I deeply apologize for the long delay on this chapter. I tried to make it worth the wait. The only song today is Stir It Up - Bob Marley and the Wailers. Enjoy!

Sunday morning, they arrived home early. Around six am. Having slept for some time at the hospital, neither Timothy nor Jude was particularly tired. So they did what people do for comfort: they ate. Jude made scones, much to her British cohort's delight, while Timothy was on egg and bacon detail.

At the table, they talked quietly. Jude was reserved, and Timothy noticed. "You're worried for John."

"Of course I am."

"Missy seemed confident that his coma is healthy. I believe he'll be fine."

"I appreciate your positivity."

"But you do not share it."

Jude toyed with her coffee cup. "I thought he was dead last night, honestly. When I couldn't get him to stand...I thought he was already gone."

"And yet you were still determined to remove him from the building. Why?"

She shrugged. "I guess I still had some kind of hope."

"And your hope was not unfounded." He smiled. "Jude. You saved him. Your love and your hope -"

"You saved us." She interrupted calmly. "Timothy. You saved my life. And Johnny's."

"I have faith you would have managed. Even had I not arrived. Jude, you're strong. Stronger than I am. And brave."

"You were brave." She insisted. "Charging in there like a crazy person."

"Not bravery. I was..." He took a deep breath, thinking. "I was terrified. Terrified that I would lose you. And we've come so far. And I..."

"You love me? Like you said in the hospital?"

"Is that so unbelievable?" He asked, hands spread.

She shook her head, looking away from him. Her finger toyed with her lip. "It's just..."

"Just what?" Timothy stood. He was frustrated, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"It's surreal. Don't you see that?"

"What?" He began washing dishes, needing something - anything - to occupy.

"We're dead!" She snapped. "Two wandering souls locked in fucking Purgatory, Timothy! Two people who couldn't have been more different - more distant in life. After everything we went through togethah - everything you put me through - and I'm supposed to believe so simply that you just fell in love with me here? Now?" She laughed wryly. "That yar here ta save our souls with unconditional love. When you found it so easy ta leave me far dead in life."

"Where is this coming from?" He asked calmly, toweling his hands. "Jude. These last days with you have been happy for me. Happier than I ever was in life. I cannot lie about love with no concept of love to base lies on. I only know what I feel." He leaned against the sink, now animated in his disbelief. "For God's sake...we've been...intimate together! I have touched you in ways that I only ever imagined touching a woman before! I had - I put my fingers inside you! Do you know what that means to me?"

"Oh, you and how many othah men?" She stood, paced in the living room. Lit a cigarette. Ignored his crushed expression. Staring out the window - in a soot-stained velvet dress - she smoked and chewed her lip.

Timothy thought for a while. He tried to stifle the hurt he felt at her words. Tried to process. "Why would you say that?" He asked, almost to himself. His forehead creased. "Jude."

"What?" She didn't look at him.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"Afraid?" She scoffed. Flicked her cigarette butt into the wood stove with startling accuracy."Nothin' scares me anymore, Timothy."

"I think love does." He walked toward her, now up for a challenge. Perhaps two weeks ago he would have let her win. Would have let her shut him down with this self-deprecation. "I think it's ironic that you wanted love so badly in life, but now are too afraid of it to -"

"Love never did me any fuckin' favahs!" Jude spun on him. "It's lies! Lies wrapped in lust! It blinds you, makes you weak. Makes you stupid. Believe me - I know. Even after my would-be husband ruined me and any dreams I had of a happy family, after all the men in all the bars in all the seedy motel beds and their empty, drunken promises, after all that - I still fell in love with you! Stupidly. Blindly. Weakly." She punctuated each word with a poke to his chest, gasping when he grasped her wrist.

"I regret with every fiber of my being that I broke you, Jude. That I am the man who left you so bitter and angry and distrustful. That I was the last to betray you. But look at me now! I am as broken as you were then! And it is us now - the broken souls we are now - who can heal each other!" She started to pull away from him and he took her other arm. "I know that you are terrified to lose Johnny. That he is like a father to you. And that once again something good in your life - or your afterlife - will be taken away by forces beyond your control because you are not a woman who loses control. But I am a constant in this place. I am your constant, as I should have been in life. I don't know how to show you that." He let his hands fall from her arms. Stood bare before her, eyes wet and throat sore with feeling.

She stared at him - at his face, specifically. She studied his eyes closely, as if she could dissect him through his irises. And perhaps she could. Her lip trembled. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Far not believing you. Far not trusting you." She shook her head. Her curls smelled of smoke. "I can't. Not yet. Maybe not evah."

"I have to believe that you will come to see what I am. What I've become. Otherwise..." He shrugged. "I have no reason to continue in this place. And I don't know what becomes of us after that."

She looked down, stared at his ashy shoes, at her own bare toes curling against the oak floor. "Hold me."

"Jude." He pulled her against him, nose in her smoky curls.

"Harder." She murmured against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. He squeezed her until he thought he might crack her spine in two. "Don't give up on me."

