Neon Hearts Part 17. This huge indefinitely continuing saga contains characters 
still copyright to Marvel. Wish I had a buck for every time I have said and WILL 
say that!

NOTE: Due to finally learning how to use my mass mailer on my other server, I am 
going to be setting up a list for people who have had difficulty getting all 
these chapters on time and in order. Please email me if you would like to be on 
that list.


PART 17--TAKING CHANCES


"OK, son, yer all set," Carl Cantrell said, slamming down the hatch door on the 
shiny new red 4x4 Hank had just rented. "Ready for anything!"

"It would certainly appear so," Hank murmured. The cargo area, which had seemed 
to him to be spacious enough to serve as an emergency sleeping site, was now 
crammed to its maximum capacity with an extensive assortment of camping 
paraphernalia. They could probably, he surmised, journey to the arctic tundra 
and dwell in comfort.

"Reminds me of all the fun we useta have, running up to the mountains for a 
weekend," Carl mused, gazing at the accumulation of an outdoor fan's lifetime. 
"Haven't done that since Cassie went to college. Kinda wish I was coming along." 
He glanced sidelong at Hank, with a sly grin. "But I expect you don't."

There being no possible tactful answer to this statement, all Hank could do was 
proffer a weak smile. Thankfully, he was spared any need to comment by Cassie 
and JoEtta's approach from the house. Cassie was lugging a huge cooler, and 
JoEtta was cradling a smug Cornflower. Hank leapt to relieve Cassie of her 
burden, wondering where in the world they were going to stow it.

With some slight rearranging of suitcases and other provisions, it fit on the 
back seat. "That's it, then," JoEtta said. "Better move it out, so you can get a 
good early start."

Hank involuntarily glanced at the sun overhead. It was nearly noon. "Just a 
family joke," Cassie informed him. "It's what we always say, 'Nothing like a 
good early start'."

"And this is nothing like one," Carl finished the routine. "Well, you two have 
fun!"

The rest of the departure ritual required hugs all around from Cassie (JoEtta 
hugged Hank as well, somewhat to his surprise), suggestions and advice from Carl 
on routes and sights, and proper farewells said to Cornflower, who appeared 
perfectly satisfied to be staying behind. With Hank at the wheel, they pulled 
out of the drive, waving madly, and were soon on the back highway, heading for 
Boulder.

Their mood rapidly accelerated to giddy frivolity, both of them drunk with 
delight from the freedom, the anticipation of fun, and especially the company. 
Hank achieved newfound heights of humor, which had Cassie convulsing helplessly 
in laughter, pleading with him to stop so she could breathe. He had to comply 
for safety's sake, as he was starting to laugh too hard to drive properly. They 
pulled into a scenic overlook and kissed each other back to some sort of 
sensibility.

Driving through Boulder provided Hank with a good view of the University of 
Colorado campus, but they didn't stop. The only person he knew there was a 
researcher with whom he had been carrying on an increasingly pointedly-polite 
debate on an internet list dedicated to the discussion of ethics within the 
sciences. Since Hank was at the point of mailing the man the definition of 
ethics from the American Heritage dictionary, it seemed like a poor time to drop 
by in person.

The scenery had made a dramatic jump in visual appeal as soon as they entered 
the foothills region. Huge red rock formations, which Cassie identified as the 
Flatirons, stood on the slopes, and the mountains had gone from blue 
implications on the horizon to vast fortifications against the sky. They headed 
up Highway 119, and Hank openly exulted in the vistas of river gorge, 
mountainside and wide blue sky revealed around each new curve. Cassie beamed as 
proudly as though she had invented them, clearly pleased by Hank's admiration of 
her home state.

"Pull into this roadside park," she instructed him, when they came to a long 
parking area nearly full of cars. "Something here you HAVE to see." Hank 
obliged, more than happy to cater to Cassie's whims.

They debarked, and walked hand in hand past picnic tables scattered on the short 
grass, up a trail that wove between towering pines which cast a heady scent in 
the warm afternoon sun. A faint roaring in the distance gradually grew louder. 
They emerged into a open clearing, and Hank said, "My stars and garters!" in 
profound admiration.

A cascade of white foam that started so far above their heads Hank couldn't make 
out the point of origin thundered down the mountain between huge boulders and 
outcroppings of rock, casting shimmering rainbows in its spray before shuddering 
into a boiling maelstrom in the pool at its base. "It's running fast because of 
spring melt-off," Cassie half-shouted. "C'mon this way."

They followed a branch of the path that took them to the river, more quietly 
bouncing away from its magnificent source. There were additional picnic tables 
here, all full of family groups. The bank was flat at this point, and numerous 
children were dabbling in the shallows, throwing in sticks to see them float 
away, the braver ones taking a few steps in before running away shrieking at the 
cold. "Is that altogether safe?" Hank asked.

"Well, one HOPES someone responsible is keeping an eye on, but, yeah, pretty 
much." Cassie seemed to feel it was a commonplace activity, and Hank shrugged 
mentally. When in Rome, as the saying went. They walked to the edge of the 
water, and Cassie pointed at some people hiking up the hill on the other side. 
"There's a cave up there behind the waterfall that's pretty neat. Do you want to 
go see it?"

"How would we get to that side?" Hank inquired dubiously. Actually, his quick 
estimating glance told him HE could probably cross by vaulting over, at a 
somewhat narrower point just upstream, but how would Cassie manage it?

"Wade, of course." His eyebrows rose. "I've done it lots of times, really!" The 
smile with which she said this was just on the verge of challenging. "But...we 
don't have to, of course. We can just look at the falls from this side."

Somehow unwilling for Cassie to think he was at best a spoilsport and at worst 
timid, Hank said, "Lead the way, then, my intrepid friend." She grinned and 
peeled off her sneakers by stepping on the heels, then jammed her socks in the 
toes before knotting the laces together. The resulting bundle she hung around 
her neck. "You get better footing without shoes," she explained. "Some of the 
rocks are mossy and slippery."

This wasn't what he really wanted to hear, but Hank didn't demur as he stepped 
out of his loafers. Lacking laces, he debated trying to thrust them into his 
pants pockets, but decided it would be a tight fit even if he was lucky, and 
chose to carry them in one hand instead. "Ready when you are."

The water was shockingly, numbingly cold, and he almost changed his mind. But 
Cassie, making little gasps and squeals, was moving steadily onward, so Hank 
followed. She looked back over her shoulder, wearing a huge grin. "Isn't this 
great?! I love fast water!" He couldn't help but smile back at her enthusiasm.

Now she was approaching the center of the stream, the water rushing past over 
her knees. "Here in the middle, use the rocks as hand-holds where you can," she 
called to him over the splash and rumble. "Just go slow and make sure you're 
steady every time you step, before you move again." She stopped talking to 
concentrate on following her own instructions, the river's white foam nearly up 
to her hips.

When she crossed the very center where the water shot between the rocks at 
high-pressure induced speed, Hank paused, heart in his mouth. But she passed by 
that danger point without hesitation, and he began to make careful haste to join 
her, hoping there might be a path back to the vehicles on the other side for 
their return trip. Wading in ice water up to his tailbone was not his idea of 
the most fun a person could possibly have on vacation. Bobby would probably love 
it, though, he reflected.

There was no warning. One instant, Cassie was moving forward, and the next she 
had slipped under the foaming surface, one hand showing for a split second as 
she was swept away. "CASSIE!" he shouted, swiping out with a desperate hand, but 
too late.

Hank's mind instantly kicked over into Danger Room mode. His first bound after 
her was hampered by the waist-deep water, but he made it to a downstream 
boulder, and from there he ricocheted to another, and then another, landing only 
long enough to scrabble for a semi-solid stance on the wet, uneven surfaces from 
which to leap again. His eyes scanned for landing sites, for a sign of Cassie, 
for upcoming hazards, his brain analyzing his options at top speed. Had to get 
ahead of her somehow, catch her before it was too late! The river crossed under 
the highway though a culvert he could now see, and where that might come out 
didn't bear thinking about.

He spotted one arm when it thrashed frantically out of the water parallel to his 
current position, and redoubled his efforts to outpace the racing river. He 
heard but dismissed as currently unimportant shouted queries coming from behind 
him. His bounds growing ragged, more reckless, Hank pulled a little ahead. They 
were nearly at the culvert entrance now, and he flung himself out towards the 
center of the raging current in one last desperate leap.

