My meals were delivered at regular times after that.  Of course no one asked me what my preferences were.  Raines took nutrition to the level of absurdity, not a refined sugar or deep fried item to be found.  At least he did include a few high calorie items like cheese and avocados, undoubtedly to help me put on weight.  Actually, I considered myself fortunate to be served dairy foods at all; Raines had apparently decided I was going to be a vegetarian from now on, but I obediently ate every morsel, considering it a small sacrifice if it kept Lyle away from me.

After one day of excruciating boredom I decided to rearrange my living room furniture to leave a wide-open space in the center, and began doing my Katas again.  Lyle appeared while I was in the middle of "fukio-kata-di-nee".  Moving through the familiar ritual had soothed my damaged self-esteem to the point that I had the courage to ignore him and continue with the ancient choreography.  It was a stupid act of defiance.  Lyle pounced like cat, whipping one of my arms behind me and pulling it painfully up towards the shoulder.  To make it even more painful, he was wrenching on my sprained wrist.

I was catapulted onto the couch with a powerful shove.  Where I immediately rolled over and pushed myself up off of my back.  I wasn't going allow myself to be brutalized while lying down.  Lyle towered over me, his handsome face red and contorted with a rage that petrified me.  I edged slowly towards the far end of the sofa until he blocked me with an arm on either side of my head while he leaned in on me, practically touching my face with his.  I'd pushed him too far with my minor rebellion and I wondered at that moment if I was going to survive this encounter.

"Hold still, woman!"  He hissed malevolently.  He pulled back far enough to deliver a vicious backhanded slap, so angry that he didn't even realize that I minimized the impact by rolling my head with the blow.  He got a good grip on the short curls at the nape of my neck and held my head fast.

My ever-calm observer pointed out that at least if he killed me I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit again.  <Besides,> it added cheerfully.  <Raines would probably kill him if he damaged the prize cow.  That's worth dying for, right?>

"I was called away from my very pleasurable personal life to deal with your delusions of independence."  He went on, shaking my head for emphasis from time to time.

"Now, I don't like to have my free time interrupted, so pay attention!  You—have—no-thoughts.  You—will-not-form-an-opinion.  I-tell-you-what-it-is.   Do. You. Understand?"  The final rattling of my head was so vigorous that he pulled out a handful of hair.  He resumed his grip immediately, though, forcing me to pull painfully against the tension to nod my head.

"That's better."  He finally released my hair, leaning in on me and bracing himself against the back of the couch.  He had his rage under control now, but his lips were still pinched so tightly the corners were white and his eyes still smoldered balefully.  "Now let's go over this little lesson, shall we?  Do you rearrange furniture?"  I shook my head.  "Do you ever ignore my presence?"  This question was accompanied by the weight of his free hand on my neck, fingers clenched tight enough to make it hard to breathe.  I shook my head again, thoroughly cowed by now.

"Very good!"  My neck was released to pat my cheek sharply enough to sting.  "Now---pay close attention to this part---Raines may have made it clear to me that I must let these bruises heal before I am allowed to inflict more, but don't imagine for a moment that my ability to make your life hell is reduced in the slightest.  At the very least I could quite happily tutor you in the art of pleasing a man until Jarod finally joins us.  So, by all means let me know if you are finding your days to be boring.  Got it?"

I nodded franticly, barely daring to breathe as he slowly lowered his head.  He was only about two inches from my face when my resolve to remain still broke.  I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling my face against the shoulder furthest from him and hunching the other shoulder in a  useless attempt to block him from touching me.  Yes, I would have huddled into a pathetic ball of fear if I'd thought for an instant that Lyle would have let me.

"No, my dear, that’s not the way at all."  He chuckled ominously, his breath hot on my cheek as he spoke.  Once again, though, he was satisfied with my abject terror and released me moments later.  Hoping it wouldn’t trigger another assault, but unable to stop myself, I huddled into the corner of the couch, knees drawn up and encircled by my arms and my face buried firmly behind the knees.  Tears were once again falling hot and fast and I didn’t want him to see them, although I suspected that he knew anyway.  His voice was completely calm, even pleasant, as he bid me good day and headed for the door.

