Jared winced. "However, our intelligence never indicated that any Antousians made camp or headquarters in Texas."
Jakob took several steps closer, clasping Jared by the forearm. "But we never learned what our enemies were truly doing in Texas—and it's too much of a coincidence that Jake is living there now. The base being firebombed plus Tierny's presence? My money's on a connection."
"You'll report to me regularly?"
Jake dropped to one knee, placed a fist over his heart. "You are my king and my lord forever. Nothing can change that, not ever. Of course I will do all of this under your aegis."
Jared clasped his shoulder. "And you will be careful and watch yourself, Lieutenant?"
Jake bowed his head, unable to find words. To feel his friend and king's love, even though he now existed so utterly out of time, was almost more emotion than he could process. "Yes, my lord," he whispered.
"Then go, Jakob, with my blessing and approval," Jared said. "So long as you promise to eventually return."
"Okay, put your wounded ass right up on that table." The woman patted the examination table beside Jake, giving him an unreadable glance.
"You do know who I am, right?" He eyed the blonde medic uncertainly, but she just laughed.
"Yeah, I've heard that from you before." He didn't understand at first, but then he caught her meaning when she added, "From Lieutenant Dillon, I mean. When he was first in here, I was his night nurse. It was sort of a joke between us."
So the whole camp had heard the truth about his identity by now: Of course they had. In these tight quarters, gossip flew at the speed of light. "I meant, you know I'm Antousian," he clarified.
She patted the table again. "Same as the lieutenant."
"You know him well?"
"Let's just say I have a soft spot for the ornery guy. And so that means—at least in a way—I know you, too."
"It's a fucked-up mess, isn't it, Nurse Tyler?"
"You could say that too." She laughed, but then her smile faded. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why didn't you fight for her? She was your wife, the woman you loved. I don't understand. I see how much you care for her."
"It was the right thing to do."
"That's sweet. You're letting your younger self win."
"Oh, it's not about Scott. I'd take her from him in a heartbeat if I could. In a heartbeat."
"Then why didn't you?"
He brushed a hand through his wildly disheveled hair. "I did it for her; it's always been about her, no one else. She deserves a pure future, to be happy and have that life we once lived. Only better, without the pain and death that I caused her."
"You didn't cause it, sir. She was sick."
He said nothing, knowing the real facts, but not wanting to debate them yet again. He'd already fought these battles with Hope. "I'm letting her go because I love her."
"That has to be incredibly tough."
"I never thought I'd feel so jealous of myself. What is it with that guy? He has all the beautiful ladies."
She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "You're plenty handsome, sir. Maybe even more so than he is."
Glancing downward, he studied the body that never felt right, the skin he always felt wrong living inside. Tattoos, scars, swarthiness: It all belonged to another man—a man he'd hated—and the body never gave up its secrets. "I don't see it," was all he said.
"Are you blind, Lieutenant?" She reached to the side table, producing a mirror. "Look in here. Really look—you're a beautiful man. Still. In this body. You'll find love again."
Gazing into the mirror, he met a stranger. For three years he'd lived in this body, yet it felt as awkward and unnatural as the day he'd first stepped into it. He was a killer, a thief. No way could he feel handsome, no matter what Jake's body and face looked like. He dropped the mirror onto the bed.
"You'd better look at this"—he gestured toward his blood-soaked shirt—"so I can hit the road. I've got a long way to go."
"Where you headed?"
"Texas."
Something odd registered in her eyes, a passing look of melancholy, but she only nodded, patting the bed. "You're going to have to lie down, sir."
"Please," he said, reclining on the examining table, "call me Jake."
Very gently she lifted his bloody T-shirt, exposing his bare abdomen. She winced slightly as she examined the wound, reaching for bandages and tubes of antiseptic.
"That bad?" he asked, watching her eyes.
"No … I just hate the Grateful Dead. All their music sounds the same."
"Who?"