The riverbed here was all jumbled rock, and he was knocked to his hands and 
knees by the uneven surface and the water's speed for a terrifying instant. But 
the water was slightly shallower as well, and he was able to right himself in 
time to see his target, and snag a handful of her shirt before she could be 
swept past him. More shouts erupted from somewhere off to his left, but all he 
could focus on was Cassie, who had thrown her arms around his neck in a 
stranglehold he welcomed as proof she was alive and at least semi-conscious.

Hank stood still for a second, to get his bearings, then began sloshing his way 
towards the shore. A group of onlookers had gathered, and were calling 
encouragement, waving him in to the most accessible place to exit. He reached 
it, but had to stop, due to the unaccustomed sensation of being short of breath. 
The bank here was a collection of crumbled boulders, about head height. A few 
short minutes ago he would have simply jumped up and over it to level ground. 
But winded as he was, legs numb from cold and exertion, and carrying Cassie, he 
thought it might be a poor idea.

Someone in the crowd above deduced the problem, a man with a long ponytail and a 
CU sweatshirt. He stripped off the shirt and his girlfriend took off a similar 
one. Braided into one another, they made a sort of tow-rope Hank could catch the 
end of with one hand, after shifting Cassie in his grip. He pulled on it gently 
to test it, and the CU fan staggered forward. But the girlfriend, and then 
additional crowd members massed together, holding on to one another, and began 
to move backwards as though this was an insane game of tug-o-war. Although the 
material of the shirts stretched taut, it held, and the extra momentum provided 
let Hank climb up the steep bank in only a few steps.

Wheezing out thanks, Hank stumbled a few steps forward and dropped to his knees, 
setting Cassie gently down onto the grass. She was alert enough to let go of his 
neck, but only to switch to a deathgrip on one damp blue forearm. A tall woman 
with a blond pageboy stepped out of the crowd and knelt beside them. "I'm a 
nurse," she explained, putting fingertips to Cassie's throat. Hank almost 
informed her of his own medical expertise, but decided on second thought to 
accept the help.

"Look at me, honey." Cassie complied. "What's your name?" Cassie opened her 
mouth, but no sound emerged. She arched her back, trying to inhale, without 
success. "Looks like you got the wind knocked out of you," the nurse remarked 
calmly. She radiated calm, which Hank imagined must come in handy in her line of 
work. "Don't panic--it'll come back in a second. Probably a good thing, 
really--kept you from breathing in a lot of water."

Hank patted Cassie's hand. "That is very likely true." This didn't seem like a 
good time for an impromptu lecture on the exact physiology involved, so he 
refrained. Her anxious eyes sought his, and he strove to look calmer than he 
felt, to reassure her.

"Look here again," the nurse continued. "How many fingers am I holding up?" 
Cassie raised a shaking hand with two fingers, to match the other woman's hand 
position. "Good. Do you feel dizzy?" Cassie shook her head, and then suddenly 
sucked in a lungful of air, with a wet hacking cough immediately following. 
"Anybody got Kleenex?" the nurse said to the crowd. An older woman hastily 
stepped forward with a travel pack from the pocket of her windbreaker. "Here, 
blow that water out of your sinuses."

As Cassie complied, a blonde girl of about 12 came running up. "Here's the 
blankets, Mom," she said to the nurse, who wrapped one around Cassie, and handed 
the other to Hank. When he didn't instantly take it, she said, "You're wet and 
cold--put it around you!" and he hastily complied.

"Can you talk now, dear? Tell me your name," the woman said, once Cassie 
finished with the tissues.

"C-C-Cassie," she chattered in a husky voice, followed by another cough.

"Well, hello, Cassie; I'm Jackie. Can you tell me what day is it?"

"F-Friday." Hank pulled the blanket up further, to cover her head, feeling like 
he should be doing SOMETHING.

"Good! Can you take a really deep breath?" Cassie did so, coughing only slightly 
this time when she let it out. "Do you feel any pain in your chest when you do 
that?" Jackie was peering into Cassie's eyes, and fingering her scalp under the 
blanket.

"No," Cassie replied, her voice sounding a little more normal now.

"How about anywhere else? Neck, back, arms and legs?"

"My arm hurts...and my back."

Jackie hiked the blanket up, and Hank craned his head to see. His reaction was 
to inhale sharply through gritted teeth. Cassie had obviously hit some of the 
sharp-edged river rocks as she tumbled downstream. Her t-shirt was shredded, and 
underneath that lay a broad scrape that started at her shoulder blade and 
finished up in the small of her back. It was a miracle the shirt had held 
together when he grabbed it, Hank thought, and he didn't usually put much stock 
in miracles.

"You're going to want to go have that washed out, and get her a tetanus shot," 
the nurse informed Hank.

"I concur completely."

"And how are you?" Jackie asked, her attention belatedly drawn to the other 
participant in this fiasco.

"I'm fine. Damp, but fine," Hank assured her, but she began an assessing rundown 
anyway.

"Your toe is bleeding." He looked and saw with some surprise he had torn off a 
nail. Hadn't even noticed.

"I heal...very quickly. It will be fine, I promise you. Cassie is my main 
concern right now."

"I don't suppose you have any dry clothes handy?" the nurse asked, her attention 
safely drawn back to the main victim.

"Actually, we do, in our vehicle."

"Oh, good. That's what you need now, dry clothes. If you think you can make it 
to the parking lot," she addressed them both now, "you can change in our RV."

In answer, Hank rose to his feet, remaining steady by dint of will. With the 
nurse and him assisting her, Cassie was able to stand as well. "Still not 
dizzy?" Jackie demanded. "It doesn't seem like you hit your head, but you never 
know. Tell them you want a CAT scan, at the hospital," she added to Hank, who 
nodded a bit grimly. He would get Cassie one or know the reason why.

As they began the trek to the parking lot, the attending crowd slowly dispersed, 
departing with many expressions of admiration and goodwill. The sweatshirt owner 
insisted he could get the knots untied, and no compensation was needed; insisted 
so strongly Hank eventually gave up and settled for a firm handshake. "I never 
saw anything LIKE that, man!" the youth told him. "Good thing for her you were 
around."

'And a bad thing for her I agreed to go along with such an insane stunt in the 
first place,' Hank thought, but did his best to smile at the well-meaning fellow 
as he thanked him yet again for his assistance.

When Hank arrived at the RV, after making a detour to their car for clothing, he 
found Cassie already undressed and wrapped in the blanket, sipping a styrofoam 
cup full of coffee. Their benefactor discreetly slipped out of the RV, and Hank 
began to remove his wet garments. "I brought your sweatsuit and a t-shirt," he 
said, "and two pairs of socks. Plus your boots."

"Thanks," she murmured, setting the cup down. "Hank, I'm--"

"If you say you are sorry," he interrupted her, feeling sudden inability to cope 
with any more emotional strain, "I shall--" he paused to regain a little 
self-control, "--be upset." He smiled to try to soften the words. "You needn't 
apologize to me because you met with an accident."

"You lost your shoes," she pointed out mournfully.

Hank couldn't help a strangled laugh, and he knew it was partly a release of the 
killing tension lingering from the near-disaster. "I can get more shoes," he 
said, taking her chin in his hand. "Where would I replace you?" At this, Cassie 
flung her arms around him. He could feel her chest heave as she tried not to 
burst into tears. If he were being honest, the temptation to do the same was 
strong. After a bit, when she had quieted, he suggested, "Why don't we finish 
changing, before our host imagines we have passed out and comes looking for us?"

He had to help her with the t-shirt and sweatshirt, as her arm was stiffening up 
on that side. "You know, I don't think I really need to go to the hospital," 
Cassie said with a terrible casualness. "It's not like I hit my head or 
anything, and I think I'm current on my tetanus...."

"Cassie." Odd how the further the emergency receded in the past, the more upset 
he felt. "Would you mind very much humoring me in this matter?" She instantly 
looked remorseful, but he could also see fear in the back of her eyes. Suddenly 
apprehending the likely cause, he added, very gently, "I'll stay with you the 
whole time." She nodded, relief flooding her face.

