Let's heat things up a bit in this rather long chapter, huh?  (Puns and foreshadowing much? Yes.) In fact - just so you know - this chapter was very nearly titled 'Handjobs and Hummingbirds.' So...you're welcome. Playlist (Limbo Bimbo on Spotify): Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You - Stevie Nicks; Yellow Flicker Beat - Lorde; Angel on Fire - Halsey; Gold Dust Woman - Fleetwood Mac; Hotter than Hell - Dua Lipa; Heart of Gold - Neil Young; Fire and the Flood - Vance Joy. Poetry excerpt is from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot. 

The room was quiet and dark and chilly. The door clicked closed like a semicolon - something still to follow. Through cracked blinds and gauzy curtains, the silvery outline of woman curves supine on the bed. Jude. "Need the loo?" She asked, voice watery. Sniffled.

The bed creaked as Eunice climbed on it, not shy at all. "Nah. Came to check on you."

At the intrusion, Jude was turning. At the voice, she was firing up to a sit. Her hands flew to the little nun's face. Even in the dark, she recognized "Eunice!" Flung arms around the fey form. "Oh, God!" Sobs wracked her. She clutched woolen habit as if she might tear it apart. "It's you!" She buried her face in a wimple, breathed through snot. "God, you still smell like you. Oh, Eunice, I need you so bad!"

"And I'm here." Eunice's arms wrapped Jude just as tightly. Even angels could be moved to tears. Two escaped her eyes despite the peaceful smile on her face. "And you still smell like you. Like gardenias." Her fingers stroked Jude's hair. She'd washed her face and put on a gown and robe. "If it wasn't so dark, I'd tell you how pretty you are."

"I look like Hell." Jude pulled back - barely - to take in Eunice's features in the moonglow. "But you're beautiful, Eunice. Like an angel."

"Well..." Eunice shrugged. "Not bragging or anything."

Jude managed a chuckle through her tears. Hiccupped behind her hand. "I'm so happy ta see ya." The hand cupped Eunice's cheek. "I missed you so much, Eunice. I missed ya at Briarcliff and I missed ya after. I feel like I sought you for the longest time."

"You did." Eunice settled back on the pillows, bringing Jude. "But you had made a decision, and I couldn't influence it. I could only wait."

"Wait far what?"

"For you to be ready! To remember all that. To remember me! Or you would have just thought I was some stupid little blonde thing come -"

"What have I said about calling yourself stupid?" Jude was suddenly vehement, whipping in Eunice's arm.

"I'm not!" The girl reassured, pleased that Jude was still...Jude. "I'm just saying you wouldn't have known me. Like Timothy out there."

"Oh." Jude settled again, content in Eunice's friendly and encompassing hug. They rested easily against one another, Jude humming happiness.

"That poor bastard." Eunice muttered.

Jude laughed. "He's havin' a rough time."

"He deserves it."

"I'm not makin' things easy."

"You shouldn't."

"But...I'm starting ta...I dunno." She sighed.

"Fall for him?"

"That's scary, Eunice. I already went down that road once, and look what it got me."

"Hm. Well." Eunice toyed with a loose curl on Jude's head. "Betty wasn't such a bad name."

Jude snorted. "What scares you exactly? Falling in love? Or forgiving him?"

"Both." Jude's fingers played with Eunice's fingers on her stomach. Lacing and unlacing. Girlish games. An innocence she missed. "Ya know what this reminds me of?"

Eunice was grinning. "The storms at Briarcliff? When I would run to your room?"

"With yar cold bare feet and climb in my bed with me?" More laughter. "Exactly. Little blocks of ice that inevitably ended up in my ass crack."

"It was so warm!" Eunice cried.

"You little shit!" Jude placed a hand on Eunice's mouth. "I miss you..."

"I'm here."

"But ya can't stay."

"No." She nuzzled Jude's temple. "You have to do most of this on your own. And...with him. And with your friends."

"I don't have any friends." Jude sat up now, wrapped her arms around her knees. "Not now."

"Because...an idiot cast some errant apersions?"

"And because Valerie believed them! Let her say that shit ta my face, Eunice! You know, I've tried hard ta be a bettah person here. And it hasn't been easy. I came here ta nothin' and nobody that knew me. I had ta build all this kingdom up, and just so easy somebody tears it down."

"Some kingdom, Jude." Eunice sat up, too. Traced delicate designs on Jude's back. "Who exactly tore it down, hm? Missy? Valerie? Or..."

"Oh, he tore it down completely." Jude chewed at her lip. "As soon as I remembered who I was, I damn well remembered who he was. And everything he'd done ta me. And I thought...I thought it'd be easier ta just die than deal with it again."

"But you're dealing with it."

"Well, I can't die, can I?"

"No. That particular modification is unavailable in this model."

"Yeah." A wry chuckle. "I guess I'm grateful far him. Far givin' me a place ta stay and all. And..."

"Aannnd you kissed him."

"We didn't kiss."

"I'm not going to argue this with you, too, Jude. Your lips touched. That counts as a kiss."

"They barely touched." Jude held up a finger, indicating how much their lips had touched. "And you just know every damn thing, don't you."

"Yep."

Jude thought a moment. "You know. He took everything from me once. I guess he should be giving back now."

"He needs to. Wants to. And it wasn't all him, Jude. You have to admit you did some damage yourself."

"I nevah claimed it was only him." Jude reminded. "It was a lotta storms that wore me down, Eunice. But they turned me ta dust."

"You're not dust." Eunice crawled onto Jude's back. "You're like...gold." She stroked Jude's shaking, smiling head. "Your soul...your spirit. Jude, that's all golden! This hair...like gold. You've so much value to so many. Why can't you see it? Why is it so hard to accept generosity? To accept love? Why are you so fucking stubborn?" She set to tickling Jude's ribs until there was squealing. Could only imagine what Timothy might be thinking outside the door.

On her back now, Jude looked up at her old friend. "I told him earlier. I've nevah been a precious thing to anyone. No one evah really...gave me anything befar. So maybe it's not in my nature." She tapped Eunice's chest. "Maybe my heart isn't as open as yars is."

"Maybe it will open in time."

"It is opening." Jude confessed. "I'm just...protecting it."

"Understandable." Eunice nodded, started fanning Jude's hair out around her head. "Hey. I know a song. Wanna hear it?"

"Yar gonna sing ta me, Eunice?" She touched the nun's nose. "I'd love that."

"Okay. Here it goes." A rather melodramatic, prolonged throat-clearing had Jude chuckling again. But Eunice's voice was - quite literally - an angel's voice.

Has anyone ever written anything for you

In all your darkest hours

Have you ever heard me sing

Listen to me now

You know I'd rather be alone

Than be without you

Don't you know

Jude turned, curled, let her head rest in Eunice's lap. Fingers stroked and soothed her face, brushing away the tears that started.

Has anyone ever given anything to you

In your darkest hours

Did you ever give it back

Well, I have

I have given that to you

If it's all I ever do

This is your song

Jude wrapped helpless arms around Eunice's waist. She cried. Hard. It was good to get it all out. Good to feel so loved. To have this amazing thing just for her.

And the rain comes down

There's no pain and there's no doubt

It was easy to say

I believed in you everyday

If not for me

Then do it for the world

Eunice's voice lowered. She leaned closer to Jude's ear, sneaked a kiss onto her temple.

Has anyone ever written anything for you

In your darkest sorrow

Did you ever hear me sing

Listen to me now

You know I'd rather be alone

Than be without you

Don't you know...

Minutes of silence. Jude was still. Eunice thumbed away a tear from her own face, then from Jude's. "You asleep?"

"No," she whispered. "Eunice?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"Judy, Judy, Judy..." Eunice gathered the woman into her arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too!" Jude sobbed into her neck.

"Why is it so much easier to let me love you than that man? Even if he was a stupid man once?"

"They're all stupid. Always."

"I know, but...how many of them see your worth?" She pushed Jude back to look at her. "Kit Walker saw it. He loved you. HIs children loved you. And you let them. And you were so happy. You can be happy here, too. Believe it or not."

"And after that? What?"

Eunice smiled enigmatically. "It doesn't even matter."

She blinked. Exhausted by emotion. "I can try."

"Really?" Eunice asked.

"Really."

"Good." She took Jude's cheeks in her hands, pulled her face close for a forehead kiss. "You know. He's gonna have no idea what to do with you."

"I know."

"It'll be fun." Jude nodded, sensing the end of their encounter. Her throat choked with tears again. Eunice's parting words left wet promise above her right eye. "If not for me, Jude...do it for yourself." She released Jude's cheeks. Slipped through Her loose embrace. The bed creaked, and when Jude looked up, Eunice was gone.

She sat heavily on her haunches. Stared into the dimness. It was freezing without Eunice's warmth. Sticky tears had made her face cold to touch. Not bothering to affix her hair, or her face, she tugged the robe tight around herself and padded to the door. Opened it to immediate warmth.

Looking down, she saw Timothy leaning against the wall, legs pulled up like a babe. He stared up at her, and she saw similar stickiness on his face. Swiftly, she sunk, straddled his lap. He grabbed her, and his arms felt as good as Eunice's had. "Jude..." He murmured into her hair, hands clutching the satin of her robe.

"Shhhh." She soothed him. Took his face in her hands until he looked at her. She studied him. The angles, planes and creases on his face. He'd aged. But so had she. His eyes were as pure brown as ever - just a bit lighter than her own. She searched them now, found his soul in them, barer than it had ever been. Her thumbs stroked his lips until they opened and she put her own on them.

At first, his hands flexed awkwardly against her back. So unexpected was the kiss, the affection. So intense was the moment - the moment she seemed to look into his very soul. But he'd seen in hers as well - seen the same aching, vulnerable, strong, and fierce woman he'd wasted years earlier. The fiery brown eyes he'd seen extinguished were alight now, and she was flame in his arms despite the chill in her satin dressings.

