Eye of the Hurricane

She'd touched something once as a child when she'd still been trying to learn how to live blind. It had been an open light socket. A live one.

The shock she had received had burned her fingers and thrown her onto her back. It had been startling and frightening, a rush of tingling sound and feeling that had momentarily muted the world around her and left her gasping for breath.

This was different. And somehow the same.

Her head was dizzy from holding her breath, the pure, undiluted shock of having Lance's lips over hers holding her still and obliterating everything else for timeless seconds.

Her thoughts reeled even as her eyes closed, her muscles feeling disconnected from her body. Instinct drew her hands to him even as a tiny part of herself stood in a corner of her mind open-mouthed.

It was as if her small, unconscious movement triggered something in Lance. The tingling warmth of his mouth settled over hers completely, his body leaning into hers, forcing her back slightly.

A ripple of shock jolted through her as her senses literally shut down, as if another electric shock had exploded inside her. She couldn't hear, couldn't feel, anything but that single point of contact. The alienness, the utter strangeness.

The intimacy. The connection that threw her heart into overdrive and sent odd, hot-cold shivers of reaction through her as Lance moved closer.

Fear of the unknown clawed at her distantly, but the overwhelming rush of sensation drowned it out.

And she didn't want it to stop. The feeling floated through her muddled thoughts, along with the urge to respond in some clumsy way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance knew the instant Abby went from accepting the touch of his mouth out of surprise to tentative response. It shot straight to his nervous system like hundred-proof whiskey.

Heart pounding, he edged closer yet, trying to remind himself to approach Abby carefully as wild thoughts careered through his head. He dropped his hands to the cushions, gathering the fabric in tight fistfuls.

Trust me. Trust me he begged silently through the roaring in his head.

His lungs were burning, but he couldn't let go long enough to draw in a breath. He couldn't, feeling the first tentative brush of her fingertips over his brows, trailing over his cheeks.

Thunder rumbled again in the distance, the rain a steady thrum across the roof as he coaxed a response from her soft lips, tasting the rain there.

The sound of a fist on the door thudded through the quieting patter of rain like a gunshot.

"Lance?" Justin's frantic voice yelled. "Abs?"

He drew back reluctantly, breathing quickly, and blinked to clear his vision. Everything was oddly muted and distant except when he looked down at her.

"Abby?" he questioned hoarsely. Her face was completely still, lashes fanning across her cheekbones. She didn't even appear to be breathing.

Until her eyes flickered open abruptly. She breathed in shallowly. Lance searched her wide eyes intently, trying to find some sort of reaction. And hoping it wasn't fear.

"Lance?" His head jerked, having spaced the sound of the door opening.

Justin gazed from him to Abby and back again, eyes narrowing slightly, and Lance flushed, sitting back and dropping his arms from the cage they held Abby in.

Abby suddenly jerked upright, scooting into the cushions.

"Are they gone?" she asked into the uncomfortable silence. A slight tremor wavered through her husked voice, and Lance looked into her unseeing gaze again, his breath catching.

Justin was still eyeing them both. "Yeah--"

Like a shadow, she slid off the couch and was gone, slipping past Justin's tall form in the doorway and down the hall.

Lance slumped back against the couch with a sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face as he breathed deeply.

"Lance?" Justin asked tentatively.

Lance stared at his hands, hooking them over his knees and wondering distantly if he was going to pass out from lack of blood to his brain. Or maybe just the ache in his chest. He wondered if he was too young for a heart attack. Or maybe it was a stroke, he pondered dizzily.

"Lance, what happened?"

Lance closed his eyes to try and still the vertigo. Maybe he should put his head between his knees instead.

"Lance--"

"I took your advice," he answered tiredly. He suddenly felt very, very old. "You saw her response," he pointed out bitterly, looking up to meet his younger friend's eyes.

Justin glanced behind himself, looking guilty, then grimaced. "Then you have to go after her," he declared firmly.

Lance looked at him like he was nuts, feeling the vise tighten a little more. "Wrong. I've laid my neck on the line and given it a good try. That's it."

He licked his dry lips and winced as he tasted her there.

Justin hesitated. "So you're saying you kissed her and felt nothing, so you're just letting her go?"

Lance snorted. "I'm saying no--I'm done trying," he snapped stiffly, climbing to his feet and brushing past Justin to leave the bus. Liar.

The rain had mellowed into a soft drizzle, though thunder still hummed lowly in the distance. Lance hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground as he walked silently behind a bodyguard, doing his best to block out the world around him and the voices inside his own head.

He was vaguely aware of Justin following quietly behind him, but didn't turn, lost somewhere in emotional limbo. He ignored Justin's furtive glances in the elevator.

Justin walked ahead of him to the hotel suite, greeted immediately by the murmur of Chris's and JC's voices. Joey came out of the other suite as Lance walked into the first more slowly.

Justin threw a glance back at him, biting his lip. "Where's Abby?" he asked the other two men, then raised an eyebrow at Joey.

JC and Chris looked at each other and shrugged. "We thought she was with you?" JC answered in question.

"She was still upset, and she left," Justin temporized. "You haven't seen her?" concern edged his voice.

JC frowned. "No. She might've gone for a walk--"

"Yeah, her things are still here, and I've never known a female to leave without packing half her stuff," Joey joked weakly.

Lance sank down into a chair silently. The sinking feeling lodged inside his chest went to his stomach before falling clear to his toes. He looked out the window at the gray skies. Heavy clouds gleamed silver on grey in the lights from the city, weeping gentle tears onto the ground below.

Her eyes as they had been before she'd run filled his mind's eye. Dully gleaming silver, huge and full of confusion. And brimming with welling tears.

Lance dropped his head back against the cushion, feeling exhausted.

She wasn't coming back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss?" Anna poked her head out, disapproval entering her voice. "Come and eat something, child. You shouldn't be staying outside all night."

Abby hunched her shoulders, her gaze directed at the drizzling rain which she could feel misting the air. Her lips twisted with humorless irony. It hadn't stopped raining since that day. It was almost as if it had followed her home to Florida.

She shifted, wincing as her bones practically creaked from being stuck in one position for too long. Lack of sun dulled her sense of time, but she didn't really care.

"Miss? Abby," Anna was audibly shaking her head as she came to crouch next to the wicker-rattan chair Abby had taken up residence in.

"Enough is enough, child. I didn't push when you came home so suddenly, but this has gone on long enough."

Abby rested her head against the side of the chair, her gaze staying pinned on the distance.

A gentle finger pulled her chin around firmly. "What happened?"

"I didn't like being on tour," she answered, voice rusty-hoarse from disuse.

"Which is why you refuse to talk about it? And take any calls from the young one? Or any of them, for that matter?"

Abby shrugged silently, a lump swelling in her throat. She swallowed with difficulty, pulling away from the concerned grasp and returning to her former position.

"I'm tired," she murmured sluggishly. It was the truth. She'd begun shying away from sleep as soon as the first dream had emerged from her unconscious two nights ago.

There was a beat of silence.

"Who?" Anna asked softly.

"Who what?" Abby muttered, shifting restlessly.

"One of them hurt you," Anna continued slowly. "Or--I'm not sure, but the only reason you would come flying home without any warning is if you felt threatened."

Abby's jaw tightened, and she curled up a little more in defense. "No." She scrambled for more convincing words, but her mind wouldn't produce them. She shook her head. "No," she reiterated softly. She turned her face away from Anna's, not knowing what her expression would reveal.

Her bare toes curled as she waited, becoming more nervous as Anna remained silent.

She tensed as she heard Anna take a breath, then make a soft humming noise before gaining her feet.

"What?" she asked finally.

"Nothing," Anna replied easily.

"That sound didn't mean 'nothing'," Abby snapped.

An affectionate hand combed back her loose hair. "I was always saddened by the fact that Ray and I were never able to have children." Abby frowned uncertainly, thrown by the change in subject. "But when we came here, I discovered what it could be like to be a mother. I think of you like one of my own family, Abigail."

Abby's eyes widened with shock and faint sadness.

Anna chuckled softly. "Which is why the thought of you falling in love feels a little strange for these old bones."

Abby drew back, startled. "I'm not--" she stuttered, flushing. Her insides suddenly felt as if they were going to fly apart. She shook her head violently, struggling to her feet and throwing off the light afghan around her legs.

"I'm no such thing," she breathed jerkily, backing away when Anna clucked and touched her arm. The wild feelings swirling around inside her chest battered against her thoughts, her heartbeat drowning out everything in ragged tempo.

Without thinking of anything but escape, she spun and sprinted down the steps in the drizzling rain, nearly stumbling on the last few. The brief burning as her palm was scraped raw on the railing barely registered along with Anna's concerned call.

"Child!! Don't be foolish--"

The sand was damp and chill beneath her feet as she bolted for the sanctuary of the barns, the air burning in her lungs.

The well-worn path passed in a blur, and she stood with her forehead pressed against the rough railing of the fence, the rain a cold blanket around her shaking shoulders.

Her knees trembled as she tried hard to blank her mind and still her racing heart.

A soft nose nuzzled her exposed temple with a gentle whicker. Abby reached out a hand, tracing the patchwork of scars over the delicate muzzle.

"Reina," she whispered hoarsely.