They were both extremely quiet on the drive back to Boulder, Hank forcing his 
focus on navigating the twisting mountain highway and not letting himself speed. 
The very last thing he needed at the moment was a speeding ticket, much less an 
accident of any description.

"I never had anything like that happen before," Cassie said, at length. "The 
rock I was on felt perfectly solid, and then it just went out from under my 
foot."

"Possibly loosened by the speed of the water flow," Hank suggested. He was not 
at all sure he was ready to talk about it, but if she was, he felt he should 
try.

"Could be. I guess things just happen, sometimes."

"You could print that philosphy on a t-shirt, except that someone has beaten you 
to it," Hank said, and was a little surprised at how curt he sounded when he 
heard himself.

Cassie didn't seem to notice, wrapped up in her own recollections. "You know 
what I remember thinking?" She was curled up sideways in the seat, looking like 
a waif with her wet hair clinging to her skull, and he was trying not to look, 
because it made him want to hold her, which he couldn't at the moment.

"What?" He downshifted again, mentally cursing a dawdling delivery truck in the 
lane ahead of him.

"That it wasn't fair." She gave a half-laugh, and tucked her arms tighter in 
around her chest. "It wasn't fair--I haven't known you long enough."

"Long enough for what?" he asked, risking a rapid glance of puzzlement at her. 
Had she thought he wouldn't attempt to rescue her?

"Just...long enough. I only met you a few days ago--" She broke off, and his 
hands tightened on the steering wheel in frustration. "It wouldn't be fair, if 
that's all the time I was going to get with you."

Comprehension, a new understanding of what she was trying to say, flooded his 
mind, and for the first instant since the almost overwhelming relief of catching 
hold of her in the current, he felt his spirits lifting. "How long," he inquired 
softly, "do you think would meet your requirements?"

"However long you have," she said quite seriously, then gave him a shaky smile. 
"It's dumb, but it never occurred to me that *I* could be the one--" She 
shuddered, but continued. "That was selfish of me, to think maybe we shouldn't 
be together, just because...it might end too soon."

"It occurs to me," Hank told her, his voice rough with the effect at control, 
"that no matter how long we have together, the end will seem to come too soon."

"Yes. So let's take as much as we can get, hmm?" She reached out a tentative 
hand, and without hesitation he released his hold on the gear shift to clasp it 
firmly, giving her an instant's view of his blazing smile. Then he had to return 
his attention to avoiding some idiot trying to pass before the passing lane 
actually started.

"Two minds with but a single thought," he answered her gaily, tapping the brake 
and hitting his horn in remonstrance at the errant driver. The bright promise of 
the day they had felt earlier returned tenfold, and the trip to the emergency 
room became an astoundingly cheerful one.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net

"Power is not revealed by striking hard or often, but by striking true."Balzac


---------
Neon Hearts Part 18. This section does not require an explicitness warning, but I 
think I should add a mushiness warning....

Yeah, Marvel copyright, go, fight, win!


PART 18--ROOM SERVICE AND OTHER COMFORTS


Toting their luggage, Hank nudged open the hotel room door and entered, with 
Cassie following close behind. After placing his burdens in a neat row by the 
dresser, he dropped to sit on the edge of the blessedly king-size bed, then 
plopped backwards, arms spread wide, as he heaved a tremendous sigh. It had been 
a long, tense four hours in the emergency room before the doctor on duty had 
deigned to read the CAT scan and x-ray results and allow them to go on their 
way. Hank felt like he could cheerfully lay here in bed for about a hundred 
years.

Cassie crawled, awkwardly, using only the arm not in a sling, into the center of 
the huge bed and sat cross-legged next to Hank's head. She smiled down at him 
and brushed her hand up the side of his face. After giving an odd little twitch, 
she did it again, more slowly and thoughtfully this time. "What do you call it," 
she asked, "when you're seeing something that's not really there, and it kind of 
makes your brain go off-line a little bit?"

Hank gave her a searching look. "Any number of things, from drug-induced 
hallucinations to a psychotic break. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, THAT'S it. Must be the pills starting to work," she answered, with a almost 
too cheerful grin, referring to the prescription painkillers she'd been given. 
"How funny."

"What?!" Had the CAT scan missed something? Hank wondered with a little touch of 
panic.

"Your face. Your skin looks all smooth, but right here," she scritched the angle 
of his jaw with a delicate precision that made him arch his neck into it 
involuntarily, "I can FEEL that little ruff of fur. It's...strange."

"Oh!" He'd decided, given his state of mind, that wearing the image inducer for 
their visit to the hospital would be a prudent move. "My apologies. I forget I'm 
wearing it sometimes." He touched the switch on the belt.

"That's okay," Cassie assured him, as his natural visage re-emerged. "I'm 
getting used to it now. Really. It's just...dichotomous."

"An excellent word choice," Hank murmured, relaxing again. He tried to stretch 
without disturbing her. "I fear I erred in judgement, though, continuing to wear 
it to check in here."

"Why's that?"

"I noted a sign in the lobby stating there is a Jacuzzi for hotel guests. I 
can't wear the image inducer into the water, and they would not recognize me as 
a guest now without it."

"Oh, yeah, huh?" Cassie frowned in sympathy. "I bet you're starting feel a 
little sore by now."

"I'M feeling sore?" He craned his neck back a little to look at her more 
directly. "*I* didn't bulldoze my way head over heels through the numerous rocks 
in that river bed."

"Yeah, but you didn't get any of these wonder pills, either," she laughed. "I 
feel pretty good right now, actually." He snorted, seeing her point. "Maybe a 
nice hot shower instead?"

"Hmmm." The idea was tempting. Extremely so. "But we haven't eaten yet. Maybe 
afterwards...."

"Well, it's expensive, but...we could order from room service?" Cassie suggested 
tentatively. "You could go ahead and jump in right now."

After taking half a second to consider this, Hank said, "What an EXCELLENT idea, 
my dear," and leaned his head forward to kiss whatever came into easy reach, 
which happened to be her shin. "You don't mind me leaving you alone for a bit?"

"Heck, no. Take your time. I'll call in and order something, and maybe it will 
be here by the time you get out."

"If my past hotel experiences are anything to go by, I would have to be in the 
shower for quite some time for that to happen," he said wryly. "But I do believe 
I will start now. The sooner I do, the sooner I'll be dry." At the curious quirk 
of her head, he explained, "If I go to bed with wet fur, you wouldn't BELIEVE 
how it looks in the morning!"He exited the room peeling off his clothing and 
smiling at her mirthful reaction.

There was a menu on the long dresser under the mirror. Trying not to wince at 
the inflated prices, Cassie considered the offerings. 'Maybe I should just get 
one of everything,' she joked to herself. 'Poor Hank's probably STARVING by 
now.'

Cassie decided on some grilled chicken and a salad for herself, and ordered an 
assortment of Italian, Chinese and Mexican meals for Hank, plus a mixed 
appetizer tray. The person taking the order seemed quite blase about it--she 
supposed they had no way of knowing how many people were checked into any one 
room. She wondered if it would be enough, but decided they could send out for 
something else if it wasn't.

The water started to run in the bathroom, and a few minutes later, Cassie heard 
Hank's voice raised in song. It was a tune they'd just heard on the radio on 
there way here, and he was producing a quite respectable cover of the old Sam 
the Sham and the Pharaohs classic, 'Little Red Riding Hood'. She leaned back on 
the bed, resting on her good arm, and just listened for a bit, wearing a silly 
smile. Then his words about the difficulties involved in getting himself dry 
came back to her, and she got to her feet to begin rummaging through her 
suitcase.

When Hank came out, still vigorously toweling himself across the thick fur on 
his shoulders, Cassie was waiting. "Sit down here," she invited, "and I'll help 
you dry off." She had her terrycloth bathrobe folded on the edge of the bed, and 
her blowdryer in her hand.

"You don't have to," Hank told her, valiantly resisting the temptation she 
presented. She should be resting, not cosseting him.

"But I want to," Cassie insisted with a pleading smile. "C'mon, please?"

Well, perhaps just for a little while, to make her happy. "If you absolutely 
insist," he replied, and took his assigned spot. Cassie's blowdryer kicked on 
with a hum, the rush of air feeling cold at first on his damp body.

He had been savoring the sensation of Cassie's fingers brushing through his fur 
to create the maximum exposure of wet surface area, when 'what's wrong with this 
picture?' crossed his mind. "Cassie, you're supposed to keep your arm in that 
sling," he remonstrated, half-turning around.