They melted together. Warmed together. His awkwardness became assuredness. His hands stroked over her shoulder blades until they held her properly. She wrapped her arms around his chest and they kissed deeply. Shifting. Breathing each other.

He memorized the structure of her back (the spine, the muscles that moved beneath his touch), the soft, firm press of her breasts against his chest, bare beneath the slick, white nightgown, the way her thighs tightened alongside his.

Kissing was quite simply blissful.

It wasn't until they broke for oxygen that he realized the tears had returned, crept down their cheeks for entirely different reasons this time. They wiped at them together, and when her head fell against his shoulder, he simply held her. Said nothing. Nothing was necessary.

Their breathing slowed.His head fell back against the wall. She fell lax. He glanced down to see those lashes against her cheeks. She was asleep.

He smiled. Maneuvered his arms beneath her legs and - using the wall as leverage - stood. Carried her to the bed. He laid her there and affixed the thick duvet over her. She gave a small moan. He kissed the bridge of her nose. An odd place to kiss, but he wanted to kiss all of the places, and it seemed like a good start.

He was retreating to the couch - to his own now-peaceful rest - when she grabbed his wrist. He looked down, surprised she'd awakened. "Go to sleep," he whispered.

She tugged. "Stay." He hesitated. She scooted. "Stay," she repeated. He swallowed. Shed his slacks and socks and climbed into the bed beside her. Under the duvet, with the heat from the wood stove, with the heat from Jude's body curling against his own, he felt warmer than he'd felt in years. Jude was obviously warm, too - dead to the world in slumber.

And his eyes were heavy. Drooping. A satin arm slid across his chest. He wrapped Jude in a loose embrace, keen to let sleep take him this way. In fact, he was drifting into a lovely slumber when a leg slipped up his own, curved over it. It was smooth and soft and entirely too shapely.

His eyes snapped open in the darkness and his body betrayed his honorable thoughts, rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. "Christ, save me," he prayed. "And this woman, too." Sleep would be long in coming.

This was clearly Eunice's fault...

There was something in his mouth when he woke. It was his first awareness of the day, and it was a shank of blonde hair. His second awareness of the day was the exquisite feel of full, feminine arse cheeks cradling his morning erection. And that was easily the best part of the day.

Somehow in the night he managed to spoon himself around Jude.Wrapped an arm around her waist until a hand lightly cupped a breast. It was firm and soft and round and caused an odd tightening in his jaw.

Simply too many things were oddly tight. His jaw. His boxers. His tenuous hold on control. And now begged the question: how to extricate himself from this position without waking his bed mate? He would simply slip his hand off of her breast. Quickly. So that she wouldn't feel anything amiss. Then, he would roll away. Also quickly. And hope that the bed didn't creak or -

"You awake?" Her voice was husky and sleepy. It sounded like sex. Or...what he imagined sex might sound like. Real sex. Nice sex. Not...forced demon sex.

"Yes," he whispered.Blew the shank of hair out of his mouth.

"Sorry I'm such a...handful."

"Um..."

She chuckled. Wiggled a little bit.

"Christ! Don't do that!" He snapped, rolling quickly away from her.

She sat up and stretched, still laughing. "Been a while since I woke up with a hard-on in my ass."

Timothy rubbed his face, groaning. "I can't handle this."

"Sure ya can!" And this set her to laughing even harder. "I mean - it might take two hands, judging by the size of it, but you just -"

"Dammit, Jude." He slipped out of the bed quickly. "I'll make breakfast this morning." He closed the bathroom door behind himself.

"You handling that?" She called after him. "Or do ya need me ta come in there?"

"Don't you dare!" He heard the bed creak as she left it. He locked the bathroom door just in case. She scared the shit out of him lately. Or he scared the shit out of himself when it came to her. He wasn't sure. Either way the stubborn erection made his morning pee difficult. He sighed, leaning over the toilet, a hand braced on the wall. "Dammit..."

It was so new. This kind of temptation. So very different from the melodrama of fantasy - the safety of imagination. And it was true: he'd never really...'handled it.' Embarrassingly, he had no idea how to pleasure himself, much less the object of the temptation.

He turned on the shower. Cool. Stepped under the spray. It didn't help.

But his bollocks genuinely ached. It was a new unwelcome sensation. It made him feel raw somehow - ashamed. Although he knew this was biology. Nature. One arm gripped the shower pipe, steadying himself. He'd been taught his entire life that what he was currently doing under a sheet of lukewarm water was a sin.

A sin that felt...incredibly good. The tension in his jaw eased. The tension everywhere eased. And every slow, exploratory stroke was blissful fire. He barely controlled a whimper. Increased the pace. Some things felt particularly good. His thumb on that seam along the bottom of his cock. The way his forefinger curled over the ridge near the head of it.

It didn't surprise him that he thought of Jude. What surprised him was the way he thought of her. No more the sordid, sanguine power trips of their Briarcliff days - the breaking her, bending her, fucking her over a gilt kneeler in hallowed Vatican chapels. What brought him pleasure now was imagining the cradle of her thighs, the silken slip of her arms over his sweat-slicked back, her neck arching like a swan's, those remarkable breasts bare in his mouth, her husky voice in his ear encouraging sweetly, sighing, "Make love to me, Timothy -"

"Agh!" He nearly fell, bracing arm shaking with the impact of the pleasure. It was too quick to predict. He would have to get better at timing. And the damned mess... "Guh..." He caught his breath while he cleaned it. Rubbing his rag frantically over the pipe. The faucet. The shower curtain. "How did it get there?" He whispered. "Why is it so sticky?"

He felt disgusting. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Weak. Exhilerated. Excited. Inordinately pleased. Completely at ease. Ran a gamut of emotions similar to the grieving process in a matter of seconds.

Cleaned up, he combed his hair. Thoughtful in the mirror. His cheeks were pink despite the coolness of the water. He thought he looked...younger somehow. Or maybe less daunted. He cocked a brow. Yes. Less daunted. "It's fine." He said to no one.

He would not pray for forgiveness. Decided - happily - he had nothing to be forgiven. He simply felt too good for all that - so much better. Ready to face the day. Ready to face -

"Jude!"

She was waiting right outside the door, foot tapping a little impatiently. "Who'd ya expect?" She gave him a blatant perhaps appreciative once over. He tightened the white towel around his waist. "Ya done?" She asked softly. "I need tha loo."

"I'm done."

"Didn't leave a mess, did ya?"

He flushed so hotly his eyes burned. "No!"

"Good." She brushed past him, smirking. "That sticky shit's a bitch ta clean." The bathroom door closed.

Now he prayed.

He kept his word and cooked breakfast. When she sat to the table, wet-haired and dressed in cornflower blue, he served her coffee. "Thanks," she murmured.

"Good shower?"

"Mm-hm. Bacon?"

He set the plate on the table. "And eggs. Muffins are toasting."

"Yar a good wife."

"Thank you." He chuckled. Set food and sat. Filling his plate, he cleared his throat. "That um...that color is very flattering on you."

"Yeah?" She grinned.

"Yes. It makes your eyes very brown. And um...your hair very...blonde."

"Hmmm." She nodded. "Are you trying to avoid addressing the fact that you woke up groping me this morning?"

"I wasn't groping you!" He defended hotly. "I must have shifted in my sleep."

"Oh, you definitely shifted." She was laughing good naturedly.

"You asked me to stay." He reminded.

"I did." She nodded, eating. Then, solemnly. "I'm glad you stayed." She looked at her muffin. "Much warmer that way."

"It was." He agreed. The bacon was crispy and the eggs were fluffy. They created a fine texture balance in his mouth. "And um...how was Eunice?"

Her smile, soft as it was, was bright and true. "She was wonderful."

"I'm pleased you were able to see her at last."

"Me, too." A sigh. "She knew everything."

"She seems to."

"She knew we kissed."

"Which time?"

"Oh, yeah..." Her chinks went pleasantly pink. "I fargot about that."

"Forgot?! Not that second one!" His fork hit his plate with a clang. "How could you forget that one? That one was..." He spread his hands helplessly. "That one..."

She shrugged. Snapped bacon between sharp teeth. "It was whatevah." He stared at her agape until she winked. "I mean a sort of mind-blowing whatevah."

He cuffed laughter, relieved. "I thought so."

"Don't get cocky." She pointed at him. "You could stand some more practice."

"Now?"

"No!" She smiled coyly. "Maybe latah."

"I'm driving you to work tonight?" He validated.

"If you don't mind?"

"I don't."

"And um...if you wanna stay. I'd like that." She pushed around her eggs.

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah, I'm certain."

"Nervous about seeing Val?"

"Not nervous. Just..." She shook her head. "I dunno. It's gonna be weird."

"Still angry?"

"I'm hurt. Is that okay?"

"Your feelings are valid, Jude. Anger and hurt are...similar. Hand in hand."

"I feel betrayed." She gave him a hard look. "Again."

"Val's transgressions nowhere neared the scope of mine."

"Glad you recognize that."

"Jude."

"No, don't." She shook off the discussion, rising. "We're...gonna be fine, Timothy. Believe it or not, we're doin' okay. I think."

"You haven't killed me."

"Yet." She patted his shoulder as she walked by. Retrieved her cigarettes. She sat and took a long drag, studying him. "And the kissing's nice."

"Inarguably."

Jude set her hair after breakfast. Timothy tried to ignore the rollers and scarf combination, but when she laid upside down on the recliner, it was impossible to avoid laughing. She looked up backward from her book. "What?"

"Those can't be comfortable." He gestured to the pink sponge rollers.

"I don't notice them." She looked back to her book. "Besides. When you see the coif I'm crafting tonight, you'll understand the sacrifices."

His brows rose and he returned to his own reading.

He took Jude to Hathaway's at five. She needed time to rehearse and dress for her performance. "You don't have ta stay until the show if you don't want." She told him at the bar. "You can come back around eight."