The sorrel mare neighed softly in response. Without thinking, Abby slipped through the fence, trusting the gentle animal to watch her feet.

Reina backed away to let her through, waiting patiently for Abby to approach her, a hand finding her shoulder first.

The mare's coat was wet with rain, but Abby didn't care, pressing her cheek against the warmth of the horse's neck.

"Oh, Reina, what's happening to me?" Abby's whisper elicited another soft whicker as the mare stood loyally in the chill elements.

"I miss him." The whispered declaration was full of frustration and confusion. "I miss all of them. But I miss him the most. And I--"

She couldn't complete the statement. She didn't know how. The kiss, brief though it was, had made her want more, despite her belated panic. Things she couldn't have.

It was so easy to forget.

When it used to be so easy to remember.

The confusion was a throbbing ache in her chest as she tried desperately to close off the mixture of emotions. Abby squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture slip out to mingle with the rain.

"What's happening to me?"

Her only answer was the distant rumble of thunder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris started to fold a shirt, then paused and stared at it contemplatively for a moment. He shrugged and wadded it up before shoving it into his duffel.

"Chris."

He grinned and shrugged at JC. "I'm only going to unpack at the hotel again."

JC was shaking his head. "While they get wrinkled in the meantime so you look like you just rolled out of bed."

Chris made a face. "No one cares. Not even my mom. She's not psychotic like Poofoo's maternal figure." Chris yanked open the curtain of the bunk across from his.

"Isn't that right, young one?"

Lance blinked and rubbed his face, transferring his gaze from the ceiling to Chris. "What?"

"I said you like French toast. One of the kiddie mags got it wrong and said that was Justin's fave. Right?"

Lance frowned suspiciously as JC coughed to cover a laugh. "Right," he agreed with a sigh.

Chris nodded in agreement. "You should go iron your clothes. Never know when a picture might get back to mom," he advised helpfully.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Chris, when you make fun of me so soon after lying, I sort of know what you were talking about in the first place."

The younger man rolled out of the bunk, weaving slightly as Chris peered into the space he'd vacated.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Checking for drool marks on the pillow," Chris informed him blithely, going back to shoving clothes in his bag as JC rummaged in his own.

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Drop the rest of it," he demanded.

"Nothing. Just that you tend to talk in your sleep." Chris walked into the back as Lance slapped his forehead.

"Chris, you suck at being subtle," he yelled in exasperation. "I'm not going after her, okay?!"

"Actually, I think he was being very subtle. He just let you read what you wanted to read into it," JC told him, highly amused.

He shook his head as Lance grumbled a curse. The rest of the group had figured out what had happened with some bare details from Justin and their own guesses. The sympathy was almost as unbearable as the prodding to do something about Abby.

"Gotcha!" Chris yelled back.

The curse was a little louder.

"Watch it, the bus may be bugged," JC advised with a laugh.

"Should we start the nookie thing again?" Joey asked from the front.

"No," Lance glared at the floor, rubbing a hand over his face. "What day is it, and where are we?"

He looked up when the question was met with silence. JC raised an eyebrow in shock. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't know," Lance snapped.

"The eighth," JC supplied.

"Of August," Joey added, sticking his head out of the booth with a grin.

"1999," Chris yelled from the back as Lance groaned.

"Thanks loads," he muttered.

"We're at Milwaukee," Justin added quietly, appearing in the doorway of the back lounge with a bottle of water in his hand.

Chris appeared next to him, throwing an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Wisconsin, home of cheese, right?" he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

Justin's lips twitched. "Is that in the guide book?"

"I wouldn't know. I lose interest when you move out of the four main food groups. Sugar, burgers, fries, and cheese."

Justin rolled his eyes and ducked back into the lounge as a phone rang. "That's mine."

There was a moment of silence after he left before Chris wandered in behind him, calling for Busta. Joey went back into the kitchen whistling softly.

Lance stood staring blindly into his bunk.

"Did you really mean that?" JC asked thoughtfully.

"Mean what?" Lance asked with a sigh, his forehead thudding gently on the bottom of the bunk above his.

"That you wouldn't go after her." JC avoided looking at him, folding his clothes carefully.

"We're in the middle of a tour. I can't exactly drop everything and go hunting for her."

"Meaning that you would?"

Lance hesitated, sighing a curse. "I don't know," he mumbled. Liar. You want to go now. You wanted to go as soon as she left your sight, but let your pride stop you. The look in her eyes haunted him.

Not the fear.

Something else. Something that had hit him like lightning two nights ago after waking from another dream. One where he'd reenacted that scene countless times.

He'd woken with her eyes glittering at him from the darkness. And finally seen the other emotions twisted in with the ones that had sent her running.

Stomach knotting, Lance stared morosely into his bunk again.

Rejection, Lance, my boy. Leaves a sour taste in the mouth. And an empty ache in his chest. She'd felt something, and left anyway. If he didn't think about it, though, he was perfectly fine. Except for the restlessness inside him that wouldn't let him sit still unless he forced himself.

Depression swamped him briefly. "Has she--has Justin talked to her?" he heard himself asking in a small voice.

"Nope. Still getting Anna. And since he won't tell her what happened--she won't tell him what Abby's doing."

Lance made no reply, digging out his laptop and walking slowly towards the kitchen to try and get some work done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance rubbed his eyes, blinking to clear his vision as he looked up and around, frowning as he noticed the late afternoon sunshine. Mike and another bodyguard were sitting with James, drinking coffee and talking idly. But he was alone in the kitchen.

He closed the lid to his computer, sliding out and stretching before wandering towards the back. He was always on edge now, but at least being around his friends distracted him to some extent.

Avoidance wouldn't solve the Abby problem, but he decided that it was worth a good try.

"For, say, the next few years," he muttered sardonically. "You've got to meet at least one girl in there who interests you."

His steps slowed as he tuned into the conversation going on in the lounge.

"Well, what did Anna say?" JC demanded.

Lance frowned, stopping outside the door.

"She still wouldn’t tell me much," Justin answered, frustrated.

"Well?" Chris asked impatiently.

"She tried talking to Abs, and it upset her," Justin admitted reluctantly.

When his lungs started burning, Lance released his breath in a rush, trying to remain quiet so he could hear. He clenched his hands into fists, waiting impatiently.

"And what?" Joey asked, concerned.

"She ran off. Thing was, she was on the deck, and she headed off to the barns like she does. It was raining--she was going way too fast--"

His mouth dried. Abby.

"Anna said it looked like she slipped on the steps."

His lungs were burning again, and he gulped desperately, his chest tight. What had happened?

"Abs?" JC finally asked.

"Anna wouldn't say," Justin replied with a sigh.

Lance backed away from the doorway numbly, feeling all those distant emotions come tumbling back around his heart.

Oh, God, let her be all right his heart whispered, the possibilities laughing darkly at him. He turned away, grappling with the sudden urge to drop everything and go to her. It didn't matter that she probably didn't feel anything for him. He rubbed his face. Tour, remember?

Lance shoved a hand through his rumpled hair, breathing deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well?" Justin asked expectantly.

JC shook his head. "He looked like his dog just died," he replied.

Chris made a horrified noise, picking up the pug next to him and covering his floppy ears. "Such blasphemy. Little ears, Jace," he informed the other man reprovingly.

Joey and JC snickered as Justin coughed.

"As I was saying, he looked--"

Chris cleared his throat and glared at JC. JC rolled his eyes. "You heard me the first time. Though I'm wondering how fair this was."

"It's the truth, though," Justin pointed out. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

JC groaned. "What do you think?" he asked Joey.

Joey shrugged. "I think we need to leave him alone. But I don't suppose that's going to happen."

"Just because you don't want to settle on any one chick for a second date, let alone something semi-permanent, doesn't mean Lance might not," Justin declared, missing the brief flash of hurt on the older man's good-natured face.

Joey grinned easily and shrugged. "To each his own," he stated carelessly. "I just don't know how real you can make this when they're being shoved into everything. How can it last when it was rigged?"

"We're not rigging it. We're just…giving them a push. If it's not going to happen, then it won't--"

Lance appeared in the doorway suddenly. "I have to leave after the concert tonight," he stated briefly, eyes slightly glazed.

It was a common expression for him since Abby had left, but determination was glowing fiercely alongside it at the moment.

"Leave? Why?" JC asked, casting a glance at the others.

"I'm going home for a little while. I'll be back in time for the concert in Kansas City. It's not til the tenth anyway. I just have to--I have to go," Lance mumbled, disappearing again.

"Great. Who would like to explain this one to management?" JC mumbled.

He rolled his eyes when three other fingers pointed in his direction.

"Well, at least this should get it out of his system or make him happy," Chris commented logically.

"Which one do you think?" JC asked thoughtfully.

"Anything's possible. Given a chance, I think Lance is ready for the second one. But Abs is a wild card," Joey replied quietly.

"Do you think she misses any of us at all?" Chris asked suddenly.

"I hope so. It would suck to think that we're replaceable," Justin sighed mournfully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir, we need to ask that you not use your cell phone anymore," a polite female voice requested.

Frustrated as the busy signal toned in his ear again, Lance mumbled an apology and snapped the device shut.

