Fic: Farscape - His Sister's Legacy - Adult - Parts One, Two and Three

[tanaquific]

Title: His Sister's Legacy
Fandom: Farscape
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 65,305 words

Summary: A "mundane AU" inspired by the "Unconventional Courtship" challenge.

Inheriting half of his late sister’s company means John Crichton is now Aeryn Sun’s business partner – to their mutual dismay!

Working together to keep Moya Enterprises out of the hands of a rival corporation run by Herr Skorpinski, they are forced to confront their growing attraction. Then John discovers that Aeryn promised his sister that she’d do anything—anything at all—to keep the company hers—and that there's a lot else she hasn't told him.

John doesn’t want a relationship based on cold-hearted calculation or half-truths. But can he trust that Aeryn's feelings for him are real?

Disclaimer: This story is a transformative work based on the Jim Henson Company/Nine Network/Hallmark Entertainment/A&E series Farscape. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it.
Author's Notes: The story is set during the same timeframe as canon i.e. it begins in 1999. However, to allow for the backstories I've developed for John and Aeryn in this alternate universe, both have been aged up by about ten years from their ages in canon and are now both around 40. Thanks to scribblesinink for the cheerleading, brainstorming and beta services.

Part One

John hoisted the strap of his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder with one hand and rubbed the other across his stinging eyes. God, he hated red-eye flights and places he didn't speak the language—the babble of German from the passengers around him was adding to his disorientation—and most of all he hated being ordered around.

"You must come," the peremptory voice on the other end of the phone had declared a week earlier, the slight accent growing stronger as the speaker grew more agitated. "There are things to discuss. Papers to sign."

"Can't we discuss whatever it is over the phone?" John gazed out through his office window at the familiar shape of the Du Pont Gymnasium opposite. "Put the papers in the post for me to sign?"

"No! You must come and soon. The company will pay—."

"That's not it." John rested his forehead wearily on his hand and tried to marshal his thoughts, preparing to explain that he had grad students to supervise, papers to write, his own research to work on.

The woman on the other end of the phone didn't wait for him to make his argument. Instead, she said fiercely, "It is what Olivia would have wanted. It is what she would have expected of you. She told me her big brother would do anything for her."

Goddammit, that was a low blow. Not least because it was true—except that now all John could do for his little sister was to help keep afloat the business she'd founded. A business he now owned half of following Olivia's death in a car accident in southern Germany three weeks ago.

The other half of the business was owned by the impossible, demanding German woman he was talking to. This Aeryn Sun knew how to fight dirty—but she'd also been Livvy's best friend as well as her business partner. Wearily, John acknowledged defeat. "I'll need to talk to my boss, make some arrangements, but I suppose I could fly over next week."

"Good! Let my secretary know what day you will travel and she will make the bookings for you." The line went dead as Aeryn hung up abruptly.

"Nice talking to you, too," John muttered sourly as he replaced the handset on the cradle.

Now, a week later, sitting in the back of the car that was taking him from his hotel in the center of Frankfurt, after a quick freshen up, to the offices of Moya Enterprises not far away in the banking district, he tried to remember Aeryn from the one time he'd met her, at Livvy's funeral back in Tennessee. Tall, dark-haired, carrying herself with a confident air. Not pretty, exactly, but—striking. Maybe even beautiful, though he hadn't been in much of a mood to notice at the time.

Definitely beautiful, he decided, when he was shown into her presence a few minutes after arriving at Moya's offices, in a severe sort of way. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a practical braid and she wore a very plain black pantsuit. Rising from a chair behind a desk laden with three large computer screens, two keyboards and a laptop, she extended a cool hand to him. "Doctor Crichton. Thank you for coming."

"It's Professor." He didn't know why he felt the need to claim the title as he gripped her hand, except that she was looking at him as if she expected him to be an uneducated savage, despite the doctorate. He softened the remark with an attempt at his most charming smile. "But I'd rather you called me John, Miss Sun."

"Doctor Sun." She tilted her chin up as she drew her hand out of his, giving him back a hard-eyed look that suggested the smile hadn't had its usual effect. Then she rolled her eyes a little, apparently acknowledging the absurdity of the exchange. "But Miss Sun will do, if you prefer." She gestured toward a couple of easy chairs in a corner of the office. "Please, Herr Professor. Sit."

John lowered himself into one of the chairs, wondering about the doctorate. He'd known Aeryn was the technical brains behind the company, designing many of the systems and processes the company used to test the security of IT systems at banks, but the way Livvy had told it, she'd learned her skills in the military as a raw conscript—in the old East Germany. Livvy had said she would never talk about exactly what she'd done or who she'd worked for.

She and Olivia had met at some venture capital conference when Aeryn had been looking for backing to get Moya Enterprises off the ground and Olivia had been growing increasingly frustrated at her lack of career progression in the old boys' club of corporate consultancy and finance. The two of them had hit it off at once—though John couldn't imagine anyone less like his warm, impulsive sister than the haughty, chilly woman sitting across from him—and Olivia had become CEO and an equal stakeholder in the company.

A sudden surge of anger rose up in him that it was Aeryn sitting there and not Olivia. That he was facing Aeryn's stern frown and not Olivia's warm grin. Then the anger was gone. It wasn't Aeryn's fault that Olivia was dead, and it wasn't what Olivia would have wanted.

Aeryn had brought a stack of folders with her from her desk and placed them on the coffee table between them. John eyed them warily as she put her hand on top of them. "I believe your lawyer has told you that your sister and I made an agreement for the company. This is a normal thing. If one of us should die, the other one would purchase her share. You know about this?"

John nodded. "Yes. He said something about an insurance policy…." He tapped his fingers nervously on his knees.

"Yes. So there will be money to pay for it." Aeryn narrowed her eyes a little as she looked at him, as if trying to read his expression. She sat back, pulling herself up straight in her chair, her wrists crossed one over the other in her lap. "Unfortunately, the insurance company is slow to pay. So it will be some time before you can have your money."

John blinked at her. "You're saying there's a problem with the policy?"

"No." Aeryn let her gaze drift away from him. "But they are saying, the insurance company and the police, that they are not sure it was an accident, the way your sister died."

"Wait." John leaned forward, his hands gripping his knees. "You're saying—what? They think Olivia crashed deliberately? Or that someone forced her off the road? And why wasn't I told about this before?"

Aeryn gave a slight shrug. "I only learned of it a few days ago myself." She looked back at John, raising her hands a little defensively. "And they have not told me what they are thinking. Only that they are investigating 'suspicious circumstances'."

John glared at her for a moment longer, before he slumped back in the chair, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Damn."

Aeryn cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I thought it was better to tell you this once you were here."

"Yeah." John still had the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. After a moment, he pulled in a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his hands on his pants. Pushing away the jumble of emotions he felt at hearing Livvy's death might not have been an accident after all, he nodded at the files on the table. "So what are those?"

Aeryn put her hand back on top of the folders. "Unfortunately, your sister and I were involved in several developments just before she died. Projects and contracts that cannot wait. While much of the company can continue to run as before—we have good people—there are certain documents that need to be signed in the next few days. Before we are likely to be able to complete the transfer of your sister's share of the company."

"And you need my signature?" John lifted his gaze to Aeryn's face.

"Yes. As Olivia's executor and heir, your approval is necessary." She picked up the top folder and held it out to him.

John took it and turned it round and opened it. He stared down at the front page of the document inside. "This is in German. I don't read German. Heck, I don't even speak German beyond Noch ein bier, bitte."

"Of course you don't." The words came out clipped, a dismissive edge to them. "I can explain them to you." She leaned forward and reached out a hand to point to the page. "This is a contract to—."

"You know," John snapped the folder closed, forcing her to snatch her hand back out of the way, "I don't think I should sign anything when I don't know what it says. I don't think Olivia would approve of that at all." He looked up, meeting her gaze and holding it, his expression challenging, almost able to hear Livvy's voice advising him and berating him to Be smart, John.

Aeryn sat back, her hands linked loosely in her lap. "No, of course not." He thought there was a trace of a smile on her lips. Maybe she could hear Livvy, too. "What do you propose?"

He dropped the folder back on the pile. "Olivia had a lawyer, right? He's been talking to my lawyer back in the States. I could get him to read these, explain what's in them?"

Aeryn looked like she wasn't entirely happy about the idea—it would delay things further—but after a moment she nodded. "Yes. He will be working for you, so you will be able to trust him to advise you."

"Exactly." John relaxed back into his chair again. He gestured at the folders. "And these contracts and projects. You must have, uh, reasons for why you're doing them?"

Aeryn looked a little startled. "Business cases and project plans? Yes."

"So you can show me those? Have your people talk me through them? Show me why Olivia would have agreed with what you want to do?"

Aeryn's expression didn't change much, but John could tell she was growing more unhappy with what he was suggesting. But after a moment, she gave a curt nod. "That is only fair. I will make arrangements for tomorrow. And I will ask my assistant to help you in meeting with Olivia's lawyer."

She got to her feet, signaling the meeting was over.

John rose as well. "And perhaps we could have dinner together this evening? Get to know each other better."

She had been on the point of holding out her hand to offer him a handshake, but she recoiled from his words, taking a half step back. "Thank you, Herr Professor, but I must decline." Her tone was icy.

John realized he must have committed some faux pas, though he had no idea what he'd done to upset her. He dipped his head in apology. "I'm sorry. I simply thought that as we were both close to Livvy, we could…." He trailed off as he saw that she was looking at him with a mixture of confusion, surprise and disbelief.

After a few seconds, she drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I was not expecting—." She straightened her shoulders. "Perhaps another time. A lunch." She held out her hand.

He took it, holding on to it for perhaps a moment longer than necessary, wanting her to unbend a little, to like him, though he didn't know why. For Livvy's sake, he supposed. "I'd like that." He let go. "It was pleasure to meet you." Remembering how the conversation had started, he added carefully, "Fräulein Doktor."

To his surprise, her reserved expression cracked a little. She turned away quickly, heading for the door to usher him out, but not before he caught the beginnings of a smile on her face. He grinned to himself: looked like he'd managed to get something right at last.

oOo

John took a surreptitious look at his watch. This was the third presentation of the morning and he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Aeryn's employees—or, at least, the ones he'd encountered—all spoke good English, but he was struggling with the variety of accents, jet-lag and his own lack of knowledge. Most of the information—from the intricacies of complex financial instruments to in-depth comparisons of sophisticated security systems—was making as much sense to him as his own astronautics lectures back at MIT would likely make to Aeryn's team. He hoped Olivia's lawyer was having better luck checking the validity of the contracts Aeryn wanted him to sign.

Looking back up at the Powerpoint presentation being projected onto a screen at the end of the conference room, something on the other side of the conference room's glass wall caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head a little, he saw Aeryn—Frau Doktor Sun; the presentations had, if nothing else, taught him the correct way to address her—was standing in the hallway outside, deep in conversation with a short, frog-faced man with a grayish complexion.

Aeryn's own face, clearly visible to John from where he sat, was less strained than during their meeting the previous day, and she was gesturing animatedly with her hands as she spoke, her passion for whatever it was she was discussing evident in every gesture. Comparing her demeanor now with her reserve last time he'd seen her, John concluded that she must have really hated meeting with him.

A loud cough and a nervous "Herr Professor?" startled him from his inspection of Aeryn. Turning back to face the front of the room, he saw the two executives who'd been tasked with this briefing were looking at him with concern. Running his memory backward, he realized they'd stopped speaking maybe a minute before—and that he had no idea what they'd been saying for some time before that.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Could you—?" He stopped, turning his head to look again at Aeryn, still standing outside the conference room. If anyone could explain this stuff to him so that it made sense—so that he understood why it mattered that they do this and not that—it would be Aeryn. Not the poor saps who'd been boring the pants off him for the last half an hour. He waved a hand absently in their direction. "Never mind." Bounding from his chair, he wrenched open the door to the conference room and thrust outside. "Frau Doktor Sun!"

She turned a startled face toward him. "Herr Professor Crichton." Her expression turned wary.

"Sorry to interrupt." John gave an apologetic nod in the direction of the frog-faced man, who was looking at him with barely concealed irritation. "Herr…?"

Aeryn lifted her eyes heavenward, before explaining with obvious patience, "This is Herr Richter. Our sales director."

"Pleased to meet you." John dipped his head in a brief salute, before turning back to Aeryn. "I know I'm being a nuisance…." He let the words hang in the air, but she didn't make any attempt to contradict him. "And I know you and your people have gone to a lot of effort to explain things. But I still don't understand."

She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath, before opening them and looking at him again. "What is it you don't understand, Herr Professor?"

"The whole thing." He shrugged. "I mean, I understand why each of these projects might be a good thing. It's obvious you've put a lot of thought into them. But I don't understand why now, or why these things and not… something else. I was hoping…. I was hoping you could explain the big picture. What your end goal is. How it all fits together."

She folded her hands together in front of her. "I am very busy, Herr Professor."

"I know, but I was thinking that maybe we could have that lunch." When she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, "You do eat lunch?"

She went on looking at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. He gave her his most charming smile. At last, she let out a breath. "Very well. I will have my assistant arrange something. Now, please, if you would continue with the presentations, Herr Professor?" She gestured toward the conference room door.

John grinned at her, feeling a little surge of triumph he'd gotten his way, and willing to endure another hour or so of barely comprehensible Powerpoint slides now that he knew he'd be able to get the condensed version out of her over lunch. Maybe get her to talk a little about Olivia, too: there was a whole chunk of his sister's life—a very important chunk—that he'd barely known about. Now she could no longer tell him about it herself, he was intensely curious.

He bobbed his head at first Aeryn and then Herr Richter. "Of course. Frau Doktor, Herr Richter." He found German business formality excessive and a little silly, but when in Rome…. Or, rather, when in Frankfurt….

An hour and a half later, he and Aeryn were seated opposite each other in the restaurant of a hotel across downtown. Aeryn, her hands folded on the table in front of her, was regarding him thoughtfully. That was at least better than the surprised looks she'd given him when he'd waved her ahead of him as they'd climbed into the cab and again when they'd entered the restaurant. Did she think he was some ill-mannered Yank? She'd soon find out that Mama Crichton raised her boy right.

The restaurant was hushed, the paneled walls and cushioned banquettes in the booths giving the diners a measure of privacy. Aeryn asked polite, stilted questions—about whether he liked his hotel and if his journey had been smooth and if he had visited Germany before—until the waiter had brought them water and taken their order and gone away. Then she leaned back a little and asked, "So what is it I can help you with, Herr Professor?"

John settled back in his own seat, toying with his cutlery as he spoke. "Like I said before, I want to understand why."

A confused expression flitted across Aeryn's face. "Why what?"

"Why you're doing all of this. Why Olivia was doing it." John leaned forward, folding his arms and resting them on the table in front of him. "Look, I understand that you're still a fairly small company and you want to be bigger. I understand that you want to set up a branch office in London because you already have some clients there and think you can get more if you're on the ground. That you're trying to set up partnerships with some bigger companies so that you can win new business together that you neither of you could win on your own. And that you want to buy this little itty-bitty company with some cool technology, so you'll control it and your rivals won't have it. I get all that."

Aeryn had been watching him impassively as he spoke, not showing any sign of jumping in to correct him on any of the points. That told him that, for all he hadn't understood all the details, he'd been paying close enough attention to get the gist of it right. When he paused to draw breath, she gave him a questioning look. "So what is it you don't understand, Herr Professor? If it is the finance we are arranging to pay for this, then I think you are best speaking to our financial controller and our accountants. That was Olivia's area of expertise."

"No, it's not that." John curled one hand into a fist and gently beat it against his arm. He paused for a moment and then admitted wryly. "Okay, I don't understand that. But that's okay. I trust it makes sense. What I don't understand is why you're doing any of this. Why you set up the company. Why my sister gave up her job and moved half way around the world and sank her money into this thing." He gave a slight shrug. "That's all I want to know."

Aeryn eyed him thoughtfully, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth."Your sister did not tell you? You did not talk?"

John sat back, shrugging. "Not about this. Not really. We hadn't gotten together since the last Thanksgiving before she moved here. We spoke a few times on the phone. I knew she was excited about what she was doing, happy. That's all."

Aeryn tilted her head sideways, clearly considering her answer, weighing her words before she spoke. "Olivia believed in what I wanted to do. In my vision. She believed in me."

John leaned forward, holding her gaze. "And what do you believe in, Frau Doktor Sun? What is your vision?"

Aeryn went on looking back at him for a long moment, before turning her head, drawing her gaze away from his. Still not looking at him, she said with the air of trotting out a well-rehearsed answer, "To provide the best security, for banks and governments and businesses. To be a commercial success, so that we can invest in better solutions. To deliver excellence, in everything we do."

"Yes, but why do you want to do that?" Not thinking about what he was doing, just knowing that he needed to know the answer, to get the truth from her, John reached across the table and grasped her wrist with his hand. She jumped, trying to pull away, but he held on lightly. "Why do this and not something else?"

She raised her eyes back up to meet his gaze, her expression cold, and pulled her hand away more sharply. He let go, sitting back and quietly cursing his own impulsiveness. Then, to his surprise, she spoke, her words halting at first and her voice so soft he had to strain to catch what she was saying.

"Because we all have a right to be… private. To live our lives without being watched and spied on." She absently rubbed at her wrist where he'd held it. "To know that what we do and what we say and what we care about are safe. From criminals and… governments. From the kind of person I used to be." She grew more certain as she went on, more fierce, though she didn't raise her voice. Her gaze was challenging, daring him to laugh at her or dismiss her.

John felt no desire to laugh. Instead, he felt a wave of protectiveness. He suspected Olivia had felt something similar: she'd always been a sucker for waifs and strays and apparently lost causes, wanting to make things right and make things work. It was part of why she'd been so good at her previous job—in as much as he'd ever understood it—of helping companies do what they did better. Of course, Aeryn's business plan must have also made sense: his sister was no fool or soft touch. Yet there was something more….

Ever since he'd arrived in Aeryn's office the previous day, he'd been wondering how Olivia had managed to hit it off with this stern, humorless woman. Yet he'd had a glimpse just now—not the first sighting, he realized, thinking back—of something different behind the hard exterior. Someone who cared deeply and passionately about what she did—and about what other people did with the results.

Aeryn was still staring at him, waiting for him to respond to what she'd said. He cleared his throat. "I can see now why Olivia wanted to work with you."

"You can?" Her expression turned guarded again. She leaned back and crossed her arms.

John smiled at her, trying to coax her out from behind the front she'd put back up. "I think so."

Before he could say more, their food arrived. Once the waiter had finally finished fussing around them and they were eating—Aeryn with small, careful bites, while she watched him and pretended not to watch—he spoke again. "Tell me about Olivia." When Aeryn frowned at him, he added. "How did you two meet?"

She swallowed a mouthful of food and took a sip of water before answering. "At an event for investors and small companies looking for backing."

"Yeah, I know that." John put down his fork and waved his hands. "But how did you meet?"

Aeryn put her knife and fork down on her plate, crossed over each other, and clasped her her hands together, resting them on the edge of the table. Her expression turned distant, her gaze fixed on her meal. John waited patiently, recognizing that she needed time and space to open up to him.

"I had a meeting with Olivia's company." Again, she spoke more softly than usual. "That was the format of the event. Little meetings, each company and each investor, where we could explain our plans. Olivia was there, with a colleague of hers, a German man. He was… not polite to me." She glanced up at John for a moment and he caught the dark amusement in her eyes. "I was angry. I left the meeting early, saying that I was clearly not the right company for them. Olivia came after me, into the hall. She apologized. She said her colleague was a fool, that he was wrong. That she had liked what she had seen of my proposal." Aeryn's lips twitched. "She asked me to have dinner with her."

John snorted quietly, remembering her rejection of his own invitation. "I'm guessing you said yes to her?"

"Yes." Aeryn had lifted her head and was smiling at him as she took up her knife and fork again. "We talked. And talked. And talked some more. About the business, but also, oh, about so many other things. The next day, Olivia took my proposal to her company, but they were still not interested. Her colleague would not admit he might have been mistaken. So Olivia left and invested her own money instead."

"Yeah. I remember Dad being pretty steamed about it at the time. He wasn't happy about her quitting her job and branching out on her own." John smiled at the memory of Olivia calling him to rant about it; she'd been scathing but also pretty funny as she'd mimicked their father's words and torn them to shreds. He shrugged. "But that was just Dad. He was proud of us really. He just wanted to be sure we were making the right choices." He snorted softly. "Which in his eyes usually meant doing what he would've done. He gave me a hard time, too, when I had a chance to join the space program and decided not to." John put his fork down and waved his hands helplessly. "'Course, it's kinda hard to live up to being the son of a guy who walked on the moon…."

"Ah, yes, the famous Jack Crichton." There was an edge of laughter to Aeryn's words. "Olivia said it was… how did she put it? A blessing and a curse?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right." John dug back into his food, shaking his head. "Anyway, looks like he was wrong about your company. Those figures I saw this morning say you're doing pretty well."

Aeryn shook her head slightly. "We would not have been so successful without Olivia. She was… very persistent."

John smirked at her. "It's a family trait."

"I'd noticed." Arranging her knife and fork neatly on her plate, Aeryn picked up her water glass and raised it to him in a silent salute. The gesture was accompanied by the first real smile she'd given him.

Finally! John thought, grinning back at her happily.

oOo

John ran a finger around his collar, trying not to feel like the unaccustomed tie was strangling him. At his side, Aeryn was her usual cool, composed self as they rode up in the elevator to the drinks reception she'd dragged him into attending. It was some kind of industry event, hosted by a multinational bank, and they were heading for the top floor of one of the many skyscrapers that made being in Frankfurt feel almost like being back in America.

Aeryn glanced at her watch as the elevator approached their floor—she had firmly impressed on him that Germans valued punctuality highly—and murmured, "I appreciate you doing this for us, Herr Professor."

"Yeah, well, don't thank me until you know I haven't screwed up," he muttered back.

Aeryn flashed him one of those smiles that he was, to his delight, increasingly able to coax out of her. "You will be fine. No one will expect you to understand much about the business. Just remember to keep eye contact and to shake hands firmly."

"Right." John wriggled his toes inside shoes stiff with newness. Aeryn had sent him off, in the company of a nervous minion, to go shopping for suitable business attire once she'd secured his agreement to attend the reception.

"It will reassure our customers if you are there," she'd explained, as she'd outlined her proposal earlier in the day, while he'd been visiting her office to sign the first of the contracts his lawyers had checked. "And confirm to our competitors that we are still strong. They are naturally concerned with the future of the company, now Olivia…." She'd pressed her lips together for a moment as she left the sentence unfinished.

"I'm not much of a substitute," he'd pointed out.

"Perhaps not." Another of those smiles, though there was no sting to the words. "But you are a Crichton also, and you are good with people, I think, as Olivia was. And you are Herr Professor Doktor from MIT, which I am sure will impress them greatly."

John wished he had her confidence as he followed her forward to be greeted by their hosts. Yet his misgivings slowly ebbed away as time wore on. The senior executives he met—they were nearly all men—were reserved but friendly, expressing their sympathies for his loss, asking him polite questions about how he was enjoying his stay in Frankfurt and, rather more bluntly than he would have expected, quizzing him about his ongoing involvement in Moya Enterprises. A dozen variations on "I'm just here to help Frau Doktor Sun achieve a smooth transition. It's what Olivia would have wanted." seemed to satisfy. There was also much curiosity about what he taught at MIT. The most awkward moments came when the guests expected him to be as fluent in German as Olivia had been.

After half an hour, he was a little surprised to discover Aeryn had slipped from his side and left him to his own devices, clearly trusting him not to embarrass her or the company. There certainly seemed no shortage of people keen to introduce themselves to him.

Another half an hour after that and John was growing tired. Too much German, though everyone was careful to try and speak English and include him in the conversation when they remembered. Too much technical talk he didn't fully understand when they did speak in English. Too much polite curiosity about Olivia—God, he wished she was here with him! Of course, if she'd been there, he wouldn't have been.

A glance around showed him Aeryn was deep in conversation. Her body language made it clear she wouldn't welcome an interruption and, besides, the reception was supposed to last another hour and he didn't think she'd want to leave much before the end; it was clearly a valuable opportunity for her.

Excusing himself from the group to which he was currently attached, he deftly snagged a glass of wine from one of the waiters circulating around the room and made his way to a quiet spot by the windows, where he hoped to lurk unseen for a while. Taking a sip of wine, he looked out over the glittering lights of downtown and tried to tune out the chatter from behind him. Livvy would be laughing at him right now: she'd been at home in rooms like this, just like Dad was. Whereas John had always hated this part of climbing the greasy pole in academia, even if he knew how to play the game well enough to secure the grants that let him spend time in the lab or lecture theater, doing what he liked best.

A quiet cough from behind him startled him from his memories of Olivia. He turned and saw a tall man with deeply sunken eyes set in a pockmarked faced. The man gave a small bow—John could have sworn the man had clicked his heels together, too, but he reckoned he must have filled that in from watching too many movies about World War Two—and said in careful tones, "You are Herr Professor Crichton."

"I am." John forced a welcoming smile on to his face.

"Skorpinski." The man extended his hand. John took it, remembering Aeryn's instructions, though he wasn't sure any handshake he could have given would have been firm enough for Herr Skorpinski: his grip was vice-like and John was quite relieved when he let go. His gaze was equally intense, though his tone was mild, as he added, "I am sorry for your loss. Your sister was an exceptional woman."

"Yes. She was." John resisted the urge to rub his bruised hand.

Skorpinski glanced over to where Aeryn was standing, her back to them, before turning his attention back on John. "Frau Doktor Sun has not mentioned me or my company, Gammak Industries, to you?"