"I can't." Her skin was cool beneath his hands. He caressed her for the simple comfort of the contact. "I can't do this without you, Jude. I already made that mistake once."

"I don't know why I said those things earlier." Her tears were wetting his shirt. "I didn't mean those things."

"I know that."

"I've nevah felt this way."

"Neither have I."

"It's fucking scary."

"Trust me. I know."

"I'm gonna do bettah."

"You're doing fine, Jude."

"I smell like a charcoal grill."

"That might be me." He chuckled. "Shall I draw you a bath?" Surreal took over. He felt her mood lighten. Felt her fingers shift their desperate cling.

"What about you?"

"I'll shower when you're done."

She pulled away, lip in teeth. "Shower with me."

"Um..."

"You can wash my back." She started toward the bedroom.

"Um..."

In the doorway, she turned. "Who's scared now?"

"I'm not scared!" He shouted after her. "I'm completely paralyzed with fear," he added in a whisper to himself. But he followed her, brow heavy with worry.

In the tiny bathroom, the shower was running. Jude was peeling velvet dress from her body. Timothy leaned in the door jamb, watching her. She wore very little beneath the velvet. Her stockings had been ruined - discarded at the hospital. Pale pink satin panties shimmered as they slipped down her legs.

It was the most of her creamy skin he'd seen. All of her creamy skin. The curves revealed in their fullness. He looked at the ceiling, praying for strength. The shower curtain rings sang against the rod. "You comin'?"

He looked to see her stepping into the clawfoot, one leg already curved over the rim. Full breasts with perky peaks. A soft, rounded belly. She was the most intoxicating combination of supple and solid. His mouth went dry. She smiled softly. This was hardly seductress Jude. No Eve offering apples. She was offering something much more vital: vulnerability. He recognized the gesture and nodded; he would offer his own. His fingers shook on his shirt buttons, and Jude stepped under the spray to let him undress. "Hey, grab another washcloth, will ya?"

Naked, fingers numb, he did as she bade and stepped into the tub behind her. He tugged the shower curtain closed. The steamy water had pinkened Jude's back and plump buttocks. Her golden hair was darker when wet, and heavier. She flipped it over her shoulders and it hung to nearly the middle of her back. She picked up the shampoo from the wire rack across the tub and he moved. "May I?"

She passed him the shampoo, blowing water from her lips. "Thanks."

He'd never even remotely imagined showering with another person, much less this person. Never could have conceived the intimacy in washing a woman's hair; the feel of her hot scalp beneath his fingers, of tangles forming despite his best efforts to keep neat strokes. He stepped closer to her when she rinsed - had to. And Jude sighed pleasure during conditioning. His fingers could slip more easily through the long locks this way. She went lax and leaned back against him. "Feels nice," she murmured, eyes closed.

There were drops of water on her eyelashes. A sensual smile on her face. After this rinse, she turned him. "Here. Feel." She was absolutely right: it felt amazing. Soon, he was lax himself, and grinning under her aggressive head scratch. She chuckled. "Told ya."

"This is quite nice." He rinsed, watching her soap up a washcloth. When she was done, he took it, gestured for her to turn. "Convenient."

"I agree." He washed her back while she held her hair. Suds made a tantalizing sort of veil that streaked when she moved. He hesitated once her back was done, but she encouraged his explorations, moving his hand and the cloth around her waist.

Closer now, her wet skin stroked his semi-erect cock. He was surprised he wasn't hard as a rock, but suspected this particular activity - in this particular moment - engendered more than lust for both of them, as if the act of washing each other clean physically was tantamount to washing each other clean spiritually.

Until Jude turned him to wash his back. "I think yar the most beautiful man I've evah seen," she murmured against his ear. "I always did think that."

"Jude..." His head rolled on his shoulder when she stroked his hardness from behind. He twisted, took her head in his hands. "You are the beauty here. I once resented you for it."

She kissed him gently, water sneaking into their mouths. "Why?"

She stroked him still, slowly. He groaned, closed his eyes, forehead pressed to hers. "I wanted you." The confession came so easily now, her hand, her closeness, the water, the warmth - these things encouraging his truth to spill. "I blamed you. I thought you made me impure for my own thoughts, for my own failings. I blamed you for the guilt, Jude, for the shame when I imagined you the ways I imagined you -"

She cut him off with a kiss, open-mouthed and searching. "How did you imagine me, Timothy? You didn't tell me."

"I - I can't!" He gasped on a sweet twist.

"You imagined me naked?"

"Yes, Jude!"

"You imagined fucking me?"

"Yes," he whined.

"You imagined me on my back beneath you?"

"Jude..."

"Did you evah imagine me like this?" And so swiftly - unexpectedly - she was on her knees before him and his cock was in her mouth.

"Ah!" He shouted, grasping the shower pipe and her shoulder to steady himself. "God! Jude! Ugh!"

"Hmmmmmm?"