The pilot's voice announced imminent take-off, and he sighed, buckling his seat belt and leaning his head back against the headrest.

He rolled his head, looking out as the engines hummed, taxiing them down the runway. Bright lights pinpricked the misty night to guide them down the runway.

The airplane turned like a giant, ponderous car, slowing to a bare idle forward as they waited for clearance to take off. Lance shifted impatiently, glancing at his watch again.

Nerves that had nothing to do with flying roiled in his stomach.

A baby fussed in the main cabin, releasing a howl of restless outrage.

Lance watched his knees bounce, counting impatiently in his head to avoid going over the number of times he'd tried calling that day. Or review the gloomy scenarios his mind insisted on creating.

The intercom toned.

"We're sorry for the delay, folks. The rain and fog are putting us a little behind schedule. It will be just a few more minutes," one of the pilots announced pleasantly.

Lance muttered a curse, tilting his head back and closing his eyes tightly.

The sound of the seat belt light going off made his eyes jerk open. The low humming roar of the engines told him they were in the sky, finally.

Lance rolled his head to the side, staring out at the darkness, the clouds skimming shadows underneath them. He took a breath, letting out a deep sigh. Exhaustion from that night's concert dragged at him, but he knew he would only dream. He twisted in his seat to relieve some of the kinks in his back, pushing the button to lower the backrest and tugging his baseball cap down over his eyes. Maybe if he just dozed, it would shore up his reserves enough to get him through the next few days.

The baby cried again, a low, mournful wail. Lance winced, eyes squeezing shut.

But without the outer world, all he had was his own thoughts to keep him company.

What if she's really hurt? A terrified little voice asked. What do I do then?

Justin's words echoed back to him.

You're in love with her. 

The restlessness eating at his soul quieted suddenly, the thoughts whirling in his head blowing away with a sigh of peace. Was it possible? Could this be love? The worry over her health, safety, and feelings. The persistent, unshakable hunger to be close to her, physically and mentally, and to get closer. To show her his world, and to learn about hers. To know that when she smiled, it was for him.

Lance plowed his fingers through his hair, fisting his hands tightly and ignoring the pull. His heart was pounding and he took a calming breath.

I'm in love with her. He tried the words out with a creeping sense of rightness--which was almost as frightening as the unnamed emotions he'd been fighting all along.

It had crept up on him. He'd labeled it everything under the sun--friendship, attraction, an urge to protect, his own loneliness that casual relationships weren't satisfying. Anything to keep it something he could dismiss. Something that wouldn't hurt to leave behind. But his mind had always come back to her.

Abby's delicate face, unearthly eyes gleaming with intelligence and hopeful mischief, surfaced inside his mind. His stomach clutched. She had so much love to offer, an unconscious hunger for connection with people and a need to care. But she was so disconnected she might never find it.

Lance flinched slightly, clearly imagining her panic.

The shield would come over her, the walls that kept everyone out and shuttered her inside her blindness and her own self-doubts.

Can I deal with that? Can I feel enough for both of us? The mere prospect was frightening. Can I convince her that we might have something? Do I want to convince her? he wondered, feeling a stab of uncertainty.

Queasy dread attacked him, memories reeling through his head, slowing as they approached their last few minutes together. That damn kiss. Unexpected and all too brief. He wondered if it had been his last.

The back of his head thudded against the headrest, the worry and conflicting feelings whirling around his head. Please be alright. That's all I ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby jerked upright, her heart jumping to her throat. She held her breath, listening with every sense. The wind whistled, a tin bucket banging gently again in response.

She relaxed, climbing stiffly to her feet and steadying herself against Reina's stall as she tried to clear the mental exhaustion from her mind. The mare shifted with a rustle of hay, shoving her soft muzzle out for a rub.

Abby obliged with a sad, affectionate smile. "Go back to sleep, Rei." With a final stroke, she backed away, orienting herself to exit in the right direction. Another soft whinny stopped her.

Abby tilted her head, trying to locate the owner of the equine voice in the slumbering barn. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling another storm, and she sighed.

She started to leave again when the whinny stopped her again. Abby frowned.

"Tank?" The whinny was softer.

Abby shook her head. Their newest charge had proved to be a hard case. And thus become nicknamed "Cantankerous". His owner had been cruelly abusive, and the gelding had arrived almost dead, covered in mange and whip welts.

Once back on his feet, the gelding had lashed out at everything that dared come near, huddling in his stall and almost growling at people and horses alike. Laurel had informed her that he had improved while she was gone. Now he usually just found a corner of the pasture to brood in. But at least he hadn't tried to kick or bite anyone for the past few weeks, which was a vast improvement. But Laurel was frustrated that he refused to trust anyone enough to reach out, even to the other horses, though Laurel had mentioned that Reina kept trying.

A regretful smile twisted her mouth as she made her way over to the gelding's stall, her feet rustling in the hay scattered over the floor.

She crooned softly, automatically, her fingers finding the rough surface of his stall door.

"Hey, boy. What's wrong? Don't like the thunder?"

A soft snort, and warm breath huffing across her wrists as the gelding stuck his head over the closed bottom door. Abby waited patiently, hoping that he wouldn't change his mind and bite her.

Thunder rumbled again, and Tank snorted, his hoofs ringing on the cement floor. Abby frowned, taking a breath and hesitantly reaching out.

Her fingertips found the rough-soft feel of his coat, the warmth of his neck twitching beneath her fingers. A half ton of horseflesh thudded gently against the stall door before Tank scuttled back over to the far wall, snorting in distress.

Abby's chest panged in sympathy. "Whoa," she soothed softly. "Don't trust me, huh? I know the feeling," she sighed. Without thinking, her fingers found the latch to the stall, releasing it with nimble fingers.

"I won't hurt you," she murmured. Tank nickered, snorting. His hoofs rang again in a tattoo of agitation against the floor.

"Don't be frightened," Abby whispered. "If you'll just give us a chance, we'll take care of you. No one will hurt you anymore."

Abby locked the stall behind herself, the pungent smell of horse and rain filling her nose.

Tank shifted again, moving to the opposite end of the large box stall. Abby circled, keeping one hand in contact with the wall.

"I can't hurt you. You're the one who can hurt me," she remarked softly, her voice a continuous murmur. "Poor Tank. You've been hurt too much before to trust anyone. But I can tell you now that Laurel won't give up. We have too much faith in you," Abby crooned. "You'll learn, boy. Nothing will hurt you while you're here with us. Nothing."

Tank had stopped moving, listening to the sound of her voice. He let her approach close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him. Abby stopped, letting him absorb her presence. She wondered briefly whether he could sense that she was different as the other horses did, especially Reina. It was as if they instinctively knew that she wasn't normal and took special care not to hurt her. But they still accepted her.

Abby held her breath as he shifted again, preparing herself for a bite or kick as punishment for invading his space, blind or not.

A soft, whiskery nose blew in her face, and Abby wrinkled her own nose at the smell. "Yuck. Thanks, Tank."

A soft nicker that almost sounded like a laugh. Abby held still as the velvet soft skin of the horse's nose dipped to nuzzle her hand experimentally.

"Sorry, Tank. If I'd known I was invited to tea, I would've brought carrots," she told him softly.

A snort and nudge. He butted his head against her chest, and she rocked back slightly, taking a step back. He followed, looking for her other hand and finding the bandage wrapped around her palm. Abby cupped her palm around his nose when it brushed against her, ignoring the twinge of pain.

Tank jerked back with a startled snort. Abby waited, humming wordlessly under her breath. His nose dropped again, this time accepting the gentle scratch under his whiskered chin. He didn't even jump when thunder rumbled again.

Abby smiled, continuing to hum. The air changed as the storm moved closer, wet against her face as the sky filled with rain, but she ignored it, slowly bringing her other hand to the gelding's cheek. She rubbed the bone gently, her smile widening at the soft groan of bliss.

"See? Just a chance, boy. That's all we ask. Laurel will be so glad you reached out." Abby stroked the muscled neck, tracing the arch with gentle fingers. "I am too. I'm glad you know I won't hurt you. I'm sorry we're pushing, but it's for your own good--we won't leave you; we're your friends…"

Her voice died, a regret so intense it was almost grief spearing through her chest. Tank breathed softly, nudging her as he sensed her emotions.

"I'm sorry, guys," she breathed thickly, the words escaping of their own volition. But the apology did nothing to relieve the guilt and regret. In leaving behind all her confusion over Lance, she'd cut herself off from everything, including the unconditional friendship the others had offered her.

Tank nickered, stepping closer. Risking his unpredictable reaction, Abby slid her arms around his solid neck, hugging him close. Tears pressed against her lids, but she blinked them back.

You don't deserve tears. You don't deserve anything the bitter thought inserted itself. You wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. Just do what you do best, Abby. Finish your retreat and play with your money.

Self-pitying tears trickled out.

I want more a small voice whispered.

I don't know what I want she agreed with a sigh. But how do I find out?

How do you think you find out? The voice was shaking its head. Don't be stupid. Think about it.

She did. Her stomach went queasy.

I can't do that. I--I can't. Even the mental voice stumbled.

Abby squeezed Tank's neck gently. "My lot in life," she sighed. "But don't you go back." She rested her forehead against the warmth of his neck. "You don't have any reason to go back."