She glanced up at him in surprise. "Your tattoo, sir—uh, Jake."
"That skull and the roses?" He'd always despised that tattoo most of all, and had wanted to curse ol' Tierny for having covered his stomach and back with so many grotesque emblems. But the one on his abdomen had never made any sense.
"You really have no idea what it means, do you?" she pressed him with a quirky smile.
He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Tell me, Nurse Tyler."
She dabbed at his wound. "They're a rock band. Got a huge cult following, and these symbols—the rose and the skull—mean that your man Jake was into the Dead."
Into the dead, he thought with a grim laugh. That was definitely one way to put it: Jake had loved killing, plain and simple. Maybe he'd stolen this band's imagery because it made a larger point about what he valued in life: death.
"Makes a lot more sense now." He jerked reflexively as she applied medication to his wound. It stung like hell, and he cursed in Refarian.
"Sorry," she said softly, bending over him as she worked. Her sleek blonde hair reminded him of Hope's, and he had to battle a painful spasm of yearning for his wife. She's not my wife anymore; she's going to be his.
"You know," she continued, "whatever you're doing down in Texas, you'll have a tough time of it if you don't know any more about human culture than this."
"I know plenty!" he barked. "I've lived on this planet for more than sixteen years."
"Uh-huh." She sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
"Just because I didn't know about that damned rock band—"
"Household name, sir."
"Jake. Call me Jake," he half growled at her. He wasn't Scott Dillon, and he didn't want her treating him like he was.
"I'm just saying. You know, Texas is a whole other world than this part of Wyoming. Better know that heading in."
"I'm more American than most Americans."
"Texas is its own little country, Jake."
"You got a better idea? Hey! Watch that!" he snarled, grimacing with sharp pain as she swabbed at his stab wound.
"Yeah, you need a guide, someone who knows their way around. I mean, if you're going after this guy, you won't get very far without someone who's just a little more, shall we say, savvy about human culture."
Struggling, he sat up and stared her in the eye. "How in hell did you know I'm going after Jake Tierny?"
She only smiled. "And I thought you were going to nab me about that pop culture observation."
"That, too!"
"If I may say so, sir, you are seeming more like yourself—your real self—with every passing minute."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
She gave his chest a shove, pushing him back down onto the table. "Nice and grumpy, Lieutenant. Just like my buddy Scott."
"I'm not Scott," he said, sighing deeply. He felt wearier than he had in days, years, maybe.
"Whatever. It's just good to have you back, sir."
His eyes slid shut, and only then did it hit him that she'd injected him with some sort of painkiller, one that was making him sleepy and sluggish. "What'd ya do that for?" he slurred, blinking.
"So the stitches wouldn't hurt."
"What's one more moment of pain?" he reflected sleepily, not really meaning to voice the question aloud.
Her lovely heart-shaped face appeared just above him, and she pressed her fingertips against his lips. "You've
already hurt enough, Jake," she told him soothingly. "It's time you started to heal."
He nodded, drifting into sleep, and in his mind he saw a wide-open road, as long as the rays of the sun, and just as hot, too. Desert and tumbleweeds and oil fields spread in every direction, from north to south, east to west. Texas, he thought dreamily, and glancing around, he discovered someone unexpected.
Shelby stood there, right beside him.
"Yes," she murmured softly, "I'll go with you, sir. Right now, just heal."
Hope lay in the hospital bed, impatiently pulling at the bandages over her eyes. Three more hours to go, and they'd remove the freaking things—and she'd have confirmation that her eyesight had truly been restored. The medics had wasted no time after getting her back inside the compound; while they were treating her other wounds and getting her glucose levels under control, they'd made it sound shockingly easy to go ahead and fix her eyes. Taking a giant step of faith, she'd agreed, knowing that these Refarians wouldn't promise what they couldn't deliver: She'd already seen that much in the past ten days.
