His nagging aside, I concluded that my husband had definite perks, such as being a natural block against the barrage of inner monologues which my telepathic ability inadvertently invited. When Rafe left my side, the roaring tide of stranger's thoughts assaulted me again, though the feedback was preferable to what I was used it in the States. Nicaragua was less crowded and far more scenic, and I couldn't envision leaving just yet.

I focused on tasking, as that always helped eclipse the headache of stranger's thoughts:

Cut the fruit. No slower, and smaller pieces, more to concentrate on. Transfer the pieces to a bowl, wash the cutting board, put away the leftovers...

I applied the salve liberally, keeping busy to keep from going crazy.

All was quiet from the bedroom, so I let Rafe sleep a bit longer. We didn't have anywhere to be, not according to me. I counted my steps on the walk to the bookcase, counting books as my fingers skimmed the covers.

I plucked up a slim tome, dropping it when I heard yelling.

In the bedroom, Rafe paced the floor, sweating and cursing. Clothes were strewn about the floor. My man was naked. Normally, I'd be ecstatic. However, I knew what this really meant.

I rushed to his side in an effort to steer him to the bathroom. Cold water splashed on his face often brought him out of...whatever state he slipped into.

"Damnit, let go!" He pushed me away, and I landed on the bed.

I stared at him. He hadn't responded physically before.

He continued the pattern of strange, jerking strides, back and forth. It was a sight, for sure, but I needed him to wake up.

"Rafe, it's me, Imogen." I hoped my voice would ground him.

He shook his head and locked eyes with me. "You're not you, and I'm not me."

A shiver snaked down the back of my neck.

"We're who we need to be," I said slowly, glancing around for something to hit him with. I settled on a leather-bound book next to the bed, grabbing it. "Just wake up now."

"No, it's all wrong," Rafe grated out, eyes lighting up like sapphires.

That's new, I thought, before giving him a good wallop over the head with the surprisingly heavy dictionary, and he crashed to the floor in all his nude glory.

~*~