My Familiar Stranger

by Victoria Danann

  Storm looked over at Kay to see his reaction. Kay just raised his eyebrows and took a sip of coffee giving him a look that said, “You’re on your own.”

  Yeah. Storm was a little ruffled. First, this oh so feminine fantasy took out his teammate - his Bad Company teammate - without breaking a nail or breathing hard. And now she was suggesting that the knights of Black Swan were pussies. The ironic thing was that he guessed he had it in the back of his mind that he would invite her to work out so he could show off a little. Did that ever backfire!

  His pride might have a hard time digesting this, but, so far, he was doing okay with not letting indignation get the best of him. He decided to take the high road a step further and see where it led.

  “Okay. Tell you what, after we do an evaluation of your physical abilities, Kay and I will let you show us a couple of moves. If you can give us a tip that makes us better, who knows?”

  She pressed her lips together, nodded, and then her stomach growled. She didn’t have enough experience with men to laugh it off so she blushed.

  Storm just said, “Yeah. I second that. We missed dinner. When they let Ram out of here we’ll all go down to the lounge and get them to make us a hamburger.”

  Elora perked up. “They’re going to let him leave?”

  “Sure. A broken rib isn’t that big a deal. They’ll tape it up, give him some pain meds, and he’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks?”

  “Yep. Four to six.”

  Elora surprised Storm by saying, “And you won’t go back out until he’s well?”

  “By ‘out’, you mean on active duty?” She nodded. “No.”

  Elora seemed pleased about that. He was about to ask why when the doctor came in.

  All three of them stood up. The physician was a man of few words. “Fracture. Six weeks off rotation. If he doesn’t put any strain on the rib, he’ll be practically as good as new. Get him back to his own bed. If he’s hungry he can eat, but the pain meds may take the edge off his appetite and he’ll be sleepy.”

  Storm and Kay both nodded and thanked the doc. “Can we go get him?”

  “He’s all yours. Two doors down.” The doc’s face melted into a goofy little smile. On his way out he said, “Kind of a character, isn’t he?”

  When Storm and Kay left the waiting room, Elora stayed behind not knowing if she was welcome. After a few seconds Storm jogged back to say, “You can come.”

  Ram was sitting on the side of a bed, shirtless, in just his sweat pants, with a small section of tape around his ribs.

  Elora tried not to notice the intricacy of the musculature on his chest and abdomen, but sweet heavenly gods he was beautiful. He was a living graphic of what might be possible if everything happened to work in perfect concert on the design of a male body. As if she didn’t already feel bad enough, now she had a second layer of guilt over ogling the person whose bone she had broken. She stood there chewing her bottom lip while Storm and Kay offered to help him up.

  Ram’s eyes kept coming back to Elora. He didn’t seem angry, more interested in where she was and what she was doing. She hoped that didn’t mean he was afraid she would lunge at him and do more damage.

  When asked if he was hungry, he said, "No. Loopy. Sleepy."

  They walked him to his quarters. Elora trailed behind. When they arrived, Ram punched in his code, opened the door, and all four entered.

  The predominant color was forest green. The shelves were filled with a few books and a lot of music and movies. One of the things that drew Elora’s eye right away was a collection of electric guitars hung on the wall, five to be exact, a medium size Ampeg tube amp, and a pedal array that had been custom built, probably by him. She wondered why Storm hadn’t mentioned that Ram played. In addition to the electric guitars, there was also an acoustic and an electric mandolin.

  After Ram got into bed, Kay pulled the pain meds out of his pocket, read the instructions out loud and told Ram he would leave them in the kitchen, as a precaution, so that Ram had to actually get up and think about it. His bed was decked out with white on white striped sheets and a dark, forest green, satin duvet cover which might have looked girly on some guys, but not Ram.

  As they were leaving, Elora spoke up. “Don’t lock the door.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to be able to come back and forth and check on him during the night. I’ll make sure he gets the medicine on time and take care of it if he needs anything.”

  “Elora,” Storm began, “that is not necessary. Ram doesn’t blame you for what happened. Nobody does. And a rib fracture is not that serious. Trust me. We’ve all had worse. He’ll probably enjoy the sheet time.”

  “Sheet time?”

  “That’s what we call recovering from an injury.”

  “Oh.” She glanced back toward the bedroom. “Still, I’ll feel better if I know he’s taken care of.” Storm opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “Personally. I want to see to it personally. It’s the absolute least I can do. And I live next door.” She glanced away. "Temporarily.”

  He looked at Kay for a reaction. If Kay protested, for any reason at all, it would save Storm having to invent a reason why not, but Kay just shrugged while Storm thought, "Thanks a lot."

  He didn’t like it. He didn’t like anything about it. The idea of Elora walking into Ram’s bedroom in the middle of the night – alone – well, it just wasn’t acceptable. Ram’s reputation with women was legendary. He probably had Incubus demons scrambling to keep up. Storm was pretty sure it would take more than a broken rib to stop Ram from attempting copulation with somebody who looked like Elora.

  “If it’s that important to you, I’ll stay.” Kay looked at Storm as if to say, “What the fuck?”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m doing it.”

