I was sure that once I got back up to Frenchie's place in San Francisco things would return to where they were right before I'd left to finish the film. Turns out, I was way wrong on that score. She had returned to her "me, doctor" mode - cool and distant. There was no warmth there at all. Sometimes I just outsmart myself, ya know?

I was doing my therapy exercises, and I just fuckin' hate doing PT. It's even more boring than regular exercise is, and I hate that with a passion. It's not so much the exercise, it's the "you have to do it" bit. I hate anything that's a "have to" just on general principles. I've been that way since I was a little kid. Just ask Mum.

On second thought, don't.

So there I was, in her beautiful house with the beautiful gardens and the great pool, with Consuelo bein' really nice to me and Frenchie either ignorin' me or acting like we were strangers. It was sad. I was sad - a sad case, I guess you'd say. Mark, in fact, did say exactly that before he went back to Australia to handle some business for me. I told him what I bloody well thought of his opinion, which just caused him to repeat his words, laugh like a fiend, and wave bye-bye. "See you when she throws you out on your ass, mate," he'd shouted from the cab as he'd left. I flipped him off, making him laugh louder.

So much for respect from one's employees, although Mark is much more than just that - he's a good friend to me, even though I abuse that friendship something awful a lot of the time.

I was lying on a chaise out by the pool one afternoon, enjoying the fresh, cool air. I had been reading, but I got real sleepy and had let the book fall to one side as I gave up the fight to keep my eyes open. Consuelo tiptoed out, and, in her nice way she put a throw over me - I guess I was looking too cold to her or something. I managed to wake up enough to mumble a thank you to her, then dozed off again.

I was back on my damned beach again. Not a nice beach; the cold, gray one with the boulders. I hated that one. I stood looking over my shoulder, convinced something nasty was gonna pop out from behind one of those great ugly rocks. I didn't see anything, but the hairs on the backs of my arms stood up - not a fun sensation. Usually means I'm scared just about pissless. I started jogging up the beach, going slowly, feet splatting in the cold water that came foaming in on each wave. I couldn't shake the feeling of being pursued.

I jogged faster, but had to stop that because it hurt. Slowed back down, I was swiveling my head all around, trying to find the bad guys when I heard harsh breathing. I could hear that, and, added to it, heavy splashing footsteps behind me. I couldn't see anything or anyone, but something was chasing me. My legs were like rubber bands and my feet encased in lead. It was gaining on me. "I can't," I said aloud, "can't get away from it."

"Up," said another voice, "dreaming!"

"No," I answered, shaking my head, "gotta run."

"I said, you're dreaming - wake up!"

This time Frenchie's voice penetrated the fog and I started awake suddenly, finding that I was breathing as hard as I was in my dream, and still enveloped in that sense of approaching doom that was so awful. "Mmmff," I managed, and flung out a hand towards her. Reaching for a lifeline, I suppose.

To my surprise, she took it and squeezed it. "Your hands are like ice, Brat - why are you sleeping out here with a cold front coming through?"

I blinked more awake and sat up, "Cold front? I didn't know anything about any cold front," I pulled the throw up around my shoulders. "Sorry about that - what're you doing home so early?" It couldn't have been more than 4 in the afternoon at the latest. I managed to focus on my watch - I was right: 3:45 pm.

Frenchie perched on the edge of the chaise and held onto my hand, although I noticed right off she was taking my pulse. I guess she's never far out of her doctor persona. I usually found it amusing, but this time it annoyed me - call it fall out from my pursuit dream. I pulled my hand out of her grip. "Oh, sorry," she said in this snippy little voice.

I raked my hair out of my eyes and just scowled at her. Weeks of ignoring me and now she wanted to make nice? She had to be up to no good, nice from Frenchie usually meant there was a kicker in there somewhere, I just had to figure it out. "Did you want something?" I finally inquired in the most distant tone I could manage. And I have a hard time bein' distant with her - I wanted to grab onto her and just kiss her silly, or spank her ass for being so contrary.