“Don’t worry, Eve.  I’ll work on a---lesson plan, just in case Raines needs to call me here again.”  Lyle promised cheerfully, just before he pulled the door shut behind him.  His chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh as I shuddered uncontrollably, still huddled into a ball of misery.

It took far too long for me to stop shaking and crying.  I was almost ready to promise Raines anything, including my unborn children, if he’d just keep Lyle away from me.  Finally, desperate to calm myself, I began reciting the Dojo Kun, rules of the dojo, over and over again.  Those ten, commonsense rules for life did the trick.  Of course I had to recite them ten times in a row before I could relax enough to unwind my arms from my knees and rise from the couch.

I focused on remembering my Sensei’s face as I mechanically began dragging the furniture back into place.  Sensei was a short, old, Japanese man with deep creases in his cheeks from years of smiling and a no-nonsense personality.  He had been the first man in my life to treat me with unfailing, completely honest, respect.  He never let me give less than my best, always pushing me that little bit further than I thought I could go, but always in a gentle, supportive way.  He’d never belittled or intimidated me, even though I knew that he had enough training to break me in half without even trying.

I carefully replaced every item of furniture exactly as it had been before my rearrangement, recreating at the same time, the early years of my karate training in my mind with dogged persistence.  It was the only defense I had against the damage that Lyle had done to my courage---remembering how I’d built it up in the first place.

When the room was a perfect as I could make it I retreated to the bathroom and spent the better part of an hour under a shower with water so hot it left my skin lobster red.  I finally emerged from the bathroom only to pull on the bulkiest and most unflattering of the garments I had to choose from and crawl into the large bed.

For remainder of that day and the morning of the next I remained in my bed, not daring to move from it except for brief forays to the small table to eat my meals.  I spent the time finally coming to terms with the fact that I would never see friends or my children ever again.  I had put that acceptance off, hoping that I wasn't really here but was in a hospital or mental institution somewhere.  Later, of course, I was a lot more occupied with trying NOT to think---but coming up with far too many nightmare scenarios staring Lyle and Raines.

Now, I had time, the semblance of privacy, and it helped to take my mind off of Lyle's threats.  Threats of violence I could live with, but the not so subtle suggestion of rape had struck me in an area I'd never even thought about.  I was frightened on a level that I'd never known I could reach.  Saying good bye to everything I'd ever known was easy in comparison.

I did a lot of crying, realizing that my children had to be hurting at what for them would be either my death or my disappearance, and sent a  lot of silent messages to them.  I thanked God, (when I wasn't berating Him for allowing this entire situation), that both of my children were embarking on adulthood even as I was torn away from them.  At least they were ready for independence, but they were aching with loss anyway, I knew.  The three of us had been a stable unit for almost nineteen years, and now a third of that unit---the head of the unit was gone.  They were strong, though.  I'd raised them independent and self- confident.  They'd simply grieve, bond more closely with each other, and go on.

When I reached that point in my ruminations, I started working at carefully rebuilding my mask of detachment, aware that even with my best efforts the fear I tried to conceal shone out of hundreds of tiny cracks.  Lyle had frightened me with the beating, retraining me in one brutal session to flinch and cringe whenever a man, specifically he, was near me for fear of being struck.  In that second encounter, however, he'd threatened my very soul with filth.  My confidence, born from the survival of physical abuse, had nearly shattered with the new threat.  I knew that the only hope I had of surviving the upcoming days with my personality anything like it had been the day I first opened my eyes here lay in shoring up the defensive walls around the center of who I was.  I'd let them weaken and fade in the years I'd lived alone---I hadn't needed them, but I needed them now.

