Chapter 2

Alexander struggled up from the dark floating surrender of sweet unconsciousness. Images flashed through his mind as he fought back the sirens call to simply continue floating in the comforting black nothingness.

Stumbling down the embankment.

The feeling of helplessness.

Stones biting into his knees as he wrestled with the unyielding door.

Finally pulling forth the strength.

The taught pull of muscle against steel.

A whispered "Jenabel ... save Jenabel."

Hands deeply gouged by glass and metal.

Flashes of emerald green shrouded by ebony silk marred crimson...

Alexander jerked awake. His body tightening on reflex, bringing forth a moan of pain as the battering his body took began to register. So overwhelming was it that his vision narrowed, unconsciousness offering sweet solace from the pain but Alexander would have none of that.

"Where the hell am I?" Alexander asked the empty room in a hoarse voice.

Grabbing the small water pitcher by the bed he drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his throat and bringing him one step closer to full awareness.

He remembered the road, the skid marks, the overturned Suburban. Knew that he had gotten the man out, went back for Jenabel. Looking down at his hands, he was surprised to see that while still livid and painful, the deep scores from the twisted metal and glass were well on there way to being healed.

Alexander stood on unsteady legs, his back alternating between sharp pains and dull aches as he rose and stretched. The hospital gown only covered to mid thigh because of his tall frame, the back open to the air. He could feel the pull of a few large bandages across his wide shoulders.

The room was standard hospital issue, if a little small by military standards which surprised him. Anything run by the government was probably smaller than you would find in civilian life. Walking over to the window his knee let it be known that his current actions were not appreciated. Rubbing his sore knee he looked out the window onto the darkened street beyond.

"Must be well after midnight." He noted his voice was still scratchy even speaking softly.

The moon, a few days past full, was low in the western sky. The street was quiet, deep darkness fought against the wavering pool of light under the only street lamp.

'They must have brought me here after the wreck.'

His thoughts were slowly returning to normal, sharpening with each passing moment as his system fought against the remaining sedative in his system.

He felt stiff and grimy. Limping over to the small closet he found his duffel bag neatly stored inside.

Wallet, keys, the smooth stone from the head of the Indus River in Tibet all set together. He palmed the stone for a moment. As always it grounded him, brought him back to the moment he found it on the river bank just before all hell broke lose. Had he not been bending down to pick it up the sniper's bullet would have surely killed him. Since that day it had been on or with him at all times, a personal talisman imbued with a special energy. "I'll need to find a way to wear this." He said to himself with a relieved sigh as he grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making his way into the small bathroom.

The fluorescent light was harsh and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The mirror reflected a pale, wild looking mess. Alexander gave himself a rueful smile. 'Well I've looked worse in the aftermath.' His thoughts didn't dwell on the past; he was more focused on the here and now. Shrugging off the gown he twisted, bringing a grimace to his face as he surveyed his back. Remembering the explosion and covering Jenabel's body with his he worried about the damage. Pulling off the bandages, the tape pulling hard at his skin he prepared for the worst.

As with his hands it was not as bad as he thought. Alexander would have a few more scars as a remembrance of the moment. An especially livid one now traveled up his back diagonally from his left ass cheek to his right shoulder. Alexander couldn't help but chuckle, with this addition his back would now have a virtual twin to the knife scar from the African he had surprised in Malabo. 'He was almost fast enough, ' Alexander thought with a grin as he stepped into the shower.

The hot water felt good, his muscles slowly releasing their tension under the almost unbearable heat from the strong spray. Washing quickly Alexander was feeling better and also feeling restless. His experiences in hospitals had taught him one thing, the less you were there, the better.

Alexander dressed quickly. Pulling his small wad of cash from the lining of his duffel, he divided it in two, leaving half on the bed before returning the remainder to its spot and closing up his bag. It wasn't in him to owe people, he hoped the money would be enough to cover their help but he was loath to stay any longer.

Hefting the duffel over his shoulder he found the corridor empty as he moved quickly and quietly toward the exit sign that glowed welcomingly in the shadowed hallway.