"I AM," she said, holding it up as evidence. "Sort of." The arm WAS in the 
sling, he had to admit, just not being supported by it. "This blowdryer weighs 
about half a pound; I'm not going to strain my elbow holding it for a little 
while. Turn around again." She gently pushed his shoulder with her free hand. "I 
should get to take care of YOU sometimes. That's only fair," she added with 
tender mock-irritation.

"And how fair is it," Hank retorted in the same mode, "to attempt to use my 
deep-seated commitment to egalitarianism against me?" She only laughed and kept 
on with her ministrations. "Because I feel...ah... that if you MUST do 
that...um...could you scratch just a little lower and to your right...." His 
half of the conversation trailed off into a series of incoherent sounds.

By the time their meal arrived, Hank's back was almost fully dry. When the knock 
sounded and the deliverer called, "Room service," he prudently ducked into the 
bathroom until he heard the door close again. Coming out, he found Cassie using 
just her one hand like a good girl, shuffling a very satisfactory number of 
covered dishes into a more efficient pattern, with most of them on the side of 
the table opposite her. "Things are decidedly looking up," Hank beamed as he 
took his seat.

"Well, we ARE on vacation," Cassie reminded him.

"Yes, I know. It is running true to form to many of my other vacations." He just 
shook his head and smiled ruefully at Cassie's inquiring look, preferring to 
concentrate on eating rather than tell her horror stories.

"Well, surely nothing else will happen NOW," she remarked, cutting her chicken 
breast into pieces with her fork.

Hank winced. "I am a man of science, and therefore not at all superstitious," he 
said firmly. "But on the other hand, there's no sense in tempting fate by saying 
things like that."

"Sorry." They each reached for their water glasses, but Cassie stopped before 
drinking from hers. "I suppose," she asked, with imitation disappointment, 
"going white water rafting is out of the question now?"

Through heroic effort, Hank managed not to spray water all over the table and 
Cassie when he choked in reaction to these words. A quick glance at her 
sparkling eyes and the hand over her mouth holding in laughter told him what he 
needed to know, and a pleased smile spread over his face. "You can joke about 
it."

"I'm learning from you," Cassie confided. "I...think it does help."

"As with all things, it has its limitations." Joking would have been no solace 
at all, had his rescue attempt failed this afternoon. "But humor is indeed a 
valuable tool for coping with difficulties. Or so I have found, at any rate," he 
finished, suspecting he was being pedantic again.

Cassie didn't seem to mind, if he was. In fact, Hank could not think of anyone 
who had ever demonstrated quite as much completely uncritical admiration of him, 
outside of perhaps his mother. She was positively beaming at him, resting her 
chin on the palm of her good arm. It was satisfying and unnerving in equal 
measure. "What?" he finally said with a smile, hoping to revive the 
conversation.

"I was just thinking how lucky I am," Cassie told him, with the candor that 
occasionally slipped past her shy reserve.

"The operation of random factors does give one pause," he agreed, after a 
moment's hesitation. "Completely unpredictable. A loose rock caused you to lose 
your footing, and yet those I utilized as I... chased you downstream were all 
fortuitously solid."

"Well, yes, that WAS a good thing," she said. She had been thinking more along 
the lines of being deeply grateful for all the events that had led up to just 
being here with Hank, but that suddenly seemed like too much to say, so soon. 
"And I don't think I've said thank you yet, come to think of it."

"I more or less assumed it," he assured her. "But to see to the formalities--you 
are quite welcome. Any time."

"I'll try not to put you to so much trouble too often," she said politely, but 
reached out her good hand to him.

He met hers with his in the middle of the space between them, and the tight 
squeeze she gave him made it clear her light words did not fully express the 
deeper emotions running beneath them. The fervor in it made him think of the 
unlikely strength of small things; the tensile capacity of spider silk, a kitten 
spitting tiny defiance against a perceived attack. "All in a day's work for me, 
my dear," he replied, but gripped her hand firmly for a moment in return.

"But you're on VACATION," she pretended to scold him, retrieving her hand and 
returning to the task of eating. "That's supposed to mean a break from the 
tedious day to day routine."

They slipped into a discussion of general plans for the next few days, and soon 
had the serving dishes empty and outside the door for the hotel staff to 
collect. Both agreed turning in early was the best possible plan, and soon the 
room was dark and quiet.

An unknown length of time later, Cassie was startled awake when Hank sat 
suddenly up with a gasp, and half lurched out of the bed before coming to a 
halt. "Hank?" she asked, alarmed, sitting up too. He was breathing hard, as 
through he had been running in his sleep.

The touch of Cassie's hand on his back brought a blessedly quick return to 
reality, the details of the dream melting away like...water. He had been in the 
Danger Room with the team, and one wall had broken away under a raging flood.... 
"Sorry," he managed to say. "Just a dream." Her hand stroked up to the side of 
his face, and he pressed his cheek against it without thinking, seeking more of 
her comfort.

Cassie took a light grip on his shoulder, and tenderly urged him to lay back. 
Hank acquiesced, but to his surprise, found himself atop her, head pillowed on 
her stomach. He tried to change position, feeling it wasn't right--he was too 
heavy, she was injured--but she made shushing noises and began to stroke his 
temples with her thumbs. "Tell me," she said with easy intimacy, "what you think 
about dreams. My therapist told me it was how we deal with things that frighten 
us, without our conscious mind getting in the way."

'She already knows how to distract me,' he thought with faint amazement, before 
he began to answer her. "That is one prevalent theory, which I feel has some 
merit. Other schools of thought, of course, say dreams are only a product of our 
altered consciousness dealing with the random firing of neutrons in the brain, 
and their apparent relevancy to recent events stems solely from the fact those 
memories are freshest. This is certainly possible, but I feel it fails to 
address...." He continued to talk, while she listened and eased his tension with 
the magic of her caresses.

Eventually his spate of words slowed, and he carefully turned himself over, 
staying close to Cassie's warm body. The darkness was complete, but he needed no 
light to know her face was turned up to his. "Thank you," he said, and kissed 
her, not with passion but with grateful intensity.

When she could speak, she said in a taut whisper, "I don't think anything I 
could do for you would be as much as you deserve."

"Yet again you underestimate yourself," Hank replied, the odd quiver he felt at 
her words making his own voice a little unsteady. "You... have become very 
important to me, dear Cassie."

"I...I think I may be kind of..." she took a deep break "...maybe falling in 
love with you." She tried to laugh. "It's a little scary."

"Because we have known each other such a short time," he agreed. "Yes, it is."

"But I don't know...I was so wrong before," she whispered, half to herself, then 
added hastily, "Not that you are anything like--"

"We have time," Hank assured her, and possibly also himself, "to see. As much 
time as we wish to take." He kissed her again, intending it to only be a brief 
punctuation to his words, but found he had to exert all his willpower to finally 
pull away and lay himself down beside her instead of following his inclinations. 
She didn't protest, but only snuggled close to him, resting her injured arm 
across his chest, head on his shoulder. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she assured. "Are you?"

"Very much so."

"I...haven't been sure. I mean, if a person isn't used to sharing a bed, it 
could be hard to sleep with someone kind of glued to their side," she explained, 
with a diffident pat to his chest.

"But if a person finds he likes it," Hank replied, with just the hint of a 
teasing note, "it is quite easy to get used to." This brought him a gingerly one 
armed hug, which he returned. "Sleep well, my dear."

Cassie sighed happily. His surprisingly soft fur brushed her cheek as he 
breathed, and his warmth was welcome in the slightly chilly room. But better 
even than the physical comfort was the sense they were agreed on how to proceed 
in this relationship. No pressure, no demands for statements of devotion; very 
unlike her previous experience. Hank felt so safe to her Cassie knew she would 
have to be careful she wasn't being lured by this alone. But somehow, she didn't 
think that was the case. "I can think about it more later, though," she told 
herself. "Because we have time." It made her smile, and the smile, though 
invisible in the dark, stayed with her long into slumber.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net

Future chapters can be received automatically by asking to be added to my story 
mailing list [a service to frustrated untold-l patrons and impatient readers])

..."Let me win. But if I cannot win, let be brave in the attempt." From The 
Special Olympics Oath


------
Neon Hearts Part 19. Hi! Back at last--boy, holidays, work, and real life can sure 
disrupt the ol' creative flow! Sorry about that....