Her acknowledgment of his apostrophe vibrated up the length of his shaft and teased his bollocks. He'd never felt more powerless, more pleasure - despite all the pleasure he'd already learned with her. This surrender - being so unprotected, so unguarded in her diabolical mouth - unmanned him. His eyes rolled in his head and his tongue loosed, enslaved by her brilliant seduction. "I never knew it would be so..." He hissed when he felt the back of her throat. "Jude, my Jude! How can you - ah!" His hand slid to her head, cradled her jaw. He could feel her muscles working his length. Her tongue swirled while she sucked - some dark, salacious, succubus magic. He bit his lip as the pleasure caught up - felt the release building. A strange panic mixed with the promise. Should he come in her mouth? Was that acceptable? Rude? He couldn't fathom the repercussions behind a mouth full of the sticky essence he'd cleaned a few days earlier. Best to warn her. His fingers tightened on her jaw. "Jude." A groan. "Jude, please. I think -"

He looked down at her and that was a mistake. Her brown eyes - big with desire - caught his and he saw her answer: acceptance. And his weakness was complete. Nearly bent double, he grabbed the shower pipe with both hands. "Fuuuuck," he groaned, unloading hot seed and sin down her throat.

He panted through the process. Completely shattered. His knees trembled. And how did she stand so smoothly when her knees were one with the tub bottom for so long. She slipped slickly between his still braced arms. "Alright?" She asked, stroking his cheeks.

"Jude." He wrapped her in his shaking arms.

"Timothy." She made him meet her eyes. "Those things you imagined? They nevah made you a bad person. They made you a human. A man. And there's something else I want you ta remembah, kay?"

"What?"

"If you thought I was powerless when you imagined me on my knees, think about what just happened. And realize that I was the one will all the power. Yeah?" He nodded, nuzzling her, a very satisfied smile spreading across his face.

They dried each other, chuckling softly and kissing, beginning to shiver in the chill. A drowsiness had settled. Timothy noticed Jude's eyes growing heavy. "A nap." He whispered in her ear.

"Mmmm. Sounds nice." She yelped a little when he lifted her bridal style, oophed when he dropped her on the bed. "Where are you going?"

"To make a fire."

"Naked?!"

He turned in the doorway. "I'm cold!" She fell into the pillows laughing.

In fact, they stayed naked. Curled into the piled blankets and spooned together. Timothy's finger's caressed her creased forehead. "Stop worrying."

"I'm tryin'."

"He'll be fine."

"I know." She was still worrying.

He kissed the back of her neck. "Would you like me to touch you?"

She snickered. "Is that your way of offering me a return orgasm?"

"Yes?" He smiled at her gleaning.

She turned in his arms. "I'd like you to hold me. While I sleep. I sleep bettah that way." So he held her. And they slept.

In fact, they slept through the night. The exhaustion and stress wiped them, and oblivion recharged them. Timothy woke before Jude. Still nude, she was curled against his side like a kitten. He kissed her head and dressed in the misty morning dark, stoked the fire in the living room, and started another breakfast.

Jude shuffled in wearing...the bedding. His brows rose, and he could already see morning Jude emerging. "Morning," he greeted pleasantly.

Too pleasantly. "Fuckin' cold," she groused.

"Indeed." He set the percolator going.

"Fuckin' early."

"Also that." He set her cup before her, smiling at her big yawn. "Valerie will be by to collect me soon, I imagine. For...work."

"Workin' man." Jude flicked at her empty cup. "What am I supposed ta do all day while yar gone?"

He shrugged, considering several sausages. "You could go out if you like. You'll have the car."

"I wonder if anything was salvageable from the back of the club." She thought. "My sewing machine was there."

"You sew?"

"Yeah. I made most of my own dresses."

"Quite talented."

"I could take in some sewing if I can set it up somewhere. Maybe by the window?" She cleared her throat. "I suppose I'll be outta the singin' business for a while."

"Jude." He hesitated. "Don't feel that you have to work. We shall make ends meet."

"You're goin' ta work."

"To help Valerie, mainly."

"I can't feel useless."

"You're hardly useless."

She smirked. "Well. I can't blow ya like that every day. It's hell on my knees."

He flushed furiously. "You know that's not what I meant!"

Amid her laughing, bedding slipped from a creamy shoulder. "Calm down! I was bein' funny."

"It isn't funny." He insisted, withholding a grin. "The health of your knees is a very serious matter and I hold it in constant consideration."

"You kill me. Is that coffee ready?"

He poured for both of them and flipped sausages. They ate ravenously having slept through dinner, and after toast, Jude lit a cigarette. "Yar thinkin' about somethin'."

"How do you know that?" But he was thinking about something.

"You have a certain face when yar thinkin'."

"What face?"

She made the face. Furrowed her brow. Tightened her lips. Slight frown. "Kinda like that. But with a British accent."

"Ridiculous."

"Yeah, it is." She lit a cigarette for him, too. "So what's on yar mind?"

"I suppose..." But he shook his head. "Nothing. Well, nothing that can't be talked about later."

"I'm here." She shrugged, turned toward a noise on the front porch. "And so is Val."