"Or. He can sit and have a beer with an old man." Hathaway himself appeared at the bar, drying a glass.

"I'll sit." He smiled at Johnny, then at Jude. "I'll see you later?"

"Oh, you bet you will." She smirked. They shared a lip-biting, awkward moment with Hathaway watching curiously before Jude leaned in - halting - to present a high, pink cheekbone. Timothy kissed it. Jude dipped her head, tucking hair, gave Johnny a shy glance on the way to her dressing room.

"Well, I'll be." Johnny served up a draught for Timothy and one for himself. "If I didn't know any bettah, I'd think you'd tamed that bird."

"But you do know better." Timothy pointed out.

Johnny laughed hard. He always laughed hard. There was no in-between, no chuckles or snickers. John Hathaway had one laugh and that was full blown. "She seems like she's doin' alright with you, fella." Leaning on the bar, John struck Timothy as a father figure in that moment. "Certainly looks bettah than she did a few days ago."

"We're...working things out together."

"Right.Val said you two had a thing once."

"More or less." The explanation had grown so tiresome. And honestly now seemed so inconsequential compared to their present relationship that it was simpler to just agree with the suppositions.

"Less, then and more now, huh?"

Timothy chuckled. "Exactly."

"Judy said...ya hurt her once."

He swallowed. The guilt would never end. "I did. Rather badly, I'm afraid."

"And ya regret it." Hathaway nipped the end of a cigar, offered one to Timothy. He declined kindly. "Ya learned a thing, too. That women like Judy - they're too rare for the world. Too fiery. Too passionate. And the fellas. Eh. Sometimes even the ladies - they want that fire. But when it burns 'em? Scares 'em. Poof! They gotta put it out somehow." He puffed the stogie while Timothy processed. "Fists. Words. Whatever weapon they choose. They try ta snuff the flame."

It made perfect sense. A blinding analogy. Jude had always been too fiery for the cloth. Too passionate to be a Sister of the Church. That red slip. Her cooking. The rich love in her brown eyes when she looked at him. And then...her wrath. Her fury. The unrelenting unforgiveness. Some part of him had known even then - when he'd first called her his rara avis - that she was too rara.

But he'd been drawn to it. To her heat. Her warmth. Her worship. The depth of her emotion. Was it what he lacked of his own that pulled him? Yes, she'd scared the hell out of him. In more ways than one. She'd threatened him. With her fierceness, her independence, her simple righteousness. And he'd done a damn good job snuffing her flame.

Was that why she chose here? Purgatory? Because Hell's own flames might have consumed hers. Swallowed her up. And here, she could burn again.

He took a deep breath. Suddenly felt able to do so, as if his chest had been closed for a long time. "Jude," he whispered.

John was smiling softly at him. Tapped the bar. "If you let her burn ya, ya might enjoy it. Even if it means yar branded fer life."

They chatted of menial things after that. Trivia. Sports teams, which Timothy knew very little of. Good haberdashers in town. Hops and barley. The reliable construction of his Nash's engine.And then Val arrived.

"Tim?"

He turned on his stool. "Valerie." Her tortured expression softened him. "Sit." He patted the stool beside him.

Eyes reading relief, she climbed up. John set a beer before her, too. "Judy uh - gettin' ready?"

"Yes."

"She hates me now, huh?"

"I wouldn't say 'hates.' It's a rather strong word. She's hurt."

"Oh, I know! Tim, shit, don't get me wrong. I know how much Judy's changed. I know who she is now. I know Missy doesn't understand. But...I didn't know what ta say! Call my gal an idiot? Call my friend a whore? I couldn't make either of those choices. I just stood there like -"

"I understand, Val." He placed a hand atop hers, conveying his feeling. "And Jude...Jude will, too. She is a brilliant woman. And loyal. She doesn't want to lose you."

Val patted his hand. "Tim. You're too good far this world." And if those words piqued his guilt, he managed to ignore it. For the moment. "Think she'll accept my apology?"

He smirked. "Perhaps...not just yet." Val grinned, nodding. She knew Jude's moods, too. "But I will speak to her on your behalf. If you don't mind?"

A slow exhale. "Don't get yerself in the doghouse."

Johnny laughed at their exchange. "Ya both are wrong on Judy. I tell ya what. Just come at her with respect. Direct like. She'll tell ya how it is, but she'll appreciate bein' treated right. And Val. You know her better than that. Course she'll forgive ya. She fuckin' loves ya. But Missy..." He shook his head. "Eh. I dunno about that one."

Val frowned. "Missy's just -"

"Controlling!" Johnny snapped his fingers.

"That's not what I was gonna say, but..." Val shrugged. Rubbed at her forehead. "I guess I can see where you're comin' from."

"She needs ta lighten up." Johnny suggested. "Live a little herself. She oughta come down here with you a couple times. Maybe she'd find out we aren't all so damn bad."

"Probably not." Timothy interrupted. "At least not yet. Jude might...harm her."

"Ya gotta point." Hathaway agreed, pursing lips. He dried another glass.

Val was quiet, thinking. "I know that would technically be bad, but...shit. It'd be hella hot ta watch." Her companions laughed suddenly and hard, Timothy nearly choking on his beer. Val smiled, pleased to have amused her friends. "Oh hey, Tim! I was gonna talk to ya at dinner before everything went...tits up, so ta speak. I have kinda a job offer for ya. I mean - if you're wantin' ta pick up some extra cash."

"Ol' Ms. Lundt workin' ya ta death?" Johnny asked Val. "I told ya that was too much for ya." He shook his head.

Val sighed. "Yeah. I guess it's been a lot ta take on. Specially with the weather bein' cold. It's gonna snow soon, and that's just gonna make it worse."

Timothy was interested. Not so much because he needed money. That was still provided for him - at least for now. But a contingency plan was always good. And he could help Val. "I'd be pleased to have a project. What's the job?"

"I'm clearin' some land for ol' Ms. Lundt. The widow? She owns a bookstore in town -"

"Ah, yes! I know her! I go there often." He would be happy to help Ms. Lundt, as well.

"You would." Val chuffed. "And I do some stuff around her house. It's old and kinda rickety. Hasn't been touched in a while. But uh...it's killin' me."

"I'm happy to help."

"Yeah?" She eyed him. "Got a chainsaw?"

"Um..."

"Evah cut down a tree?"

"Well -"

She laughed. Slapped his back. "I'll pick ya up Monday morning, Tim. I got an extra saw, and I'll even learn ya the ropes."

He blushed, feeling again just slightly useless in the practical world. "Thank you."

"Nah, thank you, Tim. You'll be a lotta help." She sniffled, pausing. "Um...ya know. Not many people round here are too keen ta work with me. Or talk to me. Or...ya know...anything with me. I guess cuz I'm gay and all. You're turnin' out ta be a pretty good friend ta me, Nancy."

The bare words - ineloquent as they were - heated his sinus. His eyes felt wet. He looked up at a red-shaded light fixture. "Well. You've been a fine friend to me, as well, Val. And it is not for me to judge any person." He looked down at his empty pint. "I made that mistake once before. And now, I am the one to be judged."

Hathaway smiled knowingly at the unlikely pair. Set two new pints before them. "You un's." He tisked. "Good folk."

They solidified plans for work over their new pints. Swapped jokes. Timothy was pained from laughter when a tall black trombonist approached him. "Hey, Tim?"

"Yes?"

"Judy needs ya. In her dressin' room."

"Thank you." He turned to Val and Johnny. "Excuse me."

Johnny waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Go be needed."

The band was beginning to tune when he passed the stage. Down the dim hallway that he remembered all too well to Jude's door. He knocked softly. "Jude?" She opened the door quickly, obviously waiting. "Hey. You -"

Words stopped. Everything stopped. Rampant curls spilled over bare shoulders. Her eyes glimmered even closed - glittery gold. His eyes followed the trail of gold all the way down her body. So much body. Leg bared by the slit in skin-hugging gold satin, thin straps crossing naked back and he noticed a beauty mark nearly center of her spine. The dress glistened with golden beading. "Jude..."

"You okay?"

"Yes?" He wasn't sure why it sounded like he was asking.

"Huh." She wasn't sure, either. "Bored out there?"

"No. Talking to Johnny." He paused. "And Val."

A shadow passed ever so briefly through her eyes. "That's nice."

"Jude. Val is -"

"It's me."

"What?"

She waved impatiently. "It's not Val, Timothy. It's me. My shit. Shit I gotta deal with. I'll talk ta Val. She'll understand. We'll be - we're fine."

"Oh." Well, that was easy.

"Do us a favah?"

"Jude..."

She turned briskly, not noticing how hypnotized he was by the shape of her, the rustle of beads, the cream of revealed skin. "Tie me up?"

The straps were loose, apparently, laced through a corset-like network of satin loops. "Um..." His fingers trembled around the slick strings dangling near her hips.

"I look okay?"

"You look..." He wasn't certain how to tell her. What words wouldn't sound as trivial as 'beautiful' or as lacking as 'incredible.' His fingertips couldn't resist touching the skin of her back - just lightly - and she flinched a bit in surprise. "You look like a precious thing." He whispered.

She turned toward him when his hand fell away from her back. Eyes wide and hopeful. "Must be the gold."

He shook his head. Stroked her glowing curls, her jaw. "No. It's what's inside the gold."

She pressed into his caress. "Thank you."

He wanted to kiss her like this. Feel the odd texture differentiation between her soft warm skin and the cool glass beads. Hesitantly, he took her jaw in both hands. "Can I -"

He felt her soft laugh against his wrists. "Don't ask. Far fuck's sake, Timothy. Just kiss me."

Not the deep, searching, aching kiss of the night before. This one was soft and worshipful - the kiss one gives to a long-time coveted prize. She held his elbows, hands slipping up to cup shoulders. They tilted. Found a rhythm of breathing. Settled in to deepen contact. He let go her jaw, brushed wondrous hands down her bareness to hold her waist. His fingers stroked the dress seam and her skin and it was as perfect a dichotomy as he'd imagined.