I changed into comfortable exercise clothing after lunch on that second day, my mental barriers as strong as I could make them, and started working on my physical strength.  Once again I adapted my Katas around the space I had to work in, reasoning that the activity had been accepted in the tiny cell, so it would probably be all right now.  I also worked out a supplementary routine of calisthenics, knowing that I had to be in the best physical condition possible to survive until I could somehow escape.

Finally, knowing that a strong mind was as important as a strong body, I planned out a schedule of mental exercises to stretch and strengthen my mind.  I didn't dare write anything down on the pads to help my memory, so I began the routine with remembering as much as I could of a chapter in the Bible or a favorite book.  Then I moved to songs, deciding that I would have to remember two songs, to the best of my ability, from start to finish.  Each day, I would add two songs, but without dropping the ones before.  The benefit to the songs was that I couldn't possibly sing the wrong notes without any voice, even though I had resolved to do everything else as though I could make a sound.  And at the end of my mental calisthenics I would do a series of math problems, moving the difficulty level up until I reached the point where I had to resort to paper to keep track of the figures.  I hoped  that these plans would keep me stable during the mind numbing dullness  that I faced every day, locked in a empty room with absolutely nothing to stimulate my mind.

Shortly after lunch on the third day a large, ape-like woman arrived right after breakfast and indicated that I was to follow her to the Centre gym.  She waited impatiently while I changed into a fresh set of exercise clothes and pulled a loose T-shirt from the man’s wardrobe over them.  My hard won peace was severely shaken when I followed her into the hallway and Lyle detached himself from the wall beside the door.  Instantly my heart began to race and my breathing quickened.  Lyle didn't miss the signs of panic, even though I managed, barely, to keep my face still.

"Hello, Eve."  He purred ominously.  "I'm so happy I could join you today, I've missed your smiling face.  After our---stimulating---conversation a few days ago I’ve just been biding my time until I could visit with you again.  Have you been a good girl?"

Nausea churned my stomach even as self-loathing for being afraid of just the sight of the man rose up and closed off my throat.

<Don’t just cower there, girl!  Stand up, show some gumption!>  My alter ego suggested acidly.

<Oh no you don’t!>  I answered back firmly.  <We don’t want his attention, remember?  We want him to go away.>

<Then you’d better stop being afraid of him because he’s loving every moment.>

My alter ego got in the last word, but fear won out anyway as Lyle moved closer to me, enjoying my abortive flinch and the way I pressed back against the door in a futile attempt to avoid his touch.

"You know," he continued insinuatingly, relishing my all too obvious dread.  He pried me away from the door, and slid his arm over my shoulders.  His self-satisfied smile deepened when I winced at the pressure he placed on my bruises, and pulled me firmly against his side.  "I'm hoping we can get to know each other much better."

<He won’t do anything more than touch you.>  I assured myself desperately as he practically dragged me down the hallway after the impassive guard.  She ignored everything, leading us relentlessly into the bowels of the Centre.

<They want Jarod’s child, not Lyle’s.>  I insisted again, ruthlessly suppressing all thoughts of various birth control methods and clinging to the belief that Lyle was only trying to intimidate me.  I also resolutely ignored the fact that he had succeeded far to well.

This set the tone for the next week and a half.  Lyle showed up every day after lunch with the she-ape in tow, to escort me to my daily exercise.  He stayed and watched, delighting in the clumsiness his observation provoked.  He also grew more and more suggestive as the days went by.

I knew he had no real interest in me.  I was nothing more than a convenient victim.  Someone he could torment with relative impunity and whose fear stroked his psychopathic ego.  But it didn’t matter how often I reminded myself of these facts, or of the fact that the more I cowered away from him the more he’d feel compelled to threaten and intimidate me, I couldn’t seem to keep my nerve up whenever he was in the same room.

My apprehension continued to grow as my bruises faded to shades of blue, yellow and brown.  The swelling in my eye went down and I began to fill out, starting to acquire curves in place of angles.  The more normal I looked the more intense Lyle’s attention became and the deeper my fear.