"Oh!" Timothy opened the door to allow in their friend. "Good morning."

"It's a bitch of a morning." Valerie flicked at her stocking cap. "Fuckin' snow flurry and shit." She noticed Jude lounging at the table and startled a bit. "Um. Am I interruptin' something?"

"Yep." Jude answered.

"No." Timothy answered at the same time, shot Jude a pointed look.

Valerie chuckled. "I'll have to introduce 'eat breakfast naked' over at mine and Missy's place next."

"It's how we roll," Jude commented.

"It is not how we roll." Timothy argued.

"Tim." Val slapped his arm. "Let her have this one."

"Any word on Johnny?" Jude asked, rising.

Val shook her head sadly. "Still out like a light. Missy says he's on a respirator, but that's just fer his lungs. She seems pretty positive." She didn't miss the look that flicked between Jude and Timothy. "I am, too. I think he's gonna be fine." Jude nodded, trying to convince herself the same. "I'm gonna stop by the club today, too. After Ms. Lundt's place. Just check things out."

"Will ya check on my sewing machine?" Jude asked.

"Will do." Val winked at her. "Tim. Get yer coat. It's colder than a witch's titty in a brass bra out there. You got a lunch packed?"

"Ah. No." He hadn't thought of that. Wondering at the temperature of witches' titties, he watched Jude throw together a cold cut sandwich for him.

"Here." She wrapped it neatly in wax paper and tossed it in a bag. She poured the last of their coffee into a thermos. Smooched his cheek dramatically. "Have a good day at work, honey." Valerie leaned in for a kiss, too. "You get the fuck out," Jude laughed, shoving her.

"I'll bring him home safe and sound, Judy."

"Just don't let him lose any fingahs." She bundled up in the doorway as they left. "I kinda enjoy those."

He was still blushing profusely when he settled into Valerie's truck. She grinned at his discomfort. "You two seem ta be...gettin' along alright."

"We are adjusting."

"Does she uh - eat breakfast in the bed sheets every morning?"

"No." He vacillated. "We um...just this morning."

"You um what?" Val leaned toward him, eyes on the road. Fine pockets of snow occasionally spiraled outside the window.

"We fell asleep that way last night." He felt comfortable telling Val this. In fact, it seemed almost natural.

"You mean naked? Both of ya?!"

"We were quite exhausted."

"Too exhausted ta put on pajamas or anything." She shook her head, wonder pinching her face. "You and Judy um...sleepin' together?"

"Yes." When she nearly swerved off the road, he caught hold of the steering wheel. "Just sleeping together!"

"But...naked."

"Well.It was after our shower and -"

"Ya showered together?" Valerie was far too delighted by this.

He cleared his throat. Looked out the window again. This country part of the road was pretty in the gray winter ambiance. "We've...experimented, I suppose."

"Experimented."

"There's been some kissing."

"Okaaaay." Val nodded.

"And some...touching."

"You mean makin' out!"

"I suppose that's the current popular terminology, yes."

The brunette laughed richly, then sobered. "Tim. Can I ask ya a real personal question?"

He had a feeling he knew where this was headed. Not that he minded. He'd rather wanted to talk to someone about this, anyway. Not Jude. Someone...unbiased. Someone...Valerie-ish. Like Valerie. His friend. "What?"

"Are you um...ya know. A virgin?"

The question was simple. The answer was more difficult than it should have been. But he opted to avoid confusion. "Yes." It was nearly true. He'd ceased to count the encounter with the demon inside Eunice as a loss of virtue. It had been taken, after all. Not given.

"I thought so."

"Am I that painfully ignorant?"

"No!" She turned down a long dirt drive. Felled trees and stumps lined the landscape. "I just figured since you'd been a priest and all. Made sense."

"I feel painfully ignorant."

"But you said you two were experimenting."

"She tends to take the lead."

A snort. "Well, that's Judy. It's alright though, right?" Val shrugged. "I mean - is she...pressurin' ya?"

"No! No." He shook his head. "She's quite patient. She knows. I think she's waiting for me to be ready."

"Are ya ready?"

"Yes."

She gave him a surprised glance - a doubtful one - parking the truck within a copse of birch and pine trees. "Well, what's the problem, then?"

He chewed his lip, uncertain. "Yesterday morning...Jude um...got on her knees in the shower and um..." He blushed. Made an airy gesture.

Val tried not to grin. She failed. "Got yer first b.j. Nancy?!" She slapped his shoulder. "Good for you!"

He rubbed his face hard. "Oh, God," he moaned, embarrassed.

"How was it?"

He'd wanted to talk about this, hadn't he? Rolling his eyes, he regretted. "It was...remarkable."

"D'you return the favor?"

He shook his head. "I don't know how." The crux of the situation.

"Oohhh!" Val breathed. "I see." She reached into the floorboard beneath his legs. "You've come to the right person, Tim." Began rifling through a tin lunch box. "Always come to a lesbian for advice on eating pussy."

"Oh, God," he moaned again.