"Mmm." Jude moaned softly at the stroking. Pressed against him. The moan felt like a symphony vibrato in his throat and he couldn't not taste her mouth a second longer. His tongue was questing slowly when - of course (almost predictably) - someone knocked at her door.

"Judy! You got a setlist ready? We're rehearsin' out here!"

Her hands went to his chest as much to steady herself as to break their contact. He didn't stop stroking, though. He couldn't. "Yeah, Vic!" Her call cracked. "Hold on a sec!" She patted his chest. "Yar gettin' bettah at that already." Her voice was sex again. "I have ta...go to them. We're on in an hour."

"Of course." Timothy nodded, forehead tapping hers.

"Yar still...rubbin' me." She pointed out.

"Of course." He smiled.

"God, Timothy." She groaned and grabbed his head. One more sound, wet kiss. "Shit, I gotta go." Pained, she pulled his hands from her waist. "I'll...I'll see ya after the show." She opened the door as if afraid he might pin her against it. And the thought had occurred to him.

"Jude."

She turned, flushed and flustered. "What?"

"You're breathtaking."

"Oh, shut up."

The door closed and he leaned against it, grinning.

That night Hathaway's crowd seemed particularly charged. It was as if there was an electricity in the air - some impending implosion. What Timothy had heard of the band's rehearsal had been...different. Dramatic almost. And they'd moved the lights and hung plastic colored filters. He was a little nervous about what Jude might have planned. Hoped she wasn't going for Val's blood like she'd gone for his.

But at eight pm - when you couldn't have squeezed another body into the joint with lube - the lights dimmed and a low hum consumed the crowd. Timothy caught Val's eyes at the door and could see similar confusion on her features. Even John Hathaway commented, "Well, this is different."

One red light backlit the singer and her voice cut the darkness like a cleaver.

I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm

And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold

My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones

It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me

I move through town, I'm quiet like a fight

And my necklace is a rope, I tie it and untie it

And our people talk to me, but nothing ever hits

So people talk to me, and all the voices just burn holes

I'm going in (ooh)

This is the start of how it all ever ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

The orange light revealed her in a flowing red cloak, moving confidently about the stage. And the crowd may have found this performance different, as well, but they certainly weren't complaining. Jude was captivating; curls a mane framing those smokey, glittering gold eyes, and she worked that red satin cape as if it was a dancer.

We rip the start, the colors disappear

I never watch the stars there's so much down here

So I just try to keep up with the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

I dream all year, but they're not the same kinds

And the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time

And now people talk to me I'm slipping out of reach now

People talk to me, and all their faces blur

But I got my fingers laced together and I made a little prison

And I'm locking up everyone that ever laid a finger on me

Timothy left his station at the bar, knowing he would lose it to a guest, and went to Valerie. She leaned in the entryway to the main floor. No one would be coming or going during Judy's set; they simply hadn't the space for another patron. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she stared at Jude. "She's definitely got somethin' on her mind tonight."

"I agree." He leaned toward her to hear her over the band. "I don't think she's angry still, Val. She said something about it being her? Said the two of you would talk."

"Oh, of course we will. Judy's a forgiving soul."

Timothy's eyes narrowed. He too stared at the woman consuming the stage. "Is she now?"

I'm going in (ooh)

This is the start of how it all ever ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

The crowd loved the song. Ate it up. Perhaps this bold, heavy sound was just the refresher they'd needed. They closed in on the stage, eager for the next track.

"Have you noticed she hasn't had a drink all night?" Val asked.

"Yes. She's trying."

"She is." A proud smile.

I woke up to another mess in the living room

Broken bottles all around my feet

They came again in the night under crescent moon

Didn't wake me in my sleep

'Cause they talk and drink and laugh 'bout things

And fall in love in my backyard

I hide and cower in the corner

Conversation's getting hard

'Cause nobody seems to ask about me anymore

And nobody seems to care 'bout anything I think

And nobody seems to recognize me in the crowd

In the background screaming, "everybody, look at me"

And just as they spoke of Jude's sobriety, an arm extended from the crowd - an arm holding a golden libation. Timothy and Valerie stirred at once, curious and concerned. When Jude took the drink, he bit his lip. But she toasted the crowd, turned, and discreetly set it on a bandstand. He and Val shared an impressed and relieved stare.

And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be

And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

You know, I used to be on fire

You know, I used to be on fire, fire

Timothy thought of John's words earlier. Thought of Jude's words now - the ones she sang so passionately. Did she feel her fire was being extinguished? He found he couldn't bear the thought - the thought that he or anyone else would snuff that passionate flame. He wanted to ask her. To go to her even now, take her shoulders in his hands and demand the truth: if letting him into her life, forgiving him, loving him, was tantamount to a biblical flood reducing her to ruins - to a waning steam.

He found he preferred the fire...

I used to be a darling starlet like a centerpiece

Had the whole world wrapped around my ring

I flew too closely to the sun that's setting in the east

And now I'm melting from my wings

'Cause I'd laugh and drink and talk 'bout things

And fall in love in my backyard

Now it's my own anxiety

That makes the conversation hard

'Cause nobody seems to ask about me anymore

And nobody ever cares 'bout anything I think

And nobody seems to recognize me in the crowd

In the background screaming, "everybody, look at me"

And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be

But I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire

The lights dimmed. Cymbals vibrated. Val put a hand on his arm. "You look awfully serious."

"Am I...am I simply breaking her again?"

"Breakin' her?" Val's forehead creased. "Aw, Tim. Why would ya think that?"

"Isn't that what she's saying?" His throat hurt. He looked squarely at Val. "That I'm putting out her fire?"

Val shook her head, realization dawning. "Ya know. I think...sometimes fire is...damaging. And that kinda fire needs ta be put out. The real fire in Judy - it's not a destructive one. Like maybe she was in earlier. Maybe the fire she's in now is...like a rebuilding kind. Does that make sense?"

It did make sense. Some kind of ambiguous sense, he supposed. Val nudged him. "Maybe you're setting Judy on a different kinda fire, huh?" She winked. "One you both might warm up to."

And he liked the thought of that. In fact, he was smiling when the lights shifted again. Brightened in a golden filter that revealed a true goddess wrapping glittering fingers around a microphone.

Rock on gold dust woman

Take your silver spoon

Dig your grave

Heartless challenge

Pick your path and I'll pray

The gold dress - revealed - worked its magic immediately. Every eye glued to the jeweled creature on stage, but the creature's eyes glued to another pair: Val's.

Wake up in the morning

See your sunrise loves to go down

Lousy lovers pick their prey

But they never cry out loud

Cry out

Did she make you cry

Make you break down

Shatter your illusions of love

And is it over now do you know how

Pick up the pieces and go home.

Val's eyes glistened, now. Unshed tears revealing her understanding, and it was Timothy's turn to nudge her. "You okay?"

"I think I will be."

Rock on ancient queen

Follow those who pale

In your shadow

Rulers make bad lovers

You better put your kingdom up for sale

Up for sale

She even pointed at Val. Singled out the subject of her message. And Val nodded in reply. Timothy watched something pass between them. Was this Jude's way of 'talking?' Did she do all of her communicating musically?

Well did she make you cry

Make you break down

Shatter your illusions of love

And is it over now, do you know how

Pick up the pieces and go home.

As the music swelled to its crescendo, Jude swelled to her own. She spun. Wrapped herself in a sheer, shimmering golden shawl. Knelt to the crowd, took their hands. It was as if her message was for them as much for Val: that she could not be quelled by judgment; was a force to be reckoned with; that she would rise above any who would try to destroy her kingdom.

Ooooh, Pale

Shadow

Of a woman

His senses became aware of another stare. Odd - one just behind him. He turned, surprised to see Missy lingering in the shadows of the door. Almost hiding. She didn't notice his notice; she was too busy staring at Jude.

Black widow

Pale

Shadow

Of a dragon

He tapped Val's arm. When she looked at him askance, he nodded toward Missy. Val gasped seeing her partner, a small surprised smile lighting her face, and gestured. But Missy shook her head, stepped even further into shadow.

Gold dust woman

Pale

Shadow

Of a woman

Black widow

So Val let Missy hide. And so did Timothy. Perhaps there was a fear of being burned. He understood it entirely too well. Jude had no idea what a power she truly possessed.

Pale

Shadow

She's a dragon

Gold dust woman

Woman, woman

Or she did. Maybe she did understand. As her voice faded with the light, she pulled that magical gilt shawl over her face, obscuring a Midas' smirk. Yes, she knew.

"Thank you." Her voice - a bit raspy now - penetrated the dim. "You've all been so patient tonight." The crowd called, whistled for more. "I guess I can leave ya with a little somethin' ta dance to, huh?" A full blown cheer. The lights rose again and Timothy turned to see Missy gone. "So...grab somebody ta keep ya warm tonight, kay?"

He calls me the devil

I make him wanna sin

Every time I knock, he can't help but let me in

Must be homesick for the real

I'm the realest it gets

And now she embraced the power. Moved through the crowd like a fiery serpent. Slithered against men and women alike - against couples dancing to her sultry siren song. He was coming to understand it - this sensual side of Jude. Point of fact, he was coming to covet it madly.

You probably still adore me

With my hands around your neck

Can you feel the warmth, yeah

'Cause my kiss goes down you like some sweet alcohol

Where I'm coming from, yeah

Is a darker side of me that makes you feel so numb

'Cause we're hot like hell

So it shouldn't have surprised him when the serpent slithered against him. When its forked-tongue breath plied his ear. When she turned Val beneath her arm and pulled him to her - hard - by his belt buckle.

Does it burn when I'm not there?

When you're by yourself

Am I the answer to your prayers

I'm giving you the pleasure of heaven

And I'll give it to you

Hotter than hell

Hotter than hell

"Jude." He hissed in her ear when she dipped against him. He knew she heard the warning in his voice. She didn't heed it. Slid a bare leg up his own, singing as if he was simply another furnishing.