Neither do you. Abby shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck stiffening as she heard a familiar soft drawl on the wind. No. I can't.

The air seemed to grow colder, and she shuddered.

Forgive me, but I can't. I was never meant to know that kind of life…love… Pain twisted her stomach as she pleaded silently with him. Why would I have gone blind if I was supposed to? It was a sign. She'd always known that. An outer view of her inner flaws. She wasn't supposed to know love. She didn't know how to. And she could never hold onto it. She shuddered rigidly.

Abby closed her eyes tightly, pulling away from Tank and fumbling her way out of the stall. She drifted down the familiar hall to the doors and slipped outside, her heart feeling strangely numb.

The wind caught her immediately, whipping her hair free of its loose ponytail and sending it dancing around her back and shoulders. The air lay heavy against her face, and she could almost taste the rain on her lips.

Her mind flashed back for a split second to another night, but she shied away from the thoughts and feelings, shutting her eyes tightly as if that would hold them at bay.

"Why can't I have peace?" she whispered into the wind, raising her face into it. "That's all I ask for. Just--let me be happy as I...was…am…" She jumped, trembling with fright as thunder boomed around her, her eardrums vibrating with the impact.

The wind shifted, and she heard the rain coming across the field, goosebumps raising across her arms.

"That's all I ask," she whispered miserably, an icy feeling encasing her heart as the chill rain flooded around her. She directed her leaden steps back towards the path to the house.

And wondered distantly why love always hurt so much. Even though she wasn't in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance blinked gritty eyes, running a hand through his hair as he waited impatiently for those ahead of him to deboard. They'd circled the airport for a good twenty minutes waiting for the storm to ease enough to allow them to descend beneath the clouds.

Lance sighed softly, hefting his bag and leaning his forehead tiredly against the overhead compartment. Restless energy kept him upright.

"Excuse me?"

He cracked an eye, blinking blurrily at the elderly woman smiling at him. "Yeah?" he asked hoarsely.

"Did you leave this?"

He looked down at the book he'd pulled out during one of his restless periods and flushed slightly. "Yeah. Thanks." He picked the slender volume up and tucked it into his bag carefully.

"Yours?" the woman asked conversationally.
"Not really," he answered after a small hesitation. "It's--I'm just keeping it for someone for a little while. It's important to her," he stopped himself as he started rambling.

"Mmm," the woman murmured. "She's very lucky to have someone who she trusts to take care of it then."

Lance smiled weakly, grateful that the line finally started moving.

He hurried through the airport as quickly as possible, glad he didn't have any baggage to claim on this trip. He pulled out his cell phone, glancing out the windows into the lightening sky.

He dialed the number he knew by heart now, listening to the phone ring endlessly until it switched over to the automated service.

He stopped, hissing a frustrated curse as he stared down at the offending object. "Why aren't you home? Why aren't you answering?"

The panic surged a little more, but he squeezed it down, looking around anxiously for a cab as he stepped outside. Beyond the awning, rain pattered steadily on the pavement, dripping from the gutters. One of the cabs waiting opportunistically for fares pulled up, and Lance ducked inside with a sigh.

"Where to?"

Lance reeled off the address, adding firmly, "The faster you get me there, the bigger your tip."

A rusty chuckle answered that one. "I'll get ya there, buddy. Hold onto yer seat."

Lance raised an eyebrow, then gripped the armrest as the cab peeled away from the curb.

"Without killing us both," he muttered.

The cabbie caught it and cackled, slipping onto the freeway. "Only thing make a man in a hurry is a woman. You're plenty young. You got a woman waiting on you with open arms and a warm bed?"

Lance rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the heat burning in his cheeks. "No. She doesn't know I'm coming," he admitted.

The cabbie tossed a brief glance over his shoulder before switching lanes with a speed that left Lance clutching the armrest in a death grip.

"Ah, sometimes better. She'll be glad to see you?"

Lance was silent. Not hardly. Why are so many people, absolute strangers, interested in my love life? he wondered ruefully.

"Oh. Fight?" the cabbie commented knowingly.

"Something like that," Lance muttered discouragingly, shifting in his seat. He'd forgotten how much his rear hurt after sitting in a plane for several hours.

"Why don't you take something to her? Something to say you're sorry?"

Lance shrugged. "We weren't exactly together," he hedged.

That shut the cabbie up. At least for a few minutes of blessed silence but for the rhythmic swipe of the wipers over the windshield.

"Then why do you go?"

Lance groaned inwardly, cursing the cabbie wearily for bringing the situation up again.

"I found out that she was hurt," he allowed reluctantly.

"Oh. Very bad," was uttered. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Lance muttered, gritting his teeth and staring out at the rain. Why does it have to keep raining? All it does is make me remember that night…

"Don't know?"

"Her friend won't tell me anything, and they aren't answering their phone," he mumbled shortly.

"You must be worried," came the brilliant observation.

Lance snorted, not bothering to dignify the comment with a response. "Can you hurry?" he sighed, rubbing his face. He desperately wanted sleep, but couldn't stifle the feeling that something would happen if he loosed control of the situation for even a short while.

He slumped back against the stale-smelling seat, watching the rivulets of rain glide down the windows and drifting into a semi-conscious trance, one phrase repeating like a mantra through his sleep-deprived mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby shifted restlessly in her makeshift bed, curling her legs into a more comfortable position in sleep. Her eyelids began twitching as she drifted into deeper slumber, tendrils of dreams reaching for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're here," the cabbie's voice roused him from his stupor. Lance automatically opened the door and stumbled out with his bag before pausing in the act of digging out his money.

"Where are we?" He looked around in confusion in the glowing dawn, wrapped in the wet mist of the departing storm, and spotted the graveled drive peeking out from a few feet away. They were parked on the shoulder of the main road.

"The address you gave me, buddy. You walk from here," he was informed cheerfully.

Lance started to protest, knowing how long the driveway was.

"It'll give you time to think about what you're going to say," he was advised. Lance sighed, shoulders slumping as he handed the man his money plus a generous tip, rubbing his face to clear the cobwebs away.

"Thanks, I guess."

"Good luck, buddy."

The cab left with another squeal of tires, and Lance grimaced, pivoting and walking slowly towards the beginning of the drive.

Time to think. He snorted, slinging his bag over his shoulder to begin trudging through the gravel. That's all I've done, and I'm no better off for it.

The birds cried softly, the air cool against his face. He paused, listening intently as he stopped to observe the mist rising off the lakes. It was quiet.

The hairs on the back on his neck stiffened. Too quiet?

The worry rumbled lowly, and he quickened his steps, breaking into almost a run as he rounded the bend. The vines twined above his head dripped steadily, a blanket of petals having been blown to the ground by the wind.

He stopped to stare at the house, his head jerking as thunder hummed in the distance, lightning flashing through the dawn of the rising sun.

Both doors to the garage were open, though no cars occupied them. He scanned the front of the house, seeing the open door beyond the screen.

Without thinking, he grabbed his cell phone as he sprinted for the porch, dropping his bag onto its relative dryness as he dialed a number.

He stopped, holding his breath as the phone began to ring. Inside the house, the tone echoed. Again. Three times. Six.

No movement, no answer. Everything was still as he peeked into the door, craning his neck to see the kitchen.

Dishes were everywhere. Food still on a plate, uneaten and congealing.

He frowned, taking a shuddery breath. Anna would never--

It hit him. She's hurt.

And he finally panicked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who will make you real? he whispered, claws flashing across her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Instinct guided his quick steps to the back deck, his heart jumping into his throat as he saw her small form curled up in one of the wicker chairs, shivering in the early morning chill.

His eyes scanned her desperately, not even aware of when he reached for her, trying to make sure she was real. And untouched.

He cupped her cold, pale cheeks in his hands, feeling the pulse of life faintly under her jaw.

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it go with explosive force. "Abby!" All of his confusion and longing echoed in the name, and he snatched her out of the chair a split-second before her eyes flew open.

The tenseness in his stomach eased as he finally held her close, feeling the thud of her heartbeat next to his own. She was so fragile in his arms, but he couldn't stop himself from pulling her closer, burying his face in her unbound hair and taking a shaky breath.

Nothing else matters he thought dizzily. Not my life. Not hers. Not her blindness. How could I let this happen? It's too hard. I need to let it go.

Abby jerked slightly, squirming and straining away from him.

"Lance?" Shock laced her hoarse voice.

His arms tightened, his pulse accelerating with pained reluctance. How do I let her go? he agonized.

"Abby--"

Her head twisted away from his chest, tilting towards his instinctively. "Put me--"

His mouth swallowed her rejection, pressing his advantage as she went still with surprise.

His mind went blank, her taste and scent flooding his senses. I want to know you. Let me in.

For a second, he felt her softening. Then a choked noise escaped her throat, and she was pushing jerkily against him.

Abby broke away with a gasp when Lance released her, stumbling as her feet found the floor again.

Lance watched as she backed away from him, arms hanging limply at his sides as a feeling of defeated loss swept over him.

"Abby," he breathed, still reeling. He didn't know what had possessed him, wished he could take it back. And was fiercely glad he couldn't.

She blushed, then paled, gripping the arm of her chair tightly. "Why--" she stumbled, changing her mind. "W-why are you here?"