The cool air hit him like a physical blow. The small hospital had been warm; Alexander wasn't ready for the chill held in the deep end of night. Setting his bag down he pulled out his leather jacket. It was a little worse for wear, a few new holes along the back from the broken window. 'It's a lot like me, well worn.' Alexander thought as a smile found his lips upon seeing his Harley in the parking lot.

Amy stirred on the small cot as the low growl of a motorcycle burst to life. Immediately alert she headed out to the small ward, 'it can only be Mr. Dane.' Her thoughts were confirmed when she entered his room, everything was gone aside from a small pile of bills on the pillow. "I better call Mr. Benton," she muttered to herself as she headed for the phone.

"Benton."

It was a weary Carl Benton that answered the phone. Gazing at the clock through bleary eyes, he was surprised to see it was a little after 3 in the morning. It had been a long couple of days since the accident and this was to be his first good nights rest.

Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Carl became increasingly perturbed and worried. Phone calls at this hour rarely brought good news. His wife Sophie looked up at him with sleepy, questioning eyes.

"This better be important." His words were a little harsher than he meant them to be and he saw a glimmering reproach in his wife's eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you Mr. Benton."

Carl recognized Amy's voice and sat up in bed turning on the small bedside light.

"What happened to him Amy?"

Carl knew the only reason she would be calling was if something happened to Mr. Dane.

"He's gone sir, packed up his things, left $400.00 on the bed and headed out on his motorcycle."

Carl shook his head at the news.

"Thanks for calling Amy and don't worry. I'm not surprised he left, I'm sure he'll be fine. Get some rest and I'll talk with Doc in the morning. Oh, and Amy, put the money in an envelope with Mr. Dane's name on it, leave it at the front desk."

Carl hung up the phone and walked to the window. The moon was low in the sky. He looked out into the inky blackness, as if he could search out the young man simply by willing himself to do so.

"What happened?" Sophie was out of bed, stepping lightly across the room to wrap her husband in a warm embrace.

"Mr. Dane woke up, decided to run."

She held him closer, a soft kiss placed on his shoulder.

"He won't go far."

Her tone was soothing and it had the effect it always did.

Turning to his wife, Carl scooped her up in his arms. He always took her breath away, sparked by the passion reflected in his eyes.

Carl pulled her close, losing himself in her soft strength. "Don't worry my love; you'll have your chance to repay the debt you owe."

"You know me too well Sophie, but it's not just that. There's something about him that just doesn't fit. Doc says his wounds are healing fast, he doesn't know what to make of it."

"I had the sheriff run a background check. He's an orphan, raised by nuns in Boston. Did five years in the military, wounded in action, a lot of what he did came up classified. I was there when they brought him in after the crash; he has scars everywhere Sophie. For someone so young it seems he has been through so much, all without a family, without anyone to look after him"

She hushed him with a gentle kiss. She could see the worry on his face, the tightness around his eyes.

"People find Red Lodge for all kinds of reasons my love, you know that. Perhaps this is where he is meant to be. Maybe he was just here to save my heart from the torment of losing you. Either way, life will go on."

Her words relaxed him further, helped him to release the questions swirling around in his head. "You're everything to me Sophie, I don't know what I would do or who I would be without you and everything we have built here."

A smile passed over her lips as she turned in his arms, snuggling back into his warm, strong embrace as she spooned against him, reveling in the simple comfort of being enfolded by him.

"We'll find him with the sunrise, til then rest with me. I have a feeling he won't go far."

Carl agreed with his wife. As he let sleep play at the edges of his consciousness he felt that they had not seen the last of Alexander Dane and that this was a good thing.

Jenabel woke with a start. She had been dreaming but the details of it eluded her. She lay under the covers for a moment, enjoying the sensual feel of the soft body warmed sheets against her skin.

Stretching as she got out of bed Jenabel threw open the curtains to be greeted by an unobstructed view of the mountains. It was another thing she loved about living here. Wherever you looked the mountains were there. Some found them imposing, others who had seen them every day of their lives took little notice. Jenabel always found their solid forms grounding, timeless.

Her parents had given Jenabel her own home in the compound as a graduation gift. It was a bit removed from the rest of the residences that dotted the grounds. Near the back of the compound it provided Jenabel with a good amount of privacy and unhindered views of the mountains she loved.