But at least I haven't forgotten that I need to mention Marvel holds all its 
characters' copyrights....

(If you hate waiting for servers to process these postings, ask about the the 
automatic mailing list!)


PART 19--THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED BY


When Cassie opened her eyes again, she was sleepily startled by the blue light 
which cast an eerie glow over a room it took her a moment to recognize. 'Oh, 
only the hotel,' she thought with faint relief. But when she stretched out a 
hand, sliding it over the sheet, she found she was alone in the bed. Where was 
Hank?

This question focused her mind, which let her realize the odd light came from 
the tv. Just then, the bed shook faintly. THAT was what had awakened her, that 
strange vibration. She sat up, looked to the foot of the bed and smiled. Hank 
was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bed, watching the tv 
with the sound almost turned down to nothing. His silent laughter was causing 
the tremors.

Affection drew her towards him like a magnet. Wincing a little due to protests 
from her stiffened muscles, Cassie crawled towards the foot of the bed, and lay 
down with her chin in her hand, her head now parallel to Hank's. He smiled an 
abashed greeting. "You've caught me indulging my taste for low humor."

"Heck, no, the Animaniacs are neat," she remonstrated gaily, ruffling his neck 
fur with her free hand. "Power Rangers, now--THAT'S low humor."

"I stand corrected...well, sit corrected, actually." Cassie considered the 
pretzel-like bends to his version of a comfortable sitting position with 
bemusement. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"A little sore here and there," she admitted. Gingerly she turned her left arm 
outward to examine the inner side around the joint. "My elbow's several amazing 
shades of purple. Can't see my back, but it doesn't feel too bad."

Hank twisted around an amazing almost-180 degrees to tsk over the bruise she 
displayed. "I can rebandage your back later, if you want to take a shower," he 
offered. "I left you a towel last night."

"After Animaniacs," Cassie said companionably, resting her right forearm on 
Hank's shoulder and her chin on that, as the show resumed. He reached up to 
lightly hold her hand, and she sighed in total contentment. Scarcely shifting 
position, Hank stretched out his right foot to delicately tap the volume control 
higher, and they were soon chortling together over the antics of the Warner 
siblings.

When the show was over, Hank bounced to his feet and turned on the nearest lamp. 
He pulled up a corner of the light tape holding the gauze in place on Cassie's 
back. "In the matter of tape removal, do you favor quick yanks, or slow and easy 
coaxing?"

"Somewhere in the middle--that paper kind's not bad either way." The grazed area 
was quickly laid bare. "What do you think?"

"It's...not bad," Hank assured her. He had remembered it as being far worse, but 
that was from seeing it fresh, while he was upset, he suspected. Now it looked 
much less raw. "Not deep. You'll need to have a new bandage after you shower, 
though, to keep your clothes from getting stained."

"Okay." Cassie pressed up off the bed, thanked him with a quick kiss, and headed 
for the shower.

Hank admired her retreating form until it disappeared around the corner, his 
pleasure somewhat tainted by guilt at the sight of the scrape that marred her 
lovely back. If he had only been a second quicker.... And yet, he had not been a 
second or more too late. 'If you must dwell on the matter, dwell on that,' he 
advised himself sternly.

Absently, Hank clicked off the tv as he went about the task of pulling out what 
clothing he needed for the day, and tidying the rest of his baggage into order 
for their departure. Characteristically, his mind was even busier than his 
hands, the one sorting through his feelings as the other neatly rearranged his 
remaining clean clothing.

He was not the type to fall prey to thinking random events 'meant something'; 
portents and omens were for those unable to deal with the reality of the chaotic 
nature of the universe. Yet, he was not immune to irony, by any means. Although 
he was not yet absolutely certain Cassie was who and what he needed to add to 
his life, considering how close he had come to losing her was...unsettling.

At least he still had the chance to commit to something serious with her, if he 
chose to. He knew, however, that their narrow escape could increase his 
inclination to take that chance, and that was no more realistic a basis for a 
permanent relationship than their physical compatibility.

'Exactly what IS holding me back, anyway?' he wondered, stretching out on the 
bed with his arms crossed behind his head, the task of dressing abandoned for 
the moment. WAS it the short span of time they had known each other, as he had 
suggested last night? Being with Cassie felt natural, RIGHT somehow, as though 
they had already been together for years, instead of less than a week. So was 
that only an excuse that covered some deeper reason?

Certainly any rational person would say a mere five days was far too soon to 
know for sure that you loved someone. But then, no purely human reaction was 
ever predictable. The very existence in fiction and fable of the 'love at first 
sight' concept COULD be argued as evidence it happened in real life, at least 
occasionally. Even the fact that he was thinking in these terms was possibly 
indicative....

Hank sighed. This was a difficult problem. But at least it was difficult in a 
GOOD way. Wondering if he were on the right track, doing the right thing the 
right way, was a strangely satisfying worry. Far more enjoyable to struggle with 
than the grim life and death quandaries that seemed to make up so much of his 
routine work these days.

Resolutely, Hank pushed all his doubts away. Part of the purpose of this trip 
was to let his mind become refreshed and rested. This recollection, however, 
made him think of home. It occurred to him that it would be a good time to phone 
in, as he was conveniently BY a phone, and might not be for a few days hence. He 
suspected the Rocky Mountain wilderness was not routinely equipped with 
telecommunication devices.

In only a few rings, he heard Professor Xavier's voice on the line. "Hello, sir. 
It's me, Hank."

"Hank. You're up and around early, for being on vacation." The professor sounded 
mellow this morning--that probably meant no crises in the past 36 hours.

"Oh, you know me, an unnaturally early riser."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Intermittently." The silence that greeted this was as good as a question. "We 
started to go camping yesterday, but ran into a spot of trouble. We were wading 
in a river, and Cassie slipped."

"Is she all right?" Xavier asked instantly.

Hank felt a rush of warmth at the professor's obvious concern. "She has a few 
scrapes and bruises. I managed to fish her out almost right away."

He kept his tone light, but it didn't put the professor off. "Are YOU all right, 
Hank?"

"I broke a nail. You know how I hate that," Hank joked. The habit of making 
light of near-tragedy was far stronger than his need to seek verbal comfort.

Xavier DID know how much distress such a minor injury would cause Hank under 
most circumstances--none at all. But he didn't pursue the matter. "Well, I'm 
relieved to hear that's the worst of the damage." He paused, then continued. 
"Speaking of your friend, you might be interested to know that I borrowed one of 
her books from Jean."

Hank mentally braced. "Did you?"

"Yes." That uncharacteristic pause again, as Xavier sorted his words. "I had 
prepared myself for it to be an appalling waste of time, except insofar as it 
gave me some insight into her character." The next sound that came through the 
line was very nearly a laugh. "Have you read any of her work yet?"

"Not more than a few lines." Hank was completely unsure where this conversation 
was heading, and even less sure he wanted to be there when it arrived.

"If you had, you might have had some warning about setting her loose near 
rivers, or any other source of potential excitement." Yes, something was 
definitely amusing the professor. "She seemed so quiet when we met...."

"I...think I may know what you mean," Hank said, relaxing. "She doesn't appear, 
at first glance, to be a risk-taker." Although, when he thought of it, she had 
taken a tremendous emotional risk just going out with him in the first place.

"The book was...diverting," Xavier said, "and even contained some cogent 
observations into the human condition, which I did not expect to find. I wonder 
if she has plans to branch out into any other writing fields one day?"

"We briefly discussed my biography, at one point," Hank told him, pleased out of 
all proportion at the implied approval.

"Did you? I could very likely be convinced to read that."

"Especially as you would certainly be featured heavily in it," Hank reminded him 
jovially.

"I shall expect to be granted a pre-publication reading, in that case," Xavier 
warned, and Hank thought he was only partly joking.

The talk moved naturally into a summing up of the very minor events which had 
occurred at the mansion since they last talked, and what there was of Hank's 
itinerary. He had been correct in his guess all was peaceful there. When he got 
off the line, however, his faintly disturbed mood returned. You couldn't say he 
was homesick, exactly. But it was undeniably true that he felt odd, being away 
from the team, not immediately available if they SHOULD need him....