For you. Lance sighed softly, holding out a hand as he scanned her again. "I--we--thought you were hurt--"

Confusion flickered. "Who--? Anna," she sighed, then shook her head, lifting a hand so he could see the thin gauze wrapped around her palm. "I'm fine," was muttered, her face averted. "Nothing's wrong."

"Oh." Strained silence descended as Lance stared across the few feet between them, and Abby kept her head down. The past hovered between them like a living, breathing thing.

"You--you left without your things," Lance blurted.

Abby flinched. "I know," she murmured. "Don't--I just bought--there's no need to bring them--" she stopped talking, fidgeting with the blanket on the back of the chair.

She wants to run. Lance recognized the high-strung movements with sudden interest.

"Abby--"

Her eyes widened, probably hearing something in his voice. "No," she blurted suddenly.

"No, what?" He was pushing, and he knew it. What happened to giving up? he wondered.

"Nothing," she shook her head, voice trembling. "Why are you here?" she repeated softly.

Lance took a breath, his insides fluttering. "Why are you here?" he countered.

"This is my home." Abby grimaced. "Such as it is," she mumbled.

"But why did you come back here?" he asked relentlessly.

Faint color edged her cheeks, the kiss hanging in the air. "I was tired of fighting," she answered quietly. "Or rather, you snarling at me."

It was his turn to grimace, sighing. How much truth? "I'm sorry," he answered simply. "But I have a good reason, sort of." He smiled ruefully.

Abby crossed her arms tightly around her middle, turning her head to stare towards the lake. "I'm glad you think so. Why are you here, Lance?"

"I already told you," he answered gently. "But I can make it simpler. I came to see you. I missed you, Abby."

Her head snapped around, her eyes rounding in surprise. "Me?"

"Of course. How about you?" he asked carefully, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Abby avoided looking in his direction. "What about me?" she mumbled.

"Justin? Joey? Chris and JC? Have you missed them?"

Abby's eyes flickered uncertainly. "Yeah," she admitted, regret creeping into her voice.

"And me?" Lance approached her slowly. "Or was I so awful that you hate me now?" He held his breath, waiting for her response.

Abby fidgeted, edging away from him again. "I--I don't…hate you," she muttered in a rush, hunching her shoulders.

A ridiculous smile spread over his face. Whoa, boy. One step at a time. His thoughts paused, scrambling for a new direction.

"Okay," he agreed. "Then can we talk?"

Abby shifted warily, bowing her head briefly. "There's nothing to talk about," she denied softly.

"There's plenty to talk about," he countered, becoming mildly frustrated. "That last day--"

"I don't want to talk about that," Abby interrupted swiftly.

He sighed. "We can talk about whatever you want to," he agreed. "But I'm not leaving until we talk about these things."

A look of alarm filled her gamine face. "I won't, you can't make--" she started hotly.

"Abby--" he started towards her, and she sidestepped quickly.

"No! I don't like the way you talk," she blurted, then blushed.

His own cheeks heated. "That's not what I was going to--" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not going to--" he trailed off, feeling a little hurt. Ego check, there, Lance. Irresistible you are not.

"You just did." There was a hint of a pout in her voice, and he wondered why.

"I was worried, and it just sort of happened. I can't help it," he joked weakly. "I thought you were seriously hurt--and--and--"

"You were doing CPR? Just in case?" A hint of her former sarcasm bled into her voice, and he smiled wryly.

"Yes?"

"And on the bus?" Abby made an agitated movement. "Was that your own way of making sure that I was okay?"

"No," he admitted. "That was--" he hesitated, at a loss as to how to explain that beyond the truth. He snorted softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't think you'd like my explanation for that," he avoided.

Abby frowned, biting her lip. "Why not?"

He wondered if she knew how vulnerable he was to her. "Because you don't want to have anything to do with me. And you don't want to talk about this."

She blinked. "That's not--" she started.

"True?" he completed, swallowing and taking a breath for courage. "Which part?"

Sudden tears filmed her eyes, and he checked his movement to touch her again. "I just…" Her head drooped. "Please, can't we just--"

"Just what?"

But she could only shake her head. And he knew that he was losing her.

"What?" he prodded. He had to keep her talking. Silence was her defense. She could refuse to see him, but she couldn't shut down completely if she talked.

Abby sucked in a breath. "Lance--I want--I just--" she gestured helplessly.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked softly. What question? What on earth can you ask that won't get you thrown out or drive her away? Are you pulling this out of your ass as you go along or what, Lance? He was a little light-headed, the mental shout buzzing at the top of his skull.

Abby swallowed hard. "What?" she asked hoarsely, her reluctance audible.

"Did you leave because of me?" For crying out loud--you just keep asking to have your heart pulverized--or maybe you're masochistic now?

Color filled her pale cheeks, her lashes shuttering her eyes in warning. "I--"

"Was my kissing that bad?" He almost groaned aloud. The words just keep popping out, don't they, Lance? Only question here, how on earth are they making it past your foot?

Shocked silver eyes were suddenly directed towards him.

"What?" Abby squeaked.

"I asked if my kissing has gotten that bad?" Wow, don't I sound calm. As if I discuss this every day. You are a moron, Lance. One who needs a swift kick in the head.

"You--I--" Abby breathed. The color drained from her cheeks as she took a breath. "I don't want to talk about this."

The mental commentary died as he watched the secrets and shadows flutter through her sightless gaze. "I think you--we--need to talk about this," he stated firmly. "Something happened, didn't it?" he whispered, edging a step towards her as his mind tried to catch up to his mouth. "Abby, I want to talk with you. I need to--"

Abby fumbled backwards. "I don't know what's going on!" she hissed tensely. "But please--stop--"

"I don't want to stop. I think I've been standing still too long as it is." Lance paused, feeling the truth of the statement in his bones.

And watching the fear leap into her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

The wariness in her voice sent a stab of pain into his heart. "Abby--did you ever think--that there might be something for us--" He was pushing so hard, and he felt like he was going to throw up as he put the words out between them, and a part of his heart with them. "Something more--"

She went still, her eyes wide in the pale circle of her face. "Lance--" There was an audible ache in her voice that brought a burning sensation to his own chest.

She began to shake her head slowly. "Lance--I'm blind…" she whispered.

She thought that was a refusal on its own? He shook his head in denial. "Abby…it doesn't matter--"

"Of course it matters!" she cried fiercely. Her eyes flashed darkly. "I'm blind, Lance! That's my life! There isn't any cure. There won't be any miracles to make the happy ending complete if I fall in lo--" she broke off, sucking in a breath.

"Love." His lungs were burning, but he couldn't draw a breath to relieve the strain. "Is that what you think I'm looking for?" For a second, he let the words hover, watching her pale, then blush hotly. He gulped a breath. "A miracle? Abby--"

He put out a hand, needing to touch her, and whispered a finger along her cheek. He dropped his hand when she flinched back, his chest leadening as words pressed against his lips, tumbling out almost desperately.

"Abby--I don't need a miracle. But--I--Abby, I need you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was too much, too soon. Too--too much.

She couldn't seem to breathe properly. Not since her world had ground to a halt when she realized who held her. When he had stripped her senses with another mind-numbing kiss. When he touched her own uncertainty with intimate fingers and asked to be let in.

When he spoke words that seemed frighteningly sincere, in a voice so rawly open that it made her heart ache. And her soul shiver with renewed fright.

"I need you." The words hung between them.

And she felt the buried longing stir threateningly.

But no one can need me. No one needs me! I'm--no! It will happen all over again! He'll leave. Her hands curled into fists, fighting the urge to cry. I can't lose myself to him. I can't.

Trembling, she began to shake her head again as everything inside her protested the move. A chance. "No…"

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, and she stiffened in panic. "Abby--please--"

"Go away." It came out more of a whimper than an order, and she tried to close her ears to his husky voice, hunching her shoulders and struggling weakly to get away.

"I can't--Abby--"

"I'm blind! I can't be any of the things you want! I don't want to be!" she lashed out, becoming angry to battle the weakness.

"Good."

She stilled, shocked into immobility. "W-what?"

"I don't want you to be anything but yourself. Because that's what I--" Fell in love with. Lance swallowed back the words. She wasn't ready to hear them, and he wasn't ready to say them. "I don't want you to be someone else. I want you."

The words chased each other around her mind, their impact robbing her of intelligent thought. "But--you--you can't," she whispered in a small, protesting voice. She'd had no time to rally her defenses for a frontal assault like this.

"Why not?"

"What--what happened to being friends?" she asked desperately. She shook her head jerkily. "I--I want to be your fri--"

Her bones seemed to jellify as warm hands curved under her jaw, tilting up her face. All her reasons for running became distant and muddled.

"Abby…" his voice was a crooning whisper. "You are my friend. But there could be something else. Let me need you…" Let me love you.

She shivered, fighting to remember. "I…" she sighed, mind scrambling. The wind sighed as rain whispered down again. The air seemed to close in around her, wrapping her and Lance into a quiet cocoon of waiting.

"Let me…" Lance whispered, warm breath rushing over her lips. His forehead touched hers as her breath caught with a mixture of anticipation and dread, the singing emotions muting her natural need for space.