I couldn’t sleep anymore than a few hours at a time without being jerked awake by a nightmare, generally involving Lyle.  I was becoming convinced that he wasn’t going to wait for me to make a mistake requiring his ‘discipline’---that the next persecution session was just around the corner, and my anxiety continued to grow proportionally.  I actually felt relief when they finally caught Jarod in their trap.

"We've got him!"  Lyle burst into the room suddenly, causing me to freeze in the act of adjusting one of the couch pillows.  For one, endlessly long moment, his words failed to penetrate my fear that this was it; he’d come to hurt me again, maybe worse.  My relief was so great when I realized that I hadn’t transgressed in some trivial way and triggered another ‘session’, that I had to sit down on the couch before my knees gave out.  The pillow I’d been fiddling with remained clutched in my hands like a shield as I looked up at Lyle’s excited face, trying to understand his words through the fog of anxiety his presence generated in my mind.

<Wow!  That man is drop dead gorgeous when he’s excited like that.  He almost looks like a boy going to his first prom!>  My other self noted irreverently.  <If he wasn’t such a horrid little bully he’d have a whole string of women.  What a waste!>

<Not for long.>  I grumbled back.  <He’d end up killing them sooner or later.>

"Go take a bath and pretty yourself up."  He continued with a callousness that managed to amaze me, even after all I'd learned about his ability to be cruel.  "Jarod will be here within the hour.  Wear the blue silk nightgown."

He leered but it almost seemed like an afterthought.  His desire to exact revenge on Jarod took precedent over his more casual pleasure in torturing me.  I was almost ashamed to realize I was glad that someone else would be the focus of Lyle’s attentions for a while.

“Well, don’t just sit there, girl!  Move it!”  Lyle snapped when I failed to move.  I looked at him blankly, trying to remember what he wanted.  The rising irritation in his face triggered the fear he’d so carefully instilled in me, and any hope that still remained of me remembering his original instructions vanished.  His grip on my arm, hauling me to my feet, was so tight his fingertips went white, guaranteeing that another set of bruises would soon join the fading remains of my others.

"Lyle, don't damage the merchandise.  She’s still colorful enough to arouse his protective instincts."  Raines wheezy voice stopped Lyle in mid-swing.

The rage and promise of retribution that flared in his eyes frightened me further.  When Lyle released my arm I once again sagged onto the couch, my legs too shaky to hold me up.  All of my previous attempts to rebuild my self-confidence and self-respect vanished as I huddled nervously looking up at the two men.

Raines seemed oblivious to Lyle's unfulfilled rage, but I strongly suspected that he'd noted it and was pleased.  I was sure that he knew that Lyle would eventually find a way to take that frustration out on me and the he was looking forward to it.

"Don’t be concerned by the state Jarod is in when he arrives.”  Raines told me casually.  “The effects won’t be permanent.  Show more sense than he did, Eve, and cooperate willingly.  Neither of you have a choice.  In the end the Centre always wins."

I looked at him blankly; unable to absorb what he said with Lyle radiating anger right next to me.

"Remember, girl, this can be pleasant, or not."  Raines added with unbreakable logic, finally bringing home to me what was being discussed.

They’d captured Jarod!  He was on his way here, now!  Raines wanted---

I swallowed against the rising nausea, my hand coming up to cover my mouth.

<Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.>  I told myself firmly, reciting the basic first aid I’d learned many years before.

Finally, finding a reserve of strength and courage that I hadn’t realized had survived Lyle’s attentions, I raised my chin and shook my head slowly.  The effect of my resistance was undoubtedly negated when I immediately dropped my eyes and wrapped my arms protectively around myself, but I felt somewhat better for having managed even that minor act of defiance.

"Very well, girl."  Raines accepted my decision with bone chilling calm.  "In that case we'll just have to test one of our new concoctions on Jarod.  I understand the initial tests have been quite promising and that the women aren't-----too badly damaged."  He chuckled, a papery sound, as he made his way back to the door, the squeak of his oxygen tank drowning out my gasp of dismay.

