Here we are again.

The infirmary took form around Jim as he ascended back into consciousness. The familiar smell of aged wood and rusting metal filled his senses. As he opened his eyes, the same room he had found himself in twice before took form.

This time though, something was off. The entire space was slanted downward. Even his bed was at an angle. He could feel extra weight on his right side. Black smoke stains tinted the walls around him and, a pile of unused gurneys lay in a jumble at the low end of the cramped space.

“You’re awake.” The soft voice was a breath of fresh air in a room of burnt disaster. Jim rubbed his eyes and turned toward the sound. Next to his bed, Alia, no, Captain Rychist once again, was sitting in a rusted metal chair.

Oh yeah. Now I remember, he thought as the past few days replayed in his mind’s eye. The explosion, the forest, the Ll’tal, and the grounded Liberator.

“Jim, how do you feel?” the captain asked in an unusually subdued voice.

Jim slowly sat up. When no dizziness came, he ran his hands across most of his body, poking and prodding for injury. “I think I’m ok, Ali - captain,” came his groggy reply.

The captain shook her head. “No, Jim. I’m not captain to you. You can call me Alia.” The same sideways smile he’d seen in better days crept across her lips as she added, “Well, at least away from the crew you can. Pulling that witch from my mind… you’ve earned the right to call me a friend.”

Her smile ended at her eyes. Seeing they were red, Jim asked, “Alia… have you been crying? What’s going on?” His heart broke to see her this way. This was another side of her he’d only seen once.

New tears formed, but Alia kept her composure as she whispered, “Doctor Hanson… Benjamin is dead. He died in his sleep last night. I… I didn’t get to say goodbye.” She stood up and moved quickly to the far side of the room.

Alia hid her face as she leaned against the bowed bulkhead. He couldn’t see, but he was pretty sure she was indeed crying. He knew the right thing to do would be to comfort her, but instead, he sat there, unsure of the boundaries of their relationship. He felt foolish as she cried alone.

He’d only known the doctor a short time, but the news was painful for him as well. After hearing of the stodgy old man’s deep rooted compassion, Jim had gained an entirely new level of respect for him. In his own way, Doctor Benjamin Hanson was a kind hearted man, even if he hid it carefully behind a stone cut mood.

Jim sat, legs swinging nervously over the side of his cot, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he gave it his best effort, “I’m so sorry, Alia. The doctor was a good man. He wasn’t… you can’t blame yourself for this”

Alia straightened up from her lamenting and turned to Jim. Her face was red. Her sorrow was giving way to anger.

Even when I don’t mean to, I piss her off, he thought as he prepared for the onslaught.

She started at a whisper, her voice slowly rising through gritted teeth, “Blame myself? Blame myself?! Oh no, Jim. I don’t blame myself.” Her eyes were wide with rage. “I blame that blood sucking, subhuman, succubus bitch sitting safe on her throne at Golden Spire.”

Relief washed over him, but he dared not interrupt her rant as she continued, “For nearly a thousand years, she’s poisoned this land. She abducts children, husbands, wives, siblings, and all to terrorize us and keep us under her heel.”

She took a breath and turned to him, adding, “Jim, fifty years ago, one man stood up to her. One man had the willpower to resist her. Against all odds, he broke the control she held over his soul, escaped her clutches, and became the first captain of this ship.”

Jim interrupted, hoping her fury would remain directed at the Prophetess and not himself, “Wait. The first captain?”

Alia nodded, “Yes. Henry and I were the first ones he freed. But, Benjamin was always the idealist. The Liberator was a beacon of freedom. His beacon.”

Alia sighed. As she collapsed back into her chair, she looked older. “You see,” she noted, gesturing around the room, “he formed this crew for one simple purpose - to free awakened slaves from her grasp and ensure they could live in at least a semblance of normality.”

Jim leaned in. He’d attempted to ask her age before and failed. “Umm so, about the ‘fifty years ago’ thing. You said, you were there.”

Alia sighed and crossed her arms. “I’m seventy three years old, Jim. That’s what you were going to ask, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled and nodded, adding, “Yeah, I’m not very good at subtle hints though, I must say, you don’t look a day over seventy.” They shared a laugh, and Alia punched him in the arm. It was a brief pleasant distraction from the sorrow that hung in the air.

She wiped away a wet line from her scarred cheek and added, “When Benjamin and I first met, we were both in our early twenties. However, as a prime of fire, I age much slower than the average awakened. An awakened individual can live over a hundred and fifty years. But, a prime can live, well, I’ve heard two hundred, three hundred years, maybe more.”

