"Hey, you okay?" Dana asked, stepping onto the deck.

Colt was leaned over, elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. He didn't answer her even though he wanted to tell her to go away. He tuned her out to concentrate on breathing. She sat down next to him.

"What can I do?" Dana asked him quietly and put her hand lightly on his back. He shook his head. She stroked his back. "It's okay. You don't have to talk. Just breathe," she told him softly.

"Easy...for...you...to say," he got out bitterly.

She laughed. "Even when you can't breathe you manage to get one on me."

"Sorry...hard...to break...habit," he got out between breaths.

"Don't talk, Colt. Just breathe. It's okay," she said gently, stroking his back, feeling the strong tight muscles beneath his tee-shirt.

Colt found it surprisingly soothing. He thought it would freak him out more, but it didn't. It actually calmed him down.

Dana noticed his breathing starting to steady as she continued to lightly massage the tight muscles. She moved her hand to his neck and began to massage it.

Dana felt grateful for all the times Jesse had given her massages. She had learned how to give them herself from what he'd done for her tight muscles.

He took a deep breath. "Uh. That feels good. Maybe I should have attacks more often," He said softly.

"Don't do that," Dana replied, continuing to massage his neck, and then his shoulders.

"Thanks," he said quietly as he felt somewhat normal again.

"Anytime," Dana patted his shoulder above his tattoo. She took his arm in both hands and stretched his arm out so she could look at it.

"Hey, isn't that the eagle on Grandpa James' lighter?" she asked as she studied it.

"Yeah, I had the guy copy it," Colt answered, looking down at his arm.

"It's nice," she said, running her hand over it lightly.

"Yeah. It's my little... tribute to him," Colt said, watching her hand run over his arm.

Why wasn't he panicking? His heart was pounding, and his breath was hard. But Colt didn't feel the panic. Her talking, her hands on him, was actually soothing.

"So, when did you start working out? I mean look at this solid muscle here," she teased and squeezed his bicep.

"Uh, late high school, I guess," he replied, looking down as she ran a hand up and down his arm. "Working out helps with the attacks," he said, looking down at her hand again. "It takes my mind off things. Now, I usually go running with Buddy. It's good for him and good for me," he said, looking up at the sky, trying to ignore the incredible sensations she was sending through his body by her touch.

"You were a scrawny thing in high school as I recall."

"Look who's talking." He shot back, pulling his arm back.

"I was not scrawny," She snapped back.

"Were too. You were a stick!"

"Oh, good, everything's back to normal," Jesse said sarcastically as he approached them.

"Sorry, man," Colt told him.

"Don't worry about it," Jesse said, handing him a soda. Colt popped the can open and took a swig. "Dinner's ready. Whenever you're ready," Jesse nodded to them and walked back into the house.

"I'm always ready to eat," Colt answered with a smile.