The two men were gone and I sat on the sofa in a daze, unwittingly compounding my minor act of rebellion by completely forgetting Lyle's instructions.

<Could they?>  The question pounded at my brain.  On my world real aphrodisiacs were mythical, as unreal as the fountain of youth.  Once again I found myself wondering, no, wishing, I really was in a coma in a hospital somewhere.  I'd even be happy to wake up in a padded cell pumped full of mind-altering drugs or strapped down for electroshock therapy.

<Where the hell are the cooperative scriptwriters when you need them?>  I thought with sudden fury.  <They can’t do this on prime time TV!>

<So they’ll change the timeslot again.  That is, if you’re even in the script.  We all know there’s plenty that Raines and Lyle do that the audience never gets to see.>  That logical part of me was really getting on my nerves.

Then my unshakable alter ego chose that moment to remind me of the way I'd drooled over Jarod every Saturday night.  Before my world changed I had lusted after him in the serene confidence that he didn't really exist.  Now, the thought of seeing him in person had me shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, and not just because of the obscenity Raines wanted to orchestrate.

I hadn't lived like a nun for 15 years because it was fun!  After my nightmarish marriage and even more hellish divorce, I had concluded that men just weren't on the books for my life.  I'd simply settled down with my children, focused on raising them well, and undoing the damage their father had done over those precious early years.  I ignored men entirely.  When it came to the opposite sex I was completely at a loss and I wasn't at all convinced that I wanted to change that.  In fact, I was suddenly quite sure that I wanted to continue my quiet, settled life just as it had been for many years, alone.

"Eve?"  Johnson poked his head around the door to my quarters.  "I've got to talk to you."

"You aren't supposed to be here."  I wrote on my pad.

"They've got Jarod."  He ignored the pad with unaccustomed determination.

"I know."  I mouthed, my jaw setting tightly as I willed down the tears pricking at my eyes.  I'd learned early in life that tears didn't help any and were better shed in complete privacy.

"You told them you wouldn't cooperate."  He guessed, despair in his voice.

"I can't."  I wrote simply.

"They have a drug."

"I know."  I mouthed again, pinching the bridge of my nose to force back the still threatening tears.

"Eve, I've seen what the men do once they've been affected.  If--if you don't try to fight him you'll be okay, but if you resist---if he gets agitated----" his voice dropped to an agonized whisper.  "Three women died in the initial trials and two have been left in critical condition since then.  It increases aggressiveness.  Please don't make him hurt you."

I had a burning desire to hurt Johnson.  <Damn all men for their idiot assumption that women get hit because they do something to cause it!>  I screamed inwardly, albeit somewhat unfairly.

"I don't make anyone hurt me!"  I underscored the word twice for emphasis.  It had taken me years to realize that and I wasn't letting anyone, no matter how well intentioned, tell me otherwise.  Johnson looked startled at the vehemence of my reply and the tears sparkling in my eyes.  Then he had the grace to look faintly guilty as what he'd said actually penetrated his dense little mind.

"Then consider this," he argued quickly.  "You know stuff about this place---you know about Jarod too, don't you?"  I nodded warily, suspecting where he was going with this, and not liking it.  "You know that it would tear him apart to hurt you, even if he wasn't in control of himself at the time.  Be flexible, at least, for Jarod's sake if not for your own.  Damn it, Eve!  If they give him the drug YOU’LL be the only one with a choice!  HE WON’T HAVE ANY CONTROL!"  Johnson finished in a near bellow.

"I don’t want that choice!  I just want to go HOME!"  I shouted silently, disregarding my muteness, taking comfort in the familiar play of muscles that had once formed sounds and words.