John desperately tried to remember. "Uh, no, I don't think she has."

"I see." Skorpinski gave John a thin-lipped smile. He held out a business card. "I believe you may find it advantageous to call me."

"Right." John automatically took the card, wondering what Skorpinski wanted.

Skorpinski glanced again in Aeryn's direction, apparently checking she still had her back to them, before once more dipping his head at John. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Herr Professor."

"You too," John managed, although he had a feeling—some sixth sense—that this was an encounter he could do without. Not that it mattered that he might have sounded less than sincere: Skorpinski hadn't waited for a reply before he'd stalked away to the far side of the room.

Shaking his head, John slipped the card into his jacket pocket. He'd never get the hang of how these Germans did business. Steeling himself, he headed back toward the crowd and back into making nice with Aeryn and Olivia's business contacts.

He only had to suffer for another half an hour before Aeryn appeared at his elbow, just as he was finishing up a conversation with a man who worked for a German bank John had never heard of. Luckily for John, the man had been more interested in asking John about his research than exposing John's ignorance of German regional banks.

Aeryn tilted her head toward the door. "I am ready to leave. If you…?"

"Yes!" John tried not to sound too relieved.

They didn't speak again until they were down on the street and Aeryn was directing him to a nearby taxi stand. She either wasn't interested in making small talk or didn't want to speak in the presence of the other guests who rode down in the elevator with them. Yet John didn't find the silence uncomfortable.

On the other hand, he wanted to talk; he'd enjoyed their conversation over lunch the previous day, once they'd gotten past the initial stiffness. "Let me see you home?" he suggested, as he reached to open the cab door for her.

She turned a surprised face to him. "That won't be necessary. The taxi can drop you at your hotel on the way."

"Humor me." He smiled at her. "I'm a Southern boy and it wouldn't feel right if I didn't."

She hesitated a moment longer and then nodded. Sliding into the cab, she gave an address and added something in which John caught the name of his hotel. He guessed she was telling their driver that he would be taking John on there after dropping her off.

Settling into the corner of his seat as the taxi wove its way through the streets, making sure he wasn't crowding her, he asked, "Did I do okay?"

"Yes, thank you." By the light of the passing streetlamps that fitfully lit up the inside of the cab, he could see she was giving him a half smile. She hesitated. "I trust it was not too tedious?"

"Nah." He grinned back at her. "Don't ask me to remember who I spoke to, though."

Again that faint smile. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, resisting the urge to lean closer, suddenly very conscious of what he'd been studiously trying to ignore for the past few days: that she was a beautiful woman and he found her very attractive.

As he shifted, he became aware of the card he'd slipped into his jacket pocket. "Oh, there was this one guy. Herr… Skorpinski? From, uh, Gamma something?"

The smile vanished from Aeryn's face. She turned her head away. "Yes. I saw he was there." Her tone was cold.

John remembered how Skorpinski had been keen to make sure Aeryn didn't see them talking. "Competitor? Rival? Old enemy?" He tried to keep the questions light, hoping to rekindle the warmth of a moment before, while he kicked himself for bringing up the topic.

"He is of no concern to us." Aeryn's whole body had stiffened and the easiness of a few minutes earlier had vanished. Clearly this Skorpinski guy was a sore point. Then she drew in a deep breath, making an obvious effort to relax. Turning back to John, she said in a more friendly tone, "If you are here for the weekend, you should see something of the area. The mountains, perhaps? Olivia always enjoyed her walking trips there."

"Will you show me?" John twisted a little in his seat, allowing himself to lean toward her a fraction. Wanting her to know how much he'd like that, but also wanting it to be clear she could say no.

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze holding his steadily in the dim light, her eyes wide and dark. "Perhaps."

They went on looking at each other, not speaking, not needing to speak, until the car drew to a halt seconds later. Aeryn's gaze slid past John.

"We are here." She nodded to indicate behind him.

"Right." He cleared his throat and scrambled to open the door and climb out, so he could let her on to the sidewalk. With one hand steadying the car door, he reached down with the other to help her out.

She took his hand, holding on to it as she straightened and again looked him in the eye. She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she might invite him inside, but then she simply said, "Good evening, Herr Professor." Letting go of his hand, she headed briskly across the sidewalk to the entrance to her building: an apartment block as sleek and understated as herself.

Climbing back into the cab, John wished he'd had the balls to invite himself in—but, no. Bad idea. Even assuming she felt the same attraction he did, that would have been too much, too fast. For him as well as her: he was adrift in a strange city, his emotions a jumble, as they had been since Olivia's death, and with obligations and responsibilities—toward Olivia, toward Aeryn, toward himself—that he barely understood.

The cab driver half turned in his seat, throwing the name of John's hotel in his direction. John nodded absently. "Yes. Danke."

Settling back into his place as the cab drew away, he grinned to himself. It was enough that he'd gotten Aeryn to warm up to him a little. And to know that if he asked her to come to the mountains with him, then perhaps she would.

oOo

John made his way back up to his hotel room after a late and leisurely breakfast, wondering how he was going to fill his day. He'd already spent an hour in the hotel's business center checking email and trying to sum up the whirlwind of the past three days in a reply to DK, who was holding the fort at the lab in his absence. Earlier, a call to his lawyers had informed him that they were still reviewing the other contracts, waiting on answers to a number of questions they'd put to the legal team at Moya Enterprises. The brisk paralegal on the other end of the phone had assured him that, yes, they would contact him as soon as they had further news, but that he should not expect to hear from them until the following morning.

Which meant he had no good excuse to go see Aeryn today. On the other hand, it did mean he would likely be here past the weekend—it was already Thursday—so there was a chance he could persuade her out into those mountains with him. Until then, maybe he should fill in the time with some sightseeing in Frankfurt itself—assuming there was anything to this place besides glass-walled bank headquarters. He racked his brains, trying to remember if Olivia had mentioned anything worth a visit, but he came up blank. He should ask the hotel concierge. He could check on trips outside the city, too.

Letting himself into his room, he began to collect together what he'd need for a day as a tourist. Hanging up the suit he'd worn the night before, slung over a chair when he'd shed it in relief, he checked the pockets to make sure they were empty. In one of them, he found the card given to him by the mysterious Herr Skorpinski.

Looking at the number printed under the name—that was all there was on the card: H. Skorpinski and the number—John tried to remember exactly what it was Skorpinski had said: that it would to be 'advantageous' for John to call him? He remembered, too, that Aeryn had seemed as keen for John to dismiss this Skorpinski from his thoughts as Skorpinksi had been to avoid being seen talking to John. Maybe he should have pressed her harder.

He twisted the card between his fingers. What would Livvy do? That was the question he should be asking himself. Find out everything she could. That was what she'd say. And since Aeryn had already brushed him off, there was only one thing to do. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in Skorpinski's number.

The number was picked up after the first ring. "Skorpinski."

John almost dropped the phone. He'd expected, at the very least, to have to make his way through a switchboard or a secretary. "Uh, it's, uh, John Crichton here. We met last night…."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for calling, Herr Professor." Skorpinski's voice was soft and John detected an accent to his English that was similar but not identical to Aeryn's.

"Er, you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes." There was a slight pause and then Skorpinski murmured, "But not by phone. Could you visit me at my office in, say, an hour?"

"Sure." John scrubbed a hand through his hair. Not like he had anything better to do.

"Excellent." Skorpinski gave him the address and John repeated it back to him. "I look forward to meeting with you again, Herr Professor." The line went dead.

John took his phone away from his ear and looked at it uncertainly, wondering why he felt like he'd just made an appointment to walk into the lion's den. Maybe he should call Aeryn first and—.

No. Aeryn had had her chance to talk to him about Skorpinski and what he might want last night, and had shot him down. Besides, what harm could there be in simply meeting with the guy?

Two hours later, John was in a cab on his way from Skorpinski's office to Aeryn's, rehearsing all the names he was planning to call her when he got there.

He couldn't believe she'd lied to him. Well, not so much lied as omitted to tell him certain facts. Pretty crucial facts, as it turned out. And after all that talk about them doing what Olivia wanted. All those fancy speeches about keeping what people cared about safe. Letting him think she might actually be warming up to him….

He had to admit it had been a damn good act. He'd been willing to write off her attempt to bounce him into signing those contracts the day he'd arrived as simple impatience and a desire not to introduce further delay into an already urgent situation. She'd seemed genuinely apologetic when he'd challenged her and more than willing to take the time to walk him through what he needed to know. Now he was feeling like it had all been one big con-game: when he'd refused to be railroaded, she'd turned on the charm and used Olivia's name and his own idiotic attraction to her to keep him off balance and stop him from finding out the truth.

Thrusting through the entrance to the suite occupied by Moya Enterprises and crossing the short distance to the reception desk, he snarled, "I want to see Frau Doktor Sun. Now."

The receptionist looked back at him with wide eyes and mouth open. "I…." She took a breath and steadied herself. "Frau Doktor Sun is busy, Herr Professor. I can schedule—."

"Not good enough," John snapped back. One hand raised to fend her off, he headed for the door that led into to the offices. "Where is she?"

"Herr Professor…," the receptionist protested, but he was through the door and leaving her behind before she could say more.

"Frau Doktor Sun," he called. Through the glass wall of the conference room to his right, he saw heads turn to look at him, but a quick sweep showed him she wasn't there. He gave the glass a thump with his fist that made it rattle anyway and marched on down the hallway. "Frau Doktor Sun!"

That funny little frog-faced man—Richter, wasn't it? The sales director—popped out of an office on the other side of the hall. "Herr Professor. Is there a problem?"

"You betcha there is." John glared at him as he strode past.

"Perhaps I can—." Herr Richter didn't finish his sentence as John flung open the door to Aeryn's office.

She must have heard him coming, because she was already on her feet and moving around her desk, an alarmed look on her face. John stopped in the doorway, his hand on the frame, blocking her from leaving. "We need to talk."

She halted, raising her eyebrows. "We do?"

"Uh-huh." He wasn't buying the innocent act.

She went on looking at him, her frown deepening. At last, she sighed. "Very well. Let me check my schedule. Perhaps this afternoon…." She began to turn away.

"No, now, goddammit! I want some goddamn answers." He smacked his fist against the door frame to emphasize the point and saw her jump at the sound.

Behind him, Richter squeaked, "Frau Doktor…?"

Aeryn stopped, her back to John, her shoulders tense. Then she slowly turned around, her gaze flicking past John to Richter for an instant, before coming back to rest on John's face. "It's all right, Herr Richter," she said. The words were spoken softly, though John could hear an edge of forced calmness in her tone as she gestured for John to step inside the office. "Come in, Herr Professor. But, please, close the door behind you. If we are to yell at each other, I would prefer we not do so in front of the entire company."

John gaped at her, the wind taken out of his sails for a moment by the coolness of her response. Then he rallied. Slamming the door shut, he stepped up close to her. A little to his surprise, she didn't flinch or back away. In fact, he got the impression from the way her body stiffened that she might be about to take a swing at him. "Why didn't you tell me about Skorpinski's offer to buy Moya Enterprises?" he demanded.

Now it was her turn to gape at him, her eyes widening in shock. Didn't expect that, did you? he thought with savage triumph.

Before he could press his attack further, she drew herself upright, her eyes narrowing a little. Holding his gaze, their faces close, she said in a level tone, "There is no offer."

"My ass there is." He raised his hands, jabbing them upward to emphasize his disbelief at her denial, moving even closer to her so that their faces were only a couple of inches apart. "Skorpinski just told me all about it. Said it's been on the table this whole time."

"No. It hasn't." Aeryn spoke very quietly and with absolute confidence. She went on looking at John for a few seconds longer, making it clear she wasn't going to back down, before she took a step away and turned and pressed the intercom button on her desk phone. She said something into the intercom in German in which John thought he caught the words Frau Crichton and Gammak. A tinny-sounding acknowledgment came from her secretary.

Turning back to John, but putting a more comfortable distance between them, Aeryn switched back to English. "Herr Skorpinski did make an offer for the company some weeks ago. Before Olivia's accident. It was turned down."

John gave her a suspicious look. "Skorpinski said it was still on the table. That he'd increased it quite considerably."

"Believe me, Herr Professor," Aeryn crossed her arms in front of her and shuddered slightly, "there is no sum of money on this earth that would induce me to accept an offer from Herr Skorpinski."

"Really?" John raised his eyebrows. "And Olivia was okay with that?"

"Yes." Again, Aeryn shivered, but she went on looking steadily at John. "I have asked my assistant to bring the file from her office with her notes. If you do not believe me, I trust you will believe her."

They stood in silence—John glaring at her but feeling increasingly foolish; Aeryn still with her arms crossed, her chin tilted up defiantly—for what seemed like an eternity, until there was a knock on the door. At Aeryn's brisk invitation, her secretary brought in a folder and handed it to John.

Aeryn nodded at the file as the secretary hastily ducked back out of the room. "That is everything concerning Herr Skorpinski's offer." She gestured toward the easy chairs where they had sat the first day. "Please. Sit, read."

Giving her a doubtful look, John took a seat and opened the file.

The top sheet of paper was a copy of an internal memo from Olivia and Aeryn to the whole company. The first paragraph was in German, but the second was in English and John realized they likely said much the same thing. We have recently received and declined an offer to purchase Moya Enterprises from Herr H Skorpinski of Gammak Industries. Herr Skorpinski and his representatives have continue to pursue the matter, despite being clearly informed that Moya Enterprises is not for sale. We respectfully ask all Moya employees to inform their line managers or ourselves immediately if they are approached on any matter by any representative of Gammak Industries.

Turning over the page, John reflected with dark amusement that he had at least adhered to that particular company directive.

The next sheet contained some jottings in English in Olivia's familiar handwriting, headed by a date about three weeks prior to her death. It seemed to be a record of an encounter with Skorpinski that had been the catalyst for Olivia to send the memo. Zweig also reported attempt to learn A's schedule/attendance at upcoming events.

Skorpinski certainly seemed persistent—especially when John read the next half a dozen items in the file: a letter to Skorpinski in German, apparently restating the refusal made earlier, across the bottom of which Olivia had scrawled, Let's hope he finally gets the message! A copy of that first refusal, with space for both Olivia's and Aeryn's signatures. Underneath that, several drafts, with an exchange in the margin of the first between Olivia's rounded cursive and a spikier hand that John guessed belonged to Aeryn.

Needs to be stronger—must be no room for doubt! Aeryn had ordered. Moya not (never) for sale to S. Not negotiable—price irrelevant!

Are you sure? Olivia had asked. Never?!

Never! Aeryn had underlined the word several times.

Whatever Aeryn's reasons for categorically turning down Skorpinski's offer, Olivia had apparently accepted them, scrawling a laconic OK underneath.

Below that John found a half dozen sheets stapled together that seemed to be background on Skorpinski: the pile contained photocopies of a birth certificate and an identity card, together with what looked like a record of Skorpinski's education and employment and some kind of company record for Gammak Industries. There were other documents John couldn't decipher. The whole thing was topped with a front sheet with a typed summary of dates and events. Someone—Olivia maybe?—had circled a five year gap that started not long after the time the Berlin Wall came down, and there was a post-it note on which Olivia had written, Where did the money come from?! with an arrow pointing to the date Gammak Industries had been set up.

Below that was what seemed to be Skorpinski's original formal offer for Moya.

John put the file down on the coffee table and looked up at Aeryn, who'd settled herself into the other chair. "Okay, I get it. You didn't want to sell to this Skorpinski at any price, and Olivia was okay with that." He shrugged. "I'm still not completely sure why—though I get that the guy may not be on the level. And I really don't understand why you didn't tell me there'd been an offer. Or at least give me the heads up last night, when I mentioned I'd met him. That way, I wouldn't have gone haring off to talk to him and then come storming in here like a bull in a china shop." He tilted his head and gave her an contrite grimace. "For which I apologize."

She nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything more, just went on looking at him as if trying to read his thoughts. At last, she sighed and lifted her hands briefly from her lap. "I though the matter was closed. That it was no longer relevant. And… Herr Skorpinski is not someone I enjoy thinking or speaking about."

"So you do have a history with him." John looked at her thoughtfully, wondering what had gone on between her and Skorpinski that had her so rattled, even now. He'd seen enough proof in her reaction to his own behavior to know she didn't spook easily. "And Olivia knew about that?"

"Yes."

John waited to see if she'd say more, but it seemed that was all he was going to get. Which wasn't completely unreasonable, except they were supposed to be in this together—at least for the next few weeks. He leaned forward, giving her an encouraging smile. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" She gave him a puzzled look and he realized that, although her English was fluent, it probably wasn't that idiomatic—or she simply didn't get his sense of humor. "Will you tell me?" he clarified.

She went on looking at him silently, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Then, just as he was about to shrug off the request as unimportant, she spoke. "When I…." She stopped, dropping her head and biting her lip again, as if figuring out how to say what she wanted to say. Keeping her head down, she went on, "When I worked for the government. Before the Wall came down."

She glanced up under her lashes at him and he nodded to show he understood: When I worked for the Stasi. To his surprise, she drew one leg up under the other, clasping her hands around her shin and relaxing her shoulders a little, before she carried on talking.

"Skorpinski worked for a different department. Concerned with… internal security. He was very senior. Back then, my mother was an officer in the NVA—the Army—and my father was a manager in a factory. One day, for some reason, both of them fell under suspicion of working against the government." She let out a harsh laugh. "Maybe there was no reason. Maybe someone simply had a grudge because he disliked the way one of them spoke to him."

She fell silent again, shaking her head. John waited, knowing this was difficult, giving her space and time. At last she went on. "Skorpinski was in charge of their case. He brought them in for questioning. I was there when they came for my father. My mother, she was with her unit at the time, so I did not know she was being questioned until… after."

She stopped speaking. John saw her gaze fixed on a point very far away—or long ago, perhaps; it must have been a good ten years since this had all taken place. He was beginning to regret asking her to talk, but it was too late to back down now.

Drawing in a deep breath, she went on, "When my mother returned home, she told me that Skorpinski had offered them both a deal. Testify against the other one and they would have demonstrated their loyalty to the state and would be free to return to work with no loss of rank. If neither of them would testify, they would both be imprisoned…."

"Well, that kinda sucks," John muttered. He could understand why Skorpinski was the last person on earth she'd want to do business with.

Aeryn's mouth curved into a wintry smile. "My father would not testify against my mother. My mother…." She shook her head, the smile turning into a grimace. "I don't know what they did to her, but when she came home, she was… not my mother. Not the woman I remembered. And my father was sent to prison and my mother came home. A week later, she killed herself." She lifted her gaze to meet John's, her expression daring him to despise her and her family and the system that had created them and destroyed them.

He looked steadily back at her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He shook his head slightly. "If I'd known, I—." He allowed himself a wry smile inside: probably would've yelled at Skorpinski instead, and you wouldn't have liked that any better.

Instead he instinctively reached forward, wanting to reassure her, to thank her for the confidence, to comfort her—and then stopped with his hand hovering over hers, remembering her irritation last time he'd done that, back when they were having lunch. He peered up at her, catching her eye, his heart beating a little faster as she gave him a tiny nod of encouragement. Covering her hand with his, he gave it gentle squeeze.

"You know," she said, looking down at his hand on hers, "you are very like your sister. She also could make me say things I did not mean to say."

"It's the Crichton way…." Somehow, he couldn't make as light of it as he wanted to. He stroked his thumb across the back of her wrist. "But I know that couldn't have been easy to share. Thank you for telling me, Frau Doktor."

"Aeryn." She turned her hand over, sliding her palm to fit against his. Looking up in surprise, he saw she was smiling a little at him. "I think, after telling you a thing like that about my mother and my father, you should call me Aeryn. When we are alone, of course." She tilted her head in the direction of the door and he realized that she wanted to retain the proper formalities in the office. Perhaps even more so after the scene he'd caused earlier.

"If you'll call me John," he countered, still running his thumb over her skin, her hand in his feeling so right that he wanted to never let it go.

She dipped her head in agreement—and then abruptly pulled her hand from his and stood up. "And now, John, I must ask you to leave. I do have much work to do, including some tasks that must be finished soon."

"Right." He had rather disrupted her day. He got to his feet as well. "Guess I'd better go play tourist for a while…."

"Try Alt-Sachsenhausen," she suggested, already moving back toward her desk. "Affentorplatz. Over the river. I think you will enjoy it."

"I'll do that." He headed for the door, pausing when he reached it. Maybe this wasn't the time to ask, but there wouldn't be a better time. "Aeryn?"

"Yes, John?" She swung back to face him, a sheaf of papers in her hands.

"Will you take that trip to the mountains with me this weekend?" Seeing her expression turn doubtful, he added hastily, "I know you're busy, but you must take a little time off every now and then for some R&R, right? So how about Sunday?"

She hesitated for a moment longer, before she nodded. "Very well. Sunday. I shall make arrangements."

Heading down in the elevator a few minutes later, John grinned happily to himself. Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

oOo

"You really call these mountains?" John looked at the slopes that rose a little way above them on one side, and fell not much further on the other, as he strode along beside Aeryn. Ahead and behind them, other groups of hikers were making their way along the neatly maintained and clearly waymarked trail.

"We do." She sounded irritated. After a moment, she added with an edge of sarcasm, "I suppose everything is bigger in America."

"Yup." He smirked at her, before growing more serious. "But it is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me."

"You're welcome." She shrugged one shoulder. John thought about telling her she was beautiful, too, because, if he were honest, he'd rather look at her than the scenery. She was wearing jeans that showed off her long legs, an olive green jacket that brought out the color of her eyes, and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, framing her face more softly than the severe braid she wore in the office. Apparently unaware of his scrutiny, she lifted her face to bask in the sun as the track reached a more open part of the forest.

He smirked again, this time congratulating himself on getting her out here. He'd half expected her to try and back out, but she'd picked him up from his hotel that morning at the agreed time. Her car—contrary to his expectation that she'd be driving something large, solid, practical and discreet—turned out to be a small, black convertible, which she'd piloted at unnerving speed to a parking lot at the head of the trail. There, she'd handed him a daysack like her own. "There's a café halfway round where we can have lunch," she'd informed him, before turning and striding off down the track.

He'd caught her up, matching her stride as they entered the woods. She didn't seem inclined to make conversation and John had been largely content to simply look around him and take in the scenery for the first twenty minutes or so. But when another five minutes had passed after he'd made his crack about the mountains, and they'd settled into a slightly easier pace, he asked carefully, "So Olivia liked coming here?"

"Mmm-hmm." Aeryn hitched the straps of her daysack a little higher on her shoulders. "Almost every weekend if the weather was good."

John nodded. "Yeah, she always liked hiking. Used to go off on her own round the lake while me and Dad were fishing when we were on vacation." He chuckled to himself. "Though that mighta been because she hated fishing. Said it was boring."

"Is it not?" Aeryn shot him a sideways glance and John realized she was paying him back for the remark about the mountains—though without any real malice in her tone.

"Nah." He reached out and brushed his hand over the leaves of the low bushes that lined the trail at this point. "It's… restful."

Aeryn didn't say anything.

They walked on a while longer in silence, until John tried again. "So, do you come out here too?"

"Sometimes." The trail began to rise a little more steeply, but Aeryn's stride didn't slacken. "Mostly I prefer to work out in the gym."

"Weights? Aerobics?" He was trying to imagine her in a leotard and legwarmers. It wasn't an unpleasant image.

She hesitated for a second and then said flatly, as if daring him to laugh, "Kickboxing. And judo."

"Crap," he breathed. She must have heard him, because she shot him a puzzled look. He snorted a laugh. "When I stormed into your office the other day…. God, I had no idea how much trouble I coulda been in."

She rolled her eyes. "I would not have hurt you, John." She hesitated, and then her lips twitched. "Probably. Much."

John chuckled and she joined in, giving him one of her rare warm smiles. The day suddenly seemed much brighter and hotter, even though they were passing through a stand of firs whose low branches shaded the path.

Or maybe it just seemed hotter because the trail had abruptly taken a steeper turn. John was out of breath by the time the ground leveled out several minutes later. Aeryn looked untroubled: he guessed kickboxing kept you a lot fitter than gently jogging five miles a couple of times a week. Especially when that was mostly an excuse to shoot the breeze with DK.

He and Aeryn had emerged into the sun again, the hillside falling away sharply on one side, opening up the view across a valley to another line of hills. Spotting an outcrop of rock just below the path that looked like a comfortable place to perch, John gestured toward it. "Let's take a breather."

Aeryn glanced across at him, making a quick assessment of his condition, and nodded. She led the way to the ledge and, swinging her daysack from her shoulders, settled herself down. As she gazed out over the valley below, she groped blindly for her water bottle and took a drink.

John flopped down next to her, pulling out his own bottle and taking a long swig. Capping the bottle, he looked across at her. She'd once more gone away inside herself, her expression distant. It wasn't that she resented him being there or disliked his company, he realized. It was just that she didn't have the same need to be with people as he did.

Stowing his bottle away, he cleared his throat. "So, have you lived in Frankfurt for long?"

She took another sip of water. "Seven—no, eight years. I came here for my doctorate and, after that, it seemed a good place to do the work I wanted to do."

A quick calculation showed him she must have arrived not long after reunification. Probably couldn't wait to get out of the East, after what happened to her parents. Not wishing to re-open old wounds, he asked instead, "You didn't want to stay an academic?"

She laughed softly. "No, but it is necessary to be Doktor-Ingenieur if you wish to succeed in industry."

"Especially if you're a woman?" It was only half a question.

"Especially if you are a woman." She put her own water bottle away. "You did not want to go into industry?"