Jim tried to change the subject, “So, now that you have your ship back, what’s our next move?” It seemed prudent to take her mind off of mourning. Experience had taught him that tasks always provided the best distractions from dwelling on one’s sorrows.

Alia sat quietly for a moment before rising from her chair. Looking toward the port door of the room, she replied, “First, we bury one of the greatest men I ever knew, then, we gather the crew and make our way on foot to Freeport.”

“To what end?” Jim asked.

With determination, she replied, “We’re going to buy a new boiler and furnace to fix this old bucket. Then… we start planning our revenge.”

***

Vachir was floating. No… he was flying through the blank limbo of Specialist Hartzell’s mind. For a short time, it seemed he would be stuck in this place forever.

Finally, Hartzell’s voice pierced the silence, “Welcome to my memories, general. I’m not entirely sure how this works, but I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of the areas not concerning our immediate situation.”

Vachir nodded. He was as unwilling to dig through Hartzell’s private memories as the specialist was to share them.

The soldier’s voice echoed down an unseen hallway, “Here we go, uh, I think.”

There was no transition or whoosh of wind. He was just suddenly there. It felt as if someone had dropped him from a meter up as he landed on his rear with a thud.

Looking down, Vachir could see the head of a gamal bobbing around as it carried him down a long pathway. The long haired creature was a common method of transportation for those without landships. It was most often used when traversing mountains, hills, and other terrain unfriendly to floating vessels.

Vachir attempted to look left and right, but the image was fixed. In fact, he couldn’t move at all. It was as if he was watching the event unfold personally but was only an observer. Yet, he felt, smelled, and saw everything that was happening.

Hartzell’s voice was much louder now, “I’m new to this whole sharing of memories thing, but I think you and I both are just along for the ride.”

Ahead of him, other gamals plodded along the steep trail. Their large hair covered bodies twitched in sync with their bushy tails as flies continually assaulted them. To his left was a canyon wall. To his right, a deep chasm.

The rift, he thought to himself. “Yep,” came Hartzell’s reply, “I figured we’d skip to the end. As I said, the journey was pretty boring. I’m talkin a complete snoozer. This is when the interesting stuff happened.”

Below, a layer of clouds… no, fog hung at the bottom of the chasm, blocking their view of anything below. Suddenly, the memory lurched forward. The procession of gamals was still walking down a steep trail, but it was now hard to see more than a few meters ahead. The fog? Vachir questioned, assuming Hartzell could hear his thoughts.

The specialist replied, “Yep. Oh, and here comes the good part. You’ll like this.” As quickly as it had surrounded them, the fog cleared. They had finally dropped below the layer. What Vachir saw next would have taken his breath away if it weren’t just a memory.

The valley below was finally visible. Stretching for miles beyond his vision were rows upon rows of tents. All around, tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of soldiers went about their daily tasks. Drilling, eating, cleaning their weapons, relaxing, and any number of other activities. He couldn’t be sure at a glance, but he took a guess at over fifteen divisions in his field of view, nearly two hundred thousand men stretching down the canyon beyond the horizon. Hartzell’s voice broke in, “Yeah I was thinking about ten to fifteen divisions too.”

“How in the-”

“Shh. Just wait, sir. There’s more.” Vachir shrugged off the man’s lack of discipline in silencing a superior officer. This was his mind after all. No ranks here. The eyes of Hartzell’s memory moved to the right. An entirely new impossibility was presented to him. Set in the walls of the canyon, giant caverns had been carved out. In many, airships in various states of construction swarmed with workers. The sound of pneumatic drills, steam presses, and many other assorted tools of the trade echoed through the giant artificial formations.

In other caverns, hundreds of fighters sat waiting in row upon perfect row. Many of them were familiar to him. Firebugs, Dragonflies, Wasps, but others were of makes he had never seen before. The most disturbing part was that he couldn’t see where the troops and caverns ended. Both disappeared far into the distant fog.

“That’s not the worst of it, sir. Watch this.” Instantly, the scene changed. Now, Vachir was off his gamal and holding a pole. Actually, it was Hartzell in disguise, but Vachir could feel every sensation as if they belonged to him.

Vachir’s pole wove its way through two large brass rings connected to an enormous metal box. Its deep blue and black were clearly stamped with the sun shaped symbol of the Federation and it was secured with a complicated brass gear and steel lock.

At the other end of his pole, a priest quietly groaned under the shared weight of the tribute box. To his left, two more priests held a second pole. The procession made their way inside a dark cavern, grunting under the weight of their heavy load.