The memory of the dream troubled her as she stepped into the shower. It irritated her that it was just beyond her reach, that she couldn't recall what had been vivid enough to pull her out of a deep sleep.

The hot water felt good as she languidly soaped her body. She was mostly recovered from the accident. Her arm was still an interesting mixture of blacks and blues and yellows, but the pain had diminished to tolerable levels quickly and had disappeared altogether this morning.

Thoughts of the accident brought her attention back to the one person she hadn't been able to get out of her head these last days.

"Alexander Dane." She spoke the name aloud, enjoying the way it sounded before being lost to the noise of the falling water as soon as she whispered it. But it lingered with her, just as he did.

She had gone to see him the evening it happened. Her arm was in a sling but the pain was already starting to subside when she walked into the dimly lit room to find her father standing by his bed.

"Will he be okay?"

There was a good amount of worry in Jenabel's tone as her father turned to look at her.

Her long ebony hair was wet, hanging limp across her shoulders, the scrubs hiding the young woman's gentle curves. The sling on her arm gave him pause, he knew she would heal but seeing her hurt brought forth a number of emotions, none of them good.

"Yes Jenabel, he'll be fine. His back was torn up from debris thrown out by the explosion, but he will recover."

Jenabel walked to the bedside. The doctor had placed him on his side to give his back time to heal. Her fingers played gently through his dirty blond hair.

"He saved us daddy. Who is he? I don't recognize him?"

Carl wrapped his daughter in a protective hug as he ushered her out of Alexander's room.

In the hallway they sat and Carl told her what he had learned.

"His name is Alexander Dane. He was in the military for about five years, was wounded and discharged. He's twenty-three, an orphan and as far as I can tell has just been roaming for the past six months since his discharge."

What Carl didn't tell her was that most of his military records were sealed and marked classified. Or that he had several different addresses since he was discharged.

The young man was an enigma. His wounds were healing fast but there was no simple explanation for it. And his leg, the pins that held it together. The doctor had told Carl that the man must be in varying degrees of constant pain from the injury. It didn't make sense that he would heal fast from one type of injury but not another. He kept his questions to himself as he looked at his daughter, the pressure of the day clear on her face.

"Come on, let's get you home, Mr. Dane isn't going anywhere soon and before he does we'll both have the opportunity to thank him properly."

Carl coaxed his daughter away from the man's hospital room door and out to his waiting truck where Jenabel's mother quickly took charge of her youngest daughter.

She had been back to the hospital early the next morning, Alexander still hadn't awoken.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?"

Doc Reasnor reviewed the chart for a moment before answering.

"It's normal in cases like this Jenabel. He expended a huge amount of energy getting you and your father out of the wreck and up the embankment and then sustained a fair amount of injuries. While they are not life threatening the combination could keep him asleep for a day or two."

The doctor had already talked with Carl that morning and given him an update. He was a bit surprised when Jenabel had showed up not fifteen minutes later.

"I'll sit with him if you don't mind." There was very little question in her tone and that made the old doctor grin.

"That's fine Jenabel. You give a yell if you need anything."

Alone with the sleeping man in the light of day she could get a better sense of who her savior was. Her father had given Jenabel the file her uncle, the police chief, had given him. She looked through it while she sat by his bedside, but there was nothing more than what her father had told her the night before.

'What must it be like to grow up without a family.' she thought to herself. She had no frame of reference, the very idea of her family not being there for her caused a shudder to crawl up her spine.

Standing next to the bed her fingers were drawn to his hair. Straight and dirty blond it looked scoured, like the windward side of one of the mountains. His size made the comparison that much more apt.

Light eye brows under a strong forehead.

High, proud cheek bones.

A lean aquiline nose.

Perfectly proportioned lips.

His chin like granite with a small dimple in the middle.

His body was covered by a light blanket. Jenabel fought off the desire to lift it, to continue her perusal of her knight in shinning armor.

She reached for the small pitcher next to the bedside and pulled out a small sliver of ice. His lips looked dry and cracked.