"Not much call for what I do in industry." He gave a self-deprecating shrug.

She turned her head toward him and gave him a slightly disbelieving look. "You are a smart man, John. I am sure many companies would be happy to employ your talents."

"Yeah, but they probably wouldn't like my attitude." He grinned at her and felt a flutter of pleasure as she responded with the smile he'd been trying to provoke. Something else caught his attention, a flicker of movement. He tilting his head slightly. "Oh, hey, you've got a bug in your hair."

"I have?"

She started to put her hand up to brush the insect off, but he shook his head. "Let me." Leaning forward as she twisted to face him, he curved his fingers and flicked away the offending creature.

He was close to her now, close enough to smell whatever shampoo she'd used. He brushed the back of his fingertips against her hair again, sliding his hand down to lightly cup her head. He could feel her tense under his touch, but she didn't pull away. Taking it as a sign to go on, he leaned closer, angling his head a little more.

And stopped, his lips just short of hers. Near enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to breathe in her own scent. Wanting to be sure. Wanting her to want this as much as he did. Not simply enduring it because she either was too polite to say no or because she though it would appease him before she turned him down.

He could sense her confusion at him holding back, even as she twisted her head a little to offer her mouth up to his, moving toward him a fraction and parting her lips slightly. It was enough. Edging in the rest of the way, he captured her mouth with his, the taste of her sweet and glorious, heat flooding through him as she responded and kissed him back.

He kept the kiss light and brief, drawing back while he still wanted more—so much more. Hoping that would leave her wanting more as well. He didn't pull back far though, resting his forehead against hers, still cradling her head in his hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek.

They stayed like that for a long moment, neither of them speaking. At least she wasn't trying to draw away. She ran her tongue over her lips, perhaps trying to still taste him, and he ached to pull her back toward him—but he wanted her to make the next move, to take the lead.

At last, when it didn't seem like she was going to say anything or do anything else, he cleared his throat. "Guess I probably broke about fifteen local taboos there, huh?" He sounded a little hoarse in his own ears, desire and a touch of fear coloring his words.

Her mouth widened into a smile. "I doubt it," she murmured. "We Germans are not so prudish as you Americans." She pulled back then, tilting her head back so she could look into his eyes. Her own were bright and her cheeks were flushed. "That is the right word? Prudish?"

He nodded. "It's one of them, yeah." He went on gazing at her, hoping she could read something of the feelings swirling inside him: yes, he wanted her, but he also wanted her to want him, to like him, to enjoy his company as much as he was starting to enjoy hers. There was a word for all of that, though it was too soon for it.

She looked back at him, her expression turning a little more thoughtful as she examined his face. Then she sat up straighter, moving back. "We should be walking again if we want to have lunch," she said brusquely.

"Right." He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, though he had no real reason to be disappointed. He'd kissed her, she'd liked it well enough she hadn't stormed off or punched him in the face, and she still wanted to have lunch. He was just going to have to be patient and move slowly.

She turned away and gathered up her daysack in one hand and then, not really looking at him beyond a half glance sideways, reached out and caught his hand, where it rested on his knee, and gave it a brief squeeze. Shed pushed up onto her feet and headed back to the path before he could respond.

He sat where he was, his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn't much of a gesture and yet, from her, it was the equivalent of a passionate embrace. Swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat, he grabbed his own bag and hurried after her.

Catching her up, he didn't try to touch her, but he walked closer than before, his arm or shoulder occasionally brushing against hers as they made their way along the track. She didn't say anything, but she didn't try to move away, and from time to time he thought he caught a small smile on her face, even as she steadfastly kept her eyes on the trail ahead.

They didn't speak more than the occasional word until they reached the café at the halfway point. There, Aeryn unbent a little more to explain the menu and the various local specialties to him—with the veiled implication at every turn that the dishes from her home town were infinitely superior.

Despite all the main courses seeming to involve some combination of potato, cabbage and sausage, John enjoyed the meal. The two of them lingered afterward over coffee, talking about the places they'd visited. Aeryn gave him the impression she'd traveled across most of Europe, while John had been to fewer countries but further afield. He made her laugh with stories of his year as a visiting professor in Australia: "Beer, barbies on the beach and the biggest damn deadly spiders you ever saw…."

At last, they continued on their hike, the trail taking them in a circle back to the parking lot where they'd started. They were mostly silent again, although without the slight awkwardness of before lunch. At one point, John took her hand, not really thinking about what he was doing but suddenly finding his fingers were linked in hers. She let him hold it for a while, until the trail narrowed and she pulled away from him to go ahead. When she didn't make any move to offer her hand back to him, he didn't try again, though he was more conscious than ever of her presence at his side the rest of the way back to the car.

Another scarily fast drive later, they pulled up outside his hotel. John had stayed quiet, not wanting to distract her from the road and busy trying to figure out his own next move. As they drew to a halt, Aeryn killed the engine, putting her hands back on the steering wheel. John twisted in his seat so he could look at her. Taking in the stern expression on her face, he didn't try to speak, waiting for her lead.

Not looking at him, she said quietly, "About earlier…."

"Mmm-hmm?" He licked his lips, remembering the taste of her.

"I don't think either of us is… where we usually are. Since Olivia…." Her voice was a little raw.

"Right." He swallowed, readying himself for the let down.

She turned and looked at him, her gaze direct. "I like you, John. More than I expected." She gave him a wintry smile. "But this is not a good time. It is best we keep things professional until our business is concluded, I think."

"Yeah." He nodded. She was right, of course, even though he ached for her, body and mind. And she wasn't slamming the door completely in his face. Just asking him not to try to open it for a while. He reached out and briefly brushed his knuckles against the back of her hand, before climbing briskly out of the car.

Rounding the car, he rested his hand on the door, gazing down at her for a long moment while she looked up at him apprehensively. He tilted his head in salute. "Take care, Aeryn," he said softly. "And if you need anything, anything at all…."

She nodded, facing forward again and firing the engine as he straightened and stepped back. With a little more speed and noise than was strictly necessary, she drove away.

oOo

Part Two

John sat down on the edge of the bed, giving his hair, still a little damp from the shower he'd just taken, a final scrub dry. He threw the towel on the floor. It felt good to be in fresh clothes, even if his legs were aching from the previous day's hike, and from a slow stroll around the Palmengarten this afternoon as he'd played tourist again. He'd spent some of the morning in Aeryn's office, signing another two contracts. She'd been brisk and a little distant, but not unfriendly. He'd followed her lead, keeping things professional and being careful to address her as Frau Doktor.

Checking his watch, he saw it was late enough to call his father, whether he was in Houston or Canaveral.

"Hey, Dad," he said, when his father finally picked up.

"Hello, son." His father sounded tired. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." John rubbed a hand over his face. "How are things where you are?"

"Fine." There was a pause. He and Dad had never really been good at phone conversations, and even more so now. His father cleared his throat. "Susan and Bobby are here for a few days. It's been good to have a chance to talk to your sister—and you know Bobby…. Never a dull moment."

"Right." John laughed. His nephew was nine years old and seemed to have boundless energy—and a capacity for getting into trouble that beat even John's at the same age.

"So, how long are you gonna be out there?" His father hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "Would be good to see you down here, too."

"I dunno, Dad. Things have turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected." John hoped his father wouldn't ask for details. He didn't want to have to break the news over the phone that Olivia's accident might not have been so accidental—not when he couldn't tell his father anything more concrete than that the police and insurance company thought there were "suspicious circumstances".

And then there was the unexpected tangle of his feelings for Aeryn. A part of him was reluctant to leave Germany while things were so unclear between them, but he couldn't see that changing for a while. Not while Livvy's death was still so new and raw.

His father barked a laugh. "Germans giving you trouble?"

"Something like that." John smiled wryly to himself. "I'll be home soon as I can, I promise."

"Okay. Keep me posted." With a brief goodbye, his father hung up.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, John realized he was hungry. He should go grab something to eat in the restaurant. Maybe he could try one of those local dishes Aeryn had explained to him.

Crossing the hotel lobby a few minutes later, with his thoughts turned inward as he ran through his memories of the previous day, he was startled when someone stepped in front of him.

"Herr Professor…."

Focusing his gaze on the speaker, he was even more surprised when he realized who'd accosted him. "Herr Skorpinski. I didn't expect to see you here."

Skorpinski inclined his head. "I was hoping to speak with you, Herr Professor. I was most disappointed when I did not hear from you after you left my office on Thursday."

John scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Yeah, well…."

"Perhaps we could have a drink together?" Skorpinski turned and gestured toward the bar with one hand, while shepherding John in the direction he wanted him to go with the other. Without quite knowing how it had happened, John found himself walking into the dimly lit lounge at Skorpinski's side.

"You have tried our local apple wine yet?" Skorpinski waved a hand to call the bartender.

"Uh, yeah…. Look." John stopped and turned to face Skorpinski, who gave him a courteously puzzled look. "I don't want to waste your time, Herr Skorpinski. I spoke to Frau Doktor Sun and she explained that she'd already turned down your earlier offer and wasn't interested in a new one."

"I see." Skorpinski regarded him thoughtfully. "But perhaps your sister would have wanted you to accept a higher offer?"

"I don't think so." John was beginning to understand Olivia's exasperated note about Skorpinski finally getting the message.

"Are you sure?" Skorpinski switched his attention to the bartender, who'd reached them and was looking enquiringly between them. "Zwei Ebbelwoi, bitte."

"Look, no." John held up a hand and then turned and included the bartender in the gesture. "Thank you, but no. I've seen my sister's notes. I've talked to Aeryn. Neither of them wanted to sell—and neither do I."

Skorpinski's eyes narrowed a little, but his words remained soft as he spoke. "You disappoint me, Herr Professor. I had hoped we could discuss this like reasonable men. That you could persuade Frau Doktor Sun to change her mind."

John's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I don't think I could persuade Frau Doktor Sun to change her mind about anything. Besides, she has first refusal on Olivia's shares. I couldn't sell you Olivia's half even if I wanted to."

"Yes, I see." Skorpinski dipped his head. "Though Frau Doktor Sun must complete the purchase within a certain time, I think?"

"Yes, but—." John stopped, wondering why the hell he was still talking to Skorpinski and telling him his private business. Aeryn's private business.

Skorpinski gave him a thin-lipped smile. "There will be an insurance policy. Of course. Well, do be sure to call me if circumstances change." He gave a slight bow. "Good evening, Herr Professor."

John watched him leave the lounge, feeling a mixture of relief and unease. Skorpinski seemed to know entirely too much about Moya Enterprises and what was going on inside—and John had a feeling that Skorpinski maybe hadn't come by that knowledge entirely honestly. Of course, he had no proof of that….

He turned back to the bar, reckoning he needed something stiffer than apple wine to steady his nerves—and to prepare him for the task of telling Aeryn what had just happened. Which he should do sooner rather than later; he didn't think she'd want him to wait until morning.

Pulling his cellphone from his pocket, he realized he didn't have her number on him. And this wasn't a conversation to have in public, anyway. With a last regretful glance at the bar, he trudged back up to his room to find the faxes her secretary had sent with the details of his travel arrangements. He remembered she'd included Aeryn's work cellphone as well as the office number.

Aeryn's phone went to voicemail. John waited for the beep. "Hey, Aeryn. It's John. I, uh… I just had another approach from that Skorpinski guy. Here at the hotel. Thought you should know. Uh… call me back?"

He hung up and sat with the phone in his hand, wondering how long he'd have to wait. Before he could make up his mind whether to head back down to the restaurant or order room service, the phone rang. He almost dropped it, juggling it for a moment before he managed to answer it.

"John, it's Aeryn. I was going to call you anyway." She sounded tired.

"You were?" For a second, his heart leaped at the thought she might have changed her mind about keeping things strictly professional, but he quickly put the idea aside.

"Yes. But tell me about Skorpinski first."

John relayed the substance of his conversation down in the bar. "I told him no. That Moya wasn't for sale. But I'm not sure he doesn't think he can get me to change my mind. And I think he knows there's a problem with the insurance."

Even down the phone line, he could hear Aeryn sigh. "That would not surprise me." She fell silent.

"Aeryn? You were going to call me?" John worried at a loose thread on his cuff.

She sighed again. "Yes. It is about the investigation into Olivia's death. The police wish to speak to me tomorrow. I told them it would be best to have you there also if possible. It will be at the office at eleven."

"I can be there." He hesitated. "Do you know what they want?"

"No. But it cannot be good if they are coming from Munich to speak to us."

"Yeah." He worried at the thread again for a moment. "Aeryn, if you want, I—." He stopped. He wanted to offer to spend the evening with her. Not for the same reason he'd wanted her to come hiking with him, to get to know her better, but because he thought she might not want to spend the evening alone, thinking about what the police might have to say and whether Skorpinski would be back. He knew he sure didn't. But she might well take it the wrong way.

"John?"

Her puzzled question made him realize he'd paused mid-sentence. He shook his head to try and clear it. "Nothing," he said. "Never mind. I'll see you at the office tomorrow."

oOo

John carefully observed the two heavyset detectives sitting opposite him as they talked to Aeryn. He'd gathered from the introductions that one of them worked for the state police in Bavaria, where Olivia had died, and the other for some kind of federal criminal agency, similar to the FBI. He wasn't quite sure which was which: the introductions had all been made in German, before Aeryn had turned to him and apologetically explained to him that neither man spoke good enough English for them to switch languages. "I will translate," she had promised.

One of the detectives—the one with a shock of fair hair and very pink skin; the other was darker and had a mustache—finished explaining something to Aeryn and reached into his briefcase for a file. He opened it, turned it around and slid it across the low coffee table around which they were grouped.

The file contained a number of large color photographs. It took John a moment, while the detective slid the top one sideways to reveal the one underneath, to realize he was looking at the underside of a car. The second photograph showed a close up of a cluster of cables.

"This is Olivia's car?" John glanced across at Aeryn, eyebrows raised.

"Yes." She gestured toward the two detectives. "The police made a forensic examination. They believe the brakes were sabotaged. There were cuts, very small, very precise, in the… the cables, yes?" She seemed uncertain whether she had the right word in English and he nodded to show it was correct. "They do not think these could have happened by accident. The cables slowly leaked and…." She caught her bottom lip with her teeth.

"And the brakes failed when she was on the autobahn?" John finished for her. He was close enough to be able to tell she was trembling slightly, though her face was steady enough. He resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her arm in comfort, remembering her request to keep things formal when they were around other people.

She nodded. "They think the cuts were probably made at her hotel the night before, when her car was parked."

"Crap." John sat back, scrubbing a hand through his hair. The news wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was one thing to know there was a possibility Olivia had been murdered and quite another to be presented with firm evidence of a careful and meticulously executed plan.

He went on looking at the photographs, while one of the detectives asked Aeryn something in which John caught his own name—probably whether he'd understood the conversation so far, to judge from Aeryn's response. He reached forward for the folder and then glanced up the detectives. "May I?"

The meaning must have been clear enough, because Blondie nodded. John picked up the folder and began to study the pictures. Whoever had sabotaged the car had known exactly what they were doing: the damage had been done in just the right spot that the leaking brake fluid would coat several other parts before dripping onto the ground, making it unlikely the leak would be noticed before Olivia drove away.

He was aware, as he turned the pictures, that the detectives were asking Aeryn a series of questions. Her answers had taken on the curt tone he remembered from their own first meeting, and she suddenly stiffened. Looking up, he saw she was staring at them white faced, her eyes blazing. She spat out what sounded like an angry denial.

John leaned closer to her and murmured, "What is it? What are they saying?"

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, her gaze still locked with Blondie's. "They are asking about the insurance policy." Her accent, normally quite faint, had grown stronger. "About how I will be able to buy Olivia's shares. They are asking if we ever argued about business."

John frowned, taking a moment to catch up. His jaw dropped when he understood the implication. "Wait, you're saying—? They're saying—?"

"That I arranged for Olivia to die so that Moya would be all mine?" She turned her head toward John and he saw the anguish mixed in with her anger. "Yes. They have not said it so plainly, but clearly I am their—how do your American police shows put it?—their chief suspect."

John gaped at her for a moment longer, before he turned back to Blondie and Mustache Man. "You're crazy. There's no way! Aeryn wouldn't, Frau Doktor Sun wouldn't…." He couldn't even finish the sentence; it was so ludicrous. He shook his head. "No. You're wrong."

Blondie glanced across at Aeryn and then put up his hand slightly, indicating she didn't need to translate: John had made his meaning clear enough. Instead, he jerked his head slightly in John's direction and said something.

Aeryn, her voice a little calmer, translated. "He wants me to ask you how Olivia seemed when you last spoke to her. Was she worried? Did she seem under a lot of stress? Did she talk about any problems?"

John thought back to his last call with Olivia, a month or so before her death. "No." He turned to face the two detectives. "She was happy. Excited. She loved living here. Loved her work. She said everything was going well with the company. That soon they were going to take over the world."

He glanced across at Aeryn as she translated what he said and saw he'd managed to conjure a faint smile from her, a little of the tension easing out of her face. Blondie regarded her thoughtfully, before rattling out another question. Aeryn paused for a moment, clearly thinking, before shaking her head as she answered. Blondie jerked his head in John's direction, asking her to put the same question to him.

She half turned, not quite looking at him. "He wants to know if Olivia had any enemies. Jealous ex-boyfriends, that kind of thing?"

John shook his head, not needing to take the time to think about it. "Not that she said. She used to complain every once in a while that she only ever found jerks to date, but I don't think any of them caused her any real trouble." He looked back at Blondie, his gaze challenging. "I tell you who has been acting like a stalker, though. That Skorpinski guy. And he's got the background for it."

"Yes." Aeryn sighed. "I was thinking of him also."

Blondie switched his attention from John to Aeryn, barking out what was presumably a demand to know what they were talking about. Aeryn embarked on a long explanation in which John caught Skorpinski's name. Both detectives wore increasingly skeptical expressions that suggested they were still looking to pin the crime on Aeryn and thought she'd timed the murder to take advantage of a convenient scapegoat. Mustache Man did at least pull out a notebook and scrawl a few lines into it—presumably Skorpinski's details.

Aeryn finished speaking, looking anxiously between the detectives. Blondie lumbered to his feet and the rest of them rose as well. He and Aeryn exchanged a few words, before he put his hand out for the file John was still holding. John gave it back, wondering if this meant the interview was over. He would have liked to ask more questions—Did they have any other suspects? Had they interviewed the hotel staff?—but he didn't think he'd have much luck getting any answers. Blondie was already shoving the file back in his briefcase and heading for the door, Mustache Man a pace behind.

"They want to interview some of the other staff." Aeryn threw the brief explanation in John's direction as she hurried after them. He could hear her talking to her secretary in the outer office, presumably making arrangements. After a few minutes, she came back in to her office, shutting the door and leaning back against it with her eyes closed.

"Aeryn?" John had sat back down while he waited, but he got to his feet when she didn't reply or even show any sign she'd heard him. Moving closer, he realized she was shivering. He reached out and touched her arm. "Hey…."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, but he wasn't sure she really saw him, her gaze a little wild.

"Hey," he said for a second time, taking her by the arm and leading her back to the chairs. "Come and sit down."

She came willingly enough—too willingly, as if she was a pull-along toy or a rag doll. Turning one of the chairs around, he settled her in it, before perching on the edge of a second chair and peering anxiously at her. She was staring down at her hands, linked in her lap. He reached out and put his own hand over hers. She didn't move.

"Aeryn? Talk to me?"

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip.

"Are you worried about what those detectives said? That they think you were responsible for Olivia's death?" He ducked his head down a little to try and catch her eye, but she turned her head away from him. He reached up and cupped her chin, gently forcing her to look at him again. "They'll figure it out," he promised. "They'll figure out it wasn't you."

She looked at him as if she wanted to believe him—before abruptly pushing to her feet and shoving past him. He reeled back in his chair, startled at the violence of the gesture. Even when she'd been angry or impatient or disapproving, she'd always been so controlled. But this—?

He turned and saw she'd only made it a few steps before veering off and leaning her forehead against the window. Her shoulders were shaking. Getting up, he approached her cautiously and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder lightly. She flinched, as if trying to throw him off, but he tightened his grip. "Aeryn, what is it? Talk to me."

"I should have been in the car." The words came out choked, barely intelligible.

John blinked. "What?"

Aeryn wheeled round on him, her face streaked with tears. "I was supposed to be in the car," she snarled. Then she crumpled, almost as if she'd been hamstrung or didn't have the strength to stand up any longer. John caught her and held her close, pressing her face into his shoulder as she heaved one dry sob after another.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay."

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say—maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all—because she tried to pull away from him again. He didn't let her, but deftly steered her back to the chair, almost as if they were dancing, and sat her back down. Squatting on the edge of the chair opposite, he took her hands in his.

"Talk to me," he said for the third time. "You were supposed to be in the car? With Olivia?"

She nodded. Pulling one hand out of his, she smeared away the tears on her cheek. "We were at a trade show in Munich, the two of us, but there was a problem with a client." Her voice was still rough-edged. "So I picked up a hire car and drove back alone a day early." She pulled her other hand away from John's and covered her face. Her next words were muffled but John could still make them out. "Olivia would never let me drive when we were together. She said I was too crazy, too fast…."

John put his hands on her wrists and gently drew her hands away from her face. He bent to catch her eye. "It wasn't your fault," he reminded her softly, though he could now understand a little better why the police had her at the top of their list of suspects. Understood, too, that she'd been carrying this around alone for weeks, wondering why she was still alive and Olivia was dead, and feeling guilty about it. John might have spent most of the past few weeks wanting to cuss out the universe for letting Livvy die, but at least he didn't blame himself. "You didn't cause the crash," he pointed out. "It would have happened whether you were there or not. It would have happened even if you'd been driving."

"I know." She pressed her lips together.

He cupped her face for a moment between his hands, holding her gaze and trying to pour a measure of reassurance into her, before he leaned forward and dropped a kiss in her hair. "Come on. I'll take you home. You're in no fit state to be at the office right now."

She scrubbed a hand across her face again, smearing away a few more stray tears. "I'll be fine—."

"Don't argue," he ordered as he got to his feet. "It's another of those Crichton family traits. We always win."

As he'd hoped, that produced a hiccuping laugh. He headed for the outer office, glad to find Aeryn's secretary was at her desk.

"Frau Zweig, Frau Doktor Sun is feeling a little unwell. Could you please arrange a taxi to take her home."

Frau Zweig reached for the phone. "Is she sick? Should I call a doctor?"

John shook his head. "No. That won't be necessary."

Frau Zweig nodded.

John headed back into Aeryn's office, closing the door behind him so that she wouldn't need to put on her brave face until they headed downstairs to the taxi. She hadn't moved, except to sink back a little in her chair and turn her gaze downward again.

He looked around. "Did you bring a coat? A bag?"

"By the desk. No coat." As he moved toward the desk, she added, "I need my laptop."

Her bag turned out to be the case for the laptop. By the time he'd carefully packed up the machine and its cables and handed the bag to Aeryn, Frau Zweig was knocking on the door to let them know the taxi was waiting downstairs.

Aeryn took a moment to compose herself, producing a face wipe from the case to dab under her eyes, before throwing her shoulders back and marching down the hallway ahead of John. He almost expected her to stop halfway and insist she was just fine and would be staying at the office, but they made it downstairs and into the taxi. Only when he was sitting next to her and she gave the address in a hoarse voice did he realize she was still shivering.

She didn't invite him in, and he didn't ask, but it seemed to be understood between them. She waited on the sidewalk while he shoved a handful of deutschmarks at the taxi driver and then she led him inside. Her hands shook as she tried to unlock the outer door and she fumbled and dropped the key. Picking it up, he let them in. He offered the key back to her, but she shook her head, acknowledging she'd likely only drop it again, so he kept hold of it as they rode up in the elevator and he let them into her apartment.

"Shoes, please," she said curtly as she slipped off her own and placed them neatly on a rack just inside the door. "There are house shoes." She pointed to a box of felt slippers next to the shoe rack and disappeared down the hallway.

By the time John had unlaced his shoes and followed, the slippers feeling strange on his feet, Aeryn had put her case on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the open-plan living space and thrown her jacket down next to it—and reached the limit of what she was capable of. She was leaning against the counter, her hands curled around the edge, staring down at the polished black granite.

Moving toward her, John glanced around, gaining an impression of space and light and simplicity before he focused his attention back on Aeryn. Reaching her side, he touched her gently on the shoulder. "Why don't you sit down," he suggested softly.

She didn't move, but he didn't press the suggestion, just kept his hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was there. He could feel the tension slowly easing out her. At last she drew in a deep breath. "I miss her," she said quietly. "So much."

"I know." He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

Truth was, he couldn't really imagine what it was like for Aeryn. He missed Livvy, too. Of course he did. But what he missed—what brought him up with a jolt each time he remembered it wasn't true any more—was the knowledge Livvy was there, even if there was a quarter of the way around the world and six time zones away and they only spoke on the phone every few weeks. Knowing she was there to celebrate good news with him, or help soften the bad, or dispense some of that famed Crichton wisdom—or simply lend an ear—when he needed it. He choked back a wry chuckle as he realized this tangle he'd gotten himself into with Aeryn was exactly the sort of thing he would've called Livvy about.

But Aeryn? Aeryn had worked alongside her, day in and day out, for most of the last two years; the Olivia-sized hole in her life must be vast and raw-edged and ever-present.

He went on standing there with his hand resting lightly on Aeryn's shoulder until she drew in another deep breath and pushed away from the counter. Turning away from him, she drifted across the room to where two couches were grouped around a low table. She sat down, folding herself up with her arms wrapped around one drawn-up knee.