As they entered into the shaded interior, it took Vachir’s, or rather, Hartzell’s eyes a moment to adjust. Blinking away temporary light blindness, he spotted an airship docked at the far end of the cavern. The size of it was staggering.

It must have been at least two hundred meters long and nearly as wide. Half inflated bags protruded from every direction above the ship. Unlike the usual long sleek canvas over frame that he had seen in other airships, this one seemed to sprout dozens of enormous round canvas balloons held down by rope netting. It looked to him like a giant silver and wood creature immobilized by hundreds of tumors on its back.

An eerily familiar voice spoke from outside of Vachir’s vision, “Oh good. Our friend in Parliament has come through again. Just a few more like it should be all we need.”

Finally, the procession set their large load down. Vachir could feel himself bowing slightly and backing away slowly from the container with the other priests. So far, he… or rather, Hartzell had gone unnoticed. You played your part well, specialist, Vachir thought.

“Thanks,” came a whispered reply from inside his head. He’d again forgotten that the specialist could hear his thoughts.

Hartzell, and by extension, Vachir looked up just enough to see the conversation taking place. He wasn’t too surprised when he saw the first man. The eerie duet of voices was none other than Lord Scieth’s.

The man before him was taller than the Scieth he had spoken to in the vault, but there was no mistaking, it was the same dark soul. Implanted in another awakened slave no doubt, or perhaps the genuine article.

A second man, partially blocked from view by Lord Scieth, replied, “The Prophetess is generous. With the amount of crystal we’ve already stockpiled, we’ll float the largest air armada in history. Finally, the Federation will fall and we can have unity again.”

“Your obligations do not end there. Don’t forget your government's promises to Her Majesty,” Scieth replied. The two started to walk out of range of the spy’s hearing as they continued their conversation.

Just as they were turning a corner, Vachir - through Hartzell, spotted the typical Warlord Alliance red armband on the stranger’s right arm.

Suddenly, the memory was gone. Vachir was back in the forest. The sound of crickets and popping fire replaced those of shouting soldiers, machines, and battle drills.

He was going to be sick.

“By the gods,” he gasped, holding back a wave of dizziness, “The Holy Land and The Alliance have joined forces…”

Mason spoke up from across the fire, “Yes, sir, and it looks like our great nation is meant to be wiped from the map.”

***

Henry sat in the same chair Jim had seen him bound to the day before. The setting was very much different though. The clockwork man was no longer a prisoner. Instead, hundreds of chain links lay scattered about the floor. Against the far wall, a small pile of shattered glass was all that remained of the lone gaslamp that had adorned the wall.

Jim and Alia stepped gingerly through the door. Both of them shuffled their feet through a pile of chain. From his corner, Henry was glowing blue again. Although, it was faded, almost snuffed out.

If bright means happy, Jim thought, I’m guessing he’s either extremely depressed or pissed off.

Alia seemed unwilling to start the conversation, so Jim gave it his best effort, “Hey, Henry. How are you feeling, bud?” Silence. Trying again, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? I’m not sure what a clockwork man needs when he’s feeling down. For me, a hot cup of fire grain tea usually cures anything.”

Henry shifted slightly. His voice was a whisper. “You can kill me.” Although the Prophetess had been purged from his mind, both Jim and Alia glanced at each other warily. Henry’s tone of voice carried a touch of anger.

Seeing their silent shared expressions, Henry replied, “That wasn’t the Prophetess talking. It was me. I want you to kill me.”

Alia replied, “Henry, why would we do that? You’re our friend. I hope you’re not beating yourself up about what happened…”

“What happened?! What...” Henry stood up from his seat. Jim had to will himself not to step back. He’d seen what his clockwork friend was capable of and hoped that the Prophetess had truly been purged from his soul. Henry continued, “What happened was the Prophetess took control of my mind. I tried to resist, but I was powerless..”

Henry began to roll around the room as he performed a clockwork man’s equivalent of pacing. His ball crunched glass and bounced over chain links. After a few moments, he stopped.

Turning to the pair, his shoulders slumped as he finished, “I killed members of our crew, our family. Those were friends of mine. What's more, I set an explosive that nearly destroyed our ship and cost even more lives. Worst of all,” Henry began to shake. Jim suspected he was crying… or whatever clockwork men do instead of crying.

Henry collected himself and added, “Worst of all. I nearly killed my captain.” Alia finally made her way over to Henry and placed a hand on his metallic shoulder. He turned away in shame.