"I-" he looked down at the floor in self-disgust, his brief flare of anger extinguished.  "I should be trying to take you away from this place instead of begging you to go along with this travesty, but I'm a realist.  I know that we'd never make it as far as the lobby.  I'd probably be killed and you'd just be drugged and returned to your room.  They might even try to brainwash you.  They can do unbelievable things in their re-education wing.  Raines won't let you go, he's positive that any child you and Jarod create will be a Pretender, possibly with even greater ability than Jarod."

"I know there’s nothing you can really do."  I wrote, giving him the absolution I had finally realized he'd come for.  My anger was spent too, for the moment at least.  "I don't want to see you shot, either.  You've always been nice to me.  I can't promise I'll cooperate.  I don't honestly know of a rational woman who could, but I'll try to be reasonable.  You’re right, I don't want to make Jarod do anything he'd hate himself for.  He's had enough pain."

"You'd better go."  I urged Johnson then.  "Raines won't be happy if he finds out you've been here without authorization."

After he left, though, I found myself missing his presence.  The silence pressed in on me like sand through a funnel.  Time had slowed to a crawl with nothing to distract my morbid thoughts.  After long minutes spent wandering around, my mind whirling so quickly with so many thoughts that none of them stayed long enough to penetrate, I found myself sitting in the easy chair of the living room clutching the pillow I’d dropped earlier to my chest.  I stared blankly at the door, and carried on a heated internal argument.

<You have to get out!>

<No kidding!  And just how do you plan to do that, Einstein?>

<Wait behind the door and hit Lyle over the head?>

<It would be fun, at least until he killed us, but hardly effective.  He won't be stupid enough to bring Jarod by himself.>

<Well, think of something!>

<Hah!  Under these conditions?  You’re lucky I haven’t gone catatonic. No, we're stuck, girlfriend----I certainly don't see a way out.  Maybe Jarod can think of something?>

I started violently when the door to my quarters was flung open to facilitate the precipitous entrance of a thoroughly mussed Jarod.  He stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.  Twice he tried and failed to stand before he surrendered and stayed there, shaking his head and blinking his eyes in unnatural confusion.  He'd obviously been drugged by something pretty powerful and it hadn't worn off yet.

"Now play nice, children."  Lyle got in one last painful taunt before slamming the door with terrifying finality.

I clutched the throw pillow clutched tighter, and stared apprehensively at Jarod.  He blinked furiously and squinted in a futile effort to focus.  Then he tried simply to sit up, but his coordination wouldn't allow even that.  He seemed to have his gross motor skills, but his fine motor skills were shot.  Finally he gave a heartrending groan and curled up on the floor in a nearly fetal position, releasing me from my paralysis.

It didn't matter that he was almost a full foot taller than me and even in his diminished capacity oozed enough masculine power to make me want to hide in my closet.  It didn't even matter that I was so scared right then that my mouth ached with dryness.  Jarod was hurting, even if only in his mind, and I was, (and still am), a sucker for anything in pain.

<Someday,> I promised myself sternly, <someday I am going to get over this obsession with rescuing every injured stray I run across.>

"Who'r you?"  He demanded batting uselessly at the hand I'd laid on his shoulder and refusing to open his tightly shut eyes.  I gently squeezed the shoulder, startling him into opening and once again attempting to focus his dazed brown eyes.  He looked as confused and lost as a dog that had just been dumped by the side of the road by his master, deepening my instinctively protective reaction.

One eye already showed indications of a shiner that would rival the one healing on my face.  Finally he was able to focus on me and his brow furrowed in an effort to think.

"Ya’ m' nurse?  M' door prize?"  He laughed shortly at his witticism.

I firmly suppressed the urge to smack him.  This wasn’t a good time to bring out any sexist remarks!

<He’s just as upset as you are, and he obviously has no idea what’s going on yet.  Give him a break---he’s scared too.>  I told myself sensibly.

<Yeah, well he’d just better watch it anyway.  I’m not in the mood!>  My alter ego insisted stubbornly.

<He’s bigger than we are.>  I reminded her, with the caution that Lyle’s intimidation had succeeded in resurrecting from the depths of my mind.