John followed, settling himself next to her, leaning forward with his hands hanging limply between his knees. He found himself looking at the photographs that were grouped on the table at the end of the other couch. One of them had clearly been professionally taken, but had the intimacy of a family snap: Olivia and Aeryn, in a garden somewhere, drinks in their hands and dressed for a formal event, but laughing together—no giggling, even: heads bent close, sharing some private joke….

"I keep wanting to ask her things." Aeryn's voice, breaking into his thoughts, was steadier now, but laced with grief. "Or catching myself being about to tell other people to talk to her, not me. Because that's her part of the company, you know. That's her stuff."

"Uh-huh." John nodded to show he did understand, the sentiment if not the detail. He sat upright, turning his head to look at her. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, her thoughts turned inside.

"And I keep wanting to tell her things, too: that I made the decision to do this, that we've won that client, that I ran across something we should look into." She sighed and leaned sideways a little, letting her shoulder rest against John's. "I'm tired of making all the decisions on my own. I'm tired of being alone."

He turned a little further and bent his head, pressing his face to her bared shoulder, breathing in the scent of her skin, nuzzling her almost as an animal might. She didn't move, accepting the gesture and the comfort he was trying to offer.

Raising his head slightly, he dropped a gentle kiss just beside the strap of her tank top. She turned, then, lowering her head: not enough for him to catch her eye, but bringing her mouth closer to his.

He didn't know what he wanted; he didn't know what she wanted; or what he was offering and what she would accept; both of them hesitating, uncertain….

And then she ducked her head and captured his lips with hers, tentatively at first and then fiercely, and more fiercely still, as he yielded to the kiss and began to return it.

Twisting, she hauled herself into his lap, straddling him, her mouth urgent and hungry on his. Her hands grasped his jacket, hauling it off. Fighting his hands free, he circled his arms around her waist, drawing her close as he kissed her back as frantically as she was kissing him.

Her hands were trapped between them, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt and his belt and his pants, and she was rocking against him, her heat sliding over his hardening cock. They could fuck right here—a couple of minutes more and they would—but God, there had to be a bed somewhere in this place, and a bed would be so much better.

Sliding his hands down to steady her and lift her, he thrust to his feet. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he croaked, "Where—?"

She waved one hand in the direction they'd entered from. "Second door," she gasped, her voice rough. She clung to him, pressing her face against his neck, as he staggered into the hallway, shouldered his way through the door to the bedroom, and fell on to the bed with her underneath him and still wrapped around him.

She let out a slightly pained breath as they landed. Levering himself up on his arms, he peered down at her anxiously. "Are you—?"

He didn't get a chance to finish the question—the answer was obviously yes—because she yanked him toward her, pulling his mouth back down onto hers.

The next couple of minutes were a frenzy of helping each other out of their clothes, mouths frantically seeking each other again each time they were forced to pull apart, shivers running through them as hands slid over exposed skin that felt electric. At some point, Aeryn loosened her hair and John thrust his fingers into it, reveling in its dark softness as it came tumbling down around them.

When they were down to underwear, Aeryn effortlessly rolled them over so that she was on top again, straddling him. Sitting up, she reached for the bottom edge of her bra—a simple, practical, black sports bra; no real surprise—and pulled it off over her head, revealing breasts that were fuller and heavier than John had expected. He reached up and cupped them, running his thumbs across her nipples, already hard but hardening further under his touch. She let out a low moan and arched her back, pressing herself into his hands.

John groaned as well, his cock straining against his briefs as she thrust her hips towards him. Reluctantly letting go with one hand, he levered himself upwards, wrapping his arm around her to draw her to him for another desperate kiss while his other hand continued to caress her breast.

Without breaking the kiss, she shifted and wriggled, shedding her panties and pulling his briefs partway down his thighs, letting his cock spring free so there was nothing between his scorching flesh and her blazing skin. She ran her palm along his length and he growled deep in his throat as a surge of pleasure jolted through him. He felt her lifting herself, angling him so—.

With an effort of will, he pulled his mouth away from hers. "Shouldn't we—?" he gasped. "Protection…." Seeing the confused look on her face, he tried again, barely able to form the word, because he was so desperate for her, so close, "Contraception!"

Her mouth formed an oh of understanding. "That? Yes. I have." Her voice was rough as she gave her cryptic response, almost as breathless as his own.

"Y—?" was all he managed, before his words were cut off in a strangled cry as she guided him into her and slowly and unhesitatingly sank down on him, her heat surrounding him.

He buried his face in her neck, biting back another cry as she began to move. She had her hand between them, helping herself to her climax as she slid over him, and he gritted his teeth together, trying not to notice how fucking amazing it felt: to have her around him, to be inside her, to have her moving over him and over him, faster and faster, rougher and rougher. Because this was about him letting her take what she needed from him, had been from the moment she'd climbed onto his lap, and he needed to hold on, hold on, hold—.

She let out a ragged cry as she came, her fingers digging tightly into his shoulder, the waves of her pleasure pulsing around him. And then he couldn't hold on any longer, tumbling after her, his own cry stifled against her neck.

They sagged against each other, panting. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her waist, pulling her closer, breathing in sweat and the smell of sex and feeling like he'd just blasted into orbit from Cape Canaveral and was now free-falling in space.

He guessed he was a little light-headed.

She began to pull away from him, and he let her slide off him, before he drew them both down onto the bed, his arm around her. Scrabbling around with his other hand, he managed to find enough of the bedcovers to drag across them. His briefs were still awkwardly somewhere at half-mast around his thighs, but he ignored the discomfort, not wanting to break the connection between them or let her escape.

She lay looking at him for a long moment, before she turned her face into his shoulder. She was shaking, but he didn't think it was from the chill of the air against their cooling bodies. It felt like she was crying, or close to it.

He didn't say anything, just tightened his arm around her and gently stroked her hair with his free hand, until she relaxed against him and fell asleep.

oOo

John was woken by Aeryn sliding out of bed. He reached out a hand to stop her.

Not looking at him, she gave his hand a squeeze. "I am going to take a shower. You can have one also when I finish, if you like." She stood up and headed for the door.

John propped himself on one elbow and watched her go, admiring the view of her naked from the rear, something he'd not had much chance to appreciate earlier. He could see evidence of the time she spent in the gym, but she still had curves. Very lovely curves.

He resisted the urge to call her back, and instead flopped down again, covering his eyes with his arm. He didn't regret having sex with her—how could he ever regret something so enjoyable?—but it did make things… complicated. Awkward.

He lay there thinking about Aeryn, about Olivia, about this whole damn mess, and what he wanted and what he was likely to get. All the time remembering what it had been like to make love to Aeryn: the feel of her against him and how she smelled and the way she'd responded to his touch. Imagined what it would be like to make love to her again, slowly and gently instead of quickly and frantically.

Not that that was likely to happen any time soon.

He'd only half figured out what he was going to say to her—or try to say, assuming she'd listen at all—when she stuck her head around the bedroom door.

"I am done. The bathroom is for you." She pulled her head back out of sight before he could say anything.

Heaving a sigh, he hauled himself out of bed and padded down the hallway to where he'd—correctly—deduced he'd find the bathroom. She'd set out a towel and soap for him. Reluctantly, he stepped into the shower and began to sluice the scent of their lovemaking off of his body.

By the time he made it back to the bedroom, she'd picked the place up: straightening the bedcovers, tidying away her own clothes and placing his neatly on the bed. He dressed quickly and, dropping the towel off in the bathroom on the way, headed for the main room.

He found her standing by the tall windows that led out onto a large plant-filled balcony. She was wearing a plain t-shirt and dark pants, and slowly brushing her still-damp hair. He could tell from the way the hairbrush paused briefly in its rhythm that she was aware he was there, but she didn't turn.

He crossed to stand close behind her. "Aeryn?" He reached out and put his hand on her waist. The hairbrush stopped moving again, but she didn't pull away from his touch. He slid his arm further around her waist, stepping closer and resting his face against her shoulder.

After a moment, she covered his hand with hers, her fingers warm against his skin. Not pulling him closer, not welcoming him, exactly, but accepting the intimacy he was looking for. They stood like that, in silence, for perhaps a minute, while he breathed in the perfume of her shampoo and tried to get his thoughts in order.

"Aeryn," he began again. "I know what just happened didn't… didn't really have much to do with me. And that's okay." He stopped, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. "Okay, it's not okay, but I do understand. I know you're in a pretty weird place right now. So I'll try not to ask too much from you. I just wanted you to know that… that it did mean something to me. A lot."

She didn't say anything, didn't move, standing tensely within his embrace. He bent his head further, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. He would have liked an answer but, to be honest, he hadn't really expected one. Which was fine. He'd said what he needed to say.

He was about to pull away from her when she spoke. "You're right." Her voice was flat, stating a fact. Then she sighed. "And you're wrong."

She turned in the circle of his arm, leaning backward a little so she could meet his gaze. He frowned at her, wondering what she meant.

She bit her lip. "I thought I knew what my life was. What it would be. Running Moya with Olivia. Living here." She waved the hairbrush she still held to indicate the apartment. "Having my routines and my work and my 'found family', that's what Olivia called it, to replace my real one. And then Olivia died and tore a big hole in that."

She turned her head away, blinking away the tears gathering on her eyelashes. "And I tried to carry on. With my routines and with Moya and with my work…. And then you came along and screwed everything up." She beat gently on his chest with the hand curled around the hairbrush. "With your questions and your stubbornness and… and your stupid ideas, like going hiking, and…." She stuttered to a halt, her chest heaving with dry sobs.

He lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers lightly across her cheek. "And you can't pretend any more that things are the same?"

"No." She shook her head, sniffing hard. "I can't."

"I'm sorry." He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. He was mostly sorry that he couldn't lessen her pain or change the reason for it, though he reckoned it was probably a good thing for her that she was—finally—allowing herself to mourn Olivia.

They stood quietly like that for a while, taking comfort from their closeness, from being with someone who understood, at least a little, what the other one felt. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get so close so quickly, to get her to trust him enough to take off the mask she presented to the rest of the world.

Finally, she drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I want to go to Munich."

The change of topic took John by surprise. "You do?"

"Yes. I want to talk to the police there. Find out what they know and who they have talked to. See if they have missed anything." She lifted her head a little so she could look at him. "Will you come with me?"

He nodded. "If you want." He didn't think it would help much with finding out who'd killed Olivia; he couldn't imagine what they'd discover that the police had missed. On the other hand, it might do a deal of good in helping Aeryn achieve some closure. He suspected today had been the first time she'd really allowed herself to grieve. He cocked an eyebrow. "When?"

She consider the matter, biting her lip. "I believe the final contract will be ready for you to sign tomorrow, and I have some meetings and other matters I must deal with. But Thursday?"

"Sure." He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

Her expression turned a little uncomfortable and her gaze slid away from his. She said rather stiffly, "Thank you for your help, John. I know I am asking much—."

"Hey." He stroked her hair again, trying to soothe her without scaring her. "You were Olivia's best friend. You were very important to her. And that makes you important to me."

She nodded, her mouth forming a reluctant smile. "I wonder what she would think if she could see…"

"Us? Like this?" He still had his arm circled around her waist and though he'd felt her growing steadily more tense, she clearly wasn't so uncomfortable yet that she felt the need to move away.

She nodded silently.

He grinned at her. "I think she'd be laughing her head off. And warning you about all my bad habits. And showing you my terrible baby pictures…."

Her lips twitched for a moment, though her tone was deadpan as she replied, "Yes, I am sure you were a very ugly baby, John."

A burst of warmth flared inside his chest at the realization she was teasing him, along with the urge to kiss her again. He resisted: don't push your luck, John. Instead, he cleared his throat. "So, I don't know about you, but I seem to have missed lunch. Maybe we should do something about that…."

oOo

"So what is it you want to know?" The representative from the US Consulate in Munich—Allen Hendricks, according to his business card—dipped his head in John's direction as they sat in the headquarters of the Munich Police. His eyes flicked briefly past John for a moment, toward Aeryn, sitting on John's other side. She and John had concluded that the police were more likely to grant John an update on the case, so he'd been the one to set up the meeting with the detectives investigating Olivia's death, through his contact at the Frankfurt consulate. When he'd made the arrangements, he hadn't mentioned he'd be bringing Aeryn along.

Neither Hendricks nor the two detectives sitting on the opposite side of the table had looked happy to see her. But when the lead detective—turned out it was Mustache Man who worked for the local police—had started to protest, John had shaken his head. "I want her here. I want her to hear this."

He and Aeryn had driven down to Munich that morning, Aeryn behind the wheel. Maybe Olivia had had a point about Aeryn driving too fast—although she'd also regularly complained that John drove too fast as well—but she'd been wrong about Aeryn being crazy. She was a good driver, steering the car so smoothly across the lanes and into gaps as they passed slower traffic that he'd only really been able to judge their speed by looking at the dashboard.

They barely spoke. John hadn't wanted to distract Aeryn from the road. He did wonder, privately, as they approached the outskirts of Munich, exactly where Olivia's car had crashed; Aeryn had confirmed when he'd asked that they'd be taking the same route. There was no sign, though, as the traffic streamed north on the other side of the road, of the place where his sister had lost her life.

Now, John looked across at Mustache Man and his sidekick, and shrugged. "I've seen the evidence from the car. I know it was deliberately sabotaged. I want to know what else they've found out. Who else they've talked to. Whether they have any suspects." He rolled his eyes and inclined his head slightly in Aeryn's direction. "Apart from Frau Doktor Sun."

Hendricks translated the questions. As Mustache Man began to give his reply, John watched him closely, trying to determine if he cared about actually solving the case rather than merely closing it. He did seem interested, giving long and evidently carefully worded answers, and several times consulting the file in front of him, but only briefly, as if simply confirming details, not trying to recall something—anything at all!—about the least important case on his desk. Yet John knew he might be misreading the signs; it was one of the reasons he'd wanted Aeryn along, to give him the nuance later that Hendricks wasn't likely to provide.

Every few minutes, Hendricks would hold up his hand for Mustache Man to wait, before turning to John and translating. John learned the police had talked to the security staff at the hotel and to the attendants who worked the parking garage, but no one recalled seeing anything unusual. They'd also talked to the security team at the conference center where the trade show had been held, with the same result. The interviews with Moya's staff two days earlier had apparently produced nothing but testimonials to what a wonderful team Aeryn and Olivia made: how well they complemented each other, how they might disagree passionately but never with anger, how they'd both seemed excited about the plans for the coming year….

The whole time, he'd been able to feel Aeryn's growing impatience, matching his own, though she hadn't said anything. He'd been the one to demand, "What about other suspects?" once Mustache Man seemed done with this litany of dead ends. When Hendricks translated and the detective spread his hands and gave a shrug that clearly communicated he had nothing more to say, John barked, "What about that Skorpinski guy?"

Hendricks didn't need to translate that. Mustache Man gave a quick shake of the head in Hendricks' direction and launched into a short and irritated-sounding explanation. Hendricks turned to John. "They have begun looking into him, yes. He certainly does have an… interesting background." Hendricks' gaze slid past John to Aeryn, and John could see him thinking: Just like she does. Hendricks turned his attention back to John. "Miss Crichton's assistant was able to supply details of their business dealings, which do indicate Herr Skorpinski had reason to be unhappy with your sister's response to his business overtures. However, there's no real reason to think—."

"Tell them to keep digging," John snapped.

The meeting finished soon after that, with some bland-sounding reassurances from Hendricks that the police would continue to investigate. John and Aeryn were both silent in the taxi back to the hotel, but in the hotel lobby, John said, "Talk to me?"

Aeryn nodded. "Come to my room."

It was on the same floor as his, further along the hallway, and identical in every respect. John settled himself in the chair by the desk, while Aeryn perched on the end of the bed. He'd thought she might be uncomfortable inviting him into her room, but it didn't seem to bother her—perhaps because he hadn't tried to kiss her or touch her, outside the commonplace social niceties, since he'd left her apartment. He'd gotten the message clearly: she hadn't regretted sleeping with him, and she might even want it to happen again, but now was not the time. He could live with that. He still felt a flush of desire whenever he looked at her or whenever his hand brushed against hers, because she was one hell of an attractive woman, but mostly what he felt was a need to be close to her: to earn her trust and her friendship, even if they never slept with each other again.

Lifting one hand, inviting her to talk, he asked, "So what did you make of the police?"

She bit her lip. "I think they care about finding out who really killed your sister, yes. Not just who cut the cables on the car, but who arranged it. I think they still believe I am the most likely person to have done that, so they are still making most of their effort there. But they are open to other possibilities. They have not had long to investigate Skorpinski, but they seem to know as much already as Olivia and I. About who he used to work for and about his money, which seems to come from… who knows where." Her mouth twitched in a wry smile. "I did not much like your Mr Hendricks."

"No?" John hadn't been terribly impressed with him either, but he was curious to know what Aeryn had made of him.

"No." She shrugged. "He did not translate everything the detective said, although I supposed if you had asked, he would have told you. And he does not trust me at all."

"Yeah, I got that." John thoughtfully ran his thumb over his bottom lip. "Can you tell me everything you remember about what the police said?"

She nodded. She frowned a little as she ordered her thoughts and then began to speak, relaying what she'd heard. John asked questions from time to time, to jog her memory, though often there were no answers: the police hadn't mentioned the subject or had found nothing of interest to report. He also sometimes held his questions back, when he could see she was struggling not to remember the meeting but because she was remembering other times, times spent with Olivia. His own memories were being stirred up by what she was telling him, especially when she talked about what the people at Moya who'd worked for Olivia had said: remembering occasions when he'd experienced her no-nonsense manner or her kindness or her sense of fun or her capacity to enjoy herself. He could only imagine Aeryn's memories, so much closer, were a hundred times more intense.

With a sudden start, John realized the light was fading and his stomach was grumbling. A glance at his watch showed him they'd been at it for almost two hours. "They do seem to have been very thorough," he admitted.

"Yes." Aeryn cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "They are German, after all."

John chuckled. "Yeah, they are." He leaned back in his chair and stretched. "We should get some dinner."

"I'm not sure I—." Aeryn suddenly put her hands to her face, covering her nose, and puffed out a sharp breath. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, and John realized the emotions of the last few hours had caught up with her.

"I don't feel much like going out," he said quickly. "Why don't we order some room service?"

She nodded, her hands still pressed to her face. Then she drew in a deep breath and let her hands fall into her lap. "The menu is on the desk. If you give it to me, I will call…."

He handed it across to her and she opened it and began to study it. A flicker of a smile crossed her face as she read. John couldn't help asking, "What? What is it?"

"Hmm?" Aeryn glanced up at him. "Oh, they have Weißwurst. Whenever we went somewhere new, Olivia always wanted to eat the local wurst. She said it was her ambition to eat it in all the Länder."

John laughed. "Yeah. She had a thing back home about eating hotdogs in all fifty states. I kept telling her, a hotdog is a hotdog, but she wouldn't have it. She said they were different everywhere you went." He shrugged a shoulder. "I think she was up to thirty seven or thirty eight states last time I asked. Guess it made all that business travel less boring."

Aeryn was now frowning down at the menu. "I think she only managed six or seven Länder…."

"Let's have the wurst." John was getting a little tired of the German mania for sausage, but it seemed like the right thing to do. "For Olivia's sake."

Aeryn turned the frown in his direction. "If you are sure…?"

He nodded.

When she'd called in the order, she headed into the bathroom to freshen up. Once she was done, he did the same. By the time he came out, she had turned on the lights and was answering the door to the waiter delivering dinner.

"Tell me about Olivia," Aeryn said, as she arranged the food. When he gave her a confused look, she explained, "I have told you about Olivia's life here, in Germany. Please, tell me about Olivia before I met her. When she was a girl. You are older, yes?"

"Yeah." John picked up his plate and began to attack his meal. "One of my first memories ever is of Mom and Dad bringing her home from the hospital. Not that I really remember Livvy that much. I remember Mom making a big fuss of me, because she'd been away, and Dad giving me this really cool model rocket. I think it was some NASA promotional thing. And Livvy mostly just slept and cried. But then Livvy grew up and she got to be cool too."

"Cooler than the rocket?" Aeryn, picking at her own food, arched one eyebrow.

"Not at first." He grinned back at her. "But when she grew up? Yeah, she was pretty cool. Susan was older, so there was a while when she was at school already and Livvy and I weren't, and we used to run around the neighborhood together. And then when I went to school and met DK—he's my best friend—she still used to tag along. God help us if we ever said she couldn't do anything because she was a girl or too little…."

Aeryn laughed. "So she never liked being told no?"

"Nope." He rubbed his temple with the back of his thumb, remembering. "There was this one time, when she must've been twelve or thirteen…."

He went on with the story as he ate, and then another story and another, Aeryn's questions drawing memories from him that he'd almost forgotten—until suddenly he realized the food was long eaten and it was getting late and Aeryn, who'd done all the driving, was covertly trying not to fall asleep on him.

"We should call it a night." He stood and stretched.

Aeryn stood as well. "Thank you for talking to me about Olivia."

"You're welcome." He smiled at her and began to move toward her to kiss her goodnight on the cheek—and then thought better of it. She might take it the wrong way. He might take it the wrong way, further than he should, suddenly aware again of her physical presence and how much he wanted her. He stepped away from her, toward the door. "See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh." She wrapped her arms around herself, almost as if she was holding back from reaching out for him. "Goodnight, John."

"'Night, Aeryn." He fled out of the door and down the hallway to his own room before either of them could give into a temptation that would likely only end in awkwardness and regret.

oOo

John held open the door for Aeryn as they left the restaurant the following evening. They'd gone there for dinner because it had been Olivia's favorite place when in Munich, but John had been relieved he'd been able to avoid eating yet another sausage-centered meal.

The day had been less stressful than the previous one, if not as productive as either of them had hoped. They'd had a couple of meetings, set up before they left Frankfurt, with two of Aeryn's old friends. John hadn't asked, but he'd guessed they were colleagues from her time in the Stasi. Both of them certainly seemed to know Skorpinski—by reputation, at least—and both of them had spent the past two days making some discreet "inquiries" locally on Aeryn's behalf. As yet, neither of them had heard anything about a "hit" being put out on Olivia or Aeryn.

In between the meetings, John and Aeryn had driven out to the hotel Olivia had stayed at, out by the Conference Center, and spent some time talking to the parking garage attendants and the concierges at the front desk. The hotel staff had been sympathetic, if unable to help beyond what they'd already told the police, turning pitying looks in John's direction as Aeryn explained that the dead woman was his sister. A little to John's surprise, Aeryn had seemed resigned rather than frustrated at the outcome, perhaps taking comfort from the discovery the police had been as thorough as she'd hoped in their inquiries.

"Do you want to stay another day?" he asked, as they ambled away from the restaurant, down the almost deserted street. It was very late; they'd been almost the last to leave, slowly sipping coffee and brandy, shyly catching each other's eyes in the dim light. It was all a little backward, given they'd already slept together, but John hadn't minded, as Aeryn had asked him about his research and they'd ended up talking about supercomputers and algorithms and whether it was better to use brute force or clever math to crunch the huge amounts of data they each of them dealt with.

Brains as well as beauty, he'd thought, watching her face, luminous in the light of the candle on the table. Not that he hadn't already known that, and not that he hadn't dated his share of very intelligent women—it was pretty inevitable at MIT—but this was a different kind of smart than he'd seen from her previously. Who says math isn't sexy…?

"Another day?" she said now, considering the idea. She shook her head. "No, I think not. I think we have done all we can here. Now we must wait to see if anyone else can find out more."

"Uh-huh. We can—."

John broke off what he'd been about to say. They were passing a narrow alley between two buildings and a man had stepped out in front of them, blocking their path. A second man, larger and broader, bulked behind the first. In the yellow light, John caught the gleam of a knife blade as the first man grunted something at them in German.

John froze for an instant, startled, before he turned his head a fraction in Aeryn's direction, looking for her to tell him exactly what the man had demanded. He had no intention of refusing, not with that knife pointed in them, but he didn't want to provoke extra trouble by handing over the wrong thing first.

It turned out patience wasn't the mugger's strong suit. He took a step closer, caught John's shoulder and swung him around, throwing him against the wall and knocking the air out of him. Pressing an arm across John's chest, he waved the knife under John's nose and repeated his demand.

John had just enough time to think I'm not the one you should be worrying about, buddy, before he heard a grunt and the sound of something heavy hitting the sidewalk. His attacker heard it too, but he'd only just begun to twist his head to take a look when he was yanked away, his weight lifting from John's chest. He let out a snarl as he was spun round and there was a blur of movement. A moment later, he was face down at John's feet, his knife hand being twisted up behind him as Aeryn knelt on his back, while his other hand flailed uselessly to try and reach her.

John watched in silent fascination as Aeryn increased the pressure of her grip, bending the mugger's hand back at a painful-looking angle until he finally let go of the knife. She reached forward with her free hand and flicked the knife out of his reach with the backs of her fingers.

"Are you all right?"

John realized the remark was addressed at him. Mustering his wits, he pushed away from the wall. "Yeah. Are you?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"I'm fine." Aeryn scrabbled in her coat pocket and produced her phone. Underneath her, the mugger squirmed and she knelt a little harder on him, forcing his arm higher up his back as she punched in a number. John caught the word polizei as she began to speak.

Someone else must have already called it in, because a squad car squealed around the corner and came to a stop next to them right after she hung up. John quickly put his hands up as the two policeman got out and, guns raised, barked an order.

Aeryn got up slowly, carefully letting go of the mugger and backing away to stand next to John. She, too, raised her hands, making it clear they were empty. The mugger didn't move, except to turn his head and peer up at the policemen. In the other direction, his friend was lying on his back on the pavement, moaning softly.