She spoke gently, “First of all, you did none of those things, and you can’t think otherwise. Remember, she overwhelmed me too. It only took a brief moment, but when you touched me, I was instantly powerless. I’m supposed to be a prime of fire. Didn’t help me, did it?”

Turning and smiling at Jim, she added, “Besides, Jim here freed us both, for good, if you ask me. Neither of us has to worry about her twisted control again.” Nodding at Jim, she said warmly, “I forgot to say it, but, thank you. Truly.”

Henry’s mood remained dark as he replied, “Yes, thank you indeed, Jim. But, it doesn’t change the fact that I nearly killed you, captain.”

Alia chuckled, “Oh Henry. You do have a flare for the dramatic. I’m fine. You didn’t scratch me.”

Uh oh.

Confused, Henry turned to Jim and asked, “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

“Umm. No need, Henry.”

“You nearly died. He healed you at the brink of death.”

“He what!?”

“Oh gods, captain… the screams. I’ve never seen a man in such pain.”

Here we go, Jim thought.

“Dammit, Jim! What the hell is the matter with you!? Again? Have you lost your mind? Stop saving me!”

Suddenly, Alia stormed out of the room. The sound of her boots echoed rapidly down the hall as she made her escape.

Henry scratched his head. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. He turned to Jim, “What was that about? ‘Stop saving me?’”

Jim sighed, “It’s a long story, Henry. I’m sure you’ll hear it from one of us eventually.”

Jim took a seat and inquired, “Back to you though. I have a question before you go killing yourself.”

Henry grunted. Jim was sure he had stifled a laugh. He nodded and replied, “Ask away.”

Jim leaned in toward his friend and commented, “When I was in your mind… or maybe it was my mind.. Or… you know what, whatever. It was somewhere - I saw two people chained up. One was Alia. The other was a man I had never seen before.”

Henry’s shade of light finally intensified. “Yes! That man was me, Jim! It only proves my theory that ether cubes are not just inanimate sources of energy. They are containers carrying the souls of people from long long ago. I must have been one of those people.”

Jim was intrigued. “Enlighten me.”

Henry was happy to oblige. With each sentence, his sour mood sweetened. “I’ve long held a theory that ether cubes are actually containers for the souls of men and women who were entombed within them, long ago.”

“And how did you develop this theory?” Jim asked.

Henry pounded his metal chassis with a clang. “When I was a slave of the Prophetess, back in the early days, I saw the process countless times. Her engineers would build a clockwork man or doors, drills, and any number of machines reliant on gears. When construction completed, they would insert an ether cube and BAM, life.”

He continued, “Of course, a door can’t talk and neither can a fighter or other ether powered machinery but, how is it every time a cube was inserted into a clockwork man, they behaved as a human would?”

Jim shrugged. “I never considered it. I mean, until I met you, I half assumed clockwork men were just old stories, meant to entertain children. Blue ether cubes and clockwork technology has been outlawed for centuries, in all empires.”

Henry nodded as he made his way back to his seat. “Yes and, as far as I know, that witch possesses every blue ether cube in existence. But, there’s no ban on yellow and red cubes.”

Yellow cubes were three times larger than the blue ones that powered illegal clockwork technology like Henry. Their trade was common throughout Ruin and their seemingly unlimited power was coveted for fighters, automated turnguns, mining machines, and any number of mid sized machinery.

When inserted into a machine with gears, the device simply worked. Nobody understood the science behind it. Many had tried though. Rumor was, scientists in the isolated empire of the Protectorate had known since the beginning of recorded history but, as total isolationists, they’d opted not to share their findings.

Red cubes though, were highly rare. Measuring over seven meters cubed, they were reserved for only the largest machines. Namely, Float Trains. The impressive machines floated above the ground, much like landships, on pushstones. Unlike landships however, Red Cubes provided power to the stones, augmenting their strength and allowing forward motion without the help of the wind.

“If I could just get my hands on a single blue cube and clockwork man chassis, I could prove it!” Henry exclaimed. Suddenly, he realized his change of mood and tried to retreat back into depression.

Jim laughed at his friend. “Please, Henry. Stop beating yourself up. Foul moods just don’t work for you.”

Henry sighed. “I’ll have to live with what I did for the rest of my life, even if I had no control. Helpless or not, I was used as an instrument of the Prophetess’ will. Now, I’ll be the instrument of her destruction.”

Jim gave Henry his own attempt at a slap on the back. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, I think I better go have a conversation with the captain. She has a strange aversion to being helped.”

