They puffed and panted their way along a wide gravel trail. The early evening breeze was cool, but they were working hard and didn't feel the chill. The sky was a rare pure blue and Lucy didn't think she'd ever seen such a beautiful day in Squirrel Falls.

"Does anyone ever call you Freddie?" she asked. She was enjoying her time with Frederick more and more now, being star struck no longer.

Beside her, Frederick winced. "Only my mother. And only because she...ignores my requests...to stop," he panted.

"But 'Freddie' is adorable!"

"Not you, too!" he exclaimed.

"Make me stop then," she called over her shoulder. She put on a fresh burst of speed. A groan echoed behind her, followed by rapidly pounding footsteps. She listened carefully to their rhythm. She'd been watching his stride, too. His knee really was stronger now. She was still pacing herself so that she didn't push him too hard, but she was panting. Not as hard as he was, she noticed with a little glow satisfaction. Or possibly perspiration.

"Picnic bench 'round another bend or two," she said, slowing until she was beside Frederick again. "Stop there for a bit?"

He nodded, his curly hair damp against his forehead. Frederick looked fantastic in his black running gear. It was as form-fitting as a wetsuit, with thin silver lines here and there that highlighted the strong planes of his lean body. If she was completely honest with herself, it may not have been his stride she kept checking out.

Lucy felt positively frumpy beside him. She was wearing running pants that were similar to his but several dozen washes older. She thought her long-sleeved lavender shirt with the tattoo-style flower print on the front was pretty cute, but it was covered by a sweatshirt so large and frayed that she'd taken to sticking her thumbs right through the seam above the cuffs.

She could have dressed up a little more, but this was her all-time favorite, most comfortable running outfit. And she insisted to herself that this was not a date, or even the preamble to a date. She'd just gotten the stars out of her eyes. If she allowed herself to think that Frederick was actually interested in her, she'd get nervous all over again, just like she would if he were any other man.

And yet, getting dressed that morning, she'd skipped over her granny panties and chosen a pair of bubblegum pink cheekies and matching under-wire bra. The cheekies were surprisingly comfortable, even in motion, but she'd been regretting the under-wire for a couple of miles, now.

They pounded down the trail for a few more minutes, then slowed to a walk when they spotted the small rest area used by the local hikers in the warm months and the cross-country skiers in the winter. The trail they were running used to be a railway track, but after thirty years of abandonment, the township converted it to a sports trail.

Frederick and Lucy collapsed side-by-side onto the picnic bench, both reaching for the water bottles they had carried with them. Lucy been working harder than she thought. When she sat down, her heart was pounding hard enough that she could feel it pulsing behind her eyes.

They sat in contented silence for a moment, catching their breath and enjoying their rest. The view wasn't terribly inspiring; the picnic area wasn't much larger than Lucy's parking spot at home, and it was surrounded by a thick tangle of brush with a few taller trees breaking through towards the sky.

"If this wasn't too hard on you, maybe we can take a run up Mount Wimpy sometime," Lucy said once she was recovered enough to speak in full sentences again.

He raised an eyebrow. "Mount what?"

"It's real name is Mount Walpole, or Wadsworth, or something, but it's only called a mountain because it's the biggest hill around. So everyone calls it Mount Wimpy. Or Mount Pimple."

"As long as it doesn't erupt," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Eeww!" she squawked, flicking his arm with the back of her hand. "I thought you Brits were supposed to be all prim and proper."

"I thought you Canadians were supposed to say 'sorry' and 'eh' all the time, but I don't think I've heard you say either."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm such a hoser. I'm so sorry, eh? Don't tell the mayor. He'll have me deported, eh?"

"Cheeky little thing!"

"Nobody told you? We have three national languages: English, French, and Sarcasm."

"If you ever do get deported, you really should consider England. We've got the queen on our money, too, so you wouldn't feel homesick." He studied the ground. "London is especially nice," he added, almost shyly.

"Is that where you're from?"

"Just outside, now. But I was born and raised in London. Best city in the world to grow up in if you want to be an actor."