The policeman who'd been driving barked out a question. Aeryn answered. The policeman's attention shifted to John and he rapped out another question in his direction. Aeryn answered for him; John thought she was saying something about him being American and not speaking German. The policeman jerked his head.

"We must move," Aeryn explained. "Away from the others. Keep your hands where he can see them."

John nodded and shuffled sideways. "Are we in trouble?" Another police car had turned into the street and drawn up behind the first, to be quickly followed by an ambulance.

Aeryn shrugged. "The person who called the police reported a fight. I told him these men threatened us, demanded our money and attacked you. He is…" She hesitated, as if searching for the right word. "…bothered by how I responded."

"Him and me both," John muttered. The whole thing was still a blur, his main impression even now being how quick and ruthless Aeryn had been. He cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks for saving my ass back there, by the way."

"It was my ass too." Aeryn frowned down at the mugger she'd disarmed. One of the policemen, having carefully picked up the knife and put it in an evidence bag, was now handcuffing him. "Do you think Skorpinski sent them?"

"To kill us?" John blinked at her in disbelief.

"He had Olivia killed." Aeryn was still watching the man as he was led toward the back of the first police car. "Why not us also? Then there would be nobody left to say no to him when he tries to buy Moya."

oOo

An hour later, John was sitting on his own in an interview room at the police station. He and Aeryn had been separated on arrival, once he'd handed over his passport and Aeryn had told him they were sending for someone from the American consulate. He wondered what kind of trouble he was in. What kind of trouble she was in.

The door opened. He lifted his head and saw it was Hendricks, looking tired and more than a little annoyed. "Professor Crichton. I'm the duty officer for the evening. The police want to ask you some questions and take a statement, if you're agreeable. I'll act as your interpreter."

"Of course." When Hendricks nodded and began to withdraw, John hastily added the question that had been foremost on his mind. "How's Aeryn—Frau Doktor Sun? Is she okay?" He'd noticed, when they were in the back of the police car on the way to the station, that she'd broken the skin on her knuckles—probably when she hit the first guy. She'd waved off his suggestion that she get it looked at, but he couldn't help wondering if she had any other injuries she was ignoring.

Hendricks' lips tightened, signaling his opinion of Aeryn hadn't improved since their meeting the previous day. "Frau Doktor Sun is fine. The police are taking a statement from her right now. They'll come and talk to you once they're done. I should imagine you'll be free to go after that—for now, at least." Promising to bring John a cup of coffee, he ducked out again.

It was another half an hour before he returned. John was starting to worry about what was taking them so long with Aeryn, but Hendricks didn't offer any explanation for the delay. He brought the promised coffee—the usual institutional sludge in a styrofoam cup—and two uniformed policemen with him.

Both Hendricks and one of the policemen took notes as, through Hendricks, John described what had happened: the walk from the restaurant, being accosted by the man with the knife, things turning physical and Aeryn stepping in. The policemen asked him several questions about exactly what Aeryn had done, but he couldn't provide much of an answer. "It was all very fast," he pointed out. "Once she had the guy on the ground, she did this thing with his wrist to get him to drop the knife."

Hendricks translated and then turned back to John. "Did you know she could do that?" That seemed to be Hendricks' own question.

John shrugged. "I guess so. She told me she does kickboxing and judo." Though he suspected Aeryn had learned the trick with the knife hand before that, as part of her training in the Stasi.

The two policemen were conferring quietly. One of them put another question for Hendricks to translate. "Had you seen either of the men who you say attacked you previously? Earlier in the day, perhaps?"

John considered the question and then shook his head. "I don't think so." He hesitated, realizing why the police had asked. "Did Aeryn—Frau Doktor Sun—say Skorpinski sent them?"

Hendricks nodded, lifting his eyes heavenward. "She was very insistent about it. The police tell me they're just a couple of well-known lowlifes with a record for this kind of stuff, and the one who had the knife swears he had no idea who you were and that no one hired them." He gave John a hard look. "Do you think Skorpinski sent them?"

John rolled a shoulder. "Maybe. But I've no evidence. And… she does have a bit of a bee in her bonnet about the guy." He felt a sudden surge of guilt at this small piece of disloyalty, even though it was the truth.

Hendricks didn't seem to notice. He turned to the policemen and spoke quietly with them for a couple of minutes and then pushed the notepad he'd been writing on across the table at John. "If you can check this through and then sign it, that will count as your statement. They have their own notes, and there will be an official translation, but this will be the statement of record."

John nodded to show he'd understood and quickly read what Hendricks had written. It all seemed correct. He signed where Hendricks showed him, at the bottom of both pages, and Hendricks handed the notepad to the policemen. With a few final formalities and a reminder that John shouldn't leave the country without informing Hendricks, they left.

Hendricks stayed where he was, eyeing John warily. "You're free to go, but I'd like a word first, if I may."

"Sure." John glanced at his watch and saw it was already nearly two o'clock. A few minutes more weren't going to make much difference.

Hendricks tapped his fingers on the table for a few seconds before asking carefully, "How well do you know Frau Doktor Sun?"

John tensed, straightening in his seat. "Well enough."

Hendricks raised his eyebrows. "You met her, what? Less than two weeks ago?"

It seemed longer than that. But then, it seemed an eternity since he'd received the call from the Embassy in Berlin informing him of Olivia's death. Besides, his knowledge of Aeryn extended back a lot further back and a lot deeper than Hendricks was implying. "Before that," he pointed out, trying not to sound snappish. "She came to Olivia's funeral back home. And Livvy—Olivia had known her for more than two years."

Hendricks didn't appear reassured. "Are you aware she has an… interesting past."

Here it was. The police had clearly brought Hendricks up to speed about Aeryn. John looked back at him steadily, feeling like he trusted Aeryn a damn sight more than Hendricks. "Yes," he said, not bothering to conceal his irritation this time. "I know she was in the Stasi. That's how she knows this Skorpinski guy."

"She told you that?" Hendricks leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen, watching John carefully.

John nodded. "Yes. Olivia hinted at it, back when they first went into business together. Aeryn told me a bit more after I got here." He wasn't going to reveal what Aeryn had said about her parents and the part Skorpinski had played.

Hendricks said, his tone a shade too casual, "And I understand that, following your sister's death, Aeryn will be able to get complete control of their company, Moya Enterprises. That's very… fortunate for her."

John had suspected this was what Hendricks was leading up to. He stood up, resting his fists on the table, and leaned forward. "Fortunate, my ass. Olivia was half of that company, half of what made it work, and Aeryn's having a damned hard time running it without her. I don't care what she did when she worked for the Stasi, but she did not have Olivia killed. She loved her like a sister—." He stopped, remembering how upset Aeryn had been once she'd finally let her grief break through that stern exterior, and how it had felt to hold her in his arms.

Pushing away from the table, he stalked toward the door.

"Just be careful, Professor Crichton," Hendricks called after him. "That's all I'm saying."

oOo

John didn't mention Hendricks' suspicions to Aeryn as they made their way back to the hotel. He reckoned she'd been through enough for one evening. She didn't talk about her interview with the police either, or speak much beyond giving their destination to the taxi driver, wearing the forbidding and distant air he remembered from their first meetings.

In the brighter light of the elevator as they made their way up to their floor, he noticed her knuckles still hadn't been cleaned up. He dipped his head toward her hands. "You should let me see to those."

"I'm fine." She put her hands behind her back as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.

"No, you're not." John caught her elbow and steered her toward his room. She made a half-hearted effort to pull away from him and then gave in. Opening the door, he encouraged her ahead of him. "Have a seat," he ordered, before he disappeared into the bathroom for water and a washcloth.

When he came out, he found her perched on the edge of the bed. Setting the water glass down on the nightstand and dabbing the washcloth in it to wet it, he sat next to her. She put her hands on her knees, palms down, without being asked. John picked up her right hand, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage, and carefully began to sponge the grazes clean. She flinched a couple of times, but made no sound.

He transferred his attention to the other hand, wincing as he twisted around to dampen a fresh corner of the washcloth in the glass on the nightstand. His shoulder, where the mugger had slammed him against the wall, had stiffened up over the course of the last hour.

Turning back to Aeryn, he saw she was watching him thoughtfully. "You are hurt, too," she said, as he set to work with the washcloth again.

"It's nothing." He shrugged and grimaced again at the movement. "Just a bit bruised."

"I should take a look." When he opened his mouth to protest, she said with a hint of amusement in her voice, "Fair is fair, I think. I am letting you take care of this." She lifted her right hand slightly."

He conceded the point with a wry laugh. "Okay."

When he was done with her hand, he put the washcloth down and awkwardly stripped off his jacket and shirt, discovering it was hard to move his arm freely enough to shed them. Dropping his shirt on the floor, he turned his back to Aeryn so she could look at his shoulder.

She ran her fingertips lightly over his bared skin. "You are going to have quite an impressive bruise there, but the skin is not broken."

"Told you," he said, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply as she continued to gently brush her fingertips over his back, sending a shiver running down his spine. "I'll be fine."

He twisted back to face her, leaning forward a little so that her hand would fall away naturally. But it didn't fall away. Instead, she followed the movement, her hand sliding over him to curve around his upper arm and grip it gently. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes dark and wide.

He looked back at her for a long, breathless moment, trying to read her expression. At last, he lifted his hands and gently cupped her face. She trembled under his touch but made no effort to move away, nor did she drop her gaze.

Sure now this was what she wanted, he leaned forward and kissed her very lightly, savoring the taste of her.

She returned the kiss just as gently, her lips quietly teasing his as she moved closer. Warmth bloomed inside him as they went on kissing. He shifted his weight a little, encouraging them further on to the bed without breaking the kiss, and she followed—and then took the lead. Slowly they urged each other on, until they were lying down facing each other, still sharing that long, soft, deliberate kiss.

John, ignoring the stiffness in his shoulder, had slipped one arm around Aeryn to pull her against him, while she was drawing her fingertips lazily up and down his arm, his skin tingling where she touched him. She was the first to decide they had learned enough of each other's lips and to strike out for new territory, dipping her head so she could nuzzle the curve of his neck. He could have gone on as they were for a great deal longer, feeling the heat slowly build inside him as he tasted her, but he didn't much mind her taking their explorations to a new place. He trembled as her mouth slowly worked its way from just below his ear down to his collarbone. His lips were busy with their own investigations, of her cheek and ear and brow, while his hand tangled deeper into the heavy waves of her hair.

Slowly they went on with their discoveries, helping each other shed each item of clothing, hands and lips trailing over newly bared skin, pressed close together but without the frenzy of their first time. Only when they were down to their underwear did John pull back and find Aeryn's gaze again.

He went on stroking his fingers up and down her leg, which was wrapped around his thigh; he could feel her heat pressed against his hardening cock through the thin layers of material that separated them. "You sure about this?"

She looked back at him, and he could see in her eyes that she understood he wasn't talking about sex. Understood that, for him at least, this was about so much more. That, for all he'd said he'd try not to ask for more than she could give, he wanted very badly for her to give him more than just her body. And that he trusted that, whatever she did, she wouldn't do it lightly or carelessly.

She took a long time to answer, but he was okay with that. He knew what he was asking. At last, she sighed. "Yes." She shook her head slightly. "This was not what I was looking for, and I think it may be very foolish, for both of us, but—yes."

She drew him back towards her and confirmed her words with a kiss. The slow-burning desire that had been gradually building within him flared up suddenly and he kissed her back fiercely—and then softened the kiss, wanting to make their time together last as long as he could. In the back of his mind, he knew he would soon be returning to Boston. Their previous lovemaking was a jumble of quick sensations, muddled and muddied, and he wanted to make memories that both of them would carry and remember when they were apart.

There was one thing he remembered quite clearly from last time that they really needed to talk about before they went any further. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers. "Wait. Uh…."

"Yes?" Her breath tickled his cheek.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the distraction of her body pressed against his and focus on what he needed to say. "Uh, last time, we didn't, uh, use any protection, but you said—." Something so cryptic that he really hoped it had meant what he'd thought; she hadn't exactly given him an opportunity to discuss it further.

She nodded. "Yes, I am… on the pill." She spoke the phrase as if she wasn't completely certain she'd gotten the right words.

"Right." He swallowed again. "It's just, you know, maybe we should use a condom…."

She pulled back sharply from him, cold air flowing between them. Her eyes were narrowed as they met his. "Also? You do not trust me?"

"No," he said hastily. He lifted his hand and stroked her hair back from her face. "No, it's not that. It's just, well, I have been around the block a few times. Wouldn't want to give you something I don't even know I've got myself…."

She bit her lip, considering his words, her body still tense—with the wrong kind of tension. Way to ruin the mood, John. Then she shrugged, apparently accepting his wishes. "You have condoms?"

"Uh-huh." He lifted his head, peering around. "In my wallet. Which was in my pants. Which are…?"

She twisted her head. "My side." Rolling away from him, she scrabbled around on the floor before rolling back into the curve of his arm again, his wallet in her hand. "Here."

He took the wallet from her and flipped it open one-handedly. He gestured with his thumb to the pocket where he kept the condoms. "Can you—?" She nodded and extracted one of the small foil squares.

Snapping the wallet closed, he lobbed it over her body and back on to the floor. She bit her lip again, this time trying to stop herself from laughing, before reaching back behind her to carefully place the condom on the nightstand, where she could find it when they were ready. Then she turned back to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, where were we?"

"Right… here!" He pulled her back toward him, capturing her mouth with his. She wrapped herself around him again, pressing herself close. Slowly they relaxed, rekindling their former mood as he caressed her, memorizing each inch of her skin with his lips and fingertips, while she wriggled out of her underwear and helped him out of his. At last, they were naked, wrapped tightly around each other.

"Ready?" she asked. When he nodded, she reached for the condom and rolled it on to him, her fingers sure and firm as she worked them down his cock. He shied away from thinking too hard about where she'd gained her expertise. Drawing her against him again, he pressed his face into her neck and began to roll them—and then froze, letting out a hiss of pain, as his arm took his weight. Jeez, that mugger had done a real number on him.

Aeryn tensed in response, pulling away from him a little, but she must have figured out what was wrong pretty quickly, because she didn't move far. Instead, she shifted back toward him, stroking the back of his head lightly. "Shhh. Don't move."

Drawing her hand down his shoulder and arm to his hip, she slid her fingers between them and wrapped them gently around his cock. He bit back a gasp at her touch, a jolt of fresh desire surging through him. She shifted her body, hoisting her leg higher on his hip so that she could guide him inside her as they lay where they were. This time, he couldn't hold back his groan as she surrounded him. Lifting his head too look at her, he saw her face was tense with concentration as she bent her head to focus on the task, but beyond that also joyful, almost triumphant.

She shifted again, drawing her hand from between them and pushing her hips toward him so that he could slide further in. Cupping her ass with his hand, he pulled her more firmly against him, trying to push deeper, while she began to rock her hips, moving over him with short, careful thrusts. It was a little awkward and he ached to be further inside her and yet, at the same time, he was losing his mind at the feel of her warm folds teasing the tip of his cock and the sight of the intent look on her face.

She shifted her body a third time and then her hand was on him too, covering his balls, the heel of her palm moving against the base of his shaft. He pressed his eyes tight shut, a strangled moan escaping him, because, God, she was killing him, he couldn't last, the feel of her hand on him, her body around him, everything building, everything—.

He called out as he came, a ragged, wordless cry as he thrust into her, stars exploding behind his closed eyelids, a whole constellation of supernovas….

He slumped against her, panting hard. She had her hand on his back now, soothing him. "Sorry," he muttered into her shoulder when he could speak again, his mouth clumsy, his body still heavy. "Didn't last long."

"Shh." She dropped a kiss into his hair. "I didn't expect you to." She sounded amused.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "You didn't?" Aware he was fast losing his erection, he automatically reached down and held on to the condom as he slid out of her.

She shook her head. Resting her hand on his cheek, she ran her thumb across his lips. "That was for you…."

"Oh." Heat flooded his face. That wasn't quite how he'd thought things would turn out; he hoped she didn't think he'd been expecting that. He cleared his throat. "Uh, thank you."

She smiled at him, one of those rare smiles that lit up her whole face. He lifted his hand to touch her face and realized he was holding the condom that he'd unthinkingly slipped off while he was apologizing. "Uh…."

He began to wriggle his arm from underneath her and she rolled away, coming back with the washcloth he'd been using earlier and holding it out for him to drop the now tied-off condom into. When she'd put the washcloth back on the nightstand and turned back to him, he slid his arm under her again and drew her close, encouraging her to wrap herself around him once more. He smirked at her. "Guess it's your turn now."

"My turn?" She lifted her eyebrows, but her eyes were bright with anticipation.

"Uh-huh." He began to slide down the bed, dropping a kiss between her breasts and another on her stomach. Above him, she gave a wordless growl of approval as he ran his hand down over her ass and along the back of her leg so he could lift it and settle his face between her thighs. He kissed her mound lightly, before he moved on down, his tongue sliding between her folds and seeking out her clit. She let out a long sigh as he found it and set to work, teasing her with his lips and tongue.

She rested her hand on his head, her fingers flexing gently, small moans escaping her as the tip of his tongue flickered over her. She pushed her hips toward him, asking for more, and he slid his hand back up her thigh until he could slide first one finger and then a second inside her, fingers and tongue working together to drive her closer and closer—until he felt her whole body shudder as she came.

He drew in a few deep breaths of his own, enjoying the triumph of having made her feel so good. Turning his head, he dropped a kiss on the inside of her thigh, before slowly inching his way back up the bed, making sure not to trouble his shoulder too much.

She had rolled on to her back, one arm flung wide, the other resting on her stomach. Her eyes were still closed and she was smiling. He carefully leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "That was for you," he murmured against her lips.

"Mmm-hmm." She reached up and brushed the back of her hand against his cheek as he lifted his head. Still with her eyes closed, she rolled on further, on to her side and spooned herself against him, groping for his hand and drawing it around her waist.

He pulled her against him, nuzzling her hair and listening to her breathing slow as she fell asleep. Drifting off to sleep himself, he reckoned that, right now, he was maybe closer to heaven than he'd ever been.

oOo

Part Three

John reached into the crate placed in the middle of his living room and picked out a flat, rectangular package encased in bubblewrap. He'd arrived back from Germany to find a card informing him the shipping company had tried to deliver Olivia's effects while he'd been away. He'd had the crate delivered to his apartment the previous day and now, on a rainy Saturday morning, he was making a start on going through the contents.

Carefully unwrapping the item he'd picked out, he found a picture frame with a photograph of the whole family, taken five years ago. The summer before Mom had gotten sick, though he could see from the photograph that she was already beginning to look tired. She stood to one side, with his father's arm around her. Susan and Frank were in the middle, with Frank holding up Bobby between them. John and Olivia were on the other side. The photographer—it had been DK, hadn't it?—had caught John turning a little and grinning down at Olivia as she'd remarked in an undertone that it would be easy enough to cut the black sheep of the family out of the shot. It was one of those times when he and Livvy had both been fighting with Dad. He couldn't remember what Dad's issue with Livvy had been right then, but he had a very clear memory of his own row with with his father about the invitation to join IASA that he'd turned down a few weeks earlier.

John had a copy of the same photograph on the wall of his office at work and he was pretty sure his father and Susan both had copies as well. Maybe he'd put this one up somewhere at home.

He set the photo down on the couch beside him and picked up and unwrapped the next one. It showed Olivia and Aeryn accepting some kind of award: a rather ugly, boxy, perspex thing, with the same logo on as the one being projected onto a screen behind them on the stage. He vaguely remembered there being a mention of an award somewhere in the tedious presentations he'd sat through on his second day in Germany.

There was something else familiar about the photograph, thought it took him a moment to place it. Olivia and Aeryn were wearing the same clothes as in the picture in Aeryn's apartment; it must have been taken at the same event.

He frowned: didn't this really belong to the company? Maybe he should let Aeryn know it had ended up with Olivia's things and offer to send it back. Yes, that would be best….

He almost got up there and then to go to the phone, but stopped himself with a shake of the head. An email next week would be soon enough. Truth was, he'd been looking for a reason to call Aeryn and speak to her ever since he'd flown back the previous Tuesday. He would have been even happier if he'd been able to find a reason to stay longer in Germany, but there really had been no good excuse, once he'd signed all the contracts. And his department head had begun making unhappy noises about the length of his absence.

He'd confirmed with the consulate before he left that he was free to go: the two muggers weren't contesting the charges—not much else they could do, having been caught in the act—while Aeryn was in the clear. It was evident from Hendricks' tone that neither he nor the police were entirely happy with the way Aeryn had responded to the mugging, but there was little they could do about it.

He'd also had a final encounter with Skorpinski, on the Monday afternoon, as he'd been crossing the hotel lobby. This time, he'd been more alert and was aware of Skorpinski approaching before the other man reached him. He'd stood his ground and firmly but politely refused to discuss any kind of deal, before heading for the elevators. Stepping into the elevator and turning around as the doors closed, he saw Skorpinski was still watching him with narrowed eyes. That was one person and one part of his time in Germany he'd been very glad to leave behind.

As for Aeryn, he'd only seen her once more after they'd driven back to Frankfurt; she'd claimed she had a great deal of work to catch up on. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd simply regretted sleeping with him again so soon. She hadn't stuck around for long once they'd woken up, and she'd been even more silent on the drive back than on the way down.

He had persuaded her to have dinner with him at his hotel on the Monday evening, on the grounds that they should make sure they'd covered everything before he left. The conversation stayed largely professional, but with a warmth and familiarity he could have scarcely imaged two weeks earlier. It wasn't simply that Aeryn now trusted him a great deal more; he also found he cared about the fate of Moya Enterprises and those who worked for the company almost as much as he cared about the woman in charge.

They briefly discussed whether there were likely to be any more decisions or documents needing John's approval in the next few weeks. "And after that?" John played with the stem of his wine glass, glancing up from under lowered lids to catch her eye. "If the office in London and those partnerships are a success?"

Aeryn smiled down at her plate as she neatly placed her knife and fork to show she'd finished eating. "Consolidate. Olivia always said it was more important to be strong not big. That we should be careful not to grow too quickly."

John took a sip of wine. "You still hear her?"

"Mmm hmm." Aeryn seemed to understood what he meant: that from time to time, when something happened, Livvy's usual response to it would echo in his mind, as if she were right next to him. "Sometimes." She shifted her knife a little, lining it up more exactly with the fork.

"So what will that involve?" John leaned forward, a little surprised he was genuinely interested in the answer. "This…. consolidation?"

Aeryn shrugged. "Making sure all the new things we are bringing in become part of the company, completely. The technology we are buying, the way we work with our partners…. That was Olivia's thing, to be good at managing that. Perhaps I should find someone who can—." She broke off what she was saying and grabbed her water glass and took a gulp.

He reached across the table and gave her other hand a squeeze. "You're not replacing her, you know. Just a thing she did."

She briefly made a face before saying in a resigned tone, "I know." The waiter approached the table to clear their dishes and she straightened, pulling away from John and folding her hands on the table in front of her. Once the waiter had left, she said, "I must find others, also. If we grow, we must have the right people and enough of them. That is never easy."

"You can't find the skills you need?" John had sat back, trying not to feel too aggrieved that he'd so quickly lost the opportunity to hold her hand.

"More… a way of thinking? A mindset?" Aeryn frowned. "The people we want, especially when they are early in their careers, the big companies want them too, though they will waste them and make them bored. But it is hard to convince them to join a small company. That was something else Olivia was very good at doing."

John had had no answer to that. They'd been silent, each busy with their own thoughts, until the waiter returned with the dessert menus. At the end of the evening, Aeryn had made sure she left him in the hotel lobby, with nothing more than a decorous kiss on the cheek.

Sighing at the memory, at how he'd wished for so much more, though he hadn't really expected it, not with Aeryn evidently still unsure about exactly what she wanted, he turned his attention back to unpacking the shipping crate. He lifted out more photographs; a stack of books that ranged from a couple of business bestsellers that even he'd heard of to weighty academic tomes on finance and economics; a few ornaments.

He found a wooden box tucked in among the books that he recognized as Olivia's jewelry case. It had been Mom's before that.

Opening it, he sifted through the contents. A few necklaces that had been Mom's; some bracelets he'd seen Livvy wear; one or two items he didn't recognize at all. A ring box was tucked into one corner. Opening it, he discovered Mom's engagement ring. He remembered now that she'd insisted Livvy have it. Susan doesn't need it, and I don't think Johnny's ever going to want to settle down.

He sat looking at the ring. He hadn't been surprised when Livvy had told him Mom had said that. He'd dated a fair number of women over the years, but few of them had lasted long enough for him to introduce them to Mom and Dad. Somehow, even if the sex was great, and they were smart (and the sex was great), and he liked them (and the sex was great), there was always something missing. Something he was still looking for. Even with Caroline, who'd lasted longest, they had mostly been drifting along, neither of them that serious, until she'd taken a job on the other side of the country.

But Mom had been wrong about him not wanting to settle down. He wanted that very badly. He just hadn't met the right woman yet.

Except now….

He snapped the ring box closed and threw it back into the jewelry case. Maybe Dad would want the ring back, or Susan. He'd take it with him when he went down Dad's place in a few weeks, along with several other bits and pieces he'd set aside. Plenty of time to decide what to do once they were all together again.

oOo

John tried hard not to look at the clock as he waited for the phone to ring. He turned the pages of the journal lying on the desk in front of him, skimming the abstracts—and forgetting what they'd said as soon as he'd read them.

When the phone did finally ring—eleven and a half minutes late—he jumped. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to wait until the third ring before answering. "John Crichton."