So far she'd entertained some guests: Anna, right off the bat, and then most recently the only other human in the compound, their queen, Kelsey Bennett. She'd been the most reassuring of all, promising Hope that, from the viewpoint of a scientist, the Refarians really could work miracles. They'd spoken in hushed terms for a while about the possible benefits of genetic therapy, but Hope couldn't shake Scott's dire reaction—and even the words she'd heard Veckus and Scott exchange on the matter.
But someone who hadn't visited her yet, who was absolutely conspicuously absent, was her only true love: Scott Dillon. Where was he, and why wouldn't he be coming around? She wanted to whimper and cry. With everything they'd shared and been through together, how could he blow her off like this? Could her heart have been so terribly wrong?
And what of Jake Tierny? He hadn't even so much as sniffed in her direction, at least, not from what she could gather. He'd saved her life back at the warehouse, but hadn't spoken another word to her since. Maybe both men were equally inscrutable in the final analysis, being, as they were, one and the same.
She blew out a miserable breath, closing her eyes beneath the bandages—then, almost as if in answer, she heard the soft echo of footsteps. Too soft, of course, to belong to either Scott or Jake. Listening closely, she called out, "Who's there?"
"Ms. Harper, it's just me," came the strongly Southern-accented voice of her nurse, Shelby Tyler. "Just here to check on you, that's all."
"I'm fine." She rotated her head toward the wall. Blind as ever with the bandages on, she still sought a reprieve from the hard gaze of anyone else, at least at this particular moment.
"Now, now," came Shelby's soothing voice, and Hope felt the woman patting her arm. "You can be honest with me, you know."
"I'm scared," Hope whispered into the blackness that engulfed her. "Terrified."
She heard her nurse settle into the seat beside her. "You've got nothing to be afraid of, hon. This surgery's going to have been a perfect score. You'll be seeing better than new in just a few more hours once we remove the bandages."
"It's not about my eyes."
"Oh. Ohhh, it's about your men, isn't it? I understand that problem completely."
"My men?" Hope coughed into her pillow, slowly turning back toward Shelby. "You make me sound like a bigamist. Or a very naughty girl, at least."
"We both know what I'm talking about … what we're both talking about here."
Hope blew out an exhausted sigh. "Neither one of them has come my way since we got back. Not with my surgery, nothing. It's like I've dreamed this whole surreal situation."
"Jake's taking off for Texas," Shelby volunteered in an even tone. "Says he can't stick around, not with you and Scott together."
Hope struggled upward in bed. "He can't do that!"
"He's got to do that, Ms. Harper. Don't you understand?"
She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, I don't—not at all." She'd planned on spending time with him—this future self of his—and getting to know him better. Not as a lover, but as the deepest kind of friend. Jake was in so much pain, and she'd pretty much convinced herself over the past day that once their hell was over, she could help him talk about his heartbreak. After all, who better than she?
"Well, for one thing, he can't be around Lieutenant Dillon, not if we want the universe to stay intact. It's dangerous for the two of them to be near each other."
"That could be worked around!" Hope argued, tugging at her bandages.
The nurse grabbed hold of her hand, pulling it away and back against her side. "Nope, don't go doing that, Ms. Harper. Leave the gauze alone. You've only got a few more hours to stand."
"Why is Jake determined to go so incredibly far away?" Tears burned her eyes beneath the bandages, but she blinked at them. It was bizarre—although he wasn't her Scott, not precisely, she still loved him deeply. How could she not, when the man was a slightly altered version of the one she'd fallen for so hard?
"He's going after the real Jake Tierny, your killer. He's determined to find out what that man's role in the war is—more than that, I think he wants to keep him from killing you again."
There were no words. Hope could only lie flat on her back and try to find her breath, but even that felt nearly impossible. "He shouldn't," was all she managed to mumble weakly.
"You know he ain't gonna be stopped, now, don't you?"
Of course, Nurse Tyler was absolutely dead on the mark, but it didn't ease the heaviness in Hope's heart. "Is he going to say goodbye to me first?"