  Storm had seen that same determined set of her features before when she had decided she would push through whatever pain or weakness stood between her and victory over death and frailty. He knew it would be pointless to press the issue and that doing so would make him appear to be both possessive and jealous. Something told him that a woman like Elora wouldn’t respond well to either. The three of them stood there waiting for him to make up his mind.

  Elora knew when he gave up because he looked a tiny bit defeated. She didn’t like seeing that on him, but decided her need to make sure Ram was okay through the night outweighed Storm’s need to protect her from a broken night’s sleep.

  Storm asked if she wanted to get something to eat with them and she agreed to come down long enough to get food to go. When she got back, she took a quick shower leaving her hair wet to dry on its own and went next door to quietly look in on Ram. He was snoring softly, out like a light.

  She closed the bedroom door without a sound. Earlier she had listened carefully to Kay’s reading of the prescription instructions, but reread the label calculating the hour when he could take more medicine.

  There was little chance of falling asleep before midnight, with all the events and thoughts that were clamoring around in her head, but she set the phone alarm just to be sure. She ate her club sandwich even though the wheat toast was now cold and chewy, then settled on the couch with the Field Training Manual.

  At five minutes before midnight she knocked lightly on Ram’s door so that she wouldn’t surprise him if he was up and wouldn’t wake him if he wasn’t. When there was no response, she eased into the kitchen, shook two pills out of the bottle, and got a glass of filtered water from the refrigerator door.

  Again she tapped lightly on the bedroom door before entering. He was on his back, still asleep. The bottle said every six hours. After brief consideration, she decided to wake him up to take it. She set the pills and water on his bedside table and called his name. No response. She tried again without success. When she leaned over to touch his shoulder, calling his name a third time, his eyelids slid half way open.

  His mouth slowly widened into a sleepy smi
le just before he said her name and grabbed her arms to pull her toward him. Elora was taken by surprise, her knees locked against the mattress so that there was no chance of stopping the forward momentum.

  In his deep, drug induced sleep, Ram dreamed that he woke to find Elora Laiken standing beside his bed, bending over him, and calling his name. She was close enough that he could smell the jasmine and feel the vibration of her voice through the mattress where her knees were touching. It was the best kind of good dream; the kind that feels real. Naturally he reached out to grab her and pull her lush body into bed with him. Even though she gave a surprised little yelp as she was falling, his first indication that he was not dreaming came when he broke her fall with his rib cage, yelling out in pain, and coming fully awake instantly.

  In his confusion he watched Elora scramble off the bed, removing the breasts that were crushed into his chest and pushing on his hipbone to right herself. She took a step back. There wasn’t enough light coming from the kitchen through the open door to accurately read her expression, but he thought she might look angry.

  “Rammel Hawking! Look what you’ve done. Probably made yourself worse.”

  “Look what I’ve done? I thought I was dreamin’ because, silly me, I did no’ expect to wake and find you bendin’ over my bed in the middle of the night.” Even in his pained and woozy state, he thought better of leaving it like that, so he added, “No’ that I mind wakin’ to find you bendin’ over my bed in the middle of the night.”

  “I’m here to make sure you take the right amount of medicine at the right time. I persuaded your friends to leave the door open so I could check on you. The last thing I wanted was to make this worse. It’s… very embarrassing.”

  Ram threw the covers back and started to sit up. He was wearing flannel, Black Watch tartan boxers that looked thick, soft and expensive. And nothing else. He was clearly not concerned about being mostly naked. He had the well-developed legs of a rugby player; with golden blond hair that matched the dusting of hair on his chest, powerful legs that filled out the thighs of a pair of jeans.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Bathroom.”

  She took a step back toward the bed. “Let me help you. Take my arm.” She crooked her arm at the elbow to form a brace he could use to pull up. He grabbed her arm and let her haul him up using as few muscles as possible, but gave up a whisper of a groan in spite of himself.

  She waited in the living room until she heard him come back into the bedroom. Gingerly, he sat back down on the side of the bed and stared at her as she handed him first two pills and then the glass of water which he downed all at once. He set the glass on the table.

  “Do you want anything before you go back to sleep? I brought an extra club sandwich. It might not be good anymore. I don’t know.”

  He shook his head. Again she offered her arm to help him down without too much strain. When he settled back, she pulled the covers over him.

  “You should sleep until morning. I’m going to lock the door on the way out.” And with that she turned to go.

  “Elora.” She stopped at the door and looked back over her shoulder, “Do no’ be mad. And do no’ be embarrassed either.”

  “Good night,” she said softly. On the way out she noticed his phone on the bar. She picked it up and punched her own name and number into ‘Contacts’, then locked the door behind her as promised.

  ***

  CHAPTER 9

  BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Section 1: Chapter 15,#45

  Unlike most literary misinformation regarding vampire, there is one bit of lore that is mysterious, but true. There is some chemical property, or properties, in wood that kills the vampire virus, and consequently its host, upon contact with the heart.