"Better than New York, or Hollywood?"

He gave her a withering look. "I thought you people in the colonies were supposed to be loyal to Mother England."

She rubbed her forehead in exasperation, then winced.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Bit of a headache." But before she'd gotten the words out of her mouth, she knew it was more than just a headache. Her vision started to dance and skitter at the edges, like she was looking through a window that was frosted around the frame. Experience told her that the shatter pattern would creep towards the center of her vision, obscuring it completely in a matter of minutes.

"Oh, no," she said.

"What? Lucy, what is it?"

"I've got a migraine coming on."

"How bad are your migraines?"

"Not awful. It's still a whopping headache, and sometimes I'm a bit queasy, but the real problem is my eyes. They go all blurry and I can't see straight."

"Damn."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she said, taking in his concerned expression before shutting her eyes against the daylight, which seemed to have become several thousand watts brighter in the last minute.

"Is there a shorter way back to where we parked?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Double damn."

"I could just wait it out. These things don't usually last more than a couple hours. You can head back now. I'll be fine."

"I will not leave you alone in the forest in this state. You're already shivering, and it's going to be dark soon. Come on, I'll help you get back," he said.

She sighed. He was right. She was soaked with sweat from the run, and now that she was sitting still, she was freezing. "Well, best get started, then, while I can still half-way see where I'm going." Moving slowly, she turned towards the trail.

"Stay close beside me," Frederick said, putting his arm under hers.

"I will," she promised. Yeah, like that was a big sacrifice.

* * * * *

They minced their way back along the trail. It was wide and mostly level, but the gravel was still treacherous. Her head had begun to throb in time with each ginger step. The return trip seemed to be taking six times as long as the trip out had. Frederick held her elbow, or her shoulder, or her hand, every step of the way. It wasn't just gallantry either; after five minutes, she could hardly see a thing.

Her nerves were on high alert, which made the trip seem even longer. She could see a little, but the broken bits of the scene were disconnected and her estimation of where the edges of the path were could be off by a foot or more. It was easier to find her way with her eyes open just a crack so that her brain was expecting her vision to be thin and blurry. Lucy was grateful for Frederick's help. If he hadn't been out running with her today, she would have been stuck at that picnic bench.

She believed she could trust Frederick, but she didn't expect to have to rely on him in such a physical way. If he ran ahead, or simply stumbled, she would pay for it with anything from a bruise to hypothermia.

With that thought at the front of her mind, Frederick suddenly halted. He steadied her with an arm across her middle and she managed to keep from falling.

"What? What is it?" she asked. Prickles that had nothing to do with the cold breeze rose on the back of her neck.

"Shhhh!" he whispered furiously.

"What? Why?" she asked, using the same urgent, but low voice.

"Don't move. There's...well, I've never seen one before, but I'm pretty sure I know what it is."

Her heart rate ratcheted up a few notches, making her head pound even harder. She opened her eyes wide despite the ache, trying desperately to catch sight of the thing that had alarmed Frederick. Bears were common in this part of the forest and they could act unpredictably, especially with cubs in tow. If a moose was scared and crashed into someone at full speed, they'd sure notice that, too. She racked her brain trying to figure out what else he may be seeing.

"Where?" she asked.

"There," Frederick said. He might have been pointing to the end of her nose for all she knew, and she told him so. He grabbed her arm and pointed it toward the brush to the right of the trail. She couldn't see anything but a mess of gray and brown and green.

"What do you think it is?" she whispered, taking care to keep her voice slow and calm. And very quiet.

"I believe it's a skunk," he said, hitting the last word with as much weight as if he'd said 'ticking landmine.'

She gave a most unladylike snort. He hushed her furiously a second time.

"It can't be a skunk. They're nocturnal. They wouldn't be out now, the sun is still up" she said, raising her voice a little.

"Then tell me, is there any other animal in these woods that looks like a long-haired black cat with a rat's face and white stripes?"

"Ah, no. That sounds like a skunk."