You're my manna from heaven

We all gotta get fed

Can't let me know I'm wanted

Can't let me in your head

I'm not here to make you kneel

But it's praise that I'll get

You ain't gonna walk free boy

Not finished with you yet, no

Her nails scraped his scalp when his hands gripped her waist. She pulled his ear to her lips and hissed her own warning - quickly - between verses: "This is yours." A teasing almost kiss before she was gone - swaying back through the crowd to the stage.

Can you feel the warmth, yeah

'Cause my kiss goes down you like some sweet alcohol

Where I'm coming from, yeah

Is a darker side of me that makes you feel so numb

'Cause we're hot like hell

Does it burn when I'm not there?

When you're by yourself

Am I the answer to your prayers

I'm giving you the pleasure of heaven

And I'll give it to you

Hotter than hell

Hotter than hell

Back on the stage she held the mic stand like a lover. Touched her own body with her shameless, fiery fingers. Stroked hips. Shifted dress. Bent leg. Squeezed breasts. She sang breathless now, the lyrics fast. Her neck arched, sweat glistening there and she slicked it up, tasted her own fingers - bit the sinful digits. Licked them and the swollen, pink pouty lips. Pulled at her own mane as those wet fingers disappeared beneath the slit in that dress, doing God knew what to the Devil knew what part of herself...

When we go down right there

You make me feel right there

When you lay me down right there

We just make it right there

Cause you're looking so right there

Baby you should touch me right there

If you take me right there

We can make it

'Cause we're hot like hell

Does it burn when I'm not there?

When you're by yourself

Am I the answer to your prayers

I'm giving you the pleasure of heaven

And I'll give it to you

Hotter than hell

And I'll give it to you

Hotter than hell

Lights dimmed on her orgasmic antics. Drums continued. Timothy ached. Burned in his groin. The diabolical golden dragon vixen... She terrified him. He should have left town the night she told him to. He should have taken his chances in Hell. He shouldn't have kissed her in his kitchen, wrapped his arms around her in sleep, touched her hot bare skin with his clumsy childish hands.

Or he should have pinned her against that door.

"God help ya, Tim," Val murmured in his ear.

"He can't." Honest confession.

Val was back to manning the door. Now that the band was in swing mode, dancers came and went. Timothy waited at the bar, taking the piss from Hathaway.

"I tell ya what. Judy musta been really on one tonight!" The bartender chuckled, slapping Timothy's shoulder. "I almost feel sorry for ya, fella."

"You should." Timothy muttered. How would he take her home tonight wondering what her own fingers had felt beneath that dress?

"Whoooo, she sure is somethin'!"

"Something, indeed." Timothy rubbed at his eyes. Some kind of devil angel succubus Hellcat beast...

"Ay, Tim?" The trombonist. Was it Nick? Yes, Nick. "Judy's ready ta go she says."

"Of course she is."

Hathaway laughed, fist pounding the bar. "Envy of every man in here!" He pointed at Timothy's flushing face. "You take care of yerself, buddy. Don't let her throw ya back out!" The guffaws followed him from the bar.

In her dressing room, the band was a muffled pulse. She'd changed into the green dress she'd worn earlier. But it was too late - he already knew 75% of what was underneath it. And the other 25% simply scared him.

He sat boneless on the tattered couch. Watched her remove the last of the glitter from her eyelids. He could tell she was fighting a grin.

"Well? What'd ya think?"

He sighed deeply. "I think you...are going to kill me." He bent forward, cradled his head in his hands.

She had the audacity to chuckle. "How about the shoes? They were new."

"I doubt anyone noticed your shoes."

"Huh." A stockinged toe invaded his space. Poked his knee. "What a waste." He swatted at the foot and she patted his head. "Come on. Let's go home."

They sneaked out the back door. Halfway to the Nash in a light drizzle of cold rain. "Judy!"

She turned. He waited. Val. The brunette appeared hesitant at first, but Jude gave a small smile, she ran. Threw arms around her friend. "Judy! I'm so sorry! I'm -"

"Val." Jude held the woman's head. Met her eyes. "Stop. You know who I am." A shrug. "She doesn't. Not her fault. And all that shit she said? Some of it was true. Or used ta be. I can't call her a damn liar. And I can't expect you or Tim or anybody else ta fight my battles far me. And I don't need ya to." She kissed Val's forehead. "I love ya."

"Judy..." Val squeezed Jude's shoulders. "Just give her a little time. Will ya? Will ya get ta know her, maybe? If she'll -"

"I got all the time in the world, baby." Jude dismissed further apology. The rain was intensifying. "Go on now. Shut the joint down. Tim's gonna take me home and make me dinnah and rub my feet." He pursed his lips, accepting that all those things were true. "Those new shoes did a numbah on me!"

"Ya...ya had new shoes?" Val asked, voice small.

Jude tisked. "Fuck!" She threw up her hands. "They're beautiful shoes! Gah!" She stalked to the car.

"Good night, Val."

Val nodded at him. Winked. "I bet it will be."

He was hot and pink when he opened the door for Jude. Cleared his throat as he settled behind the wheel. "I um...I can't imagine why no one notice your new shoes." She cut him a glare, but softened. Smiling. "You were truly...captivating tonight." He cranked the car. Smoothly navigated around the usual staggering crowd.

"Thanks." She flicked on the stereo, seeing that the weather would give them a slow drive home.

I want to live, I want to give

I've been a miner for a heart of gold

It's these expressions I never give

That keep me searching for a heart of gold and I'm getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold and I'm getting old

"Missy was there." He told her. "Hiding."

"I saw her." Jude smirked again.

"I thought so." He bit his lip. "Jude."

"What?"

"I don't want to...I don't want you to feel...stifled."

"Stifled."

"I don't want to be the man who...who puts out your fire."

"My fire." She looked at him. Raindrops on the window made tear-shaped shadows on her face. "You think I got fire?"

"I think you are fire." He swallowed. "I know that I hurt you before. Broke you. Beyond badly, Jude, I..." Words failed him again. "I was like the flood that drowned you. And I don't want you to think I'm here to do that again."

She was quiet. Thinking. Suddenly, she slid across the seat. Gripped his jaw and wetly kissed his cheek. He nearly swerved. "I've gotten bettah at swimmin.'"

I've been to Hollywood, I've been to Redwood

I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold

I've been in my mind, it's such a fine line

That keeps me searching for a heart of gold and I'm getting old

He smiled. Felt relief relax every muscle. Val's words echoed in his mind: "Judy's a forgiving soul." He was beginning to believe that.

"Val and I noticed that you didn't drink tonight."

"Oh?" She looked out her window. "Yeah. I was uh..."

"I imagine that was difficult."

She licked her lips. "Well."

"It took a lot of strength, Jude."

"Mm-hm."

He pulled into the drive and they sat in the car for a few more minutes, listening to the song that had played them home. Jude had grown quiet. Thoughtful.

Keeps me searching for a heart of gold and I'm getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

You keep me searching and I'm growing old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

I've been a miner for a heart of gold

"Come on." He touched her jaw. "We'll warm up some soup and make sandwiches."

"Sounds good."

They ate quietly. He assumed she was tired. She certainly looked tired. Her hair escaped its chignon and curled around her jaw. "I'm pleased you and Val have patched things up so smoothly. I imagine you would have missed each other deeply."

"Mm-hm."

He tried a little harder, realizing now that something was on her mind. "Your songs were certainly affective tonight." A chuff of laughter. "Very um...provocative."

"Timothy." She turned her spoon in her empty soup bowl.

"Yes?"

"I did drink tonight." Her hands went to her lap. "During rehearsals. I had two shots of bourbon." She sighed heavily. "I didn't intend ta lie to ya. And I wasn't trying to hide it or anything. I just didn't think -"

"Jude." He reached across the table, palm up. "Stop." She put a hand on his. "I didn't mean to...force expectations."

"I was so wound up!" She stood, pacing. "I couldn't focus. Couldn't get my timin' on. My highs kept crackin' open." Lit a cigarette. Suddenly pointed at him. "It's yar fault."

He blinked, completely blindsided by her vehemence. "My fault? How so?"

"Oh, come on!" She scoffed. "Kissin' me like that? You knew I had a set on deck!"

""You told me to kiss you!"

"I didn't tell ya ta kiss me like that!"

"Like what exactly?" He demanded, incredulous.

She paused, leaned against the couch. A slow exhale of smoke. "That...was a fuck-me-now kiss, Timothy."

"A fu..." He couldn't even say it. "I assure you I had no such intentions."

"Didn't feel that way."

"Jude." Now he stood. "If my intention had been to..."

"Say it." She challenged. Chin up.

He re-phrased. "When it is my intention to -"

"Oh, so it's all about yar intentions, now?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"Stop putting yar tongue in mine!"

"But it feels good!" He growled, turning away from her. "Jude, this is ridiculous. We are adults. A grown woman and a grown man. We should hardly be arguing about kissing. I think this is about more than that."

"I'm sorry I drank."

"It's not about that either, Jude. Two shots does not an alcoholic make." He sat, rubbed his forehead tiredly. "You scare the hell out of me."

She chuckled. Sat across from him again. "I shouldn't tease ya so much. I'll stop."

"No. It's not that." It was embarrassing, really - the truth. "Jude. I have no idea what to do with you." He ignored her laugh, continued relieved to be saying it aloud. "When I kiss you, I concentrate on every aspect of that kiss. Pressure. Angle. Taste. And if that concentration is broken - if you...moan or make one of those little noises -"

"I can't make noises?"

"When you do that," he overrode her interruption. "It completely unravels me. And tonight...I felt your skin and that dress and...you were so..."