"John, it's Aeryn. Sorry to keep you waiting. It has been frantic here today." At the other end of the line, he could hear the chatter of voices, suddenly cut off as if someone had closed a door.

"No problem." John sank back into his chair, wedging the phone between his chin and his shoulder. "Trouble?"

"What?" She still sounded distracted. "Oh, no. Quite the opposite. The London office has been asked to make three sales presentations next week and everyone is a little crazy."

"That's good, right? I mean, not the crazy part, but the busy part?"

"Oh, yes." He could hear the smile in her voice. "It is much more success, more quickly than we had hoped. Olivia was right for us to start our international expansion there."

"So what else is new?" The two of them had gotten into the habit of having a weekly phone call each Thursday, when Aeryn would bring John up to speed on what was happening with Moya and the two of them would bounce around a few ideas she was considering. She'd said that she and Olivia had always made Thursdays their "company date night", when they'd get together over a glass of wine and talk about the business.

He heard her shuffling the papers on her desk. "Oh, the pitch to the bank in Italy went well, I think. We will hear in two weeks. The consulting and test teams are busy, too, but everything seems to be running smoothly. And the development of our new testing tools seems to be going well, though I have not been able to spend as much time on it myself as I would like. But they are good team. And I suppose it is good I can trust them to work without me."

"Uh-huh." John grinned. "The more people you have working for you, the less time you spend doing the stuff you got into it for. That's why I keep turning 'em down every time they try to put me in charge of anything more than my own lab."

She laughed. "That sounds very smart. Unfortunately, I put myself in charge of this and I cannot make there be more hours in the day or less need for sleep."

He settled the phone more comfortably. "You're taking care of yourself, I hope."

"Yes, John." He could sense her rolling her eyes. "But it is not a problem that will go away soon, I fear. We are still having not much luck finding enough good people. We interviewed another three on Tuesday and I think maybe we will hire one of them, if we cannot find anyone else better soon…."

"Well, I can't offer you an immediate fix, but…," He let a dramatic pause develop before he revealed the news he'd been eager to share for the past three days. "I might have something that will help down the line."

"You do?" Aeryn sounded surprised.

"Uh-huh. I had to go to this really boring admin thing earlier in the week, but it wasn't a complete waste of time. I found out we have some programs for students to work at companies in the US and also overseas. Or for companies to sponsor projects here. They're always looking for new partners. You get a really smart kid to work on a project; the kid gets some experience and they maybe come to work for you once they graduate; you get to say you're partnering with MIT…."

"Will they talk to me? Your people?" He could hear the doubt in her voice. "We are so small…."

John shrugged. "Maybe not if you went to them directly, but I know a couple of the guys involved in the programs from way back when. If I make the introductions, I think they'll be willing to at least discuss what's possible. And you have big clients and you're doing cutting edge practical stuff in your field, right?" He'd already had an unofficial word and gotten some half-promises, but he didn't want to raise her hopes too high. "And they might be able to link you up with some universities in Germany that are doing the same sort of thing as well…."

She was silent, clearly thinking. Finally she said, "It will involve effort and time from us, I think. A great deal, I mean."

"Yeah, it will." He wasn't going to downplay that. "But if you're wasting time interviewing people who're no good…."

There was another long silence on the other end of the line, before she asked, "You did not suggest this to Olivia?"

He shook his head, though she couldn't see him. "Didn't know it existed. Or that you needed it. Anyway, talk it over with your team and I'll send you some more information about what's involved."

"I will." He could hear the gratitude in her voice, even before she said, "Thank you, John."

"You're welcome. After all, Moya is still half mine."

She snorted a laugh. "Very true. You are merely looking after your own interests."

Moya's continued success was part of it, for sure, for Livvy's sake—to carry on what she'd started and cared so much about—as well as his own financial benefit. But mostly it felt good to be able to lighten the burden for Aeryn, even a little, now she was running Moya on her own. Maybe this would even be a way to keep Aeryn in his life once the insurance money came through and she bought him out.

Talking of which…. He cleared his throat. "Have you heard any more from the police? I keep poking Hendricks at the consulate, but he never has anything to tell me." Olivia's case had clearly sunk right to the bottom of Hendricks' in-tray in the two months since he'd last met with John in the police station in Munich.

Aeryn sighed again. "Not really. They—the police—tell me they have new leads they are pursuing and that inquiries are progressing, but there is no detail. I hear more from my friends in Munich. They say the police have received a… a tip-off? Is that the word? About who may have been responsible and who may have paid them."

"Skorpinski?"

"Mmm-hmm. That is what I hear. But there is no proof…." She sounded despondent.

"Yet," he pointed out. "They'll find it. Phone records, money trails, someone will talk…." He was trying to reassure himself, as much as Aeryn, that there would be justice for Olivia eventually.

There was another long, expensive, transatlantic silence, before Aeryn said, "And how are you, John?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and cradling the phone more closely. "I'm good, even if the kids are driving me crazy."

There was a moment of obvious hesitation and then Aeryn said, her tone cautious, "Kids? I did not realize…."

"My students," he corrected her hastily. "I was talking about my students. Just one of those times of year when, if they're not panicking about one thing, they're panicking about something else, you know? Uh, no actual biological children involved." He wanted to make that absolutely clear.

"Oh. Yes. I see." Aeryn sounded almost as embarrassed about the misunderstanding as he was.

He cleared his throat and hurriedly added, "And I'm flying down to see the family tomorrow. Three-day weekend. First time we'll have all gotten together since, well, since Olivia's funeral."

There was another slightly awkward pause before she said carefully, "I hope it helps. That it is good for you to all be together."

John was again confronted with how alone Aeryn was. Even if he didn't always get on with his family, he still people he could turn to when things got tough. Still had a best friend, too. Not that he and DK tended to do that kind of mushy feelings talk much, but John could always rely on him to be there whenever he needed someone to hang out with to distract him from whatever else was going on in his life. He'd gotten the impression that, these days, Aeryn's most meaningful emotional relationship was with her punching bag at the gym.

Not much he could do about that from this side of the ocean. Though he'd like to do more, if she'd let him….

He coughed again, aware she was waiting for his reply. "Thanks," he croaked. "We haven't really had much chance to, you know, just get together and talk about stuff. And I'm taking some of Olivia's stuff that got shipped back. See if they want any of it."

"Mmm-hmm." She paused and then added, "Thank you again for sending back the award photograph." John had wrapped it up and shipped it out a couple of weeks ago. Aeryn had already acknowledged with an email that she'd received it earlier that week.

He rolled his shoulder. "You're welcome."

They lapsed back into silence, a more companionable one this time, until Aeryn said, sounding reluctant, "I should go. There is still much to do today."

"Yes, of course." John wished they could talk for longer, but there really wasn't anything more that needed to be said. "So I'll send you the details of those intern programs and… same time next week?"

"Yes, of course. I look forward to it. Goodbye, John."

She put the phone down before he could get his own goodbye out. He took the handset away from his ear and looked at it for a moment, before he carefully replaced it on the cradle. More than ever, he was regretting that circumstances had put so many miles between them.

oOo

John could hear Bobby yelling "Uncle John's here! Uncle John's here!" from inside the house as he paid off the taxi and made his way up the path from the street.

He checked, suddenly unsure. He'd gotten used in the past weeks to the knowledge that Livvy was dead: no longer feeling the same stab of fresh surprise, followed by anger or sorrow, when he occasionally caught himself thinking he must tell her about something that had happened or when he'd seen or heard something that would amuse her. They'd only spoken on the phone every few weeks, after all, and seen each other face to face even less often. Yet coming here, to Dad's house, where he'd almost always been sure to find her….

His chest tightened at the thought that she wasn't behind that door, waiting to greet him. That she never would be, now.

Then the front door flew open and Bobby hurled himself out and caught John around the waist. "Hey, Uncle John!"

John put a hand on Bobby's head, forcing down the lump in his throat and trying to appreciate the small arms hugging him excitedly, and the family he still had. Dropping his bag, he knelt down and hugged Bobby back. "Hey, you."

Maybe he held on a bit too tight for a bit too long, because Bobby wriggled out of his grip, pushing back, though he still held on to John's arms as he leaned away and looked up into John's face. "Grandpa says you're gonna take me fishing tomorrow!"

His slightly anxious smile was the mirror image of Olivia's when she'd wanted something. Again, John swallowed. "Does he now?" Glancing up, he saw his father was loitering in the doorway. Trust Dad to make promises on John's behalf and decide how he was going to spend his stay—though he wouldn't object to spending a little time down at the lake not making much attempt to catch anything. At least it would get him out of a house full of memories for a while.

Looking back at Bobby, at the still hopeful expression turned in his direction, John choked out a laugh. "Well, then, I guess I am." Wheeling Bobby around, he got back to his feet, picked up his bag and steered them both up the path.

"Can the old man tag along too?" Though Dad had phrased it as a question, it was clear that he didn't expect any answer but yes. Which was pure Dad. He'd always acted as if everyone else would fall in with his plans—one of the reasons he'd butted heads so often with John and Olivia; both of them had a contrary streak and neither of them were peacemakers like Mom and Susan—but John reckoned it'd gotten worse since Mom had died. Almost as if, by controlling what everyone thought and did, he'd be able to keep them safe.

Now wasn't the time to resurrect old grievances, though. John simply dipped his head in agreement. "Sure." He hesitated for a moment and then stepped forward so they could embrace. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, son." To John's surprise, his father put his hand on the back of John's head, drawing him closer for a moment, before pushing back. "Bobby, take your uncle's bag."

"Yes, sir." Bobby grabbed the bag in both hands and staggered away with it.

Dad put his hand on John's arm to keep him on the stoop. "Would've hoped to see you down here before this, son."

John stiffened, before drawing in a deep breath and saying, in as calm a voice as he could manage, "I came the first chance I could. I couldn't swing any more personal time once I got back from Germany."

"You spent quite a while over there." His father still had his hand on his arm.

"There was a lot to sort out." John kept his answer short. He didn't owe Dad an explanation—especially since any justification involved Aeryn and he barely understood his tangle of feelings where she was concerned himself. He did know one thing: right now, he was wishing he'd hopped on a plane to Frankfurt rather than Florida for the weekend. Shaking off his father's hand, he nodded toward the open door. "Susan and Frank inside?"

There was a moment's hesitation from his father—an unspoken we're not done here yet—before he answered, "Frank's on a run to the grocery store. Susan's in the kitchen, I think."

"Then I'd better go say hello." John pushed past his father, taking another deep breath and making sure his irritation didn't show on his face. Susan didn't need to know the two of them were at odds from the get-go on top of everything else.

An hour or so later, after a meal that was unusually somber by Crichton family standards, and with Frank having persuaded Dad and Bobby to join him outside, Susan led John upstairs. "We usually put Bobby in your old room when we're visiting," she threw back over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs ahead of him. "So we thought it best if he stayed there and you had Olivia's. If that's—." She hesitated uncertainly outside the door.

"A little… strange." John smiled at her. "But I'll cope." He stepped past her as she opened the door. "At least you got rid of the posters of that awful band she liked…."

Susan smothered a laugh. "Livvy did that. A while back." She followed him inside. "Frank brought your things up, and there's towels, and—."

"I'll be fine." He reached out and touched her arm. "I am fine. Mostly. How about you?"

She heaved a sigh and plopped down on the bed, crossing her wrists on her lap. "Okay, I guess." Her gaze wandered around the room. "I just miss her. And I miss Mom."

"Yeah. Me too." John sat down next to her and put his arm around her. He'd been feeling Mom's absence more strongly than usual as well.

Susan held herself away from him, peering at him uneasily, as if she suspected he was trying to deflect her. Which wouldn't be so far from the truth. "And you've had all of Livvy's stuff to deal with, as well…."

"Uh-huh. I brought some of her things with me. I thought you might want them." He started to get up, but she held him back.

"If there's anything any of us can do…."

He put his hand over hers. "I'll ask. Don't worry. But it's mostly just a lot of lawyers and a lot of papers to sign. Half of them in German…."

"How was Germany?" The way she asked the question made him think it had been discussed before he'd arrived.

"Very efficient. Clean." He got up and headed for his bag, set down on top of one of the dressers. He began to open it.

"John…." The exact same tone Mom had always used when she knew he was bullshitting her.

He huffed out a breath and then turned, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms. "Frustrating," he admitted. "The police seem to be going round in circles on the murder investigation." He'd called Dad first and Susan immediately afterward, the day after he'd arrived home, to break the news that Olivia's death hadn't been an accident. "And meanwhile, everything's stuck. Aeryn hasn't got the money to buy out Olivia's share until the insurers come through and that means she keeps having to ask me to make decisions about things I really don't understand. I'm starting to think I should just give her Livvy's half of the company and be done with it."

Susan's expression turned thoughtful. "She's making things difficult? Aeryn?"

He shook his head. "No. She's doing her best to sort it out. The whole thing's just a mess."

Susan ran her hand over and over the bedcover next to her, smoothing out the creases John had left when he sat down. "So what's she like?"

"Aeryn?" John shifted against the dresser, pulling his crossed arms a little tighter.

"Mmm-hmm." Susan looked up at him. "Livvy talked about her a bit, and I met her at the funeral, of course, but you spent a couple of weeks over there. I was just wondering what you'd made of her."

He hesitated. He'd been expecting to get the question thrown at him at some point during the weekend. Now that it came to it, he wasn't sure how to answer. There was the Aeryn he'd met that first day, the version of herself she showed the world. And there was the Aeryn behind that, the real Aeryn, that she sometimes let you see if you got close enough. And then there was the Aeryn he'd held in his arms and made love to….

"She scares me." The words slipped out before he'd had a chance to consider them. When Susan raised her eyebrows in surprise, he shrugged. It was true enough: all three versions of Aeryn scared him, for different reasons. Scared him and fascinated him.

Seeing that Susan was still waiting for more, he fumbled for a more conventional description. "I guess she comes across as a bit… intimidating. Because she's smart. I mean, really smart. And… intense. Very driven." He uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the dresser on either side of him. "And funny. In a very dry sort of way. And passionate. About her company and her work and life…. I guess I can see why Livvy liked her."

"And you liked her too?" Susan's gaze was fixed on him and her tone was faintly disapproving.

John looked back at her steadily. "Yeah. I did. I do. I like her a lot."

Susan straightened and, with an obvious effort, said, "Well, that's good, isn't it? Since it sounds like you'll be tangled up with her for a while until you get this stuff with the company sorted out."

"Uh-huh." He regarded her carefully, wondering where this hostility toward Aeryn was coming from. "So what did Livvy say?"

She frowned. "Livvy? About what?"

"Aeryn. You said she talked about her." He curled his hands a little tighter around the edge of the dresser.

"Oh, much the same as what you said, I guess." She began picking at a bit of lint on the bedcover, her attention focused on trapping it. "And that she had this crazy past full of crazy stuff. From being East German, you know?"

"Uh-huh." John nodded. "She told me some."

"She did?" Susan looked up, a startled expression on her face. "Livvy said she was… hard to get close to. For all they got along so well when they first met, she—Aeryn—didn't talk much. Livvy said even after a running a company together for more than a year and spending all that time with each other, she was still finding out new things."

John shrugged. "Well, she probably wouldn't have told me if she hadn't had to." If he hadn't badgered her for explanations.

Susan was still worrying at the bedcover. "Livvy said once that she'd told her she was responsible for a man's death…."

Perhaps he should've been as shocked by that as Susan evidently was, but he wasn't. After what Aeryn had told him about Skorpinski and the kind of lives people lived back then, he could well believe a lot of people from East Germany had someone's death on their conscience. Of course, given the way she'd dealt with those muggers, it might have been a little more personal.

"She was a spy," he pointed out gently. "For the bad guys, sure, but that was her country, then. Where she was born. Come to that, you could say the same thing about a bunch of the guys Dad worked with on the space program. That they were responsible for people dying."

Susan didn't say anything, for a moment, just went on fussing at the bedcover. Then she said quietly, "Livvy also said she thought Aeryn would do anything for that company. Anything at all." She looked up at John from under her lashes.

His mouth involuntarily curled up into a wry smile. "Now, that I can believe."

Susan went on looking at him with an unhappy expression. Downstairs, a door banged and a babble of voices swelled up the stairs toward them.

John held out his hand. "Come on, sounds like the guys are back inside. Let's go see what they have to say." As she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, he gave her fingers a squeeze. "Don't worry about me, sis. I can take care of myself."

oOo

When they reached the lake the next morning, John helped Bobby set up his line and bait it, before taking a pace back so his nephew could make his first cast. A few feet away, his father already had his line in the water. John shivered in the chilly air—they'd set out early to be sure of securing their favorite spot before the lakeshore got too crowded—and he reached for the flask of coffee they'd brought. "Want some?" He waggled the flask in his father's direction.

"Please." His father's eyes were fixed on the float bobbing in the water in front of him.

Filling two cups, John carried them over to his father. Setting one of them down in a safe spot close enough for his father to reach, he stood sipping from the other, taking a moment to appreciate the peace and beauty of the place before he unpacked his own tackle.

"Good to be back, huh?" His father shot him a sideways glance.

"Uh-huh." John closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"Guess they don't have lakes like this over in Germany, huh?" There was a soft whirr as his father reeled his line in a little.

John drew in another breath and let it out slowly. Dad had a real bee in his bonnet about his trip to Germany, didn't he? "I don't know," he said carefully. "I didn't get a chance to find out. Though they do have these things they call mountains that we wouldn't call an ant-hill. So maybe their lakes are puddles."

His father snorted softly. "So d'you get done what you needed to do while you were over there?"

John opened his eyes and took another sip of coffee, buying time to think. "As much as we could, yes."

"Susan said it could be a while before everything's signed across. That you could be mixed up with this Sun woman for a while yet."

His father was reeling in his line more quickly now, so that he could make another cast. John took a step sideways to give him room, turning to check that Bobby was getting on okay. "Looks like it, yes." He'd heard his sister and father talking last night, after he'd gone up to bed, the low murmur of voices drifting up from the sitting room: Susan reporting back to Dad on what John had said to her earlier. "Now it's a murder investigation, everything's slowed up."

His father flicked his line out again, a look of intense concentration on his face. When it was placed to his satisfaction, he said casually. "So, is it worth much, this company of Olivia's?"

"I guess." John stared down into his coffee, wondering how he'd gotten into this conversation and how he could get out of it. Though Dad seemed determined for them to have it, so best get it over with.

"She'd didn't tell you? That Sun woman? All that time you spent in Germany and she didn't tell you?" His father turned his head and gave John a disparaging look.

"Yes, she told me." John tightened his grip on his cup. "And her name is Aeryn."

His father ignored the rebuke. "And?"

John hesitated and then shrugged. What difference did it make if Dad knew? "A few hundred thousand dollars. For Olivia's half." When his father sniffed in answer, he added hastily, "Look, I know Livvy left everything to me, but I'm happy to split it with the rest of you. I—."

"We don't want your money, son." His father's tone softened as he nodded his head in Bobby's direction and murmured, "Though you might think about helping out with Bobby's college fund."

John looked across at his nephew, who had his gaze fixed firmly on the float on his line as if willing a fish to take a bite. Who knew what Bobby would want to be in ten years' time—John tried to remember what kind of future he'd planned for himself at that age—but it would be good to give him options. Ones that weren't controlled by Dad. And it wasn't as if John needed the money for himself. But all he said was, "Yeah, I should. Livvy would've liked that."

"'Course, if she'd had kids of her own…." His father was staring out across the lake, squinting slightly against the sun as it climbed higher.

John didn't answer. It was an old complaint—along with the unspoken corollary that it was about damn time John settled down and spawned a couple of grandkids as well—and there was never a response that satisfied Dad.

Another glance in Bobby's direction showed John that his nephew was frowning now, his hand hovering over the rod as if wondering whether or not to reel it in. Glad for an excuse to get away from the conversation with Dad, John opened his mouth to say he was going to check on Bobby. Before he could get the words out, Dad spoke again.

"Instead of gadding about in Germany…."

John gritted his teeth and said with forced patience, trying to warn Dad to drop it, "Don't think there would've been any kids even if she'd stayed in the US." Possibly a whole menagerie of rescue dogs and cats. But even when Bobby came along, Olivia had regarded him with caution. She'd had a big heart, but not a very maternal one.

"At least there'd still be a chance," his father muttered. "If she hadn't accepted that posting in Germany, if she hadn't met that Aeryn woman, she wouldn't be dead right now."

John couldn't argue with that. Of course, Fate might have marked Olivia's card no matter what choice she'd made about Germany. In a thousand or a million other possible universes, she might still be dead by now. But she wouldn't be dead in this particular way.

He didn't say anything, though. He didn't believe in wasting time on what-ifs, just in figuring out how to go forward and fix things from where your choices had ended up putting you.

Seemed Dad didn't agree. "We should never have let her go." He reeled in his line a little, a rapid turn and then another, the float creating ripples in the smooth surface of the lake.

John hesitated, reluctant to get into an argument neither of them could win, but wanting to offer his father some comfort. He knew Dad blamed himself for Mom's death, too, for not noticing how sick she'd been and making her go to the doctor sooner—though they'd all been at fault there, the whole family. And this time, his father was blameless: he'd said his piece two years ago and Olivia had listened and then made her own choices.

He said, groping, "Dad, it was her life—."

"You should've talked her out of it." Dad was reeling in his line quickly, apparently dissatisfied with the cast he'd made and wanting to make a fresh one.

John raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

"She listened to you." His father thumped the butt of his rod against the ground, reckless of any damage he might cause, and turned a hard-eyed stare on John.

John spread his hands, the gesture splashing the end of the cold coffee out of the cup he still held. "When she wanted to…," he reminded his father. She was a Crichton after all. Stubborn. Like Dad. Like himself.

"You should have tried harder." Dad was glaring at him now. "If you'd stopped her…."

John shook his head, partly in disbelief that Dad would really think, even for a second, that he was to blame, and partly because he knew there was no arguing with Dad in this mood.

Before he could figure out what to say, his father carried on, "It's all that damned woman's fault. She got your sister killed. And now she's gotten her hooks into you, too."

John blinked at him. "What?"

"Don't try to deny it, son." His father narrowed his eyes. "I've heard the way you talk about her. And Susan told me you were singing her praises last night. Couldn't speak highly enough of her."

John gaped at him. That didn't line up with his memory of what he and Susan had talked about at all. Not that he blamed Susan for what Dad was saying; the old man had always been good at hearing the parts he wanted to hear and ignoring the rest.

Scrambling his thoughts together, he said weakly, "Look, I'll admit, I liked her. Just like Livvy liked her. But she hasn't 'gotten her hooks' into me. If anything, she kinda scares me."

"So she should." His father nodded vigorously in agreement. "She's using you, John. Just like she used Livvy. And now Livvy's dead, and you're planning to just hand over half the company to this Sun woman. Who may even be responsible for your sister's death. Have you thought of that?"

John sighed and crossed his arms, the half-forgotten coffee cup dangling from his fingers. "Yes, Dad. People keep reminding me it's a possibility. And I don't believe it for a second. If you could see how much she's hurting inside, the way I have. If you could hear how she talks about Olivia, how she felt about her…. How much Livvy meant to her as a friend, as well as a business partner and a big part of why the company's a success. There's just no way she would have done anything to hurt Livvy."

His father sniffed derisively. "She showed you that, huh?" When John nodded, he let out an outright snort. "Son, that's 'cause that's what you wanted to see. You were upset about Livvy and you wanted her to be just as upset, so she was. She's manipulating you. Just like she manipulated Livvy."

It was John's turn to snort. Talk about melodramatic! "Don't be ridiculous, Dad. You don't know her. I do."

"Just like you knew that girl your senior year in High School who got you to tutor her in math?" His father shook his rod, the butt grounded on the dirt, to emphasize his point. "What was her name? Karen something? You were convinced she liked you and was gonna go to the prom with you—right until she laughed in your face and told you she was going with the captain of the swim team and you were a complete loser."

"I was seventeen," John protested. Sure, it hadn't been one of his finest moments, but he'd been scarcely more than a kid.

"Or how about that girlfriend you had in college," his father went on, taking a step closer. "The one who got you to drive her home to Colorado and then dumped you ten minutes after you got there?"

John rolled his eyes, cursing inwardly. Dammit, Mom, did you have to tell Dad everything I told you? And dammit, why did his father feel the need to store up every dumb mistake his son had ever made so he could use them to cut him down to size when the mood took him. "Enough, Dad."

"No, son. It's not nearly enough." His father's face shaped itself into a sneer. "How long have you known this woman? A few weeks?"

John blew out a frustrated breath. "Livvy knew her a lot longer than that and she trusted her."

"And look where that got her," his father snapped. There was silence for a moment between them and then his father said a little more softly, "All that means is that this Aeryn woman's good at the long con. That she knows how people tick. What levers to press. And that Livvy was as much of a fool as you are. If she'd listened to me—."

"You know what, Dad?" John turned and flung the empty coffee cup in the direction of his fishing bag. "I'm not gonna listen to this. You can say what you like about me and to me, but I am not gonna listen to you talk crap about Livvy when she's not here to defend herself."

Ignoring his father's protest, John strode away, past Bobby and on round the edge of the lake. Behind him, he could hear Bobby's confused, "What's wrong with Uncle John, Grandpa?" and his father's reply: "I guess he doesn't feel much like fishing right now." Ducking the blame for the shitstorm he'd started, just like always.

John's pace slackened after a few minutes, once he was well out of sight, his anger subsiding as quickly as it had risen. He knew why Dad had gone off at him like that: it was a father's job to protect his kids from all the evils of the world, and Dad was blaming himself for not having protected his little girl well enough. And now he was afraid for John, tangled up with the same people in the same place.