"I can-NOT get sprayed by a skunk today," Frederick hissed. "I have a kissing scene tomorrow. They rearranged my shooting schedule because of my injury and put all the non-action scenes this week. I would NEVER hear the end of it if it had to be rescheduled again because I STANK."

Despite Frederick's distress, his mention of kissing another woman, her crappy vision, and the pain in her head, Lucy couldn't help laughing out loud.

She heard a small rhythmic noise off to her right. Frederick let out a low sound of distress. Something warm and smelling of bergamot brushed the side of her face.

"Lucy, it's hopping and pointing it's tail at us," he breathed into her ear.

"Retreat," she said as quietly as she could. "Right now. Walk backwards with me." Frederick slipped behind her. A warm, solid arm wrapped around her shoulders and a hand grabbed her elbow. Frederick crept backwards, inch by inch, until they'd taken a few dozen steps and made their way around a bend in the trail.

"What did it do?" she asked.

"It watched us moving, then put its tail down and walked off into the forest."

"Let's give it a minute to get a bit farther from the trail before we keep going. Do you mind if we sit for a minute?"

"Excellent."

Frederick maneuvered them to the side of the trail and Lucy sat on what she hoped was a cold, but dry patch of gravel.

Lucy was impressed with how well Frederick was coping with this disaster of a run. He'd been nothing but concerned and considerate when her migraine hit, and hadn't panicked when the skunk appeared. Well, only panicked a little. What he thought of her after all this fuss couldn't be good, though. She was grateful she didn't have to see the expression of forbearance and annoyance she was certain was on his face.

She'd had no reason to fear leaning on him - literally and figuratively. They'd learned to read each other quickly, and it was surprisingly easy to follow his lead. It was almost like their bodies were communicating with each other directly, leaving her mind to panic and run in circles off in the corner without getting in the way.

They chatted for a few minutes about their encounter with the skunk, but Frederick did most of the talking while she listened. She was in enough discomfort that responding was hard work. Eventually, she suggested that Frederick go on a reconnaissance mission around the bend to see if the coast was clear. While he was gone, she listened hard for the sound of a small animal stomping on the leaf-covered ground, but all she heard was Frederick's hesitant footsteps crunching on the gravel.

"There's no sign of the furry little menace. We'd best get going again," said Frederick. His hands grasped hers and he helped her to her feet. They made their way to the end of the trail without incident and walked to their parked cars.

"I'll drive you home. We'll take my car," Frederick announced.

Lucy fished a single key out of a tiny pocket in her waistband and held it out in Frederick's general direction. "Would you get my bag from the front seat, please? I have some migraine medicine in there. And the keys to my apartment." He took the key and she heard her car door opening and shutting. She held her hand out for her bag when she heard Frederick approach, but he took her upper arm and steered her to his car, bagless.

Getting into a strange car by touch alone was a challenge, but Lucy managed not to crack her head—with a little help. She didn't know cars well, but she remembered that Frederick was driving a shiny gray sedan, most likely a rental, so she had a vague mental picture of how high the seat would be. The seat-belt was completely beyond her, though, and Frederick buckled her up like she was a small child. She didn't know whether to be touched or humiliated. Probably humiliated.

Once she was seated, Frederick handed Lucy her bag and she found her emergency stash of pills by touch. She needed help again to open the tiny container and get the two precious tablets into her hand without dropping them. She gulped them down with the last of her water and her tension level dropped immediately knowing that she'd start to feel better in less than half an hour.

It was driving her crazy not being able to see Frederick's face. His words were calm, even kind, but as an actor, he could manufacture that as easily as she could diagnose a back spasm.

The car started with a low rumble and then they were in motion. When the pop of gravel under the car tires changed to the steady hum of pavement, Frederick spoke. "Are you right in town?"

"Mostly. I'm kind of on the edge of town. Head downtown, then make a left at the lights. My place is on that road." She didn't need to specify which set of lights. There was only the one, after all.