It was obvious, by his slurred speech and inability to even sit up, that he wasn’t capable of harming a fly at the moment.  Reassured, I knelt in front of him, grasping his chin with my left hand, carefully avoiding an angry red scrape along one side of his jaw.  I guessed he'd put up a hell of a fight before they'd drugged him.  I stabilized his rolling head and pointed at myself, miming speech but of course, unable to make a sound.

"Deaf?"  Jarod questioned fuzzily.  I understood him anyway.

"No."  I shook my head, pointing to the scar on my neck.  I wasn't sure if he could focus well enough to see it, but he obviously understood the implication.

"Tha's cold."  Jarod commiserated drunkenly. "Ev'n fr' Raines."

I tugged on his arm, recapturing his attention, and then mimed sleeping and pointed towards the bedroom.

"S'rry.  Can' walk."  He mumbled.

I sidled around to Jarod's left side, pulled his arm over my shoulders, and slid my right arm around his waist.  I blessed my morning workouts for building my muscle tone as I strained to steady Jarod's uncooperative body.  We were both trembling with the strain by the time we reached the bed.  Jarod sank backwards onto it with a grateful sigh.  I knelt and pulled off his shoes and socks and then debated with myself as to whether or not I should try to remove the rest of his outer clothing.

I have a strong sense of modesty and didn't want to invade his personal privacy.  On the other hand, he'd get a lousy night of rest if I left him in jeans.

<Besides,> I reasoned practically, <he grew up in the Centre.  How much of a need for privacy can he have left?>

<Probably more than you do now.>  My alter ego pointed out, being contrary as always.  <He’s going to value what he had on the outside even more now that he’s back.>

<Oh, shut up!>  I told myself tiredly.  <Privacy or not, we can’t leave him like this---he’d just wake up again in a few hours.  You’ve seen men before---hell, you raised a son!  Just do what needs to be done and get it over with.>

Jarod roused for a moment when I began to undo his belt buckle but he dropped his head back down almost immediately with a sigh.  With his half-hearted, mostly sleeping, help I was able to strip him to his underwear.  He protested when I pulled his long legs up onto the mattress.

"Doan' wanna, Syd..." he whispered drowsily, his eyes already closed. I covered him by simply pulling the far edge of the bedspread over, leaving him sandwiched in the fold it created.

His clothing I draped neatly over the vanity chair in the bathroom, even though the clothes in the closet and chest of drawers were undoubtedly for him.  I knew that if I were in his shoes I wouldn’t want to wear what the Centre provided for me until I had no other choice.

I turned out the lamp by his head and grabbed the spare quilt, kept on the rack at the foot of the bed, on my way out to the couch.  A very tiny voice in my head wondered if I was going to get into more trouble for sleeping on the couch instead of the bed.  I ignored it, though; my courage having been somewhat restored by the simple act of helping someone else.  It wasn’t logical, but helping Jarod made me feel less helpless.

I didn't know what woke me later, until the soft cry of distress was repeated.  <Oh yeah,> I thought groggily, <Jarod has nightmares.>  Well, I had nightmares too, especially since the advent of Lyle in my life, so I could empathize.  I hadn't even consciously decided to try to soothe him before I found myself on my feet, stumbling tiredly into the bedroom.

Jarod had rolled to the center of the bed, leaving plenty of space for me to sit down.  The motion of my weight settling onto the bed made him murmur briefly and I wondered if the nightmare was over already.  No, just moments later he began moaning and shaking his head from side to side.

I debated whether or not to touch him.  I didn't know how he'd react to contact in the middle of a nightmare and I didn't want to get hit if it startled him.  With Lyle on hand to knock me around I really didn't see the need to get Jarod started too.  I had to risk it, though, without a voice my touch was the only tool I had to use to comfort him.