"No, seriously!" She poked him, brandishing a peach. "Listen. Yer gonna blow her damn mind." She had pulled a little pen knife from her pocket. Began carving her peach as she talked. "So. This is a little hothouse peach, but it'll do. How well do ya know yer anatomy, Nancy?"

"We studied anatomy in seminary."

"Ya make good grades?"

"I was an excellent student."

"Perfect." She studied her fruit. "How much do you remember about the lady parts?"

"Sadly not a great deal."

"Not a problem." She flipped the peach. "Ta da!"

"Wow." He stared at the peach, now a flagrant detailed representation of the innermost vaginal mysteries. "That is...very impressive, Valerie."

"Yeah. I got lots of experience. Here." He took the peach. "You like peaches okay?"

He couldn't avoid going back to Eliot in his mind: the overwhelming questions. Would he dare to eat the peach? Could he disturb the universe? "I do."

"Good. Cuz yer gonna get reeeaaall intimate with this one." Her hand slid into his space. "See these kinda fluffy flappy strips here?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Here's what's great about those..."

Their conversation was animated. Thoroughly transparent. Timothy felt less and less embarrassed, even when he wrapped his lips around a carved fruit clitoris. Valerie was a thorough and forgiving tutor, eager to see him do well. She rewarded him with praise and corrected him by slapping the back of his head. By the end of his lesson, he felt nearly exhausted.

"Ya did a good job, Tim."

"Thank you?" His lips were numb and his tongue might have had a cramp in it.

"Feelin' better?"

"Yes." He was feeling better. More confident now even if he had developed lockjaw. "Not as difficult as I feared."

"Well." Valerie gathered her coat, preparing for work. "Peaches don't shove themselves in yer face and scalp ya with their talon-like fingernails."

Timothy paused outside the truck, a new fret dawning. "Does that...does that happen?"

Valerie winked, handed him an axe across the truck bed. "If yer doin' it right."

The new fret birthed more frets. He fretted as they chopped the mostly thin birches together, felling several clusters in a few hours. It was hard work. He was developing his first painful calluses. But even amid chopping and hauling and stacking and clearing, he was fretting. During a coffee break on smooth stumps, he voiced the frets. "It doesn't um...taste like peaches, does it?"

"No!" Val looked at him for the first time like he might be an idiot. "Women aren't fruit-flavored, Tim. It's pussy, not a pack of fuckin' gum."

"I've never done this!" He exclaimed. "And I also don't chew gum."

"Christ on crutches." Valerie shook her head. "Yer just a new human bein', Tim." She punched his shoulder. "I love ya, though." He wondered at that. If it was true. If Valerie could truly love him. Not in any questionable sense, of course. But the kinship he felt with her was rather familial. Perhaps this is what it would have been like to have a sister. An older one. Who slapped and punched and gave sometimes good advice. Probably so. He watched her long face go pensive. "Women taste different, too." A shrug. A wistful smile. "Some are kinda sweet. Some are kinda bitter. Some taste like lickin' a hot iron kinda."

He was definitely curious. Couldn't imagine what Jude's flavor might be. "What does Missy taste like?"

"That's personal, Tim."

"Oh."

"Nah, I'm kiddin'." Another punch. "She tastes...I dunno...a little tart and a little sweet at the same time. Says it's cuz of all the sweet tea she drinks. But that might be crazy talk because she tells me I taste like oranges and I hate oranges."

"Hm." He sipped coffee, thinking.

"I always kinda bet Judy would taste like a solid old fashioned. Ya know? Top shelf shit. Smoky bourbon and a little cherry in there and a little lemon wedge thrown in." She suddenly looked at him, a hand up in gesture of surrender. "Not that I thought about eatin' yer bird out, Tim. Because honestly it wasn't ever like that between me and Judy. Swear it."

"Of course not." He smiled. "But...I appreciate the reassurance."

"I just have this weird habit of thinking about what every woman I meet might taste like."

"That is...an odd habit."

"Welp." An arm slap this time. "You'd know a lot about odd habits!"

"Ooohhhh," Timothy groaned, laughing. His head fell into his hands. "That's...that's good, Val." Suddenly, he glanced up, a realization dawning heavily. "Wait. I've never had an old fashioned, either."

"Why am I not fuckin' surprised, Nancy?"

The work may have been hard, but Val made it enjoyable. And working together, they managed to clear more in one day than Val had previously cleared on her own in a week. They finished their day by loading the back of her truck with hardwood, chopped and ready for stacking. Whatever they didn't use, Val would sell. "I'll split the profits with ya, Tim." She explained. "And whatever Ms. Lundt pays me on Wednesday. You should come with me, too! I bet she'd be tickled pink to see her favorite customer helping me out on her land."

He was tempted to tell Val to keep the money. He didn't need it, after all. But he needed to be viewed as normally as possible, and obviously Jude could use the money, too. He wondered why he'd been given a magical coffee can while she seemed forced to make her own way here. He doubted it had anything to do with redemption. Probably more a solution for his incalculable ineptitude in basic life. He was certain he could find a use for the money, after all.