A slightly rough fingertip drew tingling, distracting circles on her cheekbone. "Will you?"

This was persuasion for which she had no defense. "Lance--" she started helplessly, then gasped as the warmth of his lips moved over hers.

The world dropped away, the senses she depended on focused on him. Exclusively. It scared her to death.

Her hands were gripping his wrists like a lifeline, feeling the rapid pulse of his heartbeat underneath her fingertips.

"Abby--" her name was murmured against her lips. "We can find out what this is…together--"

Together. Her eyes sprang open, the words sending panic through her. No. There is no one. Nothing. Not for you. Ever.

She didn't know how. And it was too late to try.

She wrenched away, feeling as if she had torn a part of herself away as she put distance between herself and the man in front of her. Someone she knew, yet didn't. Suddenly, all her certainties seemed to keep dissolving in her grasp. Like sand. Or snow in a Florida summer.

"Abby?" The weariness in his voice tore at her. Incredibly, he felt something for her. The thought was rather shocking once she began to absorb it.

And she felt the strangest urge to cry.

He was offering her something she'd never thought to have. And the knowledge that he sincerely thought he wanted her sent the ache clear to her soul. No one had wanted her since her uncle had died.

"Don't cry," Lance told her gently. "Please, Abby. I can't bear to see you cry."

"Lance?" she whispered, forcing the words out.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Her voice was a breath as thunder rumbled in the distance, the wind gusting briefly.

"Sorry?" he repeated, confused, then sucked in a breath. "Abby--!"

She felt his movement, and darted away, slipping past him to the stairs that led to the sand.

"No! Abby, stop!" Lance commanded, his steps hurrying across the deck.

She could feel the rain blowing against her legs as she paused against her better judgement and turned on the steps.

"It's better this way," she declared softly, shivering as the rain soaked her. She backed away another step, feeling her heart jerk oddly.

"No, it's not," Lance refuted tightly. "Stop, Abby." She could hear his pain, and felt sick because he thought it was because of her.

"I don't know why--you think--" Abby shook her head, half-smiling. "I didn't believe I would ever…" She couldn't hold the smile. "Is it a cliché to say that I'm not good for you?" she asked when he remained silent.

"Abby."

She flinched. That was all he said. Her name. But it scared her as no other word could. She wanted to go to him. Wanted to find herself in him. Wanted to let him…in.

Instead, she backed away another step.

"I'm sorry," she repeated helplessly.

"Will you run away forever?" The quiet whisper stopped her feet.

Abby swallowed hard.

"I can't stay." The words pleaded with him to understand. To absolve her.

Lance made an odd, strangled sound. "Not can't. Won't." Anger threaded his voice this time.

She started to shake her head again. She couldn't. She literally couldn't. To stay would be to relinquish control over everything in her life and herself. To be weak. To open herself to hurt again. And every instinct for self-preservation demanded she get as far away as possible from what threatened her hard-won security. Its name was Lance.

Tears threatened again, and she was barely aware of her own shivering. "Please…" she had never wanted so badly for things in her life to be different. For her to be normal. So she could be something that he wanted.

"No."

Her eyes widened as he bluntly refused to take the vague apology. "La--"

"Not this time--"

"Stop," she protested.

"Why?" he demanded.

"You don't understand," she whispered. "There can't--Lance…sometimes I wish…but I can't--"

"I understand," Lance cut her off with carefully measured words.

She looked towards him uncertainly, dread filling her.

"I understand that you use every circumstance in your life to avoid anything approaching what you consider 'normal' without ever putting the true reason into words," he stated tightly. "Your own cowardice."

Thunder boomed, and she jumped. Her eyes widened, mouth opening, but no words emerged through the shocked hurt. She fell back a step, clutching the rail for balance while trying to shake her head in denial.

"I have tried--" she began weakly.

"Liar. You put up a front," Lance interrupted roughly. "You make a show of 'trying' when all along you just half-ass your way through and escape the same as when you went in."

Her eyes widened even further, only a gasp coming from her lips as the accusing words seemed to fly at her like invisible fists through the darkness. "Lance--"

"I'm not finished," he shot back, and she cringed slightly as his presence loomed over her on the steps.

"You hide, Abigail," he accused softly. "You go through the motions of living, but you never actually get involved. You donate to charity, but you don't let yourself care. You do it invisibly, so there won't be any repercussions from your good deed. So they won't ask you for anything but your money. You have who knows how many business things going on, but you don't care about those either. I've known people who do business simply for profit, for the love of money, but you don't even do it for that. You just do it because it's there. To point at and defend yourself."

The words sank into her soul, and she cringed inwardly.

"Your acts of generosity are a matter of course. The nature of Abby. But you keep them at a distance. You have people who care about you," his voice softened slightly, but she took no comfort in that. It only seemed to allow the ache to grow.

"Max. Anna and Ray. Maybe, if given a chance, you and Cecile might have some sort of bond again. Justin. JC, Chris, and Joe. They all care about you a lot. And you return it. But it's a cold, calculated caring."

She began to shake her head fiercely at that. "No," she whispered firmly.

"Maybe," his voice softened further, and she jerked slightly when his finger touched her cheek, lifting away the tears she hadn't been aware of as they mixed with the rain.

"You truly care, I know. But you consciously hold a part of yourself back even when you show that you care. You try to control love, Abigail Prentice. Life doesn't work that way."

Her throat seemed to swell shut. "Don't you think I know that?" she rasped. "You love…you lose. But I love…I lose…every time," her breath caught on a sob. "Maybe I'm careful--so what? Who wouldn't be?" she demanded, trying to turn the tables.

"I know," his voice was ragged, losing some of its heat. "I know you have lost so much, Abby, but there comes a time when you have to leave the past where it belongs. In the past. Or you'll never see what's right in front of you…" his voice trailed off.

She closed her eyes reflexively, bitter irony filling her soul. "I can never see what's right in front of me. You're right, Lance," she whispered. "My problems are too huge. I told the others--once--when I first saw them again. I'm empty. There is nothing left for me to give."

"Wrong," he refuted sharply, becoming angry again. "You just refuse to look for it. Because it's not part of the outer Abby. That's not what I'm looking for. What I want from you--" he paused, letting her absorb that. "Is you."

Her breath caught, terror filling her. He wanted something that she couldn't give.

"You only think you want that," she whispered. "Once you have it, you won't want it. It's not worth having."

"Don't make me tell you that's a bunch of crap," was the frustrated response.

"You keep your warmth--your love in a locked box in the darkest part of yourself, so only a little escapes at a time. You hoard it, afraid of letting it go--afraid that once you give it, you will lose it. But you never lose love when you spend it on people who care about you, Abby. It makes your world a bigger place. Others don't make you--" he stopped, hesitating. "That's what I want. I want the real Abby. Everything that there is to know about her," Lance continued softly. "And I want her to live among the rest of us."

Abby shook her head violently. "There is no 'real Abby'," she denied. "She died a long time ago. I'm just trying to live my life in peace," she declared a little wildly. "Once you leave, you'll see that I'm not worth this. I'm not what you want. No one wants to be strapped to me. Not even for the money--"

She loosed a startled shriek when hard hands grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you ever say anything like that again," she was instructed with deadly softness. "You are not simply a pocketbook. Anyone who sees you that way doesn't deserve to live on this planet. And being 'strapped' to you would not be a hardship."

She shook her head desperately. "Lance--please--you don't know what you're talking about--"

"Why?"

"Maybe--my life looks romantic--it's not--" she stumbled.

"We'll deal with your blind--"

"I deal with my blindness," she snapped. "I deal with it everyday, and no one will ever know--"

A finger to her lips silenced her. "When I love someone, I want to share everything with them. The bad and the good and everything in between. Because loving someone makes even the bad seem bearable."

"I don't--" she began to protest when his words registered. When I love someone.

She began to stumble down the steps in the rain, her breath coming in strained gasps.

"Abby."

Her name again. A strangled whimper worked from her as her feet momentarily froze. She shook her head, her heels finally sinking into cold, damp sand.

"Please talk to me."

Thunder rumbled, vibrating inside her eardrums.

"I can't," she whispered thinly. "You can't."

"Won't," he murmured. "And maybe--Abby--stay--"

She shook her head quickly. "I can't."

"What about trying?"

Her lips trembled in a sad smile. "Why?" she murmured tiredly. "I'd only half-ass it anyway…"

The steps creaked, and she felt him enter her space again.

"There could be so much more."

She closed her eyes, feeling the rain across her lids. With gentle care, she lifted a hand and found the curve of his jaw, walking her way up to his brows. She sketched the jut of his cheekbone. Thunder boomed without warming, and she jumped, her hand slipping down and away.

She gathered her courage and her voice, her feet sinking into the sand as her heart sank to her toes. "Not for me," she denied huskily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe it was his consolation. That she looked like it was killing her to reject him.

But he wasn't feeling consoled.

He felt as if she were literally ripping his heart out.

"Don't do this." The words dragged from him, bitterness filling him. She wasn't going to leave him anything, not even his pride.

Her face crumpled, silver eyes swimming with tears. And he wanted only to reach out and comfort her.

Lance clenched his hands into fists.

"Abby." He ground the words out, chest hurting.

She shook her head, rain sliding down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she repeated almost inaudibly.