Henry rolled to a far corner of the room and grabbed a frayed broom. “I’m going to stick around and clean up this mess.” Saluting Jim with the old broom, he added, “And I hope you make it out of there alive, my friend. Her temper is legend around here.”

Don’t I know it.

***

Knock knock knock.

There was no turning back now.

“What?” came a voice from inside.

He took a deep breath and replied, “It’s me.”

There was a long pause. He’d nearly turned to go when the voice finally replied, “Come in.” Half expecting an object to be thrown at him the moment he entered, Jim opened the door and slipped in quickly before closing the hatch behind himself.

The familiar sight of the captain’s quarters greeted him. Unlike the first time however, the curtains were drawn in and the room was in disarray. It looked as if her room was not spared the chaos of battle during their botched raid.

Jim turned to see the same antiquated desk. While the room was a mess, the desk remained, resolute in the same exact place it had been before. Alia Rychist sat behind it. Her eyes were again red and puffy as if she had been crying.

A familiar gold watch glinted from its resting position on top of the old wood. The fading light filtering through the curtains cast pleasant golden reflections upon the lacquer.

Jim took a seat across from her and tried to stare off in another direction. Silence hung in the room. Far too long for even his comfort. Finally, he attempted to break the ice. Pointing at the pocket watch, he inquired, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, where did you get that watch?”

Alia shifted in her seat and stared at the watch with a sorrowful gaze. New tears began to well up as she replied, “It was a gift… from Benjamin.”

Jim deflated. “Ugh, I’m sorry Alia. I didn’t know.”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Alia replied. She picked it up and stared at is as the watch twirled at the end of its golden chain. Her gaze remained on the gift as she asked, “Would you like to know the story of this watch?”

Jim replied, carefully, “If that’s ok... sure.”

“Benjamin and I were in the same breeding cell,” Alia began, nonchalantly.

“Whoa! What?” Jim interrupted, “the same breeding cell?”

Jim was cut short by an annoyed glance “Can I finish?”

“Yeah, sorry. Continue,” he replied sheepishly.

“The Prophetess isn’t just rounding up all awakened to keep them under her control. She has much more sinister plans. She’s been attempting to breed hybrids,” Alia began with disgust in her voice.

Seeing the question in his eyes, she added, “She’s been attempting, for hundreds of years in fact, to breed awakened of different elements in order to make a hybrid; one who could wield the power of both parents.”

“She would breed two awakened of different elements together and await the results. Every time, when a breeder was confirmed to be pregnant, an awakened of air would scan them. It was the same for every breeder every time. Either the fetus would have no awakened potential at all, or it would possess the spark of a single element.”

Jim chanced an interruption. “And what would happen if a child was not awakened?”

Alia turned away from him and replied, “If the child showed no awakened potential, they would be aborted immediately. If they did, the priests would allow it to be born and then cart the infant off to some unknown place.”

Jim shook his head, “That’s… despicable. To use people as… livestock. To breed them.”

Alia nodded, “Yes. One of the many atrocities that wicked woman is capable of.”

“So, where did the Doctor… Benjamin come into all of this?” Jim asked, although he was beginning to see where the story was going.

Alia paused, considering how to answer before continuing, “To put it bluntly, Benjamin was next in line to… mate with me. As an awakened of earth, he was extremely rare. I never met the Prophetess of course. She always worked through her slaves, but I think she figured an awakened of earth and a prime of fire were about as rare as it got. If she bred us, perhaps she could finally produce a hybrid.”

Jim waited for her to continue. “Of course, she never got a chance to try,” Alia added with a hint of satisfaction. “Little did she and her slaves know, Benjamin had broken her control of his mind and was able to free me as well. We escaped the breeding cells, met up with Henry, who I found out later that Benjamin had freed a few days before, and escaped on The Liberator.”

Jim shifted again in his seat. Motioning, he asked, “Incredible, but what does this watch have to do with it all?”

Alia continued, “When an awakened or awakened potential is captured, they give up all worldly possessions, unwillingly, usually. The watch belonged to his grandfather. Somehow, he was able to keep it hidden from her priests, even while his mind belonged to her.”

Alia opened the watch to reveal a small sepia picture of a young boy and a much older graying man. The old man looked much like Benjamin Hanson.

Handing it to Jim she said, “That’s a picture of Benjamin and his grandfather. He gave it to me as a gift shortly after our escape. He jokingly called it a ‘dowry.’ I’ll spare you another long story, but after our escape, I eventually developed an infatuation with him. Remember, at that time, we were physically similar ages. One day, when I made my move, I discovered, much to my embarrassment, that he wasn’t attracted to me… at all.”