"Not really, I just came out here because Consuelo said you were sleeping by the pool, freezing your pretty behind off - her term - and I was concerned because of the weather." She gave me an arch look, "Can't have you turning into a popsicle on my pool deck, can I?"

"I suppose not." I shivered again, and started to get up. "I'm freezing my pretty behind off, she's right. I'm gonna go put on something warmer." I levered myself upright and headed towards the guest quarters door. My muscles had stiffened and I was going slowly in my gimpy-healing-knee sort of way. Frenchie must've felt bad because I suddenly realized her hand was under my elbow, guiding me. "Leave off," I grumped.

"I don't think so," she grumped right back, and opened the door for me. "Go on, go inside and stop being a curmudgeon for once. Gawd, you just can't get past the tetchy, stroppy attitude can you?"

"Not around you, no," I said truthfully. I rummaged in a drawer and found a long sleeved tee-shirt. Since she showed no signs of leaving, I just shrugged, stripped off the light running pants and shirt and changed clothes right in front of her. If she wouldn't leave, she could damn well look at me naked. I pulled on the shirt, rummaged again and found underwear and sweat pants. Pulled those on, then sat on the bed to put on socks because my feet were freezing. I couldn't bend my right leg enough to do it though, so I gave up after a short struggle. "Fuck it," I said and flung the sock on the floor. I sat with my face in my hands, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything.

After a moment, I realized Frenchie was on her knees in front of me. "Unless you're gonna blow me, go away," I said rudely.

She snorted, shoved my hands away and took the sock, sliding it onto me, taking the time to pat me on the sole of my foot. "There - big blocks of ice," she commented, gazing up at me.

We just looked at one another for a long time. Finally, I had to say something. "Frenchie - Jen - why are you doing this?"

Deliberately misunderstanding, she answered, "Because you couldn't get your sock on."

I wanted to shake her. "No, that's not - oh the hell with this! Frenchie - please stop being so fucking professional around me - you're just killing me with this attitude!"

"I have to be professional around you, Russell, or I'll do something really stupid that I couldn't reconcile with who I am - what I am. I thought you understood that."

I took hold of both her upper arms and lifted her off her knees so we were on the same level, "I do not understand that - I only understand that I need you." Before she could say anything else, I kissed her. I pulled her onto the bed next to me and laid her back and just had at it. I think I put all my frustration and longing into that kiss. It probably shook me more than it did her, because when I lifted my mouth off hers and saw the answering emotion in her face, I went to pieces. I found myself with my face against her breasts, arms tight around her, holding onto her for dear life.

Instead of me trying to overwhelm her, it was her taking me over, murmuring in my ear, rubbing my back in soothing up and down strokes, allowing me to lose it in the comfort of her grasp. And I really did lose it. I guess it was all the frustration with my being in this situation in the first place, mucking up the work on the film, re-injuring my knee, turning my carefully scheduled life on its ear - and then being so in love with her and not knowing if she even liked me. It was all coming out and I had to let it or else implode. I think she knew that, so she became the woman I so desperately wanted and needed - and at last, I knew she felt the same about me that I did about her.

She held me close until I ran out of energy and just lay there like a big blob in her arms. Then she kissed my forehead, and kissed each eyelid, brushing the tears away with her gentle fingertips, and finally - thank you, God! - she kissed me on the mouth. It was a gentle, loving kiss, and when she raised her head and smiled at me, she said, "You silly man - I can't help it - I do love you. In fact, I'm crazy about you."

"Really?" I asked her, not quite believing it now that she'd finally said it.

"Definitely," came her answer, and to back it up, she kissed me again. We slid further up onto the bed and got comfortable, and although I thought I wanted to root her into tomorrow, instead I suddenly crashed into sleep. It was a safe, secure sleep however, not a monster in sight, and instead of my beach I knew I was in her arms and that she loved me.

Sometimes things do turn out the way you plan them, you just have to be really patient. I had no idea how we would go on from there, I just knew in that moment, for that span of time, I was safe, I was loved, and I loved her. Everything else - anything else - would just have to be taken as it came. For now, I was home.