* * * * *

Lucy woke in complete darkness, mouth dry and head aching like she'd had a couple more glasses of wine than she should have last night. But it was night now, wasn't it? She cracked one eye open, then the other, and when the pain didn't increase, she peeked at the clock beside her bed. It was nearly midnight. She took her time getting into a sitting position and declared her headache tolerable.

She slid her feet out from under the blankets and realized that she was dressed only in her bubble-gum pink cheekies and lilac tattoo flower shirt. Her feet landed on her running pants and sweatshirt, which must be filthy now. A tingle of dread mixed with glee fluttered in her belly. Had Frederick...?

No. She remembered now. She'd taken off her own clothes, but only after he'd helped her inside the apartment, untied her shoes, and insisted that she drink a big glass of water before he left. She had a fuzzy memory of him peeking through her bedroom door for a long moment before turning out her light, but the meds had kicked in big time by then. Maybe that memory was nothing but wishful thinking.

She wrapped her housecoat around herself, used the bathroom, headed to the kitchen for something to wet her throat, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she spotted Frederick yawning on the couch.

"Frederick, you're still here!" she said, stunned into stating the obvious.

"Of course, Lucy. I told you I would stay," he said. Then he nearly gave her a heart attack when he stretched his bare arms behind his head, elbows wide, making all his shoulder and chest muscles bunch and press against the thin material of his t-shirt. You would think that for someone who worked with muscles for a living, she'd be immune to their charms, but no, their charms were many.

"I dozed off for a while. Are you just waking up now, too?" he asked.

She nodded and considered her options - flee to her bedroom? Flee and put on some real clothes? Tell him he shouldn't be hanging around her home while she was sleeping? Jump him? Blinking sleepily, chose the path of least resistance and headed to the kitchen for a drink.

Her tiny kitchen was only separated from the living room by a stretch of counter top. "Drink?" she called as she opened the fridge.

"Yes, please. I helped myself to a sandwich. I hope you don't mind. But that was hours ago, it seems."

A glance at the counter told her that he'd had something with whole wheat bread and mustard, based on the crumbs and yellow smear. He'd probably topped it with ham, since the only other choice in her fridge that night was leftover chili. She poured two tall glasses of water, used one to swallow an ibuprofen tablet to dull the tail end of her migraine, then carried the glasses to the living room.

Frederick's running shirt was draped over the arm of her couch and he was wearing a white t-shirt, plus his running pants and short white socks. His hair was adorably rumpled from sleeping on her couch. She bet other men spent half an hour in a hair stylist's chair just so they could go in front of the camera looking half as good.

"How are you feeling?" Frederick asked.

"Better. I can see fine, and the headache is nearly gone. A bit loopy from the medicine, but that won't last much longer," she said.

"You had me quite worried. You didn't seem at all yourself. I'm glad you're better."

"So," she said, handing Frederick his glass and settling herself into an armchair by the corner of the couch, "That didn't quite go as she planned."

"If you had planned that, I'd be seriously questioning your idea of a good time."

"Trust me, I was just as miserable as you were." She tucked her feet under herself in the big chair, careful to keep her housecoat closed around her legs.

"I didn't mind. Honestly. A friend in need and all that."

Friend. Huh. She didn't know whether to be flattered or disappointed.

"Well, thank-you for getting me home. If you hadn't been with me, I'd probably just be getting home now. I'm sorry I kept you so long."

"I couldn't leave until I knew you were alright on your own. You did tell me I could stay before you went to sleep."

"I must have forgotten. Those drugs work well, but they pack a wallop."

"Do you get migraines a lot?"

"A few times a year. More if I'm stressed"

"What do you do if one comes on at work?"

"I take my appointment book to Holly, the receptionist at the dentist's office next door to my clinic, ask her to cancel my appointments for the day, take my meds, and sleep on the exam table."

"You don't feel vulnerable? Alone?"

"Listen, I've been dealing with these episodes since I was twelve. I've kind of got it down to a science. The world can do without me for a few hours now and then."

Frederick didn't look like he believed her, but that was just too bad. She coped the best she could. She didn't always have someone to rescue her and carry her to safety.