He rose to pace the room. Was he wrong in believing the primary allegiance of 
most normal grown men was not given to an organization, no matter how special 
its goals, and its members? Could THIS be behind his reluctance to consider a 
full commitment to Cassie--that he was already married, as it were, to the 
X-men? Certainly he had gone his own way before--but had he not always come back 
to them? Could he honestly offer ANYONE his full fidelity, if the X-men would 
always be such a fundamental part of his very being?

Scott and Jean had not had this problem, because they were both X-men, and 
shared the same devotion to the team. But now that he thought about it, it had 
been Cassie herself who brought this very question up first, right after seeing 
them all in action in the Danger Room. True, she had recanted yesterday...but in 
the wake of a near-death experience. Was it totally fair to expect someone's 
change of heart to be permanent, in such a situation?

Hank was released from these depressing reflections by the distraction of Cassie 
emerging from the bathroom. The towel he had gallantly forborne to use the night 
before was wrapped around her head, leaving the rest of her charms on display. 
Quickly, he moved to gently guide her to a prone position on the bed, ostensibly 
to bandage her back. His haste, however, had more to do with preventing her from 
observing the predictable results the mere sight of her delectable body had on 
him.

Laying out clean gauze squares and taping them in place was a simple task which 
took Hank only a few moments. When he was finished, Cassie rolled to her side, 
and held out her hand to him in silent invitation. It seemed she HAD noticed....

"I don't want to hurt you," he protested weakly.

"You won't." The absolute confidence in her voice, combined with the enderness 
in her eyes, rocked him, humbled him and his uncertainties. "You have the 
gentlest hands in the world."

"My hands are not quite the issue," he demurred, even as he leaned closer, drawn 
in almost without volition by the lure of both remembered and promised delights. 
"Your back...."

"Doesn't hurt," she finished for him. "Anyway, I don't HAVE to lay on it, do I?" 
In illustration of her intent, she turned to her side, and smiled winningly.

Hank let his outstretched hand touch the bed, intending to stoop close enough 
for a kiss, and that alone. But all it took was the light stroke of her hand 
across his hip to obliterate his resolve. "I suppose...we can be...creative," he 
murmured between kisses. What point in being a genius if one couldn't?

Some time later, creativity having been adequately accessed, they both rose to 
dress. Hank was pleased to note that his bandaging job was still pristine, as he 
assisted Cassie with fastening her bra. "Do you think I should still wear the 
sling?" she asked him, obviously hoping for a 'no'.

"For now, don't you think? Your arm might get tired as the day goes along. There 
are no arm rests on that side in the car."

"I guess." She inserted her arm and draped the strap over her neck without 
further argument, but insisted on taking one of the bags in her good hand as 
they departed the room.

After making at least a small dent in the hotel's profits by taking advantage of 
the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, they checked out, then journeyed to the 
mall in order to replace their lost shoes and acquire other gear, such as an 
outdoor type coat for Hank. He thought Cassie was being slightly 
over-solicitous, but bought it anyway, as he was finding he rather liked being 
fussed over just a bit. By the time all this was accomplished, lunch seemed like 
a good idea. So it was again early afternoon by the time they made their second 
trip up Highway 119.

Hank deliberately kept his eyes firmly on the road as they passed the scene of 
yesterday's near-disaster, but Cassie turned to look out the window at what 
could be seen of the rushing river. After they were well past, she said, 
"Progress."

"Hmm?" He cut his eyes at her, and was relieved to see her expression was 
cheerful.

"Progress." There was even a certain devil-may-care glint in her eyes as she 
flipped her face towards him, making her blond hair a glowing streamer in the 
sun for a heart-stopping instant. "We've gotten farther than we did 
yesterday...."

"Oh. Yes, we have, haven't we?" He grinned, reassured there would be no 
lingering psychological trauma from the accident. At least not on her part.

"You'll have to tell me sometime how in the world you managed to...get me back," 
she said, almost too casually. "I missed the whole thing, you know."

"Can't see much, underwater," he agreed, taking her same approach.

"Too true." Cassie snaked her hand out of the confining sling, and patted his 
leg. By mutual unspoken consent, they slipped back into easy, inconsequential 
chatter about the scenery and the day ahead.

They chose to bypass the touristy allure of Estes Park in favor of having more 
time for finding and setting up a camp site. Hank mused, driving through the 
small town, that he had never before seen a main street almost wholly composed 
of souvenir shops. They also skipped, although more reluctantly, the giant slide 
attraction on the edge of town.

The lone park ranger in the booth at the Rocky Mountain National Park entrance 
seemed glad of the chance to admit someone; perhaps it had been a slow day. 
"Still lots of available sites," he assured them, as he handed over a camping 
pass. "You probably want to avoid the higher altitude ones, though, unless you 
have arctic-rated gear. We've been running in the teens at night."

"Thanks," Hank said, thinking just a little wistfully of the kingsized bed and 
heated room they had so recently vacated.

"We have it," Cassie added. "We won't freeze to death on you." She and the 
ranger exchanged grins.

"Word is they may get the last bit of road clearance done by morning; you might 
be able to drive out over Trail Ridge," he informed her.

"Really? That's early!" The news appeared to delight Cassie, and Hank wondered 
what she was talking about. Combining the words 'trail' and 'ridge' with the 
concept of driving sounded like one of those risky activities the professor had 
warned him about.

"Early spring. And a lot of the snow went south this year. *I* don't mind; I 
only cross-country ski." Cassie nodded. The whole conversation seemed to make 
some sense to the natives; Hank decided he would ask for the translation later.

They prudently pulled into the first available camping area. "I think the rule 
is for every thousand feet up you go back a week in the season, something like 
that," Cassie said. "It's in one of these brochures somewhere." She was 
referring to the educational handouts the ranger had pressed on them. As he had 
promised, there were only a few other bold campers to be seen, which was not all 
that surprising, considering that there was still so much snow everywhere.

"Tell me when you see a spot you like," Hank said, always one to defer to an 
acknowledged expert. She HAD warned him, about the potential cold.

Before long, they found a site which met all of Cassie's requirements; a gentle 
slope to the ground, full sunlight exposure but near enough to the trees to cut 
the wind, and only a short hike to the vehicle parking and the restrooms. Plus a 
campfire grid--and solitude. It DID seem ideal, Hank admitted, particularly the 
solitude part.

Erecting the tent was only approximately twice as difficult as constructing a 
facsimile of the Eiffel Tower out of cooked spaghetti. "What do you think about 
the idea of buying your father a tent made in THIS half of the century for 
Christmas?" Hank mock-growled at one point.

"He likes this old monstrosity," Cassie panted, struggling to hold up her two 
corners with only one good hand while Hank wrestled with the ridgepole. "Says it 
has character."

"It's destroying mine," Hank asserted between clenched teeth. "I shall be driven 
to profanity very soon now."

But this dire prediction proved unfounded. The tent finally secured, they 
gathered kindling from the abundant supply of branches downed in the storms of 
the recent winter. Cassie efficiently added them to their store-bought wood 
supply and soon had a fire suitable for boiling water and heating up several 
large cans of stew. While she did this, Hank risked hypoxia by blowing up the 
rubber air mattresses; naturally they found the hand pump AFTER they were all 
inflated.

One mattress and a scratchy green wool blanket were pressed into service as a 
sort of eating couch in front of the fire. Fed and warmly bundled into their 
parkas, the couple sat with Cassie contentedly in Hank's arms, watching the pine 
branches snap and burn into coals as blue shadows flowed down from the 
mountains. Their talking died away as the dusk deepened, but a sense of 
communion remained nevertheless. And slowly, overhead, the stars came out.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net

Spare time? What a fascinating concept!


--------
Neon Hearts Part 20. Happy Holidays to all, as the story staggers on! Marvel 
characters belong to Marvel, right? Right. Also, should you ever visit the 
Visitor Center atop Trail Ridge Road, it's probably better if you stay on the 
paths. The rangers get grouchy if you don't....


PART 20--SHADOWS IN THE STARLIGHT


Even burning low, the campfire put out enough heat to push back the creeping 
cold of night. Smoke rose like a dream, coiling up and away to fade into the 
mist of brilliance that was the Milky Way. "I could sit out here like this 
forever," Cassie remarked, breaking the easy silence. With a gentle, hinting tug 
on the sleeves of his parka, she pulled Hank's arms tighter around her, and 
snuggled even closer to him. His warm breath brushed her cheek.