I smoothed the long black bangs back from his forehead, automatically using motions I'd perfected while soothing my children through their own nightmares and illnesses.  I made soft shushing noises between my teeth, and stroked the unruly strands back from his face with slow, rhythmic movements.  Jarod tensed suddenly, making my heart pound with anxiety.  Had he awakened?  I really didn’t want to be alone with him in a dark bedroom if he was fully conscious.  My hand froze in mid-caress until he relaxed with a long sigh and began taking slow, deep breaths.

I resumed the slow brushes through his hair, going slower and making my touch lighter with each pass.  After a few moments I stilled the hand, resting it lightly on his shoulder in case he roused.  When his peaceful breathing continued I cautiously shifted my position, preparing to return to the couch.  I was in process of standing up when  Jarod abruptly grabbed my retreating hand in a firm grip, preventing my departure but not hurting me.

"Don't go, please."  His deep voice startled me almost as much as his sudden move had.  My heart was racing and I knew he could feel me tremble as I tried to calm my automatic reaction of panic.  I wasn’t pulling against his hold, but every muscle in my body was tense, ready to flee the moment he relaxed his grip.

"I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know what part you play in whatever sick scheme Raines has up his sleeve at the moment, but I don't want to be alone right now.  Would you just stay here and keep me company until I can face being a prisoner of the Centre again?  I need a friend right now, even if it’s just an illusion."  His voice was carefully void of any distress or pleading, but I felt his anguish as though it were my own and my tense muscles released, just a fraction, as I considered his request.  I suppose, in a way, his pain was mine, I knew we were both in the same boat even if he didn’t.

And I didn’t want to be alone either.  I knew that if I returned to the couch I might sleep, but I would doubtlessly have a nightmare before morning.  I wasn’t sure if I had the courage, though, to stay so close to a man who was really a stranger to me, no matter how much I knew about him.  Jarod sensed my indecision.

“I know you’re basically a kind person, or you’d have never come in here in the first place.  And I know I scared you when I grabbed you---I’m sorry about that.  I don’t think you want to be alone right now either.  I promise, all I want is the solace of another human presence.”

I knew it had been hard for him to add to his original request.  Jarod gave help, he didn’t ask for it.  What really decided me, though, was when he loosened his grip on my wrist, moving his hand to gently hold mine.  The compassion and understanding that had let him know  I couldn’t stand restraint, no matter how gentle, let me know that I could trust him to respect my boundaries.  I wanted companionship as  much as he did, and had a greater need for comfort, because I knew what the “sick scheme” was.  I gave his hand a quick squeeze to show my assent, and before I could have second thoughts, I shifted my weight onto the bed and leaned my back against the headboard.

"No need to be so uncomfortable."  He chuckled softly.  "Lay down, relax."  He tugged lightly on my hand, still comfortably wrapped in his, urging, but not forcing, me to lie down.  I astonished myself by complying with his request, wondering what on earth had gotten into me.

He sighed with satisfaction and rolled over onto his side, wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling me snugly towards him until my back pressed against his chest.  Shock and instinctive terror held me rigid for several heartbeats----heartbeats so hard that they shuddered violently through me.

“I won’t hurt you.”  He whispered, holding almost as still as I could when I felt threatened.  My need to be unconstrained warred with an unexpected feeling of security created by his completely platonic embrace.  As the moments dragged on and he made no other moves I finally started to relax.  My pulse slowed to match the steady rhythm  of his heart and my breathing became deeper and more regular.  Eventually, thinking that he’d dozed off again, I squirmed into a slightly more comfortable position, gave a sigh of contentment and closed my eyes.

"That's better."  He breathed sleepily into my hair.  "Go back to sleep now."

<Right,> I thought skeptically, tensing again, although not with the intensity of the first scare.  <I'm lying in the arms of a strange man but I'm going to go to sleep?>

However, the warmth of his body, the pulse of his heartbeat vibrating through my back, and the unanticipated feeling of security his touch brought, soon had me relaxing again.  This time my eyes drifted shut, and I slipped gently back to sleep before I even realized I’d been seduced by unexpected peace in the room.

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