"Timothy." He looked at her, fully expecting a ripe ribbing. "I know that you're...inexperienced. And I know that what experience you do have is not exactly ideal." Her tone was sympathetic. Genuine. This was genuine Judy. "And I want ta be patient with ya. So that...when your intentions are to fuck me -"

"Jude, it would never be like that!"

"Yar never gonna fuck me?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Thank God!" She was smiling widely. "Because ya drive me crazy, too! You know that? Don't think this is some one-sided flirtation. It's been a long time since anybody's made me feel..."

"What?" He asked. "Made you feel what?"

She shook her head, lost. "Like I wanted more than to pretend to be asleep and wait for them ta snore so I could sneak out and finish dressing on the sidewalk of some seedy motel."

"Ah." He shrugged. "I suppose I could always get a room back at the Blue Moo if you felt more comfortable -"

"Yar not really funny when yar bein' funny, you know that?" But she was laughing anyway.

"I want more than to fuck you, Jude."

She blushed a little. "Me too." Nodded with finality. "And I'll wait far that." Then, discreetly, she extracted a slip of paper from her dress pocket and a stubby pencil.

"What's that?"

"Oh, this is my tally. Of yar curse words."

"No, it isn't." She flashed a few hash marks at him. "Give me that shit!" He reached for it and she yanked it back.

"Hell, no! That's like...five, I think?" She made a mark against the wall.

"Unbelievable." He groaned. "You drive me to curse!"

"And you drive me to drink." She put the paper back in her pocket. "So. In order to prevent further shots being taken...if you kiss me like that before a set again? You bettah fuck the shit outta me before I go on." He swallowed. She stood, stretched. "Now. How about my foot rub?"

They turned on the television. A documentary about hummingbirds. Jude stretched out on the couch, stockings discarded, feet in Timothy's lap. And Timothy learned the anatomy of the female foot. Or specifically Jude's foot.

How she had small calloused patches on the outsides of her toes (he suspected from her deadly heels). Smooth patches back of each heal. Her toes tapered prettily. The nails were painted gold tonight, to match her fingers.

Too light a touch made her giggle. So he kept his ministrations firm. Twisting, kneading, tugging, plying the soft and rough skin. And Jude wriggled occasionally. Sighed. Pitched and moaned on particularly deep bouts of thumb work. Hissed. Cursed under her breath. Generally drove him insane.

He was glad for the dim lighting in the house hiding his straining erection. Alternately glad and daunted whenever an errant heel stroked it through his pants. He was sweating when she extracted her foot from his grip. "Alright?" He asked shakily.

"Bettah than alright. Timothy?" She sat up on her knees near him.

"Yes?"

"I want ya ta trust me far a minute, kay?"

"Trust you?"

"D'you trust me?" She was leaning toward him.

"I do." He did.

"Good." Her voice was low and husky. "Can I touch you?"

"Please." Christ, he wanted her to touch him.

She settled close to him. Very close. He could feel her warmth and her breasts against his shoulder. "I mean...here." Gently, her hand stroked from his knee up. Up to his groin. The fingers gripped his zipper pull, asking permission. "Just touch." She promised. Her breath caressed his ear, and he nodded. Couldn't trust his voice. "Tell me if you want me ta stop, alright?"

Another nod. She unzipped him. He helped her with his belt and the clasp on his trousers. His belly flipped anticipation. He heard his pulse in his ears as her hand slipped so softly into opening of his boxers. "Jude." He grabbed her wrist.

She stopped. Aware of his every reaction. "What, baby?"

He didn't ask permission. Slid his arm up her back, pulling her to him and into a kiss. And this time, with no one to interrupt them, he was able to taste her mouth for the first time. Tea. Tobacco. Salt. Fire. And if he thought he was unprepared for the taste of her mouth, he was truly unprepared for the feel of her hand on his bare, straining cock.

"Ah! Jude!" He cried out at the purely sinful sensation ribboning his spine. His head rolled bonelessly against the couch and she nuzzled his neck.

"Okay?" She murmured.

Her strokes were exquisite compared to his own. Hot and teasing, then a knowing twist turned the tickle into an eye-rolling spasm. "So fucking good," he whispered, mindless.

"Yeah?" She bit at his earlobe. Kissed him open-mouthed and dirty. "I wanna make ya feel good, Timothy."

He'd managed to pull her awkwardly onto one thigh. She straddled it cowgirl style, still stroking him with surgical precision perhaps not noticing that his hands were busily finding their way beneath her skirt until she felt them urging her thighs to part. "Oh," she whimpered against his mouth, clutched his head with her free hand.

Because if she could explore, why shouldn't he? He was eager to unfold the mystery, but had no idea how literal the unfolding would be. How hot she would be against his hand - even through lace. How sticky wet she would coat his fingers when they dipped beneath the taut elastic. How violently she would surge against him. How truly foul her mouth could be when she was teetering on the edge of lust.

"Shit. Timothy." Her voice was deep and throaty. "Fuck. Please..."

"Please what, Jude? Tell me what -"

"Put your fingers inside me!"

Easy enough. She was slick as a slug. But "Christ, that's tight." He noted through a haze of pleasure sizzling in his gut. Her hand still worked him, sleeking pre-cum to make the work smoother. He would have thought perhaps it hurt but the way she moved on and against the fingers suggested quite the opposite.

"Perfect." Her eyes closed. She concentrated. Her strokes intensified.

He tried a few strokes of his own. Twisting. The skin in that tight channel was lava hot. He wondered if he'd tapped the true source of her fire.

Suddenly her breath caught and she clamped his head to hers. "Fuck, Tim keep doin' that!"

"You, too." He caught her lip between his.

The same little twist. His fingers seemed so deep inside her. The same quick, rough stroke and the burgeoning tightness in his bollocks. "Jude..."

"Yeah, it's okay." She urged him. "Just come, Timothy. It's okay. I gotcha." She held him close through an almost painful, prolonged release. He worried he would pump his very essence all over her hand.

She slowed each stroke. Lightened the touch. Nursed his pleasure. And when he'd spent himself, that sticky hand joined his beneath her skirt. She bared down. Rode his wrist, her own fingers working magic above his. He watched her shudder, felt the clenching waves, fearful muscles spasming so hard his fingers ached a bit. "You're beautiful," he growled against her jaw.

"Ah!" Her answering cry was sharp. She gripped his shoulder, the hold sliding up his neck until it took his head. In her kiss was peace. They caught breath against each other's sweaty faces. "Jesus..." She murmured.

Little quivers. Tiny earthquakes. Curiously, he fluttered his fingers as he withdrew them and she giggled. "Sorry."

"For what?" Suddenly, he was giggling too. It was...simply insane. There was no way to wipe her hand with dignity so she didn't bother. Simply extracted it and scrubbed against her skirt. "Will that...will that wash out?" He asked.

Her giggle turned to true, wracking laughter. She collapsed against him. He held her fast, joining her in this inane humor. "Like a couple horny teenagers." She kissed his cheek, sighing.

"Is this what teenagers are doing these days?" He relaxed into cushions. Couldn't move much beyond that. "No wonder we live in a Godless time."

"And we're the ones who are clearly stunted." They sobered, basking in a mutual afterglow. She shifted to lay across his lap, kindly arranging him within his trousers first. "Are you alright?" She caressed his jaw.

"I'm fine." He answered. Couldn't stop another burst of laughter. "I think I'm wonderful, actually." Caught her arm lazily. "Which hand are you touching my face with?"

She laughed again, too. "You'll nevah know."

"My shirt is stuck to my stomach."

"Well, these panties are done far."

"I'm done for!" He looked at his own hand, considering the options, and she offered skirt. "When in Rome..." He murmured.

Their eyes locked. He hadn't meant to speak the words. But they were spoken. Accustomed to the darkness, he could see the wistful expression on her face. "This is bettah than Rome would have evah been."

He smiled. "Rara avis? I agree."

She bathed. They were both filthy, but he let her go first, needing the alone time to process. And rest. After his quick shower, they settled into bed, comfortable now with the arrangement. They looked at one another in the pillows, on the verge of more laughter. "I can't believe I gave you a handjob." Jude whispered.

"Well. I suppose I gave you a handjob, too." She snorted. "We can um - we can do it again, right?"

Her eyes widened. "Now?!"

"No, not now!" He laughed. "Unless you're -"

"I got a cramp in my wrist."

"Which you deserve." He shook his hand in the moonlight. "I still have no feeling in my index finger."

She kissed the hand. "You've got amazing fingers."

"You, too." Her eyes were drifting closed. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but... He wasn't certain yet if that acceptable. If she was receptive. The woman who had his fingers in her half an hour ago. He wasn't even certain he was a forgiven man, yet. He wondered how many fingers it would take to achieve that. "Good night," he whispered instead.

She grunted. Shifted and shuffled around in the bed until she was bastioned beneath all the blankets and wriggled beneath his arm. He smiled into her hair. "If there's an erection in my ass in the morning -"

"I recognize you are fully qualified to handle it."

"Thank you."

But he woke peacefully and alone. Frowned. There was noise in the kitchen, though. Jude cooking, singing along softly to the little stereo.

I was only walking through your neighborhood

Saw you out loud honey in the cold I stood

Anywhere I go there you are

Anywhere I go there you are

He smelled pancakes. "Can I help?"

She turned from the stove, spatula in hand. "You're lucky there isn't a no shirt no service rule in this kitchen. Set the table?"

He did. Perfectly normal. Setting the table shirtless. Drinking coffee shirtless. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of her stockings discarded on the back of the couch. Perfectly normal. Handjobs and hummingbirds. She gave him a hip bump and he nearly lost his balance, sloshed coffee onto the floor. "Dammit!"

"Ooooh, I need ta tally that one. And the one from last night."

"Fairly certain there was more than one last night."

"Nope." She shook her head, flipping a fluffy pancake easily. "Just the one. I thought I could squeeze a few more out, but..." He blushed.

I been getting used to waking up with you

I been getting used to waking up here

Anywhere I go there you are

Anywhere I go there you are

There you are

There you are

He set out the butter. Squeezed orange juice. By the time he retrieved the syrup, she was plating six cake high stacks. "Hungry?"

