I am always amused about the little steps we train ourselves to take. There are muscle memories we reinforce, and, well, I once heard a speaker explain that every cell in our body had its own memory. (My favourite Niven story is “The Fourth Profession,” so I’m aware of the RNA idea.) I didn’t quite believe her at the time, but as I put my keys down in the cup (it’s a ceramic octopus) by the door, I nearly laughed aloud because, well, it wasn’t like this was an ordinary situation. I would normally shuffle out of my pants right now, too, but that particular phase I was able to skip.

“E!” I was suddenly caught up in a hug that crushed my breathing apparatus. Um, I mean to say my lungs and ribs and all of that thoracic stuff. I hadn’t been suddenly replaced by an alien. Brain tired words hard synapse take strange route.

You know what I mean.

I extricated myself carefully (without bringing in anything like the Jaws of Life) from Rohana’s glomp. I tried to get the oxygenation process restarted with the minimum of grunts and coughing.

I referred to the open door with a wave of my left hand in its general direction.

“Grapevine had it you were in bad straits. But I knew you’d come back here, and well,” she kissed me.

Wow, did she kiss me.

I know I was addled and my brain wasn’t receiving correctly, but I was pretty sure that was a kiss that was measured on the Richter scale. Someone in Boulder was watching a little needle bounce because of it. Stars exploded somewhere near the core of the universe. I hadn’t been kissed like that since…

…I couldn’t remember if I ever had been kissed like that. I remember her hands were at my neck and my hair and she was pulling herself up against me (she is a bit shorter than me) and soft and words start to go away. Bye-bye, words. Nice knowing you.

I was still trying to remember basic math skills to see if I was about to pass out (I had forgotten my name, where I was, how to talk… all those pertinent details, but I remembered something about an equation where breathing was involved) when it ended.

“Was that a real King of something big out there?” she asked me, kind of pressed against my chest. “He said he was. Then he laughed fire.”

“Uh-huh,” I managed. I felt my arms wrap around her, as if they fit there. They did, I noted. It felt nice.

“Was he a Dragon?” she asked, very, very quietly.

“Uh-huh.” I took a deep breath. “Are you?”

She laughed and pulled away a little, one of her arms snaking around my waist as I slid my right hand away to give her space. “No, no, no. I don’t even really give myself a title. Maggie calls me a healer, but I’ve got very little, you know, talent. I’m learning. A little reiki here. I try to make people feel better.”

I smiled.

She put a finger on my lips. “I know what you’re thinking.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, telepathic, too?” I grinned. I shut the door with a kick.

“The best thing about it, is that it’s the same thing I’m thinking,” she said, and she pulled me in the direction of the bedroom.

“But Brain, where are we going to find a dozen cans of whipped yak cream and a sponge?” I mock-protested. It might not have been the best example, and certainly non-canonical to the show, but it worked. At least she giggled.

I would be lying if I said it was the most amazing sexual experience of my life. I would also be lying if I said it wasn’t perfect. It was just what I needed, exhausted, drained, and then, somehow less so. It was as if I was made more, made whole, you know, healed. Giving and taking in equal consideration, and different enough from the almost angry sex Maggie and I had been having towards the end… too much to process then. Then I was told to, “Stop thinking,” a few times, and, “Enjoy.”

Yes, ma’am.

There were funny moments. I had no idea where I had put the condoms, and after some awkward drawer opening and excavations with one hand, she had some in her pack. She kicked me in the ribs once, I nearly backhanded her getting twisted up in the top sheet.

I hoped I didn’t look smug or desperate, as either would have been criminal. I know we both smiled a lot.

She fell asleep after setting a combination of alarms on a variety of devices. “It’s kind of my thing,” she explained. “I can’t sleep until I do it, and I won’t wake up if I don’t,” she grinned. Then she kissed me on the forehead. “You, sleep.”

I did. I don’t think I had any dreams.

When I woke up, she was still there. I reached out and touched her arm. She grabbed my hand and held it to her, like it was some kind of teddy bear. I took it as an invitation to move closer, and fell back asleep.

When I woke up a second time, she was gone. I hadn’t heard the alarms, but I smelled a faint hint of shampoo still in the air. A towel was spread over the back of one of the chairs in the living room, almost like a caress. I don’t know, maybe I was feeling super-sentimental. It was all sweet and soft somehow.

On my bathroom mirror was a note. “Dinner 6:30p. I drive. Dress fancy-schmancy.”

After a long shower I found where I had stuffed my phone partially under the bed and tied up in my pants. I had two missed calls and one voicemail. One was from an unknown number, so I ignored it.

I leaned back and sighed. The second was from Sylvia.