On the way back to Timothy's house - tired and dirty - they stopped at Hathaway's. A sad, regrettable stop. They stood on the soot-stained gravel, scuffing feet and frowning. "I don't suppose Jude's sewing machine is salvageable from that." Timothy nodded to the burned out husk of Hathaway's back room.

"Nah." Val agreed. "But ya know...it's not completely destroyed. I mean, the bar itself is in pretty good shape."

"I suppose so."

They stared at the club for a while longer, ideas seeming to form in Val's head before she took a deep, steadying breath. "Well. Come on, Nancy. I'll get ya on home to yer bird."

Back at the little white house, they unloaded firewood and stacked it on the back porch. Jude popped out to offer coffee, but Val refused. She was eager to spend some time with Missy. As soon as Jude disappeared back in the house, Val punched Timothy's shoulder. "Ow!" He rubbed at the injury.

"You gonna practice yer new skill set tonight?"

A furious flush. "I can't just ask her if I can practice...oral sex!" He hissed.

"Why not?" Val shrugged. "Did she ask if she could suck yer dick?"

"Well...no." He scowled. "She just sort of...did it."

"Well, there ya go. Just sort of do it." She slapped his face playfully with a glove before stowing it in her pocket. "I'll see ya tomorrow morning and I expect a full report, including a flavor list."

As if on cue, the back door opened and Jude appeared, sweater wrapped tight around her frame. "Dinnah's ready," she announced.

"I'll be right there!" Timothy smiled at her as innocently as possible. She gave him an odd look before slipping back inside.

"You oughta go in and uh - eat somethin'." Val nudged him.

"Val," he groaned.

"Nancy," she groaned back, slipping around the corner of the house. "Hey." Her head appeared for just a second. "I'll see ya tomorrow. Have a nice dinner."

"Good night, Val!" He said loudly.

"Yeah. Hope yours is peachy, too, Tim!" She laughed all the way to her truck and Timothy sighed heavily.

He came in through the back door, stopping to watch Jude at the stove. Her skirt swayed beneath her knees as she hummed along to the stereo, stirring a pot of pasta. She was barefoot. Timothy grinned as he approached her.

Stir it up, little darlin', stir it up. Come on, baby

Come on and stir it up, little darlin', stir it up. O-oh!

It's been a long, long time, yeah! (Stir it, stir it, stir it together)

Since I've got you on my mind (oh-oh-oh-oh) Oh-oh!

Now you are here (stir it, stir it, stir it together), I said

It's so clear

To see what we could do, baby, (oh-oh-oh-oh)

Just me and you

"I could make some very misogynistic jokes right now." He said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"And I could smack the shit out of you with this hot, wooden spoon." She chuckled.

"Sounds fun."

"I'm amenable to experimentation latah." She shrugged. "Set the table."

They ate spaghetti, Timothy seeming more and more distracted the entire time. "This is delicious, Jude. As always."

"It should be. I cooked this sauce all day." Breaking a piece of bread, she broached his state. "You okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Seem a little off."

"No! Not at all."

"Hm." She poured him more tea. "How was work?"

"Exhausting." He held up his palms to her. "Are these blisters?"

Jude smiled kindly. "Yeah. Those are gonna hurt. I'll wrap 'em far ya after dessert."

"Dessert?"

"I made a peach pie. It's still in the oven. Nice and warm."

"Peach pie," he repeated, nodding. "That - that sounds delightful." Tried to still his knee from shaking nervously.

Gathering their plates, she tried again. "You sure yar alright? Yar actin' like a cat in a room full of rockin' chairs."

"I'm quite alright." He smiled up at her.

"Here." She leaned against the table beside him, gesturing to his hands. "Let me take a look at those blisters."

"I think they'll be fine." But he let her cradle each hand anyway. Her attention was comfort. She warmed him. He kept thinking about old fashioneds.

"Yeah, they aren't too bad. Good thing you wore gloves." She made to move. "I'll get that pie."

"Jude." He blocked her with an arm across the table.

"Hm?"

"I don't want pie. Not...not right now."

"Oh." She seemed slightly disappointed. Definitely flummoxed. "Well. You don't have to - what are you doing?" He slid his chair back just enough to adjust her, then his hands were sliding beneath her skirt. "Um. Timothy?" She was biting her lip.

She wore no stockings. Her legs were pure, soft skin and he stroked her thighs - up, until he reached the lacy edge of panties. He kissed her belly through burgundy blouse before looking up at her flushing face. "May I take these off?" His thumbs were already hooked in elastic waistband.

"If you like." She stepped out of the lingerie gingerly, let them pool on the floor forgotten. He could feel goosebumps on her inner thighs. "Um. Do you want -"

"Up." He tapped the table. "Sit."

"On tha - on tha table?"

"Yes, please."

"Timothy. It's not so sturdy, ya know? And my ass is not a trifle."

"Your arse is lovely." He tapped again. "Sit."

"I dunno how hygienic that is! I mean - we eat here!"