A mile or so along the lakeshore, John found himself at one of Olivia's favorite spots. She'd confessed once that sometimes she didn't walk very far when she went off on her hikes. She'd come here and sit for a while, watching the birds that gathered and fussed around the island a little way out on the lake. John guessed it beat staring at nothing but ripples on the water, waiting for a fish to bite, if you didn't actually care much for the few moments of excitement when you did get a bite.

Folding himself up on a flat rock, he watched some ducks dabbling along the edge of the shore opposite, tipping themselves up and showing their rears to the world as they rootled in the mud at the bottom of the lake. He didn't feel the same guilt Dad did about Livvy's death: he might be wishing things had turned out differently and that Livvy was still with them, but just as he'd had to—needed to—make his own way in life, with or without Dad's blessing, so had Livvy. And he'd known how happy she'd been: he'd heard it in her voice the few times they'd spoken on the phone, as well as in the words she'd used. His real regret was that they hadn't spent more time together, that he'd thought there'd always be another chance, another Thanksgiving or another Christmas….

When maybe an hour had passed, and the ducks had given up feeding and settled down in huddles on the shore for a nap, he got up. Dad would've likely cooled down by now as well and he didn't want to face Susan's gentle scorn if he came home as the only empty-handed Crichton.

His father was re-baiting his line when John returned. He glanced up from the hook as John approached, his gaze searching John's face. After a moment's hesitation, he said quietly, "I'm sorry, son. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was out of line."

John nodded, accepting the apology. "It's okay, Dad. And you're right that maybe I'm a little turned around when it comes to Aeryn, after all that's happened. But she's not a bad person."

His father gave a muted nod that suggested he maybe still wasn't convinced of that, but would let it lie for now. Which was as much as John could ever expect.

Turning, John squatted next to Bobby, flipping open his nephew's bag and peering at the two fish already nestled inside. "Huh, I can see I've got some work to do to catch up."

Bobby grinned at him happily, before his expression sobered. "Is Grandpa mad at you?"

John shook his head. "No, but we're both sad about your Aunt Olivia, and sometimes it's easier to be angry than sad." He ruffled Bobby's hair and pushed back to his feet to head over to his own tackle. "Now I'd better get busy."

That evening, after Bobby had gone to bed, he brought out Olivia's things. His father and sister amicably divided the photographs and the mementos between them, occasionally playing the game of I-remember-when.

Last of all, John offered Susan the wooden box that contained Olivia's jewelry. "I don't think I'm going to be wearing any of this. Mom's engagement ring is in there. I don't know…." He glanced across at his father, wondering if he'd like to have it back.

Susan took the case and set it on her lap. Raising the lid, she examined the contents, before pulling out the box with the engagement ring and flipping it open. While she peered down at the ring, she lifted her other hand to show the engagement ring Frank had given her, sitting next to her wedding band. "I don't need this." She looked up and held out the box to her father. "Dad…?"

He shook his head, a pained expression flitting across his face. "You should keep it, John." He gestured for Susan to pass it back to her brother. "You're the only one of us might need it now. Find someone to give it to that'd make your Mom proud." For once, his father's words didn't carry any hint of disapproval or disappointment, merely hope.

John took the box and sat looking at the ring for a moment, before snapping the case shut and slipping it into his pocket. "I'll try, Dad." His mind skittered away to the intense, smart, difficult, beautiful woman on the other side of the ocean who, with the passing weeks, he seemed to be thinking about more and more, not less, though he suspected he wasn't nearly so often in her thoughts. He didn't think she'd please Dad, but Mom? Yeah, he reckoned Mom would've liked her and gotten along with her very well indeed.

oOo

John shifted from foot to foot as he waited in Arrivals, scanning the crowds of people coming out through the doors. The information boards had told him Aeryn's flight had landed three quarters of an hour earlier, but he supposed it would take her a while longer to get through immigration than it would him. How much longer? It was nearly five months since he'd last seen her, though they'd talked on the phone every week, and the last few minutes were dragging endlessly.

At last he spotted her, moving slowly behind a group of teenagers all carrying identical backpacks. The other travelers fanned out as they neared the barriers, giving him a proper look at last. His breath caught in his throat. Though she appeared a little weary and distracted, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Then she looked up and caught sight of him and her face broke out into a smile. His heart hammered in his chest as he grinned back at her.

She tilted her head slightly to indicate she'd meet him at the end of the barriers. He followed her along the other side, waiting out of the way of the general flow of traffic.

"Hi." His mouth was dry and the word almost stuck in his throat, his tongue refusing to work properly.

"Hello." She let go of her wheeled suitcase and held out her hand.

He took it and his skin tingled at her touch. He tried to draw her closer so he could kiss her cheek, but she resisted, and he saw an instant of panic in her eyes. Damn!

Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of how formal and distant she'd seemed when they first met. How any touch beyond the minimum was simply not how things were done in Germany. Hadn't that smile when she'd first seen him been genuine enough? She probably just didn't want to find herself in an overly familiar embrace in a public place.

Clearing his throat, he let go of her hand and gestured. "The car's this way. Let me take your bag."

She allowed him to take control of her suitcase, falling into step beside him.

He cast a sideways glance at her. "Did you have a good flight?"

"Yes. A little tiring, of course." She sounded more clipped and reserved than she usually was on the phone. "And you? Are you well?"

"Yes, thanks." His reply was as automatic and meaningless as her question had been. God, he hoped they could get past this stilted small-talk soon!

They hadn't managed it by the time they reached the car. On the way, they'd rather stiffly covered whether the traffic was bad and how far it was to Aeryn's hotel and what the weather was like in Boston. To his relief, however, by the time he'd stowed her luggage in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel, she seemed to have relaxed a little, the tension flowing out of her as she leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, hands resting loosely on her lap and her legs stretched out in front of her.

Starting the engine, he steered the car out of the parking garage. "Is everything set for tomorrow?"

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded, eyes still closed. She'd signed an agreement with the university for Moya to host an MIT student in Frankfurt a few weeks back and was going to be interviewing the potential candidates the next day. She also had a meeting with some of the faculty in the School of Engineering to discuss sponsoring a research project.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw she'd turned her head and was smiling at him. "Thank you for arranging the introductions. It has made so much difference to be able to tell people we are working with MIT. Especially when we are recruiting. And now we are beginning to talk to some of the universities in Germany about placements for their students too…."

He grinned. "That was the idea. I'm glad it's working." He could sense she was still watching him, still smiling, and he suddenly felt self-conscious. "So, uh, how are things otherwise with Moya?"

"Good. The London office is crazy still. We can barely keep up. But I will be able to tell you everything over dinner."

"And the investigation? Have your contacts heard anything?" They were fast coming up on the deadline for Aeryn to buy out John's shares and he'd had nothing from the consulate in Germany for weeks, even when he nudged them. He felt like Olivia's death had gone to the bottom of everyone's else's in-tray.

A quick look showed him Aeryn's smile had faded. "Nothing new. They are still investigating: looking into telephone records and bank accounts, I think. But it is only a small team now. I am starting to think they will never find the truth and there will never be justice for Olivia."

"There will." John tried to put as much conviction into his words as he could, though he knew the likelihood of an arrest was growing fainter by the day. "And then you'll be able to buy out Olivia's half of Moya and be rid of me."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Aeryn was staring forward now, a little more upright. A glance across showed John her hands were twisted together in her lap. She must be worried she'd be saddled with him for a very long time to come.

When they reached the hotel, John waited downstairs while Aeryn checked in and freshened up. Then they went in to dinner. They mostly talked about Moya: Aeryn filling John in on the detail of the successes they'd had and the challenges that still remained, while he asked questions about the parts he didn't understand or wanted to tie in with earlier conversations they'd had. Aeryn unbent somewhat during the course of the evening, her smile coming more often as she glanced up and met his eye and then looked away again. He even managed to make her laugh once or twice.

The waiter was back to see if they wanted to order coffee. Aeryn put her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "I am sorry, John. I am very tired. It is late for me."

He nodded, remembering that the time difference meant she'd already had six more hours of the day than he had. He waved the waiter away. "We've got plenty of time."

"Yes." She smiled at him, making his heart flutter, as she folded up her napkin and placed it on the table. She was staying on after her meetings until the end of week and he was going to show her around Cambridge and Boston.

She stood and he followed suit. "You have the address?" he asked anxiously. When she was done for the day, she was going to hop over to his apartment so he could take her to one of the neighborhood restaurants.

"Yes." She rolled her eyes very slightly. "And where to find a taxi. I will call you when I am about to leave." She stepped forward, taking his elbow and brushing her cheek lightly against his, lingering long enough for him to breathe in her scent. "Until tomorrow."

"Yeah," he managed, his voice croaky, as she stepped back and quickly turned away to head across to the restaurant exit. "Tomorrow."

oOo

Aeryn's footsteps echoed up the stairwell as John opened the door to his apartment. He'd forced himself to count to three before he pressed the button on the entryphone, even though he'd been watching from the window for her taxi and waited only long enough to see her pay off the driver and climb out before he'd headed for the hall. Play it cool, John.

She lifted her head as she rounded the final turn, her expression serious and a little anxious, though she managed a smile when she caught sight of him and there was pleasure in her voice as she said his name in greeting.

"Hi," he croaked in return, gripping the door a little harder. He swallowed and managed to add, "Good day?"

"Yes, very good. Thank you." She gave him a nod as he stood back to let her past him into the apartment.

He closed the door and turned, hesitating briefly before he lightly took her arm and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, warm and sweet-smelling. As he began to pull back, she lifted her hands and took his face between them, drawing his mouth to hers so she could kiss him firmly on the lips.

He froze for a moment, the questions he'd rehearsed a dozen times during the day vanishing from his mind, before his instincts took over—the part of him that wanted her with every fiber of his being—and returned the kiss. She kissed him back still harder, one hand moving to cup his neck and bring him closer. It was encouragement enough for him to slide his arm around her waist and pull her tightly against him as he accepted and deepened the kiss. Somewhere angels were singing choruses of hallelujahs as he dizzily reveled in the taste and feel and scent of her, and in the knowledge that she wanted him. He'd hoped for it, very badly, but he'd scarcely allowed himself to believe. And now….

They broke apart at last, just a little way, both of them breathing hard. With his mouth still close to hers, his arm still around her, one hand now tangled in her loosened hair—when had that happened?—he murmured, "Miss me?"

"Mmm-hmm." She was trembling. "Did you miss me?"

"Hell, yeah!" He grinned widely and her mouth broke into an answering smile. But only for an instant, as he swooped in to capture her lips again for another long, deep, hard kiss.

Her hands slid down his back as they kissed, pressing his hips against hers, seeking proof he wanted her—and getting it, because, God, yes, he'd rarely gotten so hard so fast. He staggered, off balance for a second, and then his shoulder hit the wall, and they steadied, and went on kissing, hard and fierce.

She broke the kiss long enough to get out, "Do you have a bed?"

"Yeah," he managed when they next came up for air. "Wanna use it?"

"Yes. Please." There wasn't the desperation he remembered from the first time they'd made love, but there was heartfelt need. For him. For them. Together. He didn't need to hear more: still kissing her, he waltzed them a turn and then another half turn until they reached the bedroom door.

In the bedroom, they began to undress each other, their hands lingering on bared skin, each savoring the feel of the other now that the first frenzy was past. Their mouths softened, too, their kisses becoming lighter and more tender. John could still feel her desire, as strong as ever, just as his was as strong as ever, but with no need to hurry, not now they were sure of each other.

When they had shed his shirt and her jacket and blouse, she pushed back, kicking out of her shoes and shimmying out of her pants. He reached to unfasten his own belt, but he stopped, caught up in watching her, in watching the grace and ease with which she moved, strong and toned and not an extra ounce on her—yet still with soft curves where there should be curves.

Stepping out of her pants, she looked up at him. "Is something wrong?" A slight frown creased her forehead.

He shook his head. "God, no. Absolutely not." When she still looked unsure, he added fervently, "You're just so beautiful, I…." He shrugged helplessly.

A blush colored her cheeks and then she tossed her head. "So are you going to spend all night admiring me from over there?"

He snorted, fumbling with his pants. No doubt about the answer. "Uh, wasn't planning on it," he offered.

She moved sideways, climbing on to the bed, sitting back on her heels, her thighs spread, inviting him to come rest between them. Dragging off his pants and socks and shoes all as one, he followed her on to the bed on his knees. She rose up to meet him, sliding her arms around him and pulling him to her for another kiss.

Wrapping his arms round her waist, he drew her close, his cock pressing against her stomach. She tugged him nearer still, her hands slipping down inside his briefs and pulling them down his hips. He groaned as his cock sprang free, hot and hard, burning at the touch of her skin against his. Blindly, not breaking the kiss, she slid one hand around and down between them, drawing it along the length of his shaft. He groaned again, reveling in the sweet torture of her touch.

Slowly he settled back on his heels while they went on kissing. She came with him, until she was straddling his lap, her own heat pressed against him while she wrapped her hand more tightly around him.

Soon—though not a moment sooner than he wanted—she broke the kiss and pulled back to catch his gaze, her hand still on him. "Ready?"

"God, yeah." He could barely get the words out. "You?"

She nodded, leaning back still further and letting go of him—Come back here!—but only so that she could strip her bra off over her head, displaying her breasts in all their glory as she stretched her arms upward. Automatically, he slid his hands up her flanks until he could brush his thumbs over them, her nipples hardening under his touch. She let out a low purr of approval deep in her throat, tipping her head back and pushing herself toward him. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck.

She let her hands rest on his shoulders, pulling him closer for a moment and then pushing him away. "Now!" she insisted.

"Yeah." He could scarcely breathe. "I need—."

She nodded to show she understood. He twisted away to haul open the nightstand drawer with one hand and fish out a condom, while he awkwardly wrenched his briefs off completely with the other. By the time he turned back, she'd wriggled out of her own panties and dropped them on the floor. She settled herself back on his lap, her hands resting on his shoulders, as he tore the condom packet open with his teeth and fumbled to roll it on.

"I'm ready." He looked up at her with a nod to confirm it and to confirm she was still willing. She returned the nod as she reached down between them again and grasped him to guide him into her. He closed his eyes and moaned as she surrounded him, pushing down to welcome him deeper inside her. It seemed like an eternity since they'd been together like this and yet no time at all, so right and so familiar did it feel.

"John?" She breathed his name and he felt her lightly take his face between her fingertips. He opened his eyes to meet hers and she held his gaze as she slowly began to move over him.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked back at her, her gaze intent and filled with desire and trust and—something he didn't dare name yet, but that made his heart beat even faster.

He knew his own eyes must be pouring out his love for her. Yes, love: it had only grown stronger and deeper in the months since he'd last seen her. He loved her and he wasn't ashamed to admit it, except—except maybe—as she moved over him, her body's need meeting his body's need—it was more than she wanted to hear just yet.

He turned his head a fraction, his gaze slipping away from hers, but she pressed her fingertips against his cheek, gently forcing him to meet her gaze again. To meet his own feelings reflected in her expression. A shiver ran through him, not because of what her body was doing to his, though that was reason enough, but because her soul was reaching out to his, her heart answering all that his heart desired….

A moment of rational thought forced its way through his bliss, reminding him that this wasn't just about him. His hands were on her hips, steadying her as she moved over him, but he lifted one and slipped it between them, down between her folds, remembering their first time together. She quivered as his finger slid over her—and again, and again, and again—her fingertips trembling against his face, but her gaze remaining locked with his, speaking without words: You. You. Us….

And then she threw back her head and called out as she came, her whole body shuddering, and he tumbled after, everything suddenly tight and unbearable until it released, his face buried in her shoulder to muffle his own cry.

He clung to her, heavy-limbed with happy exhaustion, feeling the beat of her heart, a little out of step with the thump of his own as they both of them fought to steady their breathing. She had her arms around him now, holding him close, her cheek pressed into his hair.

At last he pulled away from her, bringing his hands up to catch her face, drawing her back to him so that he could kiss her softly. The immediate passion was spent, to be replaced by something more tender but no less powerful. Leaning back, his hands still cupping her face, he met her gaze, speaking to her wordlessly, afraid to speak aloud the only words he wanted to say.

Her lips shaped into a small smile as she looked back at him, but her eyes were serious. She raised a hand and stroked his hair back from his forehead. "I want this, John," she said softly, her voice cracking a little. "I know I have blown hot and cold. That is how you say it, yes?" When he nodded, not wanting to interrupt, recognizing that this was difficult for her, she went on, "After Olivia…. After she died. I was afraid. Afraid to feel. Afraid to care. Afraid—."

She fell silent, but he could guess at what she wasn't saying: afraid she was using him to replace Olivia. Just as a part of his attraction to her in those first days had been because she'd known Livvy and known what Livvy had been thinking and feeling—perhaps better than anyone—right before she died.

He nodded to show he understood.

"And I was not looking for this. With anyone." She raised her hands to indicate the place, the two of them, still locked together, her still surrounding him. "But I want this. I want to try…."

He drew her back towards him, feeling her breath on his face. "It's okay," he murmured, his lips close to hers. "You don't need to explain. We're here now. We're together now. That's all that matters."

oOo

John woke slowly from a light doze, a moment of confusion clouding his mind. The sun was bright behind his eyelids, the way it only was in the evenings, and the warm weight of a woman's naked body rested against his chest.

Aeryn.

Memory flooded back. He sighed deeply and pressed his face against her hair, breathing in her scent, reliving every moment from the second she'd first kissed him out in the hallway to their triumphant climax and the sweet, stumbling confession that had followed. The evening had already given him so much more than he'd expected, but her words had answered everything he'd secretly hoped for.

When they'd finally untangled themselves, she tried to slip off the bed, but he reached out to stop her. "Hey, come back here."

She sank back down, her expression wary and her legs tucked underneath her, hands splayed out on either side, as if ready to spring up again.

He finished disposing of the condom and then scooted back toward her, sliding his hand around her waist. "Let's just hang for a while, huh?"

"Like this?" She still looked unsure.

He brushed away the thought that her love life must have been pretty weird up to now if she didn't expect—or want—to spend even a little time basking in the afterglow. From what he knew, most chicks were partial to cuddling in bed afterward. He was pretty fond of it himself. Especially when he felt about a woman the way he felt about Aeryn. "Yeah." He pulled her closer, scrabbling with his other hand for the bedclothes.

Her gaze followed the gesture while she still resisted lightly. At last she nodded and, yielding to him, let him draw her under the covers and settle her in his arms.

"I am… not very good at this," she pointed out as he brushed her sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead.

"Yeah, I know." He softened the remark with a smile. Definitely too soon to talk about his feelings or even murmur sweet nothings. He went on stroking her hair away from her face. "So, we kinda skipped the part where I ask you about your day and you tell me. So, how did the interviews go?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "You want to talk about business now?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her. "That's what lovers do when they're not making love. They ask each other about what's important to them."

She bit her lip, the uncertain expression back on her face. Then her mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes, I suppose—." She broke off what she'd been about to say, as if reconsidering it, and then reconsidering it again, because she finished, "Yes, I suppose they do." She went on looking at him thoughtfully.

"The interviews were good…?" he prompted.

"Oh, yes." She nodded eagerly. "They were. One was… exceptional, but I would have happily taken any of the three. Your students are very smart and confident, I think."

"Most of them, yeah." Some of them a bit too much, sometimes.

She put her finger to his lips, tracing their outline lightly with her fingertips. "Like their professors…."

"You only want me for my brains, huh?" He ran his own fingertip down her shoulder, feeling his skin tingle as he touched her, as though it was the only place they were connected, despite her naked body lying pressed against the length of his.

"Oh no." She shook her head, using the very dry and serious tone he'd come to recognize meant she was making a joke. "I find your body also quite… acceptable for my purposes."

"Oh, you do, do you?" With sudden speed, he rolled her onto her back so he was half covering her and captured her mouth for a hard kiss that quickly turned more tender as she responded.

Breaking the kiss and pushing up so he could look down at her, he saw her mouth was curved into a wide smile. "Again already?" She sounded quite pleased by the prospect.

He snorted and shook his head. "Afraid not." He rolled them back to their previous position. "This body isn't as young as it used to be. You'll need to give me a while yet." Though, God knows, if there was one woman could make him get it up again that quickly, it was her.

"It's still a very nice body," she murmured, sliding her hand up his chest. He was surprisingly relieved to hear that: he'd been conscious, when he'd remembered their lovemaking in Munich, that she was in much better shape than he was. A touch of vanity and a dash of fear had made him up the distance of his twice-weekly runs in the past few months and add in a few exercises to firm up his stomach, much to DK's amusement. And frankly, if Aeryn was game, he was quite happy to test out just exactly how fit he was over the next few days.

She lifted her hand away from his chest and pressed it to her mouth to smother a yawn.

"Still tired?" he asked.

"A little." She rested her head against his shoulder. "And happy…," she mumbled.

Squinting down at her, he saw she'd closed her eyes. He closed his own, quite content himself to let her fall asleep in his arms.

When he finally opened his eyes again, with the sun shining in on him, Aeryn was still asleep. He lay there for a few minutes, before carefully lifting his head so he could squint at the alarm clock and check what time it was.

Not carefully enough: Aeryn stirred and muttered something he couldn't quite catch—perhaps because it was in German. Then she came more fully awake. She tipped her head back to look at him. "Hello." She stretched up to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"Hi." He smiled down at her for a moment, before kissing her back rather more firmly and for a great deal longer.

When they drew apart, she glanced around. "Is it late?" The sunlight that had woken him had drained away and the room had grown dim.

He shook his head. "Not very. About half six, I think." The red numbers on the alarm clock were shining out more brightly now. "Are you hungry?"

"Not yet." She reached up and teased a few strands of his hair between her fingertips. "Not for food. Other things, perhaps." Her shy grin was evident even in the gloom.

"I think we can accommodate that…." He captured her lips again.

This time they made love slowly, as they had in Munich, taking their time to explore each others' bodies and build to a climax that seemed deeper and more intense for her as well as him. Lying together afterward, both of them drowsy and satisfied, she laughed. "I think now I have an appetite…."

"Yeah, me too." In fact, he realized, he was ravenous. He glanced at the clock again, surprised and yet not surprised at how much time had passed. By the time they'd showered and gotten dressed, it would be getting on for nine. "I think it's a bit late to go out," he admitted, "but I can order takeout."

"That sounds nice." She nestled herself more snugly against his shoulder and they went on lying there, too comfortable to move—until his stomach rumbled loudly. Aeryn smothered a giggle and he took the hint and hauled himself out of bed and went to find the take-out menu.

They both had time to shower before the food arrived, Aeryn making her way into the living room just as he was unpacking everything. He glanced up at her as she paused in the doorway, inspecting her surroundings. "It's not nearly as fancy as the restaurant I was planning to take you to," he pointed out nervously as he set down the final carton. "But it's the best place in town for Chinese."

She smiled at him as she settled herself on the couch. "You don't have to try to impress me, John." Her lips twitched. "At least, not like that. And we could still go tomorrow to the restaurant."

"Yeah." He went on fussing with the food and with pouring the wine he'd opened.

"You have a lot of… things. Books. Pictures."

Glancing up, he saw she was examining the room again. He took another look at it through her eyes, comparing the crammed bookshelves that lined the walls to her cool, minimalist apartment. "Yeah. I do. Hazards of being an academic, I guess." Satisfied with the food at last, he held out a carton with a pair of chopsticks stuck upright in it and a napkin wrapped around it.

She hesitated for a second before accepting it, gingerly placing her fingers in the right position on the chopsticks.

"I can get you a fork," he offered hastily, realizing she might not eat Chinese food often—if at all.

"Thank you, no. I am quite familiar with chopsticks." She elegantly captured some noodles and transferred them to her mouth. Swallowing them, she gave him an approving smile. "This is very good."

"Told ya." He smirked at her around a mouthful of his own meal. He couldn't help notice, though, that her gaze kept straying to the dining table and chairs that occupied one side of the room. What she could see of them under the piles of papers, books, journals and god-knows-what stacked on top of them. His grin faded. "I could clear off the table…."

"No, I am fine. Really." She saluted him with the carton and gave him a wide smile that seemed only slightly forced. "You followed my rules while we were in Germany and I am in America now. It is my turn to fit in."

John doubted that was possible: she would always stand out in a crowd, no matter where she was.

While they ate their food, she asked him about the area and how long he had lived there and what he liked about it. Once they had finished, and she had wiped her fingers carefully on the napkin, she nodded her head at the photographs on the walls. "May I look?"

"Of course." He gathered the empty cartons together and took them out into the kitchen. When he came back, he found her standing in front of a group of photos that dated from when he'd been in junior high through to around the time he'd finished his doctorate.

"This is your friend? DK?" She indicated the slightly goofy figure who was in most of the pictures.

"Uh-huh." John slid his arm around her waist and she leaned back against him. "I think I always kinda thought—hoped—he and Livvy…." He reached out and touched his fingertips to a photo of Olivia and DK standing with their arms around each other in front of a distant Golden Gate Bridge, snapped the summer after Olivia graduated high school, when the three of them had taken a road trip together. "'Course, I'd've had to kill him for even looking at her…."

Aeryn gave a small start at his words, before she relaxed again. "I don't think Olivia…. I don't think she ever thought of him like that. From what she said, I think he was… like a second brother." She cleared her throat and said more brightly, "So, no baby pictures?"

"Of me?" John laughed. "Nah. I think Dad has them. Or maybe Susan. But there's some photos of my nephew Bobby over there." He steered her across the room to where the family photos hung.