“Well then, I think he may have been a bit crazy”, Jim replied with his best attempt at being funny.

Alia laughed, much to his relief, and replied, “well, turns out, he uhh… well, he plays for a different team.”

Jim puzzled over her statement for a few moments before it clicked, “Ahh. Gotcha. Well, that would put a damper on any wedding plans. Funny, I never suspected.”

Alia shrugged and added, “Benjamin was always a private man. Though he had no romantic interests concerning me, he and I became fond of one another on a different, arguably much deeper level.”

Taking the watch from him and tucking it carefully into a desk drawer, she concluded, “He gave me that watch, his one worldly possession as a gift. Although I could never have his heart, I had what little remained of his previous life.”

Alia gingerly set the watch back down and turned to Jim. “That leaves one thing to discuss. You and I,” she noted. Jim was unsure where the conversation was going. He was apprehensive, excited, and mortified all in the same moment.

“Jim,” she began, “You and I… will never work.”

The wind was out of his sails.

Doing his best to play the fool, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Alia sighed and turned away. “I’m… damaged,” came her reply. She stood up from her chair and pace around the room slowly, unwilling to look at him.

“During my time in the breeder cells, I carried over a dozen children. Every time, a new subject would be brought in. They would rape me, leave me alone in a dark room for weeks at a time, and then send an air awakened in to scan me. Each time, they would determine the child to be was simply human and quickly abort it.”

She continued, “After each abortion, it became more and more difficult to impregnate me. The… sessions, were frequent and the results always the same.” She turned to Jim, adding, “The Prophetess had control of my mind, but somewhere deep beneath the control, I was trapped, crying out. It was terrible.”

She buried her head in her hands and added, “It was like being a third party observer in my own horror story. Until Benjamin came along, I was sure I’d die there. I have nightmares about it to this day. All those children lost to her evil ambitions.”

Jim wanted badly to comfort her. He replied quietly, “I’m so sorry, Alia. I wish there was something I-”

Alia slammed an open palm on the desk and growled through grit teeth, “I don’t want your damned pity. I just want you to leave me the hell alone! I’m stronger for it, better. I may never be able to have children, but I sure as hell am no weak ass damsel in distress. If those days taught me anything, it was how to be strong. I don’t need you or any other person to swoop in and save me, so please,” she paused for a moment, “just stop trying. I don’t need it.”

She walked to the far end of the room and stared through the fogged glass at the forest floor below. He had always been careful to keep his walls up, but Jim took a chance. One last chance.

Jim made his way over to her. Carefully, he placed one hand on her shoulder. Finally, he spoke, “Alia, I’ve always been bad when it comes to… matters of the heart, but I know this. I’ve never seen you as helpless or someone who is in need of rescue. I mean, you intimidate the hell out of me most of the time.”

Alia continued to stare out the window. Jim took a shaky breath and continued, “Truth is, I can’t help it. I love you.”

She turned, only inches from his face and asked, “But why?”

Smiling, Jim replied, “I haven’t the slightest clue. It’s not like you’ve earned it.”

They both laughed.

Jim continued softly, “Alia, I don’t care that you can’t have children, and my past isn’t exactly lovely either. I just know that, for reasons beyond my understanding, I love you.”

He paused for a moment and then added with a smile, “You know what, I think I figured it out! I have an unhealthy obsession with complicated women.”

Alia laughed again. Even when crying, her smile was beautiful. Collecting herself, she replied, “Complicated my ass. You just have poor choice in women.”

Jim rolled his eyes.

Sighing, she added, “I’m sorry Jim. It’s just… I’ve gotten really good at keeping others distant. It’s kept me safe. I’ve… I’ve operated this way for a long time, decades in fact and, well, it works for me.”

Jim shrugged. “Which tells me, I must also have a thing for older women. Maybe you’re right. There is something wrong with me.” Forgetting her grief for the moment, Alia burst into laughter.

Her smile could undo virtually all flaws as Jim saw it.

Alia turned and say down on the bed. Patting the space next to her she whispered, “Come here then. We have more business to discuss.”

Jim hesitated and replied, “Alia, it wouldn’t be right. After revealing all that to me… it would be taking emotional advantage for me to -”

“Shut up and take off your clothes, Jim,” she commanded with a mischievous grin, as she began to unbutton her shirt.

He didn’t have to be told twice.