Alexi watched and waited and thought for a good half hour, letting the music seep into him.  It was much better than he remembered from the few times he'd heard it before.  He didn't thought much of the obscure, antique performers Renee favored, much preferring current styles.  This sound was excellent though, if you gave it a decent chance.

But when the cloth covering the basket moved on its own, he stopped listening and watched, rapt, as a ridge appeared on the covering.  The ridge abruptly collapsed.  After a minute, another appeared on the side facing him and collapsed almost as quickly.  He realised that Renee must be awake, must be moving around in there, must be peeking out.  Anxious not to alarm her, he sat motionless, looking all around the room, anywhere but directly at the basket.

Suddenly the cloth heaved up and a face appeared over the basket edge, while two minuscule hands grasped the rim.  The basket rocked and toppled over as Renee tried to clamber out.  She lay entangled in the cloth covering for a second before scrambling free, standing  erect, doing her best to control her shaking knees and pounding heart.

"Hello up there," she called.

To Alexi's surprise, the sound of her voice wasn't faint and weak.  A little high-pitched, to be sure, but the pitch of alarm, of controlled fear.  "Hello yourself," he breathed.  He sat forward, tense, observant.  What to do now?  His instincts failed him.  The person, the little creature before him had all the appearances of Renee without being her; it was like looking at a scale model.  For some reason the sight of his tiny lover standing before him was strangely appealing.  She was somehow cuter this way, less of a threat maybe.  Wanting a closer view, he leaned forward, reaching out to steady himself on the table edge.

Renee cringed as that great hand swept toward her.  There was one place on her body where she was sensitive, where she couldn't stand to be touched and that was her throat.  She loved neck rubs, she loved having her face gently caressed, but if a lover's hand strayed a millimeter too close to her throat, she locked up involuntarily in unreasoning panic.  She just couldn't stand to have anyone touch her throat.

Now her whole body was as sensitive as her throat.

The idea of that giant hand touching her, wrapping around her, absolutely terrified her.  It was completely intolerable.  She cringed, backed away until she tripped on the edge of the capsized basket and stumbled to one knee.  Raising an arm as if to fend him off, she squealed in panic, pleading, demanding that he leave her alone.

He drew back, stung, confused.  "What did I do?"  he asked apologetically.

She lowered her arm from in front of her and scrambled to her feet.  "Don't reach for me," she told him.  "I'm having enough trouble right now."  Already her breathing was more normal and her increasing resiliency surprised her.  She was even able to try a little banter.  "Bet you never thought you'd see me like this, did you?"

"No," he answered slowly.  "It's not something I expected."  In fact, now he was the one who was at a loss.  After all the mental preparation while he was waiting, he'd thought he'd be ready to deal with the situation.  He'd imagined her fearful, confused, in need of comfort.  Instead, except for her refusal to let him touch her, she was poised, in charge of the situation.  He'd seen her like that before on several occasions but not when they were alone.  Whether it was a mask she put on or one she took off, she liked him to make the decisions when they were together.

"Tell me what's going on," Renee said.  "Tell me how you got involved in this."

"They had my number, they called me at my place.  Told me they needed to talk to me and sent a man to come get me.  Then they told me about you and asked me to help.  They wanted you to wake up in a safe place, with somebody you trusted around.  So I brought you here."  He gestured around the room.  She managed to control herself at the movement in her direction, flinching only slightly.

"And now?"

"I'm supposed to stay with you until you adjust.  I've got a number loaded on my phone.  This Service shrink..."  He halted, embarrassed.  That wasn't the right term to use here.  "This counselor from the Service, Dr. Verlanic, her name is, said she'd wait for the call."  Alexi's fragile composure cracked.  "Renee, how could you let them do this to you?"

She didn't answer for a minute while she gathered her thoughts.  You don't refuse a posting, that's what she wanted to tell him, and certainly not your second posting.  Not if you want to go anywhere in the Service, not if you want to accomplish anything with your life.  But reasons like that were incomprehensible noise to somebody like Alexi, to somebody who'd accepted his subsidy.  She knew that; they'd had this conversation more than once.  "This is part of what I do," she finally answered.  "It's my job; it's my life."