"Olivia was very proud of him." Aeryn put up a hand, half indicating one of the more recent photographs, of Bobby posing in his Little League uniform with a trophy he'd won for pitching. "She used to tell me all the news about him that Susan sent her."

"Yeah." John nuzzled Aeryn's hair as he peered over her shoulder at the pictures, his arm still around her waist. "She acted like she thought kids were the pits, but you'd never know it if you saw them together. I think she did admit once that he got tolerable after he got big enough to do stuff with."

Aeryn laughed, letting her weight rest against him and covering his hand with hers.

"So what about you?" He drew her closer, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "You want kids?" The words were out of his mouth before he'd thought them through and considered the pitfalls: whether it was a sore subject for her and how she might interpret him asking.

She tensed slightly and he had plenty of time to kick himself in the few seconds it took her to answer, clearly taking the time to think through her response and how to word it. "I am not sure." She gave a small shrug. "My life has not had a place for children yet, and now I have Moya, and I suppose I have not many years left when I will have a choice." She twisted round in his arms and caught his gaze. "And you, John? Is this something you want?"

He looked back at her, knowing it was too soon for this conversation but knowing there was no taking it back. Knowing, too, that it didn't really matter when they had it and that perhaps it was best to have it now, before he began to build his hopes and dreams for the future entirely around her. He nodded. "With the right person, yes." He smoothed her hair back from her face.

She went on looking at him unflinchingly, and he knew she understood what he hadn't said: that, in her, he thought he'd found that person. At last, she lowered her gaze and said in a conversational tone, "Yes, finding the right person is important."

Which was a very Aeryn sort of answer, he thought wryly, as she ducked out of his arms with the excuse of picking up her wine glass again.

oOo

The following day, John took Aeryn on a tour of Cambridge. The rain held off long enough for them to amble around slowly, taking in the various sights, before they stopped for something to eat at a café near Harvard Square. A sharp rain shower after lunch drove them into a museum that John had never been into before—a fact that seemed to amuse Aeryn—to boggle at the stuffed exotic animals and the whale skeletons and the gallery of delicate glass flowers. John didn't much care what they looked at: it was enough to hold Aeryn's hand as they wandered around and watch her face as she inspected the exhibits.

The previous evening, she'd insisted on returning to her hotel after she'd finished her glass of wine, claiming she needed to pick up her messages. John hadn't pushed her to stay, though he would have liked very much for them to spend the night together. But she'd been a little distant and withdrawn ever since he'd asked that careless question. Just like always, it was two steps forward with her and one step back. Two giant steps, he'd reminded himself, as he'd seen her into a taxi.

By the time they came out of the museum, the weather had cleared up. They'd walked back to his apartment, planning to kill a little time before they went to dinner at the restaurant he'd intended to take her to the night before.

Inside the apartment, he drew her to him for a proper kiss, but she held him off. "John, there is something I need to ask you while I am here. May we talk?"

"Okay." He gestured for her to lead the way into the living room, his stomach churning uneasily.

She perched on the couch, her hands linked together in her lap. Settling himself next to her, he took her hands in his. "What is it?"

She drew in a deep breath. "You know that the arrangement that allows me to buy Olivia's share of Moya—your share—will expire soon?"

"Uh-huh." He couldn't remember the exact date, but he knew it was only a few weeks away now.

"And you know that I still do not have the money to make the purchase…." She bit her lip as she looked at him.

"Yeah." She'd filled him in on a few extra details about the police and insurance investigations since her arrival, but it seemed everything was still stuck in limbo, waiting on the police finding enough evidence to tie one or other of their suspects to Olivia's death.

She gave his hands a squeeze. "I want to make a new agreement. Between the two of us. I have talked to our legal people and we have some different ideas…."

A wave of relief washed through him as he realized she was simply worried about the business. Not about… them, or about the previous evening, or about where they were going. He shook his head, speaking over her. "You don't need to do that."

Her expression grew more anxious. "But—."

He shook his head again. "You don't have to tie me down with a contract, Aeryn. I'll wait for as long as it takes, and when you're ready to buy, I'll be ready to sell."

She pulled her hands out of his. "John—."

He caught her face between his hands. "Trust me," he said more softly, moving closer. "I know how important Moya is to you. How important it was to Olivia."

Her expression softened a little. She sighed quietly. "It's not that I don't trust you, John. It's just… it's good business to do this." She put her hands up to clasp his wrists. "I would be happier if we made a new arrangement."

Her eyes were still filled with worry and he supposed she had a point about it being good business. It just all seemed so unnecessary to him. But if it was what she wanted…. He leaned in, his lips an inch or two from hers. "Look, if it matters that much to you, then why don't you send me something about those ideas you have when you get back to Germany. And then we'll talk about it again. But not tonight." He kissed her lightly. "I don't want to talk business tonight."

"Very well." She kissed him back. "But I would like to go out to dinner this evening." She put a very slight emphasis on the word out, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Oh, and whose fault was that yesterday?" He playfully wrestled her down on to the couch and captured her lips with his own. As she responded, her mouth eager and welcoming, and slid her arms around his neck, he softened the kiss, savoring the moment after a day of glances and touches and anticipation. Then, with a heavy sigh, he broke away and pulled them both back upright. "But I guess we should go now, before this gets out of hand."

"Mmm-hmmm." She brushed a hand over her hair, smoothing it down.

When they reached the restaurant, she seemed as charmed by it as he'd hoped, from the effusive welcome—John was a regular there—and the slightly overdone compliments in hammed-up Italian showered on Aeryn by the owner as he showed them to their table to the elaborately presented antipasti that arrived while they were still studying the menus.

John noticed though, that once they'd placed their order, Aeryn grew quiet, staring off across the restaurant with a distracted and slightly tense expression and taking a moment to respond when he spoke to her. Remembering how she'd gone away inside herself at times during the hike they'd taken together, he tried to tell himself that she was simply taking a little time out to recuperate from what had been a pretty full-on couple of days. Plus she might still have some jetlag. But he couldn't stop himself from asking after a few minutes, "Is everything all right?"

"Hmm?" She turned her gaze back on him. "Yes, I just—. It's fine. I am fine." She composed her face into a strained smile.

He gave her a disbelieving look and reached across the table to take her hand. "Come on. Spill. You've obviously got something on your mind."

"It's nothing. Really." She tilted her head slightly. "And you asked me not to talk business tonight."

Ah, so that was it. "Still worrying about that agreement?"

She gave a slight shrug in confirmation, before she managed a more genuine smile. "But I am wasting a lovely evening in a lovely place. Though I think you must come here very often with 'special' friends."

He laughed. "Not that often." Even before he'd met Aeryn, it had been a while. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "And none of them were as beautiful as you."

She rolled her eyes but he was saved from whatever caustic reply she'd been about to make by the arrival of their food.

For the rest of the meal, she made a clear effort to be fully present, asking him about his life at MIT and in Cambridge. They lingered over coffee and liqueurs, before finally heading out into the still-warm night.

John automatically turned their steps in the direction of his apartment, but as they strolled along, hand in hand, Aeryn said in careful tones, "Will you take me back to my hotel?"

He shot her a surprised glance. She was looking straight ahead, a slightly anxious frown creasing her forehead. "Sure." He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. He'd assumed they were going to head back to his place and make love again.

Still not looking at him, she said, equally carefully. "The bed is very large. Also the shower."

"Oh!" He swallowed down a cough. "That sounds… very nice."

She turned her head to catch his eye and a jolt of electricity ran through him as he imagined what making love to her with water cascading down over them would be like. He frantically scanned the road in front and behind them: why could you never find a taxi when you needed one in a hurry?

Much to his relief, it didn't take long for a cab to roll by, and the traffic on the trip across town was quiet. Aeryn seemed to have tensed up again, though he couldn't tell if it was from anticipation, nerves or something else entirely. He was coming to the conclusion that it was going to take him a long time to figure out her mercurial moods and what was going on inside her head. She was far more complicated—if also generally far less demanding of his time and attention—than most of his previous girlfriends. Maybe that was one of the reasons he liked her so much.

He certainly hoped she was going to be demanding of his body once they reached her hotel room. Another thing he liked about her.

The room had the usual impersonal chain hotel decor, but she'd been right about the bed being impressively large. He followed slowly after her as she put down her bag and crossed the room to draw the curtains and turn on the bedside lamps. As she swung back to face him, he caught her around the waist and drew her into a deep kiss, picking up where they'd broken off back in his apartment.

She began to help him out of his clothes. He always liked that part of lovemaking: the slow tease of their fingers brushing against each other, more and more bared skin pressed together. Aeryn's hands this evening were deft and methodical, not hurried but making it clear she wanted him naked without delay.

"I think we should test the bed first," she murmured as she tackled getting him out of his jeans.

"First?" He was fumbling much less expertly with the fastener on her pants.

"Mmm-hmm." She pulled his jeans and briefs down to his hips as one and gave him a gentle shove that made him sit down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling down in front of him, she tugged his jeans down his legs. She gave him a sly look from under her lashes. "Shower later."

He chuckled. "Okay." He could live with that. And then maybe they'd need to test the bed again, just to be sure….

He rested his hands on the covers on either side of him, looking down at her bent head as she worked his jeans off over his feet. She pushed his clothes to one side and then pressed his knees further apart. He expected her to move closer, to settle herself between them and turn her face up to his for a kiss. Instead, she leaned forward, wrapping her hand around his cock, which was already standing to attention, and lowered her head towards him.

"Whoa, wait!" He lifted his hands, ready to reach out and stop her.

"What?" She tipped her head back to peer up at him, her hand still around his shaft. "I thought most men…. Do you not like—?"

"Oh yeah, I like." He shivered in anticipation. "But where's the fun for you?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, taking on a challenging expression. "Do you think there is no fun for me?" She drew her hand along his length, her palm just brushing against his head. He bit back a gasp, a stronger shudder running through him. She smirked at him, tightening her grip and sliding her hand down and back up again, provoking another shiver. "I think this is very much fun."

"Okay. God, you win." He threw up his hands in happy defeat, before letting them fall back to grip the bedclothes as she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. He pressed his eyes shut, a low groan escaping him as her lips slid over him and her hand moved rhythmically up and down his shaft, working together to draw him on. He clamped his own hand over hers, encouraging her to pick up pace until he—. "Gonna…," he managed to gasp out in warning, and she pulled back a second before he came, a sunburst of light against his closed lids, his whole body shuddering.

He fell dizzily backward on to the bed, breathing raggedly. So good….

He sensed her moving, her hands pressing down on his thighs for a moment. Opening one eye, he saw she was kneeling between his knees, smiling down at him with a satisfied air. "That was fun, yes?"

"Yeah. Fun," he mumbled, letting his eyes fall closed again, aware it was his turn to provide the fun but needing a moment longer to gather himself. She seemed to understand, not moving except to lightly run her hands up and down his thighs, soothing him. After a minute or more had passed, he managed to open his eyes properly and push himself up on to his elbows. "Your turn?"

"Uh-huh." She pushed to her feet, holding out her hand to him. "Shower now."

"Yeah." He was kinda sticky and it wouldn't be a bad idea to clean up before—no, while; he grinned to himself—they made love again. He let her pull him upright and then tow him toward the bathroom. "Sounds like you've got this all planned out…."

"Oh, yes." She sounded very serious as she flicked on the bathroom light and led him inside. He wondered if there were Powerpoint slides and flowcharts and Excel spreadsheets somewhere. Probably.

Then she turned to face him, catching his other hand and bringing both up and setting them on either side of her body, half on her bare skin and half on the bottom of her bra. He didn't need further encouragement or explanation. Hooking his thumbs under the band, he peeled the bra off over her head, before running his palms down her lifted arms to cup her breasts for a moment. She had her eyes closed, her face tense with anticipation, drawing in deep breath after deep breath as his hands settled on her.

Then he moved his hands on down, catching her panties and drawing them down. His hands lingered for a moment to cup her ass—another sharply indrawn breath from her—before he knelt so he could slide her panties the rest of the way down her legs and over her feet as he lifted them one by one. He held her left foot for a moment, bending to drop a kiss on the top of it, and then a kiss on the side of her calf, and just behind her knee, and another on the front of her thigh, and just below her navel…. Still on his knees, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her stomach and breathing in her musky scent. Every part of her was beautiful and to be worshipped….

She rested her hands lightly on his head and said his name softly, an edge of uncertainty in her voice. He drew back and tipped his head up so he could look at her. She gave him a nervous smile and tilted her head a little in the direction of the shower.

He cleared his throat. "Right." Pushing to his feet, he stepped into the shower, drawing her in after him and swinging the door closed behind them. She was right that it was a large shower, quite comfortable enough for the two of them to share it—but that was no reason not to hold her close. He half turned away from her to fumble with the controls, taking most of the resulting spray of cold water on his shoulders—but from the way she gasped and shivered with him, she must have gotten some of it too. "Sorry! Shoulda—."

She shook her head, sliding her arms around his neck. "No need. And it is already warming up."

She pulled his mouth down on to hers and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. He went on kissing her for a long time, his hands gliding over her wet skin as the water drenched them. At last, he pushed her away from him a little while he glanced around looking for—yes, there: a bottle of shower gel hooked next to the controls. He raised his eyebrows slightly, asking for permission and she nodded silently, her eyes wide and dark and eager.

She stood quietly, eyes closed, head tipped back to avoid the stream of water, as he slowly and carefully soaped every inch of her body, her skin quivering under his touch as his palms move lightly but relentlessly over her shoulders and her breasts and her arms and her stomach and her ass and her thighs. He turned her to face away from him, his hands working down her back and then around her waist and up to caress her breasts again—the soap had all long gone—before he pulled her back against his body, which was beginning to ache for her again.

But not yet. Not before he'd taken her to where she'd taken him. One hand still cupping her breast, he slid the other down, his finger finding her folds, finding her clit. She purred contentedly deep in her throat, lifting her arms and reaching backwards to tangle her fingers in his hair. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck, while his fingers went on moving over her, teasing her and pushing her, the warm water sliding down over them. She was murmuring yes in German, over and over, her hips moving with the rhythm of his hand, until she let out a final strangled cry, her body shuddering against his, all her weight suddenly heavy on him, so that he had to put out a hand against the wall to stop them overbalancing.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he dropped a kiss just below her ear. "Fun?"

"Mmm-hmm." She carried on leaning against him for a few seconds longer, before regaining her balance. Turning in the circle of his arm, she took his face between her hands and kissed him quickly, the still-running water mingling with the kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured. He lifted his hand to catch her face, holding her gaze. He wanted to tell that it was more than fun, more than sex, that this mattered, that he lo—.

Maybe she read it in his expression without him needing to say the words, because an instant of panic flared in her eyes, and then she was already slipping from his embrace and turning off the water. Stepping out of the shower, she took a towel from the rack and wrapped it around herself.

He shivered, suddenly cold now that the water was no longer running and her body was no longer pressed against his.

She was now matter-off-factly squeezing the water out of her hair over the basin. She caught his eye through the mirror and quickly looked away. Twisting her hair into a rope, she headed out into the main room without another glance in his direction. He heard the low whir of a hairdryer start up.

So they were done, then? God, and he'd thought guys were supposed to be bad at intimacy.

Stepping out of the shower himself, he grabbed a towel and gave his body a quick rub down, before wrapping the towel around his waist. Following her out of the bathroom, he found her close, standing in front of the mirror next to the built-in closet. She caught his eye again in the mirror, through the strands of hair whipping around in the blast from hairdryer. This time, she held his gaze for longer, looking embarrassed rather than—as he'd feared she might—as if she'd rather he'd disappeared as quickly as she'd been able to shut off the water.

He stepped up behind her, putting a hand on her waist. She drew in a breath, before she switched off the hairdryer and put it down. Slowly she turned to face him, raising her gaze to meet his, her expression now a little fearful.

He cupped her face again. "I know this is hard for you," he said softly. "That it scares you to be… close to people. It scares me too. It scares me how much you mean to me. And it excites me. And it makes me happy." He caressed her cheek with his thumb, feeling the tingle of electricity between them. "I love you."

He saw that flicker of panic again and he shook his head to quell it. "It's all right. You don't have to say it. I'm not expecting you to. Not yet. When you're ready…."

She pressed her lips together for a moment and then said quietly, "Yes." She dropped her gaze. "When I am ready…."

"Now…." Time to shift the mood again; he sensed she'd once more reached her limit when it came to emotions. Letting go of her face, he lowered his hand so that his fingertips could trace a line just above the edge of the towel wrapped around her breasts. She drew in a sharp breath in response and he smirked at her. "I don't believe we carried out a full and proper test of the bed earlier." He hooked a finger under the edge of the towel and tugged at it gently. As he'd hoped, however she'd secured it was no match for the gesture. The towel came open and slithered down over her hips to pool around her feet.

She looked down at her naked body for a moment and then back up at him, a faintly annoyed expression on her face. "Oh, this is not fair now!" She reached down and tugged rather more firmly at his towel, dragging it away from his hips to reveal he was already half-ready to make love to her again.

Still smirking, he pulled her against him and danced them the few steps across the room to the bed. Where they proved to their satisfaction that it was more than large enough for her to roll them over so she was on top and for him to carry on rolling them so he was back on top. Which was how they ended up making love, her legs wrapped around him and her hands caressing his back, his hand awkwardly between them helping her to her climax. A satisfactory conclusion, if not the most comfortable way of achieving it, he decided, as they lay spooned together after. And the conversation by the mirror seemed to have put to rest some of Aeryn's fears, judging by the way she had settled herself into his arms.

He closed his eyes, more than ready to fall asleep.

He was almost there—so perhaps he only dreamed it or imagined it—when he thought he heard her whisper, "Love you, too."

oOo

"So, what are we going to do today?" John lay curled around Aeryn as the early morning light seeped around the edge of the curtains. They'd made love again when they'd woken, slowly and without the need for words. He supposed, idly playing with a lock of her hair, that this would get old one day—but not any time yet. Nor any time for the foreseeable future, given they'd likely spend most of their time separated by the width of the Atlantic Ocean, unless one of them could find a way to pursue a career closer to the other.

"Were we not going to be tourists in Boston today? Something about a Trail…." Aeryn sounded like she was half-asleep again and in no hurry to move.

"We could spend the day right here," he murmured, teasing her earlobe with his lips.

She rolled toward him a little and reached back to punch him lightly on the arm. "How old are you?"

He caught her face to keep her turned toward him so he could kiss her on the lips. "Old enough to know how precious this is. How little time we have…."

She laid her hand on his cheek and kissed him back in silent acknowledgment of the point, before she rolled away and swung her legs out of bed. "I am going to shower." Her tone made it clear that, despite the exchange they'd just had, he wasn't invited along this time.

While she was in the shower, he collected his own clothes from where they'd spent the night crumpled on the floor. "I need to stop by my apartment. Get some fresh clothes," he pointed out when she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later.

"Yes, of course." She started opening drawers and selecting what she was going to wear. "Do you wish to shower here or there?"

"Oh, uh, here." He made no move toward the bathroom, as transfixed by the sight of her putting on clothes as he had been watching her take them off.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly in his direction as she zipped up her pants. "John?"

He shook his head to clear it. "Shower. Right." She really did have him turned around, didn't she? And he didn't mind a bit….

When he came back into the main room a few minutes later, she was fixing her hair. She went on fiddling with it, sneaking the occasional glance at him through the mirror, until he'd finished dressing and pulled on his shoes. Then she turned and picked up a folder that was lying next to her briefcase on top of the dresser. "You should take this."

He automatically reached out and accepted it. "What is it? 'Cause I think I already signed away my heart…."

That didn't produce the smile he'd hoped for, but rather a deepening frown. She had on her business face again, he realized, his heart sinking. But she simply shook her head and said, evidently trying to make it sound unimportant, even though it clearly wasn't, "It is just the details for the possible new arrangements. But I do not expect you to look at them right now. It is just, as I brought them…."

"Okay." She had a point that it made sense for him to take the file now, but he couldn't help feeling a little badgered about the whole thing. Like there was something going on here that he didn't fully understand.

"So, are you ready?" She gave him one of her careful smiles and he knew she was trying to make an effort to forget about the file and match her mood to his.

Accepting the gesture, he hauled himself to his feet, the folder dangling in one hand. "Sure."

Although she didn't mention it again, he caught a frown on her face when they reached his apartment and she watched him drop the folder on top of the rest of the papers cluttering the dining table, before he went to change his clothes. But by the time he was ready to leave, she seemed to have let it go and was all smiles, plying him with eager questions about their plans for the day.

They passed a very pleasant few hours being tourists on the other side of the Charles River, but the day sped by all too quickly for John's liking. "You really have to fly back tomorrow?" he asked as they walked back from the T to her hotel.

"Mmm-hmm." She squeezed his hand. "If I could stay longer, I would."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I always reckoned long-distance relationships would suck."

She didn't reply for a moment and then said carefully, "We could not do this, if—."

"God, no!" He didn't let her finish. "We'll make it work." He racked his brains for a moment. "You know, I'm presenting a paper at a conference in London in a couple of months. Maybe…."

She smiled across at him. "I am sure there will be a reason for me to visit our London office. Send me the dates when I am home?"

"I will." He glanced over at her, realizing he was going to miss not just the sex but being able to spend time with her.

It seemed her mind was running the same way because she said, still sounding tentative, "We could speak more often? On the telephone. Thursdays for company business still and… Sundays for us?"

"Sounds good." The thought of whispering romantic sweet nothings to her from his office at MIT had already struck him as a little awkward. Sundays, he could do the call from home. He'd maybe have to talk to DK about shifting their regular Sunday morning run, but it'd be worth the teasing he'd get.

When they reached the hotel, Aeryn suggested a nightcap in the bar. After they finally drifted upstairs to her room, still talking about what they'd seen and done during the day, and about what they might do when Aeryn visited again, they didn't rush to begin their lovemaking or to hurry it once they had begun. To be together, to just be with Aeryn, mattered more to John than their enjoyment of each other's bodies. Though that was also very enjoyable.

"You know," he mumbled afterward, in between dropping kisses on her forehead as they lay tangled together, "I could get used to having a bed as big as this. Should look into that. Then there'd definitely be no reason for you to get a hotel room next time you visit."

"Mmm-hmm. We will see." She shifted her head a little on his shoulder, her fingertips still lightly teasing the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You don't wanna stay at my place?" He affected a tone of mild outrage. Waving one hand blindly at the rest of the room as he went on kissing her, he added, "I mean, I know it's not as swanky as here, but it's not that bad…."

"We'll see," she repeated. "After we meet in London…."

He realized she'd tensed slightly. Pushing himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her, he said, suddenly much more serious, "We'll make it work, you know. You and me. We're meant to be together. Even if—." He stopped, not wanting to voice the truth that lay behind the last three amazing days.

She raised her eyebrows. "Even if?" she prompted.

He puffed out a breath. "Even if it took Olivia's death to bring us together."

She nodded. "You would rather have Olivia than me…."

He shook his head. "No. I mean, I'd rather have Livvy alive, of course I would. But then there could still be us as well, couldn't there? After all, we would have met eventually."

"Yes, I suppose so." She frowned slightly. "Though if Olivia…. If she were alive, I think I would not—." She caught up John's hand, resting on her hip, and twined her fingers in his, her gaze on their linked hands. "I think Olivia would have been between us."

"Maybe." A part of him thought there had been a spark from—well, not the first time they'd met. That had been at Olivia's funeral and he'd only been aware of her as yet another person whose hand he'd had to shake. But the second time, in her office in Frankfurt, there had been something, even then.

Aeryn was still frowning. "Olivia would have been… my friend," she pointed out slowly. "And you would have been… just my friend's brother…." Her tone had grown very somber.

"Hey," he gave their linked hands a small shake, drawing her gaze back to his face. "I've never been 'just' anything." He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. "We are where we are, right? Olivia's gone and we can't bring her back. So we need to go on from here? And she'd want us to both be happy…."

Aeryn gave him one of her tense half smiles. "Yes. Yes. She loved us both a great deal, I think. If we had… come together when she was alive, I do not think she would have minded…."

He laughed. "Yeah… or warned you to run a mile in the opposite direction…."

"Perhaps I should still do that." She was smiling properly now and he knew it was a joke, though his instinctive reaction was still to beg her not to.

Before he could say anything, she drew him back down against her, putting her hand up to stifle a yawn and settling herself for sleep. He squinted down at her as she drifted off. How much more proof did he need that this was what she wanted?

The following day, in the hours between Aeryn checking out of her hotel and John driving her back to the airport, they hung out at his apartment. They mostly spent their time on the couch, Aeryn leaning back against John in the circle of his arms, sometimes talking and sometimes kissing and sometimes just being silent together. John occasionally had the thought that they'd done the whole thing rather backwards—sex first, getting close later—but it didn't really matter.

At one point, after they'd been kissing for a while, Aeryn said with an awkward smile, "When we go to the airport, I would rather we not… make a big thing of it. Saying goodbye."

"You mean like this?" He'd caught her face between his hands and kissed her firmly for a long while.

"Mmm-hmm," she said when he released her. Her grin confirmed she'd enjoyed the kiss, but her eyes were still a little anxious.

He stroked her face. "It's okay. I can behave in company." He hoped he could've figured out on his own that a passionate goodbye would only embarrass her, but he was glad she'd asked. So much of the time before, she'd been reluctant to talk about the ground rules or to correct him, even when it became apparent he didn't understand them and had overstepped them, choosing instead to draw back. Now—though culture and language and just the fact they were very different people still stood between them—she trusted him enough to try.

In the end, he'd waved her off in the departure lounge with a light kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the arm and a "Talk to you Thursday?" How many days to London? he wondered, as he watched her until she was out of sight.

oOo

Part Four

Part Five