  When Ram woke up he was sore and hungry. He sat up with some effort and noticed the glass left by the bed. In the kitchen he found a club sandwich waiting for him on the counter. Not a dream. The lettuce and tomato were no longer edible so he pulled the veggies off and threw them away. The rest was good enough for breakfast. He got a carton of juice out of the refrigerator, sat down at the bar, and picked up his phone to see if he had any messages.

  He thought he’d call Storm and find out if he was in small, medium, or large trouble for letting Elora spar with him. Pulling up ‘Contacts’ in alphabetical order and scrolling down to Engel Storm, he happened to notice Elora Laiken and backed up. Great Paddy’s balls. If his rib didn’t hurt so badly he’d laugh out loud.

  He dialed her number.

  “Hello.” She answered on the first ring.

  “You left your number.”

  “How are you? Do you need anything?”

  “I need help takin’ a shower.”

  She suppressed a giggle that was far too girlish on a woman her age. The elf was chipping away at her carefully constructed walls. “You have other friends for that, Sir Hawking. I meant do you need anything like breakfast?”

  He grinned. “Had breakfast. Club sandwich sans lettuce and tomato, at least I think that’s what they had once been. And thank you. For takin’ good care of me.”

  “Please do not thank me. I feel wretched about the whole mess, but we’re taking steps to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “What kind of steps?”

  “Storm and Kay have arranged to close the fitness level for the next couple of hours. They’re setting up a series of tests to quantify my strengths…and weaknesses, I suppose.”

  “And this is when?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “No. Isn’t that too much activity too soon?” It suddenly occurred to her that this was the reverse of the same exchange she’d had with Storm the day before.

  “My rib is taped nice and tight and tidy. Good as a cast. I’m no’ proposin’ bench press, just walkin’ to the elevator. Believe me, I have lived through worse than this.”

  “But that’s a story for another time?”

  “Could be, if you’re a really good girl.”

  “I am a really good girl, but I won’t be asking for your definition. How about a bargain? I’ll walk you down if you promise to come back and be truly inactive for a reasonable time after lunch.”

  “Like a nap?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Will you join me?”

  “No.” The elf was temptation incarnate. And relentless.

  “You drive a hard bargain. Naps alone it is then.”

  “Hallway. Twenty Minutes?”

  “Deal.”

  Ram emerged with wet hair wearing faded 501’s, a rugby shirt with navy and green stripes and a crisp white collar. Elora decided she was a fan of 501’s; something about the pucker between each button of button fly jeans draws the eye like a codpiece. Looking at his smile, it would be impossible to tell he was on the D.L. - short for Disabled List - if he wasn’t moving a tad slower than usual and ever so slightly favoring his left side.

  “So, how are you feeling? Really.”

  “No’ bad. I will no’ be takin’ any more sleepy medicines. I can sleep when I’m dead.”

  Like Storm said, he was tough. Elora admired that.

  “I noticed your fine collection of stringed instruments. Do you play them all or are they for collection?”

  “I play.” He smiled. “I come from musical people.”

  As do I, she thought.

  When the elevators opened on sublevel three, two young men that Elora guessed were in training moved in front of the opening, holding up their hands to block exit.

  “Sorry. This level is closed for the next two hours, sir,” one of them said directly to Ram.

  Ram spoke to them in a tone that conveyed a conviction that they suffer from idiocy. Gesturing toward Elora he said, “She’s the reason this level is closed! Kindly remove your dunderheads from your little, juvie asses and stand clear.” When the doors started to close, from pure reflex he shot his hand out to stop the progress, then pressed his
lips together to keep from letting the pain show when the elevator door jarred his rib. The resulting expression could easily have been mistaken for out-of-patience-do-as-I-say-right-now-or-else.

  The two young men glanced at each other and chose the better part of valor in obliging Sir Hawking without further delay. They dropped their hands and moved away. As Ram and Elora walked past, he instructed them not to let anyone else through. Then, just for good measure, he said, “If you two are the future of Black Swan knighthood, we’re in a lot of trouble.” He turned his back on them then smiled and winked at Elora.

  Sol, Monq, Storm, and Kay were assembled in the weight room. They were surprised to see Ram come in with Elora, but gave him a quick briefing on the plan to catch him up to speed. It was simple and flexible meaning that they would basically make it up as they went along.

  First on the agenda was weight. They agreed to eyeball Elora and guess how much she weighed in pounds. Taking into account her height, bone structure, and the fact that she had a low muscle to fat ratio, the median guess was one hundred forty pounds. After they had settled on an estimate, Elora took off her cross trainers and stepped on to the scale. It read two hundred thirty six.

  Kay whistled. Ram looked her up and down with renewed interest.

  Storm said, “That explains a lot.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Monq.

  “You remember the night she arrived I had a hard time picking her up? Kay had to help me. I knew she felt really heavy, but I thought maybe it was partly because she was unconscious and partly because she was… slippery and hard to hold on to.”

  “And none who work the infirmary ever mentioned this?” Ram looked from Monq to Sol.

  “Maybe they thought we already knew.” Monq looked at Elora waving his clipboard to emphasize his point. “Anyway, it’s an indicator of cell density, but it’s just a number.”

  “You’re worried that I may be self-conscious about my weight?” Elora gave him a crooked smile and a look of disbelief. “I have more pressing issues.”