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The wind had died down at twilight, and the dust settled on the academy grounds. Through the hours, Nykki sat on the edge of her bed in stony silence. The smell of food that wafted through the windows made her nauseous. She sat in tense anticipation, wondering how the Director would feel to learn the truth about his son's injury. Moonlight flooded through the windows when Nykki heard someone knocking on her door. She walked stiffly to the door and opened it. Howard Butz was standing outside. "Alex, Chris Wilder wants to see you." She paused in surprise. Christopher Wilder? Not his father? "Chris Wilder?" she repeated. "Yes, now. He woke up a few hours ago and was moved to his room two doors down the corridor," Howard said impatiently. He led Nykki to Christopher's room and left her by the door. Her knees felt weak, and, for a moment, she had to stop. She wondered why Chris had requested her presence, but she realized that he probably just wanted her there when he revealed her lies to his father. Nykki took a deep breath and knocked. "Come," a deep voice commanded from inside. Resolutely, she opened the door and stepped inside. The only light in the large room was from a dim bed-side table. From the edge of its glow, she could see Chris lying on a low bed. To her astonishment, they were alone. She stayed by the door, keeping the light in between them, and looked at him through the weak glow. They stayed silent and eyed each other like two wolves on a narrow path. Christopher sat up gingerly. He waved to the chair next to the bed, then poured two glasses of brandy from the bottle next to the lamp. "Sit down," he ordered. He downed his drink in one smooth movement and held out the other glass towards her. Her heart in her throat, Nykki obeyed. She hated this feeling of helplessness but her life was in this man's hands, unless of course Uncle Mal could save her. Unfortunately, he had been called back to the Washington Field Office two days ago, and would not be back until tomorrow. By then, if her mentor felt the need to, she could be gone. She took a quick swallow of her drink to ease the dryness in her mouth and let the liquid warm her stomach before she spoke. "You have not told the Director." Chris grunted. He was still weak and any movement was an effort. Added to the pain in his shoulder and throat, he had a throbbing headache. "Not yet. I have some questions I want answered." "Why haven't you?" With an ironic grimace, he pointed to the cut on his throat. "First you tried to kill me, then you changed your mind and brought me back. Why?" "Nicholas once said that I should trust you," Nykki replied. "He puts much faith in me." "Too much." Christopher cocked an eyebrow much like his father. "Yet you did not kill me, even though I could have you kicked out or even thrown into prison. My father would definitely agree, considering that you entered the academy in disguise and tried to kill his son." He looked to see what reaction she would have to his threat. Nykki looked away and her fingers tightened around the glass. "It was a chance I had to take. I need your help." "Blunt. After nearly killing me, you ask for my aid." He poured another drink and considered her. "Remove that hat of yours." Surprised, Nykki pulled off the black cap and shook her head. Her hair had grown out a little since she cut it and it curled in uneven waves around her neck. "Who are you?" Christopher muttered as if debating the answer himself. His eyes were no longer suspicious, only puzzled, and he leaned toward her, ignoring the pain in his wounded shoulder. "Nick's twin sister," she said, her voice hesitant, "Nicole." He snorted. "Nicole? Doesn't your name mean jonquil or some other similar flower? What an ill-matched name for a lioness." "Doesn't your name mean gentle and kind?" she shot back immediately. "Don't your think that's a bit off, considering your temperament?" Christopher laughed outright and nearly spilled his drink. It was the first time Nykki had seen Chris laugh close-up, with nothing to hide his features, and she was amazed by the pleasant change. The hard, stern lines of his face relaxed and his eyes warmed to a rich, dark violet. "Christ, you have a quick tongue. Not to mention a rapier-sharp one." "I'm usually called Nykki. People say it suits me much better. Of course that is when I'm supposed to be what I am." Nykki said jokingly, but her gray eyes narrowed slightly, still wary. However inwardly, she heaved mental sigh of relief. Christopher's earlier rage seemed to have cooled. If he could laugh and joke with the person who had wanted him dead, he could not be planning to do any permanent damage to her. Chris took in the wariness, and wondered - why is she so suspicious? He looked at her intently. "Why did DeWitt boast that you took her to bed?" he asked curiously, wondering what kind of answer she would give. "Gods, you still remember that? I thought it was a forgotten matter already!" She gave him an abbreviated version about what happened on the night of her date. "So, Ellie just said that to maintain her reputation." "And in a roundabout way, it increased your popularity with the girls," Christopher added with an amused smile. "I don't even want to think about it." "Why did you come here?" Christopher asked, returning to seriousness, speaking more to himself than to her. "For the same reason as everyone else, to be a G-man, or woman rather." "But why the precarious disguise?" Chris persisted. He saw a forbidding flicker in the depths of her eyes. The saying 'Curiosity killed the cat' suddenly popped into his mind. He changed the subject quickly. "Who knows your little 'secret'? O'Malley surely..." "Of course Uncle Mal knows, I wouldn't have been able to get around the past - what is it - thirteen weeks without him. Larssard found out the day I sprained my ankle. And so does your father," she added hesitatingly. "My father!" The words burst from him in a gasp. "I suppose so, my father would have had a hand in altering the records. I wonder what else is he hiding from me?" For a long moment, Chris was silent, and, as he stared into the glow of the lamp, his eyes seemed to soften and his body sagged back on the pillows. The last of his indignation and hesitation vanished. "Despite," he said at last, "my earlier temper, I have not told Dad of what had transpired earlier at the pool. You intrigue me. Your will and persistence go a long way in balancing your deceits." "Will you tell him?" Nykki asked. "You didn't leave me in the wilderness to bleed to death, I owe you that at least. I won't tell him of our little altercation. And since he already knows about your sex," he paused and she gave him a crooked grin, "I can't tell him about that either." Nykki nodded. That was fair. She was beginning to understand why Nicholas trusted Christopher. He was a man of honor and, as long as one stayed within his boundaries, he would do everything to keep his word. "If I'm not about to have my head removed - " Christopher grinned at the sentence, "- what now?" she asked. "You are, of course, still in training. That attack of yours was atrocious." "If it had been that bad, how did I knock you out?" she retorted. "You caught me off guard, something that won't happen again. You were off-balance." "Do you know that you can be damned patronizing sometimes?" Christopher gave her a lop-sided grin. She rolled her eyes. "Who taught you to fight like that? What is it actually? It's a little unorthodox..." he continued without waiting for an answer. "I have a good mind to get you to teach me to fight like that. Maybe next time we spar, it'll be more even." He tried to put a touch of cajolery into his words, to hide his actual intent of asking the question. He saw the sudden darkening in her silver eyes, and the suspicion lurking there. He had not realized how perceptive she was. Surprisingly, she answered him. "My parents. My dad. It's a mixture of bushido, judo and street-fighting." "Where is he?" "Here and there, I don't know. I haven't seen him for a while." There was a long silence. "Look," she said uncomfortably, "could we change the subject? I don't really want to talk about it." "Suits me," Christopher replied carelessly, but his mind still on her reply. He glanced at the glass in her hand. "Don't you like brandy?" he asked, gesturing at the almost untouched glass. "It's not that," she averred. "It's just that I don't hold liquor too well. When did you move into this room anyway? I always thought yours was a floor down." "A few days ago. I was getting sick of the O'Malley and Larssard playing poker with the rest of the people at night." He paused. "I supposed I should leave you to rest now." Nykki got up and walked to the door. As her hand reached the knob, she turned around. "Good night sir. Nicholas was right." As the door closed behind her, Chris sighed and murmured, "So was dad."
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