He stopped on the steps as she backed away.

And tried one last time. "Don't go. Please. Let me show you."

The moisture slipped out of her eyes. "It's not real, Lance." The ache of disillusionment was in her voice. "You'll see. It's not real."

The pain inside his chest faded abruptly, numbing. Nothing he could say would convince her.

"Leave, then," Lance heard himself telling her softly, his heart feeling like lead inside his chest.

Abby's head bowed. He sucked in a painful breath as she turned, preparing to do just that. Maybe he wasn't quite as numb as he thought.

But he couldn't chain her. Anything she did would have to be of her own free will. His battered pride wouldn't settle for less.

"Abby?" he forced her name out. She paused, her back still to him.

"What?" she finally whispered.

"Leave," he repeated softly. "But if you go, just remember that I wasn't the one who walked away."

She hesitated, and he thought for a heartbeat that she might concede. That she might, by some small miracle, trust in him enough to stay. That she cared in the same way he did.

Then she walked away.

Lance rocked back on his heels as if he'd been dealt a physical blow, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her leave--disappear. Again. He'd played his final card, and lost. Badly.

A small sigh worked from him. He wasn't aware of the rain, his clothes having long been plastered to his skin.

He wondered what he would do now.

"James Lance?" Anna's soft voice brought him around slowly. Sympathy shone in her doe brown eyes, and she held a towel towards him from the dryness of the deck.

"Come inside, child."

He walked up the steps again, pausing at the top before slowly craning his neck. Nothing greeted him but the misting rain, greying the sky over the rippling waters of the lake as they slapped restlessly against the dock.

He closed his eyes, sending the forbidden words after her on a breath. "I love you, Abigail."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby let instinct guide her steps. Her heart pounded, drowning out her thoughts but for one.

It's Lance.

She shivered, cold not of the rain.

A muffled sob broke from her, her feet stopping abruptly. Cool, wet grass cushioned her soles, the rain dripping from the leaves above her. There was nothing there but her, quietness but for the gentle storm.

It was almost serene.

Beyond the path lay the barns. She could find some solace in the horses' uncomplicated company. Behind her lay the lake and solitude. And the house. Lance.

Her mind shied away from him, already aching inside.

Abby brought her hands to her temples as pain grumbled. Her overloaded mind buckled under the thought of another decision. She sank down onto her rear, curling up with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She shuddered, closing her eyes tightly as if she could block out the exchange.

You'll never see what's right in front of you…

Her shoulders hunched miserably.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stay, please," Anna requested worriedly. "The weather is awful, and certainly not fit to be out in driving."

"I won't be driving," Lance countered wearily, shrugging into the borrowed shirt that Anna had produced as one of Ray's.

Anna peeked out a curtain. "The weatherman promises the rain will lighten in a little bit. Please wait at least that long?"

Lance shook his head. "Let me know when the cab gets here, please."

Anna made an exasperated noise. "Stubborn! Both of you!" She threw her hands in the air. "Cell phones are the devil's work!"

A half-smile gleamed briefly on Lance's face. "Sorry?"

Anna sighed, curling her hands around a steaming cup of dark tea and settling on a stool at the center island. "I don't know what to think of this, young man. I haven't decided whether to be pleased by this turn of events or not."

Lance stared down at the place mats stacked on the gleaming wood of the table. "You don't have to decide. I'm leaving," he reminded her pointedly.

Anna grumbled as the phone rang. "You sit and talk with me, understand?" she directed as she snatched up the phone and barked a hello.

Her face immediately softened in a smile. "Yes, you old coot, I greet everyone like that. How else do I stop them from trying to pick up a married woman?" she teased.

Lance backed quietly out of the room, leaving the kindly older woman to talk to her husband.

He padded into the hall, hesitating as he contemplated where he should go. Not her bedroom. But he didn't feel like sitting in the family room, which would be welcoming but silent.

Without thinking, his feet took him to the shadowed stairs and upward. The loft was cloaked in dimness, shadows lying heavy across the carefully cluttered boxes.

Lance gazed around the room curiously. This was Abby's past.

Lance blinked, shaking his head. If she'd had it, her experiences in life had killed it. Or at least buried it.

His jaw hardened, pushing away the hurt. It wasn't like they'd been dating. They hadn't been seriously involved in any kind of romantic relationship. So he had no reason to act like a kicked puppy.

If he ignored it hard enough, he'd be fine. It was useless to wish for the situation to be different, though he had a sudden, desperate longing to have known her before life had been cruel to her.

Lance stopped when he reached the piano, staring at it with stormy eyes.

At least, it was nice to believe that.

He walked around, uncovering the keyboard with careful fingers. He went to sit down and cursed softly when his leg bumped the bench seat, jarring it sharply and dislodging the top. Sheet music peeked out, and he automatically reached for it, pulling it out before sitting down again heavily.

He knew some classical pieces, but didn't recognize the one he held. It had no name above the lines of musical notes. His attention caught, Lance looked at the score more closely. The melody was deceptively simple, becoming gradually more intricate and deep.

He played the first few bars with one hand, the musical notes trickling out lightly.

Lance sighed, placing the music in front of him and propping his chin on his hands, his elbows on the edge of the wood.

The end. Lance groaned, restraining himself from slamming his head on the keys.

Instead, he began to play, pouring all of his restless, hurting energy into the music. The notes emerged strongly from the huge piano, the rich tones filling the lofted room. He felt the cool, humid stroke of the wind on his face, wending its way through the clutter to carry the music with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind eased on her wet skin, rustling through the leaves as the rain tapered off. Abby shivered as bigger drops collected and slid down to meet her exposed skin. She dragged herself to her feet, wavering slightly as she struggled to regain her bearings.

Her head tilted, listening, and she took slow, deep breaths to calm the storm inside her head. The patter of rain muted as she screened it out, connecting to the sound of the internal waves of the lake slapping against the shore. She turned toward the barns.

Then paused, listening again. Faintly.

Abby sucked in a breath, her feet carrying her closer. The familiar strains of music caught her soul, sucking her back in time. When she had been innocent. Happy.

Her head tilted back, everything inside her stilling as she listened.

A muffled sob welled from her. The hushed, secret craving for someone to see her--to love her--stole from the darkness. Beside it hovered her need to love in return. She had smothered it, shoved it away, belittled it, and it refused to die. Time and again.

He had offered her everything she'd ever secretly wanted, and she'd driven him away.

The wildness inside her threw her muscles into gear, and she stumbled along the sand, almost falling as she tripped over the edge of the dock buried in the sand.

The boards were wet against her feet, slick and cool. She half walked, half stumbled her way to the end of the dock, the wind stronger as she neared the deeper water. Distantly, she knew she should be afraid.

Abby threw her head back, her arms lifting slightly from her sides. Utter darkness or sunshine mattered not, for her world looked the same. But she could feel. The whip of the wind as it slid curiously along her face and wound around her small, shivering figure. The nipping spray as the waters barely cleared the edges of the dock to find her feet. The cool mist of lingering rain and the hardness of the boards beneath her feet.

The elements were quiet though, listening as she was to the notes being played, borne on the wind. She felt the tears on her cheeks, but didn't bother to brush them away. She gazed sightlessly upwards, towards the heavens.

How I wish you were here she begged in a desperate whisper. I have lost my way, so badly. What do I do? How do I--how do I…

Her fists clenched. Is what I feel love? she asked silently, forlorn. I don't know what I'm doing at all. It feels so real. But how do I know? How do I know it's him? That it's him I love and not because I want to love. How can I know someone enough to love them? Her thoughts stopped suddenly. When did I accept that it was love? Her body chilled, and her numb legs folded beneath her, bringing her to the dock.

She felt her stomach lurch queasily, folding her arms across her middle and hunching her shoulders in self-protection as the wind rose, blocking out the music and filling her ears with noise.

Abby, ma petite. The words were whispered on the wind, and tears filled her eyes as she felt warmth stroke her cheek gently, almost burning in contrast with the cold wetness that surrounded her.

But you aren't here her heart cried. I want to be with you. She wanted to escape this. She wanted to stop being so confused. She wanted to stop feeling empty, except for the hurting ache in her chest.

Without thinking, she lowered herself to the dock, her cheek pressing against the cold, wet wood. The edge pressed against the tender underside of her upper arm as she extended her hand, skimming the roiling water with her palm.

The waves surged, enveloping her hand and dragging at it greedily, and she pulled back reflexively, heart beating faster.

How do I know? she argued, heart fluttering.

How did you know we loved you? You must trust… Thunder rumbled, and she curled up on her side, thoroughly exhausted.

Gentle laughter seemed to echo around her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stopped abruptly before he reached the end of the score, lifting his hands and listening to the last of the notes fade, like ripples expanding outward on the surface of a still pond.

His sigh seemed to echo around him, swallowed into the sudden silence.

"Abby, why couldn't you have given it a chance?" his voice was laced with bitterness. "I could have--" his voice died. He could have done so many things for her, with her.

Lance rose, striding back through the maze of boxes and down the shadowed stairs. His duffel had been retrieved and now sat silently against the wall.

