s habits.

I roll over and brush back the hair from her face. "Merry Christmas, Little Roo."

She nods and snuggles into me without opening her eyes. This is her sign that she’s not quite awake and has no desire to be so anytime soon.

I hold her close, feeling very protective of her right now. Between stalkers, serial killers and anthrax nut flakes, we’ve been having a rough couple weeks. And all I want is her to feel safe in my arms. I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes, content to doze and just hold her.

I jump a few moments later when I feel a hand someplace I certainly don’t have one. I open my eyes and look into her now very playful face.

"Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You lured me into an ambush," I chide, loving every moment of it.

She nods again then attaches her lips to my neck as her hands begin roaming my body. Oh yeah, this is good. She seems to enjoy making love first thing in the morning. Not that I particularly care what time of the day she chooses.

"Ah, Kels…" I roll over on my back and enjoy the feeling of being loved by this woman. "So nice," I manage as my eyes slip closed, my hands rubbing up and down her back.

The knock on the door to our room is a huge fucking distraction. Can’t people read a goddamn do not disturb sign? I whimper when she pauses. Don’t stop, Kels. Please, don’t stop.

"Kelsey, I know you’re in there. Open the door!" The woman’s voice is harsh.

"Ah, fuck!" Kels groans. She slaps the mattress then rolls out of bed, pulling on a robe.

"What is going on?" I’m so totally frustrated right now I can’t think. Why is she stopping?

"It’s my mother," Kels explains, tying off her robe.

"Your mother?" Jesus H. Christ! Suddenly, I feel like I should be jumping into my clothes and looking for the nearest exit. Which, of course, would be out the door she’s knocking on. I wonder if she’d think I was just delivering room service.

Service with a smile.

Kels comes and kneels next to the bed, and gives me a long, lingering kiss. She brushes my hair back from my face. "Relax. I came out to my mother years ago, just to piss her off. If I’m really lucky, I’ll get a big Christmas present and she’ll have a stroke when she sees you." She examines me and pulls the sheet up around my very nude body reluctantly. "Just follow my lead."

I nod dumbly, tucking the sheet around me. "I can do that." As if I have a choice.

"Good."

What the hell is it with her family and friends anyhow? Every time she starts doing wonderful things to my body, they manage to ruin it.

There is another demanding knock on the door.

"Kelsey Diane! Open this door, right now!"

Diane? Huh, I didn’t know that. I like it. It’s pretty. Well, hell, she’s pretty.

She smiles a truly evil smile and opens the door. The woman breezes into the room, completely oblivious to my presence. She starts speaking as she pulls off her gloves.

"It’s about time, Kelsey. Did you plan on keeping me waiting in the hall all day?"

I can feel my brows coming together as I watch this woman. She’s so fucking self-absorbed and I don’t like her tone of voice with Kels. At all.

"Merry Christmas, Mother. What are you doing here?" Kels moves into the bathroom and retrieves a robe for me. She walks past her mother, who is peeling off her coat, and gives me the robe, but signals me to stay put. She sits at the foot of the bed and waits for the woman to focus.

"I called that place you work for in Los Angeles and they told me you were in…" Her tirade comes to a sudden stop when she finally takes in the picture before her. The look of shock, horror and disapproval is clear. She turns her back to us. "Kelsey, get dressed this minute! How dare you! "

"How dare I?" She’s on her feet, gesturing with her hands. "Oh, please, Mother! You stormed in here. Live with the consequences of your own actions. And you could at least be civil and let me introduce you to Harper."

She turns back around, squaring her shoulders, looking down at me. The look on her face is indicative of an extremely unpleasant odor.

I simply wait her out. I have to fight back the smirk and the ‘Hi, Mom’ that wants to cross my lips.

"Mother, this is Harper, my partner" she pauses as she smiles at me, "in every way. Harper, this is my mother, Katherine Stanton."

I’m really not quite sure what to say, so I simply nod. I know Kels is dragging this out for the pleasure of torturing this woman. Look up the word ‘Bitch’ in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Kels’ mother.

Mother Stanton nods stiffly back at me. And I used to think Kels was uptight.

"Harper, darling," Kels turns to me, "why don’t you go grab a shower while I visit with Mother?" She offers an evil smile, wrinkling her nose at me. Ah, this would be my cue to scandalize Mother.

I get out of bed. Kels knows I never put on my robe without a good stretch first. Why should this morning be any different? Mother comes in, Mother deals with life as she finds it. I can almost see the aneurysm taking form in the woman’s head when I stretch. My Little Roo really does have a mean streak.

Note to self: Never, ever piss Kels off.

I put on my robe. I am then rewarded with a long, deep kiss and sent to the showers like a good team player. Damn, I’m glad I joined this team. The others aren’t nearly as much fun. I let a little chuckle escape as I close the bathroom door.

I start off with a cold shower. I need it. Ice cubes coming out and hitting my body would be about right for this occasion. Or I could ask Kels’ mom to join me. That’d freeze the water on anyone’s ass.

Ew, what a thought, Harper.

I shake my head to rid myself of horrific images and I begin to slowly warm the water and get down to the business of getting clean. Kels’ singing of a Kermit the Frog song the other day now has me humming "Rubber Ducky" as I lather myself up.

After a few rousing choruses of my new favorite song, I hear the door to our room slam. I begin rinsing so I can go make sure Kels is all right when I hear the bathroom door open and close. Very soon I find myself pressed against the shower wall by a very feisty Little Roo.

"You okay?" I manage to croak out before I’m lost to her touch again.

"Merry Christmas," she replies before beginning a heated, torturous exploration of my body.

I look down at Kels who appears to have only one goal in mind at the moment. A goal I can most definitely live with. "Oh, Christ!" I extend my hands, bracing myself against the shower walls to keep from collapsing right here.

Where in the hell is this coming from? She’s like a woman possessed.

Don’t ask stupid questions, Harper, just go with it.

As I slowly slide down the wall after one of the more amazing experiences in my life, I pull her into my arms. I imagine what this would be like out in the rain, in the middle of a sweet-smelling field. God, we’ll have to try that some time.

"She called me a whore," she whispers quietly, completely ending any fantasies I am concocting at the moment.

I’m going to hurt the bitch before this is over. I tighten my hold on Kels. "You know that’s not true." Now, if Mother Stanton only knew who her daughter was sleeping with. I’d like to see her call me a whore to my face. Somehow, I think Mother Stanton’s ‘bravery’ is rather situational. The bitch.

"Five people. I’ve had five lovers in my life." She clings to me there in the bottom of the shower.

"It’s all right, sweetheart," I whisper in her ear, holding her as close as possible. "You’re one of the finest people I know. And I’m so glad to be a part of your life." The words are out before I can censor them. Though, I don’t know if I want to. She needs to hear this, and, I believe, she needs to hear it from me.

And, with any luck, Kels, you’ll never have a sixth lover. If I have anything to say about it.

<fade out>

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