They were both silent for a minute or two, just looking at each other.  Finally, she asked, "Where's your phone?  I think it's time to make the call."

Wordlessly, he pressed the code, connecting the channel to the room speakers so they could both hear and talk.

"Mr. Zacher."  The words abruptly replaced the fiddle music that had been playing unheard.  "Is Renee listening?"

"I'm here, Emma.  I'm doing fine now."

"That's good to hear.  We're sorry, I'm sorry about the way things went today.  Karl, of all people,  knows better than to leave someone at a time like that.  Maybe he should retire after all.  But that's not any concern of yours.  Are you ready to take up your posting?"

"I am."  Renee's reply was defiant.  She refused to look at Alexi.  "But could we have a few moments alone first?"

"That's not very decisive, Renee.  But, considering the events already, a bit more delay won't make any difference.  Say your good-byes and call me back.  If I don't hear from you in an hour, we'll assume you've changed your mind again and want to refuse the posting after all.  We'll offer you another, of course.  And Mr. Zacher?"

"Yes," Alexi answered.

"Your help is appreciated.  Come by Service headquarters tomorrow and we'll see if there is any way we can make it up to you.  Renee, you have fifty-nine minutes.  Of course, fewer would be better."  A click signaled the breaking of the connection.

"You don't have to go.  We can be together after all."  Alexi was relieved and jubilant.

"Of course I have to go."

"She just said if you don't call back you don't have to go."  His face fell.  "But you'd still be like you are, wouldn't you?"  He sadly regarded the tiny figure standing before him.

"No, they'd change me back, make me like I was.  But I'd lose the posting."

"So what?  They'll give you another, she just said so.  One where we could be together."

"You don't understand.  The one they'd give me wouldn't be as good, as challenging.  They'd never offer me a challenge again."

He didn't understand.  "So it wouldn't be as challenging.  It would still be a posting for you and we could be together."

She stamped her foot in exasperation as she looked at that giant,  distant look of incomprehension.  He didn't or wouldn't understand and she knew from experience that she couldn't explain it to him.  Her voice now was fierce.  "You want us to be together?  There's a way.  Marry me."  Now she was scornful, even cruel.

"And you'd accept the other posting..."

"No, I'd accept this posting.  I'm going to accept this posting.  The only question is whether we'll be together.  The Service rules are clear.  Spouses can come along on any posting.  You want us to be together?  Come along."

"But I couldn't.  I mean, I'm not..."  This time she didn't flinch when he gestured in her direction.

"You would be.  They'd do the same thing to you as they did to me."  It was a challenge, a dare.  She gave a short mirthless laugh.  Then she swallowed before continuing softly.  "I'm serious.  We can tell Emma we've decided to get married.  I'll go now, they'll shrink you as soon as you get your affairs in order, we can be together in a week.  It'll be a wonderful adventure for us now and the for rest of our lives together."  Her plea was sincere.  "Please marry me."

He thought about it and thought about it.  He'd have to give up his subsidy but he could contribute to their living well enough when they returned.  He could be a responsible partner and father; he could support her career and raise their children.  They'd share adventure, achievement, each other.  He'd gain respect, status, security.  All he had to do was say yes.  Sure, he'd lose his impulsive immature freedom, to stay or leave, to venture by himself without responsibilities to another, be they wife or child but it was time to move past that.  He opened his mouth, licked his lips.

Alexi had seen a caged hawk once when he was a boy.  His lifelong fear was that one day his eyes would hold that hawk's look.

"I can't," he croaked.  Tears rolled from his eyes.

She watched him for a moment, no more.  "Then make the call," she told him.  "And it would be better if you weren't here when Emma comes to get me."

He looked at her, trying to think of something else to say.  No words came until he rose, picked up his coat and looked back from the door.

"She's ready to go," he said into the phone, not even listening to see if there was a reply.  "I'll leave the door open."

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