"A particularly good vantage point for contemplating the majesty of the cosmos," 
Hank agreed in the same quietly rapt tone. He was accustomed to thinking of 
Xavier's as being secluded; this mountainside, where there was no man-made light 
to be seen at any distance, amazed him. Without skyflood to compete with the 
stars' glow, they dazzled the eyes, and the heart. Plus, it was... peaceful 
here. He certainly felt more at ease than he had in some time. "Such a spectacle 
lends a whole new perspective to one's own petty concerns."

"Mmm." Hank waited for further comment, and when it was not forthcoming, stroked 
Cassie's cheek with the ball of his thumb in encouragement. "I've heard people 
say looking out at the stars makes them feel insignificant. But...well, this 
might be a funny thing to think...." Now it was his turn to hum at her, 
suggesting she go on. "They need us, to be beautiful." She craned her neck to 
look up at him and study his reaction, see if he was following her line of 
thought at all. "Without someone to think so, they're just... themselves. Doing 
what they do, being stars."

"Ah, yes, I see your point," Hank said, and smiled his agreement. "Without a 
sentient being to perceive the beauty, it does not exist. There is only light 
travelling through space, heat at the source of the fusion." She nodded and let 
her gaze drift heavenward again. "But then, is the same true of people?" Hank 
made sure his tone was light. "Do you need someone to tell you you're 
beautiful?"

"Oh, that's a good line," she said, after the slightest reflective pause. "Three 
levels of meaning at least."

Her fascination with the precise meanings of words came up at the oddest 
times--or was it all that odd? He too used them as a shield now and then. "And 
they are?" was all he said.

"Do *I* believe I am beautiful? That's the most obvious one."

"Do you?" he asked, genuinely curious to hear her answer. HE was rather inclined 
to think she was, but he would be the first to admit his judgement was no longer 
impartial.

"No, not really." There was just enough of a hint of self-mockery in her tone to 
set him at ease, keep him from feeling concerned about her self-perception. "I 
think to be actually beautiful, a person has to evoke that sort of stunned gasp 
response in the beholder, don't you? Like the stars." Cassie glanced upwards 
again, and he noted with an odd yearning the stars' gleam reflected in her eyes. 
"Your friend Storm, now--SHE is genuinely beautiful. And Jean too."

"Well, yes, I suppose so." Hank was not QUITE sure what he should say here. She 
was correct, and yet strong agreement might not be appropriate. Generally, he 
had found, ladies made statements like these so you could contradict them. And 
yet, Cassie was so very different from most of the women he had gone out with 
before....

"I think," she continued in the same tone of dispassionate assessment, "that I 
am somewhere between attractive and interesting looking. Depending on how 
dressed up I am and such." Now she smiled, and squeezed his hand. "It's not 
something that worries me."

Probably a good time to flounder on to the next subject. "What other meanings 
did you ascribe to my phrase?"

"Well..." She had to backtrack a bit. "Do people in general need other people's 
support and approval? To know they are beautiful, smart...loveable?"

That one he could field. "Yes, often. It is a rare person who can get by without 
any outside support."

"Yep." Cassie shifted position, turning sideways in his arms to gain a better 
view of his face. "I've been lucky to have a lot of supportive people in my 
life. I couldn't have survived without them." Though her words sounded easy, 
Hank suspected they were nevertheless quite literal.

"That must be where you learned to give it so well." As usual, even such mild 
praise made her squirm with pleased embarrassment. "What was the third level you 
found?" he inquired, to spare her more blushes.

But that didn't seem to have the desired effect. "Oh, well...like... as if you 
were asking...is the position open?" Her smile took on a shy cast, signalling he 
could let the whole subject turn into a joke, if he wanted to.

The firelight on her face burnished her skin to gold, while hiding her eyes in 
shadow, and joking was the last thing on his mind. "That could be very important 
information to acquire," he said gravely. "Is it? Open, I mean?"

"Yes...for the right person." Cassie shook her head, impatient at herself for 
blurting out such a clumsy response. "What I mean is, anybody can pay you 
compliments, even mean them. It's nice...but...."

"Approval means more from some people than others," Hank suggested quietly. 
"Depending on how important they are in your life."

"Exactly! That's not something you can base a relationship on, just 
compliments." She chewed on her lower lip, which he had come to realize meant 
she was playing words through in her head, analyzing them as he did chemical 
reactions. "On the other hand, you would have trouble getting by without them. 
Like you said, people need it."

"What else do YOU need, Cassie? How would you know..." he gathered the nerve 
needed to follow this sudden mad impulse, "...you were in love?"

She didn't respond right away, but neither did she flinch, a good sign, he 
hoped. "Funny. I write this kind of dialogue all the time, but in real life, 
it's hard to put into words. Maybe it really can't be. You just have 
to...believe your feelings." She cradled her head against his shoulder, which 
hid her face again, before she added, "Then have the courage to act on them."

Amazing how she had summed up the answer to his whole dilemma in two short 
phrases. "I believe it does take courage. I never thought of it that way 
before."

"Yes, it does. Because real life is so complicated. And serious. In the books, 
you know, all you have to do is get up to the commitment part. But a lot of 
times I wonder how my people did, afterwards."

"You of all people should know!" he laughed, thinking she was joking.

"But I don't! Because that's the hard part, and it's hard in a different way for 
everyone, and...because I didn't manage to do it."

He had forgotten again. That one misjudgment had done far more than break her 
heart; it had shattered her confidence in her judgement, and in the rest of 
humanity. Hank could feel a tension in her body now that had not been there only 
a moment before. "That's all past you now," he reminded her, and touched his 
lips to her hair so lightly he wasn't sure she noticed.

Perhaps she did; she slipped one arm around his back so she could pull closer to 
him. "THIS is perfect, right here and now. But it's like we're existing in a 
bubble, outside of time, you know?" Hank nodded. "We have to figure out the next 
part, and I don't have much of an idea how to."

"Then let us speculate. Hypothesize." He had been toying with these ideas since 
before he flew out, and waiting for the right time to present them. It seemed 
that time might be now. "The first problem is that we live so far apart."

"Yes, that's a biggie."

"My work and my personal commitments are geographically tied down, at this 
time," he pointed out apologetically.

"But MY work is...pretty portable," Cassie offered, picking up her cue.

Hank caught his breath at the implication. "Yes. There might even be advantages 
to you being near New York."

"I could...move out there?" she suggested, trying to make it sound like a casual 
statement.

"Hypothetically. What would you think about that?

"New York is...scary," she murmured. "To live in, I mean. I liked visiting. But 
if I could...see you more, I could probably get used to it," she finished, more 
strongly. He remembered her fear of strangers, and was immensely moved she would 
be willing to undergo such a trial just to be near him.

"Maybe a...middle ground?" he said, giving up all pretense of this being 
problematical. "An extended visit...as my guest?"

He felt her minute twitch. "There at the mansion?"

"It IS where I live."

"Wouldn't the professor mind?" she inquired in a tiny voice. Professor Xavier 
must have intimidated her more than he'd realized.

"If I told you even a fraction about some of the other visitors we have had--" 
But perhaps that wasn't a wise topic; no point giving her good reason for alarm! 
"There would be no problem, I am quite sure."

"A long visit is more than just lunch."

"If you were assured he had no objection...would YOU have any?"

"No. No, I wouldn't." She sounded like she was surprised, somehow. "You really 
want me to do this, don't you?"

"If YOU want to, yes." He hesitated, then added, "Very much."

"Hank. If YOU want ME..." Her eyes were amazingly wide, in the firelight, and 
concerned to their depths. "I'd go anywhere with you; I just don't want to cause 
you any trouble. I...never want to do anything to hurt you."

Had she somehow sensed his doubts? This all seemed so serious, of a sudden. 
Yet...it FELT right. "Cassie, I think you are the best thing that has happened 
to me in a very long time," he assured her, and then pulled her to him for a 
kiss that seemed to prove it.