"Exactly." A more forceful tap. "Sit." He gave her a bit of a boost, arm around her hips.

"Oh!" She settled on the table uncertainly. "Timothy?"

"Hm?" He was distracted again, watching the creamy flesh of her legs reveal as he pushed up the loose gingham skirt.

"What are ya doin'?"

He grinned, teasing her thighs to part. "I'm eating here, Jude."

"Timothy." She seemed so damned concerned. "You don't have to do this. This is - this is crazy stuff. If yar not ready - ah!" She hissed when his fingers stroked the soft fur of her mons, dipping into the moist heat below. "Shit. Fuck it. God, that feels good! Touch me!" Her hands stroked his shoulders as he lowered his head.

It was like and not at all like Val had said. Jude tasted a bit like butter and clotted cream. He had no complaints and obviously neither did she, whimpering above him. Her fingers caressed his neck, scratching gently into his hair. "Oh that's...that's very good." He flicked the hood over her swollen clit - side to side, a sweeping circle, a suckle. Seeking her reactions, gauging her preferences.

"Jesus, Timothy..." His explorations weakened her control and her flighty at best filter. She leaned on one elbow, thrusting against his face awkwardly until Timothy took note. Calmly, he put a hand on her stomach and pushed. As soon as her back hit the table, he was able to hook her knees over his shoulders, tug her roughly to the table's edge. "Ah!" Jude responded enthusiastically, fingers stretching and gripping in his close cropped hair. "More," she moaned loudly, neck arching.

Timothy complied, a finger beginning to tease her now very wet slit. Val was right - he could gauge her enjoyment, her readiness, her closeness to orgasm this way. How tightly she gripped the finger was a promising sign. He used another to open her up, delving hotly with his tongue. "There!" Jude cried. "Don't stop!"

He had no intentions of stopping. Her guttural growls and groans were aphrodisiacs to the ex--priest, and he couldn't get enough of that intensifying flavor. He curled an arm around her thigh, able to flick and pinch her clit that way as he ate the holiest relic. She panted now, moans become mewls and far more desperate squeaks or sighs. His eyes flicked up to watch her writhe, a thin sheen of sweet spreading on her face and neck. He held her hips as steady as possible when her thrusting turned to bucking.

"Oh my God." She hissed now, eyes tight shut. "I think - fuck I'm so close, Timothy. I'm - I think I'm -" Her fingers seized, threatening to pull out a shank of his hair. She cried out loudly when her thighs and cunt clenched. It was fascinating to him - the way her body responded, the muscles contracting as if they were not hers. The uninhibited stream of profanity that expressed her pleasure. The contractions seemed to continue for a while, growing smaller and smaller as he tightened his ministrations, letting her wind down the way Val had suggested.

He couldn't contain a satisfied smile after a final kiss on her swollen clit. Gentled her thighs, kissed his way up her knees and lowered them. He steadied her as she rose back to a seated position. She shook prettily, looking down at him. "Lovely," he breathed, tucking a sweaty curl behind her ear and re-situating her skirt.

Her face, though, was an ambiguity. It shifted in this light, expressions he'd never seen. "Jude?"

Suddenly, she shoved away from him. Slipped off the table. Arms protectively across her belly she turned on him. "Yar still a damn liar, Timothy Howard."

"What?" He was absolutely dumbstruck. "Jude -"

She pointed at him, hurt now plaintive on her features. "You've done that befar!" Her voice wavered.

"Jude, I've never in my life -"

"Virgins don't know shit like that!"

He rose, now fighting a grin, and went to comfort her - to reassure her. "Jude. My Jude. Please listen to me."

"Don't 'my Jude' me!" She slapped away a reaching hand, pacing a bit like a kenneled creature. "Is this all some kind of game ta you? Lead me on, trna convince me yar some repentant soul and all the while what? I'm just one more conquest far you?"

"Jude, that's nonsense!" He would be devastated by her devastation were he not so deeply amused by the ridiculousness of her belief.

"Who?" She stepped into his space now, demanding truths. "Who else? Were you lying about Eunice?" There were real tears in her eyes now and Timothy realized how strange this all must have seemed. "What did ya do ta her?" Her hands slapped his chest - once, twice. "She wasn't even herself, you fucking asshole!" Another slap. "And who else? How many other sistahs fell far yar charms? Huh? How many did you -"

A gasp when he grabbed her elbows, not hurting, but controlling. "Jude listen to me. Now!" She hushed for a moment, sniffling heavily. "I have never touched any woman the ways I've touched you." Drew his face close to hers. "The way I've tasted you."

"I don't believe you," she whispered. "There's no way -"

"Val taught me." The confession quick. Necessary.

She swallowed emotions, face shifting again through dooms of question. "What?"

"Val." He released his old on her elbows, rubbed them to soothe. "Earlier today. With...with a peach."

They both flushed brightly - both embarrassed in their own ways. "A...a peach."

He nodded. "She um - carved it and er..." A wiggly finger gesture. "You know."