The chair slid back across the floor, signaling the nurse's departure. "I can't say for sure on that. But I will definitely say farewell." The nurse bent over her and did something wholly unexpected: She kissed Hope on the forehead. "I admire you so much, Ms. Harper. You're my kind of gal."
Hope crinkled her nose, laughing. "Are you going somewhere? I mean, thank you, that's incredibly sweet, but—"
"Somebody's got to take care of our boy Jake. I reckon it might as well be me, just to be sure he doesn't get in too much trouble down Texas way. Plus, I lived there for the first few years I was on this planet, and I can show him around. All that."
Hope wasn't sure whether she should feel jealous or totally relieved. "I'm glad you'll be looking out for him," she whispered softly. "He's in so much pain."
As if reading Hope's mind, the nurse said, "Now, don't feel jealous. He and I are just friends; that's all. But I do think I can watch over his wounded soul."
Hope swallowed, still fighting tears. "I know it's stupid that I'd feel jealous when I can't be with him."
"Natural," the medic corrected her warmly. "Totally natural, darling. You love him—in any version you find him—and he's your soul mate."
"You really think so?"
"Heck, I know so. I've got a gift about seeing that sort of thing."
"I'm going to miss you, Shelby. You've been so kind to me."
"I'll sure miss your spirit, Hope," the woman said. "You've inspired me to be a lot stronger than I naturally want to be. You're tough and don't back down from a thing. I'm thinking I could use more of that in myself."
Hope felt the tears come in earnest then. For so many years she'd battled her illness, then her blindness, and the people who had commended her for her stalwart strength had been few and far between. Most of those who loved her had spent their energy trying to hold her back. "Thank you, Shelby. I'm glad you're my friend."
Shelby patted her hand one final time. "I could say exactly the same." She cleared her throat, adding, "You've got only two and a half more hours of these bandages. After that, I believe things are going to look a whole lot brighter for you. In every possible way."
As the unusual woman left her room, Hope wondered if she had some extra insight, some alien gift that allowed her to see beyond the moment; it always seemed that she perceived so much more than what was actually happening on the surface. If that speculatio
n was true, then maybe Shelby was right: Her world was about to seem a whole lot brighter than it had in a very long time.
Chapter Twenty-six
Kelsey lay on the doctor's table, feeling the strange vibrations of the sonogram wand against her flat stomach. That her belly was still flat, with as much activity as she felt inside of it, amazed her. For all the life fluttering and glowing within her, she might as well have already been the size of a melon—now, just a few days after conception.
The words five and a half months had never stopped reverberating through her mind ever since Jared had uttered them. That would mean she should start showing in about another month, perhaps sooner. That was the sort of thing she hoped this Refarian doctor would be able to tell her.
He bent over her, moving the handheld paddle across her skin, and she felt tingling beneath it in reaction. "This is the sonogram?" she asked, trying to see the accompanying monitor.
"The optigram," he told her matter-of-factly. "We use more advanced technology."
"What's the difference?"
He rolled backward on his stool so he could see her better. "As the pregnancy progresses, you'll be able to see every feature of this baby. Whether he or she is in D'Aravnian or human form, what the child's face looks like. It's more like a direct image than a shadowy imprint."
"Wow. That's more than amazing."
The silver-haired man grinned. "Want to see right now?"
Her heart must have skipped ten beats. Finally she swallowed and whispered, "Of course."
He rotated the monitor, swinging it around so she could get a clear look, and what she saw was … a large, glowing ball. "In D'Aravnian form right now," the doctor interpreted needlessly. "Which explains all the burning you're feeling deep inside. That's typical at this very early gestational stage, but will change the further you progress in this pregnancy."
"If I progress?" She couldn't prevent the question from passing her lips.
"You'll progress," the man reassured her evenly. "There's no reason whatsoever to expect that you won't. Look at the baby. Can you see well from there, my lady?" He was being solicitous, but her fears hadn't been placated.
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