She shrugged. "Musta worked up an appetite last night." He blushed again.

You're the fire and the flood

And I'll always feel you in my blood

Everything is fine

When your hand is resting next to mine

Next to mine

You're the fire and the flood

Eating pancakes shirtless was nice. A dollop of syrupy butter landed on his pec. "Mm." He reached for a napkin.

"Leave it." Jude gestured. Licked her fork. "I'll get it latah."

He left it. When the phone rang, he answered it shirtless. "Hello."

"Nancy. Morning."

"Indeed. Good morning, Val." He hissed when Jude suddenly appeared before him, licking the syrupy butter from his chest. "How are you?"

"Can't complain. What'd ya do last night?"

Jude gave him a cigarette and a fresh coffee. When she sat to the table again, he could see down the V of her silky nightgown and fell a little deeper in love. "We...watched a documentary on hummingbirds."

"Wow. That sounds hella exciting."

"They lead fascinating tiny lives."

"Well, I got some news. There was a flood last night at Hathaways'. Seems all that rain finally had its way with the roof in back. Johnny called me this morning. Not too bad, I guess. They're cleaning it up today, but they're gonna close off the back room tonight ta dry out. So Judy'll have ta get dressed at your place."

"I will let her know." He reached over her to flick his cigarette.

"I can bring her a dress or whatever she needs. I'm gonna go clear all her stuff out anyway so's they can mop and all."

"Do you need help?"

"Aw, sweet offer, Tim. But we got it. You takin' Judy ta work?"

"I'm uncertain." He watched Jude sop her plate with a finger, then suck it. "I suppose...she'll let me know."

"Well, if not, I can take her when I bring her stuff."

"Not a problem."

"Thanks, Tim. I'll see ya latah!"

"What's up?" Jude asked.

"Apparently, there was a flood last night at Hathaway's. They're cleaning today, but closing the back. Val is going to bring your things to you."

"Oh, good. She can take me ta work."

He nodded, sitting across from her. "Shall I come tonight? To see you?"

She narrowed eyes at him. "Worried I'll drink?"

"No." He wasn't worried. At least not worried that she would drink dangerously. Two shots in nearly as many weeks. She was really doing quite well. "In fact, I think I'll stay here tonight." Trust had to start somewhere. She had to see that.

Her lips worked. "Well. I'm not doin' anything special tonight, so...yeah. Why don't you stay here and um...rest up?"

"Um..."

"You'll need yar strength."

They wasted the day barely clothed. It was freeing. He kept the stove stoked and they watched a program on tortoises, mostly kissing. He'd discovered the delights of Jude's hardened nipples when he remembered to tell her about Val.

"I'm going to work with Val Monday."

"Mmmm." She arched into a pinch, pressing his cock into her ass - again. "Helpin' her clear Ms. Lundt's place?"

"Yes. God, woman!"

She wriggled on his lap and chuckled. "Sounds like hard work."

"You're hard work." She was guiding his hand down her body, turned sidewise for a kiss.

"And yar just hard." His fingers slid into her already skewed panties. She rubbed against him with his rhythm, tutoring his touch with her own. When her gown strap slipped, he realized it was the first time he'd seen her bared breast. A lovely thing...

"Jude -"

"I'm close." Her thighs tightened alongside his. "If ya don't come with me, I'll blow ya."

But her words - and the bright, bubbly orgasm she experienced this way - were all he really needed to create another sticky hot mess in his pajama pants. Jude sighed, falling back on his chest. "I love tortoises," she said breathlessly.

"They're quite amazing." He slipped her gown back onto her shoulder. Couldn't resist one more squeeze. "Soft..."

"Tortoises?" She laughed.

"Oh. Tortoises." He looked at the television, hand still on her breast. "No, i suppose they're not terribly soft."

"Under that shell they are."

"Aren't we all?"

Jude turned in his arms. They situated themselves to lay on the couch together. His hands shifted now to her shapely rear. "Yeah. I guess we are." She sighed, content.

Valerie showed up around five with Jude's dress and a makeup case. "Sorry if the hem got a little wet, Judy," she apologized. "Damn leak. Everything got a little wet, I guess."

"That's okay, Val." Jude kissed her friend's cheek, taking the dress. "I got a little wet, too." She disappeared into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind her.

"That uh...that true, Nancy?" Val nudged a profusely blushing Timothy, chuckling.

"She's quite incorrigible."

"No shit." Val flopped onto the couch. "Oooh, komodo dragons!" She pointed at the television. "I've seen this one. Got coffee?"

He'd never had a friend before. There had been a brotherhood of sorts, in seminary. But he'd never felt a companionship like this: sipping coffee with Val, feet propped on coffee table, watching giant lizards mate. It was the oddest thing, if rather wonderful. She made him laugh with an impressive reptile impression. Made him blush with her constant innuendos. Made him smile with her simple warmth. Made him...a better person somehow. And this realization filled him with a strange new pride.

He was proud to call Valerie 'friend.' It felt good.

Their heads turned in tandem when Jude emerged. No. Not Jude. This was Judy emerging. In gathered blue velvet. Long sleeved but backless. Slits revealing hints of lace stocking top. Her curls piled high, a few framing her face or coiling down her back and eyes kohled and starry. "Ready?" She asked.

Val was staring at Timothy staring. "Ready for something," she muttered, rising. "I'm takin' yer bird ta work, Tim." She slapped his shoulder. "I'll bring her home in one piece."

"Of course you will." He was still staring, eyes raking. "Lovely shoes, Jude."

She laughed heartily, kicking out a dark blue heel. "Thanks far noticin'." She bent. Placed a kiss on his forehead. "Latah."

"See ya Monday mornin', Nancy!"

If Val hadn't been waiting at the door... He shook off the thoughts after they left. Put his energy into preparing a beef roast. Jude would be hungry later. He didn't think of the blue velvet. Of what it would have felt like beneath his hands. What it would have looked like on the bedroom floor. He didn't think of releasing curls in a lusty waterfall.

But his brain was a sinister traitor in league with his baser desires. And in the bathroom, it announced victory when it processed the lingerie hanging from the shower rail. Lacy black bra. Satin garter belt. He fingered an elastic suspender, pondering the mechanism. How the snap sort of slid from its snug fastening. So that's how it works. Good to know.He compartmentalized the knowledge away for later; it joined a mental file cabinet of other sultry gatherings.

He wiped the red lipstick off his forehead and sighed in the mirror.

He paced for a while. Read T.S. Eliot.

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

He laid the book on his chest and stared at the ceiling. Am I old? He wondered. His soul felt old. Old and new at once. Like it had never really known a life. Am I J. Alfred Prufrock? Did he dare disturb the universe? His universe was already disturbed. The mermaid had already sung for him - numerous times now. And he was most certainly the Fool for her...

He closed his eyes, an image of Jude as a mermaid threatening to take him to the deep, to a dreamless sleep... He drifted.

The sound of a car door roused him and he sat up. They were back. He rubbed his eyes. It felt later, though... Footsteps rushed heavily up the steps and the knock on the door seemed urgent. But Jude had a key.

"Missy?" Concern marred his forehead. She wore her uniform - nursing whites. "What -"

"I'm on my way to the hospital. Got called in." She cut him off succinctly. "There's a fire at Hathaway's. I don't have any details, but I haven't heard from Val." His gut seized. A stone stopped his throat. "I gotta get ta work, but I figured you'd wanna know."

On autopilot, he grabbed his jacket from the hook. It was cold outside, but his fingers already felt numb. "I'm going to Hathaway's." His voice sounded flat to his own ears.

Missy nodded, biting her lip. "If you see Val..."

No more was needed. They rushed down the steps together. Missy sped away, and Timothy turned the Nash in the opposite direction. He didn't know the little car could move so fast.

There were lights outside the club and flames rising from the back of it. Big flames licking the sky like the prong's of Satan's pitchfork. Police cars. A firetruck. He could see even more lights further down the road, approaching. He parked opposite the club - out of the way. Leapt the ditch. There were two ambulances already and sirens signaling more. He weaved between panicked patrons and shocked onlookers. "Jude!" He shouted, not caring. "Valerie! Jude!" But there was no answer and no sign of either woman. Fear was a freezing grip on his heart.

The entrance was wide open and there were firemen clustered there. One of them grabbed him. "Ya can't go in there, buddy!" Smoke poured from the door.

"Is everyone out?" He asked, taking the man's arms.

"We're workin' on it. Go home."

"Jude. Judy!" He shouted into the door. "Is Judy out?"

"I dunno Judy, friend." The fireman tried again to calm him. "But we're gettin' everybody out. Go home, buddy! Yer in the way here!" A gentle shove.

"Tim?!"

He turned to the cry, frantic now. "Valerie!" A cop was struggling to hold the wiry woman by her arms. There were desperate tears on her smutty face.

"Judy's in there! And Johnny! They didn't make it to the side door!"

He'd gotten good at not thinking. The sirens, wailing, and shouting patrons drowned out sense. He ducked beneath the marshall's unsuspecting arms and simply slipped through the smoke...

It was toxic inside. Closer to Hell than Limbo. He squinted through the thick, rolling grey. The fire was loud - rumbling at the back. He could make out shadows of men bedecked in helmets, tanks and rescue equipment. Could vaguely make out their shouts. They were rushing out of the building - sensible men.

"Jude!" He coughed, threw his jacket over his face. He couldn't see a damn thing. "Jude!"

Stumbled through spreading ash. Hotter than anything he'd ever felt. His lungs resisted breathing. An overturned table. He could make out the bar, now, grabbed hold of it and heard coughing bordering on retching and her unmistakable voice in a way he'd never heard it: straining, begging, pleading.

"Goddammit, Johnny! Come on! We gotta go! Get up!"