Jude took a deep steadying breath. Rubbed at her sticky face with both hands. And slapped his chest again. "Dammit! Why didn't ya tell me, huh? Ya can't just -"

"I wanted to please you!" He snapped, rubbing at his chest.

"Timothy!" A growl of frustration and she whirled away from him.

"What?" He was having trouble understanding her current anger.

Her hands ruffled her curls. "Shit. I don't know. You make me fucking crazy."

"I'm sorry if I -"

"Don't apologize!" She pointed at him. "Hell. I should be apologizing. I'm sorry I made crazy accusations."

"You couldn't have known -"

"A peach?!" She asked incredulously.

"A peach." Timothy laughed softly, reaching for her. She stepped into his loose embrace, nuzzling his chest.

"I'm sorry I hit ya."

"It's alright."

"I just had no idea..."

"You're right. I should have told you. I'm certain it seemed -"

"I mean, it was honestly fucking incredible."

He swallowed the ego boost. "You did seem to enjoy it."

"No. You don't understand." She stroked his jaw. "It's never been that way."

Timothy blushed. "I suppose I had a very through teacher, then."

"I can't believe you took oral sex lessons from my lesbian best friend."

"It was rather surreal."

"No wonder you didn't want pie!" She laughed, touching her own face shyly.

His thumbs traced the sticky trails on her cheeks. "You tasted sweeter."

She kissed him. A forgiving, accepting, wondrous kiss. "I need to stop thinking the worst of you."

"I want you to think of me as I am. And never hesitate to be honest with me." He winced. "Even if it involves volatile and physically violent confrontations."

"I don't want any more of our physical confrontations to be violent."

"No, that would be ideal."

She bit her lip, toying with his shirt button. "D'ya wanna find a nice program on the tv about...birds or somethin'?"

He laughed deeply now. "Why don't you find a program while I rebuild the fire? I trust your tastes in exotic animals completely. And we can have some of your no doubt delightful pie."

"Well, I was thinking of maybe other activities but -"

"And I was speaking of pie metaphorically."

Her pupils dilated. "I'll um...find something on tv. You...get some wood."

"Are you speaking metaphorically, as well?"

She chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Yes."

Through the back screen door, he could hear the television flare to life. Murmurings. He heard Jude in the kitchen, probably preparing slices of pie anyway. Pleased with himself, he stacked wood in the crook of his arm and opened the door just as the phone rang. Rolling her eyes at him, Jude answered it.

He half listened to her, stoking the wood stove and beginning to whistle happily. Once his fire was crackling healthy, he stood to find Jude sunken, stunned, against the wall beneath the phone. The receiver rested in her loose fingers. She stared ahead at nothing.

"Jude?" But he knew. Had a deep, wrenching feeling in his gut. He slid the receiver from her numb fingers. Lifting it to his ear, he heard sobs within it. His eyes closed when he spoke into the phone. "Valerie..."

"He's gone." Her voice was calm if choked with tears. "Johnny, Tim. Johnny's gone!"

Leaning heavily against the wall, Timothy looked down at Jude. Slowly, she drew her knees to her chin and lowered her head. "Is Missy with you?" He asked.

"Hey, Tim. Yeah, I'm with her." Missy had taken the phone. "Judy okay?"

"No."

"I know. I'm so damn sorry. There was nothin' we could do. He just went peacefully. Never even woke up."

"Thank you, Missy. For everything."

"Look, Timothy. We'll be in touch, alright? I'll let y'all know what's going on."

"Yes." When the line clicked, time clicked, too. He replaced the receiver quietly and simply sat beside Jude. He made no move to comfort her at first. Uncertain if she would want his touch. Uncertain what to say. Uncertain what to feel. Emptiness seemed to be the winning emotion of the moment. "Jude," he whispered. Hesitantly, his hand stroked her back and she curled into him. Crawled awkwardly into his lap, into his arms. She clutched him harder than he'd ever expected from her and returned the embrace as strongly. "Jude, my love. I'm so very sorry."

He buried his face in her hair, in her neck. Her sobs were body-wracking and quiet - the worst kind. With no words enough to comfort, he relied on his presence alone. He held her - his precious thing - in her pain. One more pain. And he felt tears escaping his own eyes. He cried for Johnny, yes, a friend he'd made. He cried for Valerie, who'd loved the man dearly. He cried for Missy, who'd tried her best as a nurse and as a friend.

But mostly he cried for Jude. The rare bird trembling in his arms, soaking his shirt with snot and tears. This vulnerable, sensitive, altogether human woman he'd fallen so hopelessly and achingly in love with.

Because as much as he might try to disturb this universe - to eat the peach - to live fearlessly and with an open heart, it was Jude who had disturbed his universe. Broken him open and rubbed him as raw as the blisters on his palms - just as he'd once broken her. And so now, with the opportunity to fix them, to find love, to live a good life, he found her broken again.

He would stay the course. He would be here for her. This pain would pass and after that? He would see Jude smile again. For all they had here was time. Time and each other. Time for yet a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions. "Till human voices wake us," he murmured against Jude's wet temple. "And we drown."