When we pulled in it was late and the house was mostly dark. That was a good thing. Hawk was tired and had a long day ahead of him in Rochester. We got him settled in the new guest bedroom.

I shook my head. I knew I was pretty obvious, but this was ridiculous. Jade was grinning at me. She knew how I worked.

Hawk had taken up each for a ride in his personal airplane, a lovingly maintained Stearman. I'd done okay until he let me out, when I fell flat on my face in the dirt, laughing hysterically. Jade had been in tears, laughing and almost unable to walk. It had outdone any roller coaster ever built. I'd have paid him for another ride, but he'd wanted to hear.

We were both a little bit in love with Hawk.

And neither one of us wanted to consider the alternative if the doctors at Johns Hopkins and the Mayo Clinic ran out of options.

She let herself into her room and I headed down the hall to mine. Bill was awake, sitting up with Rainer, asleep against his shoulder. The television was on low, tuned to CNN and putting out its usual confused political shit.

He regarded the television, not me, below dark brows. He had a black eye.

He'd ignored the second question, but it wasn't too important. Someone had probably put him in his place after he had run his mouth.

He scowled at me tiredly. I took Rainer from him and laid the child in his crib in the next room. Dad wasn't finished with me yet but that was fine, since I wasn't finished with Dad. I went back inside my room and closed the door. No point in the world waking up.

There was an accusatory note to his voice, but my choice of sitters wasn't what was bugging him. I restrained myself.

He was pushing, hard. Did he want a fight or just need to blow off steam? In any case, he was going to poke at me until I yelled unless he knew I was on to his shit.

Bill sat up in bed, then swung his legs over the side and stood, favoring his leg more than usual. He apparently planned to loom, thinking I would cave in on him. That way my attention would be solidly given to defending myself as opposed to actively resisting him. We both knew there was a difference.

By now, the answer was sheer habit.

I went to the bathroom to change into my nightshirt. He was right behind me.

I put my hand on his chest. I was seething, but I managed to look calmly into his face. I took a deep breath.

Bill was palpitating under my hand. I stroked the smooth skin with tiny movements.

Bill turned away from my hand and went headlong back to bed. I walked out, hesitantly, feeling the difference in the air. He stopped before he hit his side of the bed, his shoulders tight and slightly hunched.

He sat down on the bed, cross-legged, his white hair falling over his shoulders. I noticed then that it was longer than usual, past the collarbone. He'd let it grow, along with the slight stubble on his chin. He'd almost regained his bulk, every last bit of it, and he'd started to tan again. Scars still showed against the skin, though. They made him look every bit the old warrior that he was, both in the world and in his mind.

And, apparently, with me.

My voice was wavering slightly, and I fought to keep control as I sat down on my side of the bed, close to him. I could have touched his arm, but I didn't. He might have recoiled, I could feel it, and I knew I didn't want him to do that. It would have fucked me up royally, considering it didn't feel like he was with me even when he was in the house, lately. He'd been extremely distant.

Cleveland. Ohio. Where the files had said that he was born, right around that area anyway. I couldn't imagine anything else that would draw him to such a harmless, droll, midwestern area like Ohio other than his family. But it would be so unlike him to reach out to someone like that... anyone...

Then again, he'd done a lot of changing in the past two years... but not enough for this, I would have thought.

He looked at me halfway through my question, and I couldn't bear to finish the thought.

A nervous grin twitched at one corner of his mouth. He might have been remembering the look on her face when she saw him.

He fell silent and his eyes dropped to the bed, but he gained a new enthusiasm when I asked him if Janice was his sister. It rolled out of him like a thunderclap, still smiling and almost laughing, but not seeming amused at all, only wishing it was all a joke.

I had wanted it to be a carefully considered and properly worded question, but it just came out. I silently groaned as I watched him.

He smiled at me tiredly.

Finally, I got up enough nerve to reach out and touch his arm. He didn't flinch, and I was eternally grateful. Instead, he relaxed back into the pillows and closed his eyes. I spoke gently.

Bill was talking freely now, and I felt I was witnessing something altogether singular. He was tired, and the words flowed out of him, as if he'd turned on a tap. All of it built up inside of him was now spilling forth. I watched the tension dissipate from him as he spoke, his eyes still closed, back with his mother and his sister.

He opened his eyes and held me with another one of those silly, rare smiles that seemed not-so-rare at that moment.

Bill shuddered. Marriage. Eurgh. I shuddered with him.

I stared at his chin. I didn't know where to start. Bill turned off the television he'd been ignoring.

I hesitated, drew another deep and steadying breath.

I got to my feet and opened the door.

He gave me a wary look, but he followed me anyway, Mr. Fearless to the end. I stopped outside the guest room. He nailed me with a knowing look.

My voice was hushed, and he met me with an equally quiet tone.

I opened the door, my finger alongside my nose to shut Bill up. The light from the hallway fell upon General Hawkins' sleeping face. Before I could turn a triumphant grin to Bill, I heard him gasp tightly. Instantly, I knew I'd made a mistake. Or thought I had.

Bill spoke as if from a great distance.

He took a step backwards, his eyes like the lights of a freight train in a tunnel.

He was remembering, verbalizing the name into place. I stayed quiet.

Bill leaned his back against the wall, slid down to a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. His hands were shaking, but he didn't seem to notice.

Maybe I could prod him a little, pull him out of the strange funk that he was in, that was scaring me half to death...

Bill never followed orders gladly, and he always demanded room to improvise. He would have identified with Hawk.

He met me with something akin to anger, but wasn't. He was all fired up now, and on a roll. I supressed a grin. This was my Billy... although I wondered if his ranting would wake up Hawk, let alone everyone else off that hallway.

His face fell, remembering again.

The question caught me off guard, and I jumped.

A sudden inspiration hit me.

A devilish grin spread over Bill's face.