When the fire had burned low enough that they could safely leave it alone and 
retire for the night, they took the Coleman lantern and journeyed down the path 
to the parking area and the restrooms. The air had turned decidedly nippy while 
they sat beside their campfire, which lent speed to their steps. Hank, in the 
adjoining building designated for gentlemen, as society decreed was proper, was 
startled to hear a brief shriek from Cassie. "Are you all right?" he called in 
mild alarm.

"These dang stainless steel seats are COLD!" she informed him cheerfully, and he 
laughed. A heretofore unknown benefit of fur revealed to him....

It somehow seemed even colder in the tent than it was outside. In haste, they 
tossed their parkas atop the thick pile of blankets and sleeping bags, then 
burrowed into the center of it. "I rescind my assertion we did not need the 
heater," Hank said, drawing them closer together, feeling considerable regret 
that it was both sensible and necessary for Cassie to retain some of her 
garments.

"Too bad Dad had loaned it to his friend to go ice fishing," Cassie agreed 
through chattering teeth. Their words puffed out in clouds that were alarmingly 
yellow in the light from the hissing gas mantles of the lantern. "But if I 
recall correctly, you said something about keeping me warm anyway?"

"Ah, yes," Hank purred, reaching out to extinguish the lantern. Cassie sighed 
happily just before their mouths met, in anticipation of the pleasure they would 
soon be sharing. A vivid joy abruptly sang within him as he realized with a jolt 
exactly what lay within his grasp. More than just a momentary sating of physical 
desire; there was a very real possibility he could look forward to this embrace 
every night, her sleepy, loving smile every morning, for a large percentage of 
the rest of his life. Always providing, of course, he didn't find some way to 
muck it up, he thought, before firmly putting that and all other concerns away 
for the time being....

*          *          *

They remained in their cozy nest as long as possible the next morning, but a 
layer of frost still coated everything in sight when they emerged. Cassie jogged 
in place as she cooked bacon and potatoes and eggs on a propane camp stove set 
atop the picnic table, only removing her hands from under her arms when she 
absolutely had to poke or stir something. As she saw to this task, Hank 
disassembled the tent, which went down a GREAT deal easier than it went up, and 
reloaded their vehicle. By mutual agreement, they were off to seek sights in a 
lower, more southerly, theoretically warmer part of the state.

Despite the cold, however, they were enjoying themselves immensely. Hank clowned 
his way through his tasks, juggling camping gear and devising jokes for Cassie's 
amusement. When he had most of their things stowed away, she sat him down at the 
table on a blanket she'd saved back, and rewarded him with a big cup of hot, 
sweet tea. Her recitations of family camping stories kept him entertained until 
the food was ready to eat at last.

The sun was finally warming things up by the time they drove back onto the main 
road through the park. Trail Ridge, Cassie had explained, was a genuine highway 
department type thoroughfare that crossed the summit of the Rockies. It was 
usually closed until Memorial Day because it took that long to clear away a 
winter's worth of snow accumulation. But they agreed they might as well check to 
see if the road was open, as the ranger had suggested it might be.

The higher their vehicle climbed, the deeper the banks of snow grew on the 
roadside, and eventually they found themselves virtually walled in on the 
mountain side of the road. But the promise of increasingly spectacular views, 
and the brightness of the sun, drew them onwards and upwards. They passed 
timberline, and the vistas of unending white sent them both in search of 
sunglasses against the painfully brilliant reflections off the snowfield. "This 
is amazing," Hank remarked, almost but not quite at a loss for words. "It's like 
being at one of the poles."

"It's the ONE of the tops of the world," Cassie replied, eyes alight. "And 
there's hardly anyone here but us!" This was something that had crossed Hank's 
mind, but not as cheerfully. "Can you imagine what it's like during the winter, 
before they open it up?"

He looked out over the blue-white slopes and shivered internally. "The return of 
the Ice Age."

"Back when...I was having trouble falling asleep at night," Cassie said, 
strangely quiet, "my therapist told me to imagine a peaceful scene; really 
picture it, and it would distract me enough so I could drift off." Hank cut his 
eyes at her, vaguely disturbed. "I used to imagine what it would be like to be 
up here. No one around, just the snow and the wind...." She seemed 
inner-directed, seeing something he could not. "Hardly anyone has ever seen this 
pass in the winter like that."

"Well, you will now be one of the first this season," he remarked jovially, 
hoping to restore her cheerful mood. The road seemed to be leveling off. Sure 
enough, suddenly there was a parking lot, with dirty orange highway trucks 
outfitted with snowplows scraping out the middle section. Hank turned in, 
thinking vaguely that it might be a good idea to make certain the road down the 
other side was also safe and ready for travellers.

There were two long buildings with steeply sloping roofs at one edge of the 
cleared space, and the contents of two trucks were being unloaded into them. One 
housed the Park Service's educational displays. No one seemed to care when Hank 
and Cassie entered to look them over. The building where souvenirs and snacks 
were sold during the season proper was closed, however. The walkway from which 
one could view the eastward approach they had just traversed was not yet cleared 
of snow, either.

"Too bad," Cassie said, as they walked back out into the open space of the 
parking lot. "It's a neat view." She stopped to gaze up a rise west of the lot 
and buildings. "The one up there's even better. I wonder how thick the snow is?"

Huge chunks of iceglazed snow lay in untidy heaps at the edge of the parking 
lot, efficiently blocking their advance. "Under here somewhere is a path that 
leads up to a sort of scenic overlook. It's better than anything you can see 
from a car. I wish I could show it to you." They walked further down to where 
the artificially piled up snow was not so high, and ventured out onto the 
windpacked, natural portion. Cassie's feet sank through to her ankles, and Hank 
was calf- deep in the stuff the instant he stopped moving.

"You want to go up there?" he asked, not fighting the wave of bold gallantry 
that suddenly swept over him. "Let's go!" He half turned, and patted his back. 
"Hop aboard, my dear."

Cassie laughed with nervous delight. "Really?"

"You told me you know how to ride," he said with a sly grin. "Let's see if 
you're really a Western girl."

That was all it took. A daredevil look he hadn't seen before, which delighted 
him, came over her face. He crouched a little as she approached, but found it 
hadn't been necessary; using only one hand on his shoulder for balance, she 
vaulted onto his back with lithe grace.

Hank was expecting her to grab him around the neck with her arms while he held 
her legs. Instead, she took a double handful of the shoulders of his parka, and 
gripped his waist with her thighs, legs doubled back at the knees. When she 
squeezed him and clucked in his ear, he laughed out loud, and bolted forward, up 
towards the summit. It was an unexpected bonus, to be able to use his arms as 
well, and he succumbed to his wild desire to make the most of it.

"Yeeeee-haw!" Cassie shrieked in his ear, her legs tightening just a bit until 
she found her balance. "Go, Hank, go!" He obeyed, stretching out his stride, 
glorying in this chance to show off his strength and agility to her. They were 
in perfect tune; she clung to him with an uncanny instinct, flowing with every 
move he made. They reached the top of the mountain almost too soon.

Hank slowed and stopped at the apex, allowing Cassie to slide down from her 
perch. She took his hand and stood at his side, pointing out across an 
unimaginable view--they were looking DOWN on the tops of mountains that marched 
away, range by range, towards the west. "Over there--those are the Never Summer 
Mountains," she told him. "I LOVE that name, don't you?"

"Most evocative," he agreed, with only a slight catch in his voice. From some 
part of his brain, a voice was pointing out that the difference in atmospheric 
pressure here would be a contributing factor to hypoxia even WITHOUT strenuous 
physical exercise, and he took several very deep breaths in obedience to it. But 
there was a wind, smelling of snow and cold pine forest, whipping Cassie's silky 
hair, pinking her cheeks, and he found he really did not care about such mundane 
concerns as breathing. "This IS the top of the world."

He bent down, scooped up a huge double-handful of snow, and threw it out before 
them, into the air. It glittered like iridescent jewels as it broke up in the 
wind, and coated them both an instant later. Cassie beamed at him, seeming to 
understand the emotion behind the impulse. Hank grabbed her up, spinning her 
around in his arms as he laughed out loud. NOW she held him tight with both 
arms, laughing too, until they spun down into the snow.

There, on top of the world, they kissed, rolling in the old snows of winter, not 
noticing or caring how it frosted their hair and clothes and eyelashes. They 
were far too deeply involved in creating a new warmth, for a new season.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net

"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands 
explained." Mark Twain


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