On a sudden impulse, he bent and unzipped the side pocket. He crouched, staring at the worn cover of The Velveteen Rabbit. The book had given him insight into Abby, had touched him with her vulnerability and led him toward something deeper when he'd wanted to resent her. But it held no answers for how to win her. Only her own illusions about what she wanted. What she believed would somehow ease her pain. All he could offer her was himself.

He would have done everything in his power to make her happy. If she would only have let him try.

Lance gained his feet again and walked slowly into the colorless room that Abby called her bedroom. The curtains were blowing wildly in the wind, and light rain was spattering across the deck and dripping from the overhang.

He started to drop the book on the white comforter, looking out the French doors reflexively.

It was the black of her hair that caught his eye. Lance pivoted and almost sprinted to the deck railing. Then he was running down the stairs and across the wet sand, his feet sinking into the clinging sand and slowing his steps.

She was asleep. Lance crouched over Abby's still form, surprised. He shook his head, a tenderly amused smile creeping out. I'm worrying and stewing, and she's sleeping in the rain. Lance ran a finger across the wrinkles pleating her brow. Though not well. He heaved another breath, sliding his arms under her soaked and shivering form and climbing to his feet.

Lance looked down at the borrowed shirt ruefully, feeling the dampness from Abby's body soaking through the material as he carried her back to the house.

He stared down at her gamine face contemplatively as he climbed the stairs, this time more slowly. She's thrown everything back in your face, and you don't care, Lance. How sad is that? If she would open her eyes and look at you with any sort of acceptance, and agree to something, anything of a relationship, you would be at her mercy. He shook his head, mildly disgusted with himself, but couldn't resist looking down at her again as he placed her on top of the bed.

"What have you done to me?" he murmured, rising reluctantly and going to the bathroom to pull a towel from the rack.

He returned and wrapped her in the thick terry cloth, sitting down heavily again as he tucked the edges around her securely.

His eyes memorized the delicately drawn features, flashing back briefly on the first time he'd seen her. He'd never thought her a raving beauty, but somehow she'd grown into a rare sort of perfection in his own mind, especially when he looked into her eyes. Is that a sign of love or maturity? he wondered randomly, touching her cheek.

How ironic that she's blind, yet has the most unusual and fascinating eyes you'd ever find. And how poetic. Every emotion she felt was reflected there, but she was, in some ways, as emotionally blind as she was physically.

"James Lance?" Anna's voice called from the kitchen.

Lance rubbed a hand across his face vigorously.

"Make him wait," he called roughly.

He looked down at her again. But she slept on. Enough. Time to go.

"I guess this is goodbye." The words were hollow, and he missed her with sudden fierceness. Damn me for ever trying to change things. At least then you still had her friendship. Now she'll never trust you again.

He leaned down, unable to resist, and nuzzled the soft skin at her temple, curving his other hand around her cheek. The low-lying ache inside his chest spread and intensified as her scent surrounded him, rainwater and flowers.

Lance sighed, holding the breath in his lungs for long moments before tilting his head to whisper in her ear softly.

"I may not know everything about you, but I know enough to know that I love you."

She stirred slightly, and he paused, heart beating faster.

"Can you hear me, even now? You don't want to hear the words, but I had to say them to you, just once. I might feel guilty for doing this while you can't fight me--" he paused, smiling ruefully. "But, I don't."

He took a breath, trying to slow his heart. "I can't, could never, have given you certainties. I wish I could, wish I could prove what's real. But you would never have trusted me. And anything about you or us that gave me trouble would be something insurmountable. I wonder if I could have ever have convinced you that we're possible." He paused, throat hurting before he swallowed. "Maybe it's better this way. You need someone who can love you better than I can…"

The words choked, and he grimaced. "You will find…"

He sighed, unable to complete the sentence. "Forget it," he murmured. "I'm not going to say anything, because I'll just…I can't. I want to be that person."

"You hurt me," he admitted softly, saying the words that he couldn't to her face. "Nothing in life is certain, but I was willing to try. And I hoped you were…I thought…maybe what I saw was my own feelings, just because I wanted you to feel them too. Maybe I will wake up in the morning and breathe a sigh of relief that you ended something that was going to be a disaster."

He closed his eyes, lips brushing the soft shell of her ear. "But I won't," he breathed. "I will wake up in the morning and feel like this again. Because no matter what you think, we could have been good together. What you are doesn't matter to me. Who you are is everything, and I wanted to know it all. And I will wake up every morning and wonder if I could have done something different that would have made you fall in love with me."

He pulled in a hard breath, eyes squeezing tighter as he poured his heart out to her sleeping ears. Maybe she would hear him in some deep part of herself. Even if he couldn't have her, he wanted her to know that she was loved.

"I wasn't looking for this to happen either. I just got out of a long-term relationship that went nowhere because of my life. And in the end, I knew it was the best thing for us if we ended as friends. You're different. You've always been different. Being with you these past few weeks has been wonderful. And horrible. I've never been so confused over anyone in my life. And everyone seems to be on your side."

His voice filled with irony. "You've been oblivious, but everyone has been pushing me to tell you something of what I've been rambling about, even my mother. Ask you out on a date, anything. Justin got mad enough to tell me just to make a move on you. But I can't blame the bus on him. That was me," his voice dropped. "I just looked into your eyes and your sweet face and couldn't stop myself. Because the truth was I wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I touched you--I was just too uptight to admit it. I'm not completely insensitive, but I'm just a normal guy, Abby. Holding a complete stranger in my arms all night is not something I do. But even then I was already falling. And it scared the piss out of me. That's why I was such an ass to you for so long. And it didn't help at all."

He paused, knowing he should stop but unable to help himself. It had been bottled up inside too long to stop now.

"Is day to day contact supposed to dull all those feelings of attraction?" He laughed softly, resting his forehead against her temple and concentrating on the feeling of her breaths puffing gently against his cheek. "Liars. I had it all worked out. How we could be friends. We were. That was never in question. But everything seemed to conspire against me, even you. Every time I turned around something happened to remind me how I wanted more than that. I wanted to be around you, but I didn't. It drove me insane, and that's on top of living with the others and being on tour."

Lance smiled sadly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And the hardest thing I ever did was hurt you last week. I couldn't face your rejection if I tried anything, but I couldn't live with my decision to not try anything. Pretty screwed up, huh? Maybe it would be better for me to be with someone you'd term 'normal'," he admitted. "My life isn't the easiest. But sometimes you can't choose who you love. And, really, I'll tell you a secret, Abby," he whispered, brushing a kiss across her ear.

"I'm glad it's you," he murmured. "Whether I'm with you or not, loving you has shown me a whole different world. You have so much to give to others, if you'd just trust them enough." His chest burned with pain. "I hope that one day you'll find someone who can see everything you have to offer. And be stubborn enough to make you take what they offer. Maybe I'm not as stubborn as they say, then, huh? Another time, maybe…" he trailed off. "I guess this was a long goodbye," he whispered, trying to smile. "If I could tell you everything I've ever thought about you, us, I could sit here all day and ramble. But you'd probably wake up eventually."

Lance straightened, blinking the odd blurriness from his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the book on the bedside table and picked it up. He held it for a moment longer, then placed it beside her on the bed. "I can't use this anymore. And I don't think you do either, but it's yours."

He memorized her features one last time, brushing his fingers across the violet shadows under her lashes.

"Once I'm gone--I'd make you promise to take care of yourself. I can't make you open yourself up to other people, I can only hope that you do. If you can do that, maybe I can feel a little bit responsible for you being happier. I guess I did my best to shake you up. Now I wish you'd find a better path. Don't go back to being alone," he whispered.

Lance hesitated only a moment before leaning down, tilting her chin slightly. He touched the softness of Abby's lips with his thumb, then his own lips, careful not to wake her. He closed his mind to everything else for those few seconds, the touch easing some of the tightness in his chest. He knew he wouldn't let go easily, but eventually--

Before he could think about stalling anymore, Lance pulled back, taking a breath. "I love you, Abigail. I have faith in you. Be happy, baby."

One final touch on her cheek, and he rose from the bed, pivoting and almost sprinting from the room. He snatched up his duffel on the run, catching Anna's startled glance as he slipped back out the screen door.

"James La--?"

The cab was waiting in the drive, and Lance jumped inside, slamming the door behind him.

"Airport," he growled tersely, swallowing against the lump in his throat. The cab turned with a spray of wet gravel and sped back down the drive.

Lance sank back against the leather of the bench seat, wet with humidity, and glanced up as the cab cleared the screening trees. Sunlight slanted through the clouds weakly, striking the wet grass and grey lakes with glittering fingers.

Despite his better judgement, Lance twisted around to glance behind himself one last time. The trees were bathed in a misty fog as the rain lingered around their limbs. Then the sun's rays brightened, scattering over the path.

If he squinted, he could just make out a misty rainbow arching over the trees.

He smiled just slightly. "There's your hope, Abby. Remember me," he murmured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The screen slammed shut.

The tears she'd held back slid out from beneath her lashes.

Abby opened her eyes, staring sightlessly up at the heavens.

Wonder filled her, and the first tingle of belief.

"He loves me?"

Then reality crashed down, and she hunched into a small ball in the center of the bed. The serenity of the room bore down on her.

The loneliness.

Lance had left her alone.

Because that was what she wanted?

"He loves me…"