She played the ice gently over his lips, smiling as the moisture lingered on them, soaked in and brought out their warmer more vivid color. He shifted under the blanket, his lips parting just a little as he sought out the moisture. As she ran the ice over his lips, a few drops slowly going down his throat her other hand moved to his hair. Moving it softly away from his eyes, she saw the fresh scar near his hair line. It was long, about three inches, but looked days old, not hours.

"Good morning pumpkin."

Her father's voice startled her. She pulled her hands away and the ice cube dropped to the floor.

"Any signs of life from our mysterious friend yet?" The question was asked with a good amount of humor. It was rare that Jenabel was startled by anyone.

"Not yet." Her response was terse as she turned back to Alexander.

Carl smiled at his youngest, knowing that this young man could be in for a good measure of trouble if he stayed in town. Jenabel was not one to be denied and he recognized the feral look in his daughter's eye when he had startled her.

His recognition of what she was feeling gave him pause. Mr. Dane was an outsider. There could be serious complications if Jenabel felt the pull to be with him. He shook off his momentary concern, knowing it was pointless to worry about what might never happen.

"His motorcycle just got here." The keys only dangled in his fingers a moment before Jenabel had snatched them up on her way out the door.

Her arm was still aching from the previous day's incident so she grudgingly accepted her fathers help as they brought Alexander's things inside.

"He doesn't have much." Jenabel's tone was sad, as if she couldn't understand how someone could have so very little to call their own.

'How could someone's whole life be contained in one duffel and a saddle bag?' Her thoughts were confused by the reality that the man lying in the bed, who had put himself in harms way selflessly just yesterday, had so little for himself. His was obviously a kind and giving spirit. How could such a man have nothing or no one to call his own.

Carl watched his daughters internal questioning as it passed over her features, her brow knotting at the reality of someone having so little.

"Lots of people have less Jenabel, you know that. You've seen for yourself the depth of need many people live with." Carl knew that his daughter had not just done the touristy things on her many trips abroad. She had a thirst to seek out the truth and that often led her to the darker places of the cities and countries she had visited.

Carl understood that his daughter was feeling this young man's perceived lack as a personal problem rather than an overriding social issue. It brought a small smile to his face, wondering how long it would take her to understand what she was feeling. He was torn between being happy that, after so many years focused on the family she may finally have a chance to find someone for herself, but worried by what the ramifications could be.

Alexander was an outsider, very different from Jenabel in much deeper ways than simply being an orphan. Carl knew if this was a mere infatuation, a dalliance, then the issues would be minor, if not then..."

"I'm going over to the mine for a few hours; call me if he wakes up." Carl hugged Jenabel lightly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving her alone with the unconscious man.

Jenabel lasted a whole ten minutes before her burning curiosity won the internal moral struggle against just taking a small peek at his things.

"He looks so ... sad..." Jenabel whispered to the quiet room as she pulled out his driver's license.

His hair was much shorter and he was paler in the picture than he was now. His eyes captured her. Even in the small picture they were a mesmerizing deep azure blue, the color of the ocean far beyond the sight of shore, holding a depth of mystery that seemingly none could comprehend.

Jenabel's finger slipped lightly over his picture once before moving on to the other items. There was not much, a few dollars, his military ID. In that photo the uniform gave him a dashing look, it didn't seem to reflect who he really was.

"That's a strange thought, how would I have any idea who he really was?" Her question echoed in the room as she carefully placed the contents of the wallet back as she had found them and moved on to the saddle bags.

She was surprised to find several books, all classics: The Odyssey, The Iliad, Plato's Republic.

'Interesting choices for a military man.'

Her thoughts were drawn once again to how little there was. Aside from the books there was one of the tiny mp3 players. She resisted the impulse to play some to see what music he enjoyed. On the other side were a few small tools, a towel, toothbrush and paste, nothing surprising or shocking.

She was about to move on to his duffel when he shifted behind her giving a small moan before settling back into sleep.

She was startled so badly that she hastily put everything back where it went, putting his wallet and keys on top of his two bags. She lingered over the smooth stone. It stood out with the books as something meaningful to him. She rubbed it between her palms, feeling her own warmth transmitted to the once cool stone. She lost herself in this tactile connection with something important to the man that lay helpless in the bed before her.