Timothy followed the voice. "Jude!" He shouted. A resounding crack from the back covered his call. The fire was spreading...

But there. Finally - after a scalding, blinding eternity. Just at the edge of the bar he saw her - golden hair piercing the veil of smoke. She knelt over a shapeless form, pulling, tugging. It was John Hathaway, prone on the floor.

"Jude!" His hands were on her and she was alive. She was terrified and desperate and aching but she was alive.

"Timothy!" As if there was no surprise at his presence. As if it was simply expected that he would be here. "Help me!"

He hauled John onto one shoulder, tucked Jude beneath the other. "Stay down!" His voice cracked. He tried to keep them beneath the smoke. A red light blinking was the only beckon - the only guide to the side exit.

John was heavy and unconscious. Timothy would never have imagined the strength in himself to carry the man, but he did. Through the smoke, eyes stinging. He stumbled over a toppled stool, losing his grip. He felt Jude grab his arm, pulling. "Go!" He shoved her away, toward the open door. "Go, Jude!"

"No!" She was coughing pitifully. "Come on! We're almost there!" She helped him, throwing John's other arm over her own shoulder.

They staggered like beggars until the lack of oxygen took them to the threshold - and then there were arms reaching. Hands taking his. Hands grappling for hers. White, angelic hands attached to a black-clad form and they felt weightless...

When they burst through the door - unseen hands now shoving - an ambulance driver spotted them. "Over here!" The man shouted. "We got more over here!"

Lights swirled. Smoke poured. He was vaguely aware of Jude slipping away from him. Of John being lifted onto a gurney. Through coughing, he managed to drink the water a rescue worker shoved in his face. "Timothy!"

"Val."

His friend helped him to his feet. His head rolled and for a second, he saw the stars in the clear sky twinkling above him and thought - quite madly - that they were simply beautiful. Val helped him to the back of an ambulance. His vision was blurry from smoke - eyes dried - but his hand encountered velvet and he pulled her against him. "Jude..."

She was bent, coughing. Dry heaved a few times. Her shaking hand could barely hold the water cup. She couldn't speak.

"Move, buddy!" He was pulled from her. "We gotta get these two to the hospital!" They were bundling her onto a cot, loading her into the ambulance. He caught a glimpse of Hathaway already inside.

"Timothy." She croaked, reaching for him.

Valerie pulled him, too. "Come on! We'll follow! Let 'em go, Tim."

"I'm coming, Jude." He promised, managing to brush her fingers with his own. "I'll be there!"

They weaved again through the crowd. He could count six ambulances now. Three fire trucks. Couldn't count the police cars. A cop directed traffic from the club, keeping the road open for emergency crews.

They were stuck - idle for a moment - on the side of the road and he could finally think again. "What the hell happened?"

Valerie was in shock, trembling on the seat beside him. "I don't even know." The words rushed. "Judy was singing. We started to smell smoke. I opened the stage door and..." Her head fell in her hands. "Shit! There was fucking fire everywhere! I slammed the door and started yelling 'call the fire department!' Johnny got on the horn and people were just runnin' like animals and I couldn't find Judy and I knew we had ta get the emergency exit open but it was fuckin' stuck. I slammed into it and people were just pressed up against me and I fell out when it opened and there was this stampede! I couldn't get back in! I ran round ta the front but it was the same thing! Somebody flagged down a cop and they started directin' people out but the cars got ta be a cluster fuck and -" Suddenly she stopped, tears streaming down her face. "How the fuck did you get here? How did you know?"

He managed to pull onto the highway - a tight u-turn. He went the way he'd seen Missy go. "Missy stopped by the house. She was called into the hospital."

"Missy..." She sobbed harder. "She must be worried sick!"

"We'll see her soon enough." He drove fast and soon caught up to an ambulance ahead. He wondered if it was Jude's.

"Ya saved 'em, Tim." Val's hand squeezed his arm. "Judy and Johnny. You saved 'em when everybody else gave up and left 'em fer dead in there. Yer a goddamn hero!"

But he didn't feel that way. He simply felt relief. Relief that it was over. Relief that he'd found her and she was alive and they were on their way to the hospital and he would see her again and she would be alive and he would hold her again and kiss her again and have her in his life and whatever the hell that life was didn't matter because Jude was alive...

And he loved her. And he needed to tell her.

Because no fire could compete with hers.

The hospital emergency room was in chaos. Doctors and nurses sprinted to and fro, in the weeds with patients still in their club wear. Fortunately, there were no severe injuries. Some minor smoke inhalation. A few bumps and bruises from the stampede. Most people were being released after quick checks and bandage applications. But this was not the case with Jude or Johnny.

He caught a glimpse of Jude being led into the bustling exam room. His first instinct was to run after her, but Val took hold of his elbow. "Let 'em check her, Tim." She was glancing over heads, looking for Missy. "I imagine Missy's worried. I wasn't able ta call her."

"I'm certain she's busy." Timothy chewed his lip. He was worried, too.

"Did Johnny seem okay? When ya found him?"

Honestly, no. But Timothy was certainly not a physician, and he was not going to add to Val's concern. "I believe he was exhausted."

"Was he conscious, Tim?"

"In and out."

"Fuck." She ran a hand through her hair. "Johnny's heart is already bad. He can't take much of this."

"Jude was with him. She was trying to help him stand."

"Judy loves him like a dad." Val was still looking about. "She'd be devastated if anything happened to him."

"He'll be fine, Val." He touched her shoulder. "After all, he'll have Missy to care for him."

Valerie looked at him. Smiled through her fear. "Tim. Can we...can we hug?"

For some reason, laughter bubbled in his chest. Was he that awkward? He slid an arm around the shorter woman, pulled her close. "I may not smell my best."

Val was less shy in her approach. Squeezed him tightly around the waist. "Yeah. You smell kind of like a wood stove."

"I feel like I was in a wood stove."

Laughter bubbled in Val, too. It was a reaction to the stress, he knew. A sort of vent for emotions that lacked any other vehicle. But it felt good, and they laughed until they cried, just hugging in the middle of madness.

"Val! Baby!" Missy had spotted her lover and rushed toward her. "God, I was so scared." Timothy surrendered his hug to Missy. "Are you okay, darlin'?" Missy studied Val closely, looking for damage.

"I'm fine." Val shrugged off the concern. "How's Johnny? How's Judy? Have you seen 'em?"

Missy's forehead creased. "Johnny...was conscious when he came in. He asked about Judy. And he asked for a piece of paper and a pen. But now he's...in a coma." Val gasped, but Missy quickly reassured her. "That's good though, honey! It's just his body healing itself. We put him on a respirator to clear his lungs and help him breathe. He'll be fine. It just takes some time." She looked at Timothy. "I hear you and Judy were the heroes of the night. Pullin' John out like that. It was real brave."

"Have you seen her? Jude?" He ignored the hero comment. He still didn't feel like much of one.

"C'mere." Missy gestured. "I'll take ya'll to her." They followed Missy through the now thinning throng. "We're gonna keep her for a while. Just ta make sure she doesn't have any complications from smoke inhalation. She's on oxygen right now. Stubborn ass..." In a quieter part of the hospital, she pushed open a thick wooden door.

"Jude!" He rushed to the bed, pushing past Missy and Val, and Jude stood to meet him.

"Timothy." Her voice was raspy. Injured. She threw her arms around him. The oxygen mask tumbled to the floor and Missy retrieved it.

"Judy. I know you're happy to see each other and all, but you gotta wear this, sweetie." Missy's bedside manner was firm but kind. Timothy was pleased to see Jude smile at her. "And none of this arguin,' kay? Here. Sit down, now." She helped settle Jude on the bed again, fitting the mask once more.

Jude rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Missy. I told ya. Val, don't I look fine?" She adjusted her simple cotton hospital gown and robe.

Val chuckled, sitting on the edge of her bed. "No doubt you're fine, Judy. But they gotta be sure yer lungs are good ta go."

"I want a cigarette."

Missy handed her a plastic cup. "Well, for now, you're gettin' this water and this pill. For yer throat. It'll make ya sleepy." She watched Jude grudgingly swallow the pill. "And that's good. Cuz that means you'll shut the hell up."

"The nurses here are sadists." Jude looked at Timothy. "Get me out."

He sat, as well. "We shall stay, I think." Patted her hand. "Until you have a clean bill of health."

Jude handed the cup back to Missy. "Thank you." When Missy reached for it, Jude caught hold of her hand. "For everything, Missy. Thank you."

"Yep. That medicine's workin' already." Missy chuckled, then sobered. "Judy...I'm sorry."

"Shut up." Jude waved off any apologies. "Bring me more of those pills that make me like people."

Missy poked Timothy's shoulder. "That's yours." She pointed at Judy. He nodded. "You can stay here with her, if you like. I gotta go make my rounds. I'll come back when she's released. Bring all the papers. Ya'll should get some rest while you can."

Val left with Missy, bidding her friends good-night. In the dim quiet, Timothy sighed deeply. He felt like it was the first real breath he'd taken in hours. Jude reached for his hand. "Hey." She shook his fingers. "You okay?" The mask muffled her words.

That laughter returned. Timothy rubbed his face roughly. "I'm fine, Jude. You..." He looked at her askance. "I was so afraid."

"You came far me." She tugged the hand she held, encouraging him to settle beside her on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her.

"Of course I came for you." He kicked his shoes over the edge of the bed.

"Ya know? When I heard yar voice, when I saw yar face, I knew that we would be okay. I knew you'd get us out of there - me and Johnny. It's like I already thought of you as my savior."

"Hardly a savior."

"Then why? Why would you run into a burning building and -"

"I love you, Jude."

She quieted. Didn't reply. A ticking could be heard from the little clock by the window. Suddenly, she gathered the blanket up over her legs, over him. "I'm tired." She adjusted the mask on her face. Let him pull her to his chest.

"Sleep." He instructed.

She did. And after a few minutes listening to her breathe clearly and deeply, he slept, too.