"Your knee!" she exclaimed, sitting upright. "I was leaning on you a lot, Frederick, for a long time. I never thought of the strain on your knee even once!" she said, burying her face in her hands. Frederick was still technically a patient and she may very well have made his injury worse.

Frederick slid down the couch until he was just in front of her. "You know something, Lucy? I never once thought of my knee, either. All I wanted was for you to be okay, to be safe. And my knee is fine. Stronger than ever. You made it better, not worse."

She peeked over the top of her hands. "Let me see," she said. She put her feet on the floor and reached for Frederick's knee. "Bend it for me, like before, please," she instructed. He obliged, grinning at her a little. She felt the muscles move under her hands, watched how far the joint moved, and sighed with relief.

"It seems fine. If I didn't know better, I'd never have guessed it was injured."

"Told you. Now, I have something to ask."

She blinked. He had that infuriating calm expression on his chiseled face. She had no idea what was coming next. Stupid actors.

"Am I officially released from your care? No longer a patient?" he asked.

Her heart sank. This was it. They were officially finished. Now there was no reason for her to see him again. She'd really enjoyed the time she'd spent with Frederick, and surviving the migraine incident together had made her feel even closer to him. Grateful, if nothing else. He stepped up when she needed him to and she was able to let him. Not just anyone could have done that for her.

With a heavy heart, she answered, "Yes. We don't need to see each other again."

"Medically."

"What?"

"We don't need to see each other medically. We're allowed to see each other socially."

Her smile echoed Frederick's. "We are. We are two grown adults. We can do whatever we like," she said, then blushed at how forward that sounded, and at the possibilities her mind was churning out, complete with vivid, sweaty images. He probably only meant drinks or something.

Frederick leaned towards her and picked up her hand with his long, elegant one. "Miss MacKinley, I would like to take you out to dinner." His eyes sparkled with restrained delight.

"Yeah. I'd like that," she said, her smile stretching into a wide grin. "Dinner." She giggled. "Dinner with Frederick Asherton."

"No. Not like that. Dinner with the guy in front of you. Just Frederick," he said. "Just me."

Lucy nodded. "I like the guy in front of me. I could have dinner with him."

She imagined going to The Restaurant in town. Alice the waitress screaming when she saw Frederick Asherton walk through the door. The fuss she made drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Being on the arm of the center of all that attention. No, thanks.

"I should cook for you. You did so much for me today, it would give me a chance to thank you," said Lucy.

"I'd like that."

"Just not right away. Sometimes these migraines have aftershocks."

"I'll give you my number. Call me when you're feeling up to it."

Lucy rifled through the pile of magazines and other stuff on her coffee table. She came up with a pen, but no paper.

"Give me your hand," Frederick said, taking the pen from her. He turned her hand palm up and bent his head over it. His dark hair was inches from her face. A moment later, he raised his head and she saw that he had inked his number onto her skin.

"There," he said. "I haven't done that in years," he grinned. "This town, it's like going back in time a little."

"You just did that so I couldn't sell your number online, didn't you?" she teased.

Frederick, assured that she would be fine overnight, mentioned an early call time the next morning, which, skunk-free, he should really be on time for. He mentioned a couple times how early he needed to get up, but took his time getting ready to go. He stood in the open doorway long enough that they heard two owls calling to each other in the pale moonlight.

He opened the door, and took a step to leave, then darted back and kissed her, briefly but fiercely. His mouth was hard and hungry against hers, but he kept his hands at his sides. Once Lucy got over the shock of his sudden kiss, she returned it.

Only a short moment later, Frederick pulled away, breathing hard, and ran down her stairs and into the night. She stood in the doorway, arms folded around herself against the cool of the night, and watched as he opened his car door. He looked back, saw her watching, and waved. She returned the wave, then stood watching as he drove away into the darkness.

Lucy rested her back against the front door until she couldn't hear his car anymore. With a sigh, she put the kettle on and went to find some clothes. She knew she wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon.