Brendon airbrushes the truth, not altering it completely, but transforming it into the image he desires it to wear. – Felicity’s Journal, March 10

I am telling you now that there is one reason that the lines of battle have not been drawn so

far, and I am that reason. But know this, there will be a moment, if I am pressed, when those lines will become hard-edged and clear. At the moment when your white-washed tyranny promises more destruction then I can soothe with my kindness, you will find out how much of my inaction is due to weakness and how much is due to restraint. I advise you to do whatever you can to avoid that time, because I promise you, you’ll not like the outcome of that experiment. – Unsent letter from Felicity to Brendon, April 12

Evening, March 14

“Do you trust me?”

The question came as a complete surprise to Felicity. Certainly, she trusted him for certain things – being a hard worker, being successful, providing for material needs. But trust wasn’t something Felicity had felt for Brendon for many years, not trust with her heart. Not trust with her well-being. Not trust to care about her. The question hung in the air for too long, and Felicity grew more anxious as her mind locked up. In the past couple of days, she trusted him even less than she had for the past few years since the accident.

Fortunately, Brendon seemed too caught up in his plan to notice. When Felicity managed a weak laugh, he took it as agreement.

A few minutes later, the brisk air stung Felicity's cheeks as Brendon led her gingerly away from the airplane. Though he held her waist tightly, Felicity couldn't help but feel unsteady as she plodded aimlessly into the emptiness before her. Fitting, she laughed mirthlessly. The jacket that Brendon had slipped over Felicity's shoulders hung loosely about her, allowing the gentle but frigid breeze to weave under it and chilling the skin on her arms and neck. The blindfold on her eyes blocked out everything but the tiniest slivers of light above and below her eyes.

“Brendon, how much farther are we walking,” Felicity complained. “I'm freezing.”

“Relax,” he crooned, pulling the jacket a little tighter and securing his arms more closely around her.

“This really is ridiculous,” she murmured, hoping Brendon would consider removing her blindfold.

“Just a little farther,” he urged. “Be patient.” Only about a dozen paces later, his arms arrested her movements. The quiet hum of a car motor greeted her heightened sense of hearing. Relieved, she waited patiently while Brendon left her side. He returned a moment later and led her quickly to the waiting car, carefully lowering her into the seat where the warm air caressed her cold-pinched skin.

“Are you okay?” Brendon queried, his tone reassuring rather than solicitous.

“Better now. Warm,” she quipped, snuggling under his arm.

They rode in silence for several minutes until Felicity felt Brendon shift from beside her. The cold left a hollow where his body had warmed her, and he spoke from above her as he spoke in her ear. His heated breath on her neck, he spoke in a low voice, “I have some news. I wasn’t entirely honest about our timeframe.”

“What!” Felicity began to protest, not sure whether to feel relieved or concerned. “Does the company need you back sooner? Did my parents need to send the kids back?” Surprising how being deprived of her vision made her incapable of suppressing her anxiety.

Brendon laughed a loud, wholehearted laugh. “Listen to the words. I wasn’t honest about our timeframe. It’s not shortened. We're staying the full month here. I told Bill I would be here the whole time.”

“A month…?” Felicity trailed off, uncertain of how to feel. “What about your work?”

“I may have to work a little, remotely,” he admitted, “but it shouldn't interfere much with the plans.”

“And the kids?” Felicity persisted.

“They'll be fine! Your mom and dad have all sorts of stuff lined up for them to do. I paid for a week a Creekhouse, and another at the Grand Resort. They'll be so busy, they'll hardly miss you. And I texted Nick once we landed. This gives me time to solidify some plans, to figure out what to do with you up here.”

Though the cost gave Felicity pause, she couldn’t but feel relieved at the benefit to her parents and kids. Brendon still sounded so sincere, so honestly excited. Despite her mounting concerns, she began to catch his enthusiasm, or at least to wish it true.

“Wow, Brendon. I really don't know what to say.”

For Felicity, a month of uninterrupted free time sounded like a lifetime. Brendon had taken a sweet gesture and turned it into a grandiose plan. How like him! Felicity smirked, giving in to amusement. Whenever Brendon planned something, he always went big, turning a struggle into an opportunity, a loss into a gain.

In their home, though, he seemed to run into barriers to his good intentions. He couldn't magically whisk away everyone's problems, as much as he wanted to. His children needed his consistent presence, and Felicity didn't know what she needed; she just didn't want to be alone. Because of the complexity of family issues, Brendon couldn't always find a solution to them. Why couldn't he solve her? Couldn't he just fix her and move on? When he realized that he couldn't rescue her on his white horse, he turned away, back to more approachable dilemmas. She now stood as a constant testimony to his lone failure. Of course, he no doubt blamed her for his inability. Felicity's “problems” ran too deep for an earthly solution, since they stemmed from her very personality. He admitted that everyone failed, and actually had patience for most people, but others' failures didn't reflect on Brendon Miller's worth. Felicity's failures did. And Noah and Alex constantly reminded him of her insufficiency. It was obvious in how frequently he informed his daughter of how much like her mother she was. No doubt, that was not a compliment.

Fortunately for Brendon, few knew of his personal struggles, so he remained the hero for his general acquaintance. Thanks largely to him, ProtoComm stock had worked its way into a premier spot on the S&P, its major stockholders now worth more than the GDP of most small nations. Although Brendon could not initially buy his way into authority as some had, his competence and risk-taking had paid off in continuous promotions. Now an executive vice-president, one of only five, he held authority over billions of dollars of other people's investments. Felicity tried never to think of the fact – her nerves couldn't take it.

Coming from small town America, Brendon possessed both the advantages and disadvantages of being an outsider. Advantages: outside-the-box thinking, practicality, and a certain mystique. Disadvantages: no connections, no nepotism, and a reputation which painted him as a little simplistic. Granted, Brendon's family had held a sort of aristocracy among the people of his small town, and he had learned the superficial trappings of acting the moneyed man, but he held no actual idea of wealth the way his peers did. Others like Brendon, smart and ambitious, had tried to force their way into the upper echelon, but only Brendon had succeeded. Instead of accepting his lack of connections as a disadvantage, Brendon had made it his business to create the right connections. As if he had a sixth sense, Brendon had hand-picked several execs to befriend, and by the end of his second year in the business, he was spending two to three nights a week, smoking cigars with the big six at a fancy steakhouse. Within five years, Brendon had climbed a corporate ladder that most scaled over fifteen. No one saw him coming, and some resented him.

Brendon, though, played chess like a pro, somehow navigating the inner mechanisms of the hierarchy with uncanny intuition. Because Felicity wanted to believe in his goodness, she had seen nothing unethical about his behavior. She now realized it was because it wasn’t exactly unethical. Just utilitarian to the point that he couldn’t care if other people paid for his advancement. Heartless, maybe. But not unethical.

And always enveloped in a miasma of invigorated charm.

Part of her admired his skill, recognized the accomplishment of his achievements, but another part of her saw a less optimal truth: Brendon had evolved, not necessarily to a higher plane, but to a different one. Felicity wanted to follow him – her intelligence would have allowed her to follow him. To do it, though, she would have needed to leave the kids behind like he had. So to protect the innocent, to guard the vulnerable, she had stayed behind, and he had moved away. Brendon only popped into their world on occasion, an act of benevolence that he expected gratitude for. Like everything about him, he did it for himself and the pleasure he received from the accolades.

“Here we are!” Brendon crowed, obviously enthusiastic about their arrival, though Felicity couldn't see his expression through her blindfold.

Felicity inhaled deeply, bracing herself for another Arctic blast. As she heard the door open, however, warm dry air infused itself through the stale atmosphere of the car, bringing with it the homey scents of pine and cedar. She also smelled something spicy. Cinnamon? she mused. After hearing another door open, she felt Brendon raise her up one step and usher her into a place with the most intoxicating mixture of smells. She still sensed cedar and pine, but the cinnamon smelled stronger now, and it blended with cloves, nutmeg, orange, and vanilla. It made her giddy.

“Well, wherever we are, at least it smells good,” Felicity mused.

“Wait till you see it,” Brendon responded, and she could hear his childlike excitement.

Grabbing her waist from behind, he held her with one arm and with his other reached up to fumble with her blindfold.

“You know,” he purred seductively in her ear, “this presents some interesting possibilities.” His hand paused at the blindfold, and he traced his fingers down her neck and across the

back of her shoulder.

“Cut it out,” Felicity tried to complain, and her own hands reached up to untie the blindfold.

Brendon's hand grasped firmly around her upraised wrists as he stopped her. “Careful,” he warned with mock severity. “I'm vice-president. You better toe the line,” and keeping her wrists firmly manacled, he moved in front of her to kiss her.

“Not vice-president of me!” Felicity retorted sarcastically, but her sudden breathlessness veiled the bite of her tone.

Brendon laughed and kissed her gently, then pulling away, he said, “Fine. Here you go.” And with one easy movement, he uncovered her eyes.

Light overwhelmed her vision as the blindfold fell to the floor. It took her several seconds to adjust her eyes to her surroundings, but when they did adjust, she almost didn't believe what she saw. Wherever they had traveled must have been farther north than she had assumed because the sun had almost set, and Felicity knew it would only be about 7:30 p.m. based on the length of the airplane and car rides. The darkness outside caused the lights in the house to twinkle like streetlamps on a rainy night. Besides the electric lights, candlelight filled the room, explaining the scents which had so pleasantly greeted her senses.

A large, white sofa, plush with pillows, took up the greater portion of a roomy living area into which the garage had emptied. Dark wood floors, cabinets, and a small desk lined the exterior portions of her vision, but everything soft – every rug, every piece of upholstery – wore varying shades of white and tan. A fire blazed in a large hearth beside the sofa, and Felicity could just make out a sizable kitchen beyond the wooden cabinets she had noticed before.

“Brendon,” Felicity gasped. “This is amazing!” Her eyes slowly took in as much of her surroundings as they could.

Brendon watched her carefully for a moment and then took her by the hand, leading her past the inviting sofa and delicious smelling candles toward an adjacent room. “I'm glad you like it,” he finally responded, kissing the hand he held. “It will probably be a while before you experience something like this again. Now, look at this.”

He led Felicity up three or four steps into what appeared to be another living area, this one having an entire wall, at least 30 feet long and 20 feet high, filled with windows. Beyond the windows to the left, steam rose from a lighted pool, obviously heated by some source besides the air. Straight ahead and to the right, the darkening horizon stretched before her, all below her, because the house Brendon had chosen seemed to rest on the pinnacle of a significantly elevated hill. She did not see the rocky cliffs and craggy peaks that would have signified mountainous terrain, just the green lull of gently rolling hills, though mountains peeked from the far edge of the horizon. Further enhancing the lighting effects of the house itself, twinkling lamps sparsely dotted the swells of the landscape. The beauty stole Felicity's breath.

Unlatching his fingers from hers and placing his arm around her waist, Brendon came to stand directly beside her. They stood in silence for several moments, Brendon apparently enjoying the effect his work had on Felicity, and Felicity simply allowing the sensations to wash over her.

Finally, Felicity crooned, “Thank you, Brendon.” She raised her eyes to his, hoping he could read her gratitude in her expression. “This is amazing.”

Brendon intertwined his fingers again with hers and led her back to the comfortable sofa, pulling her down to sit beside him. Felicity giggled despite herself. “Come here,” he demanded, pulling her next to him and leaning her back into his chest. She could feel the familiar warmth of his chest as they reclined together on the couch. He still seemed oddly euphoric, but maybe it was just because he had managed such an incredible feat.

“This is really amazing. Where exactly are we?”

His voice smooth, expecting to dazzle her, “About halfway between Banff and Canmore, Alberta.”

“Like, Alberta, Canada?” Felicity's tone was incredulous. “I wasn’t aware that was a huge tourist destination.”

“Yes,” he answered petulantly. “Canada. And Banff is one of the most exclusive ski resorts in North America.”

“Denver would have accomplished the same thing.” She hadn’t meant to contradict him.

“Far too close to people we know.” he nibbled on the skin behind her ear.

“Sure,” she shivered, shrugging him off. “Wherever we are, it's beautiful. I won't be difficult.”

“Good,” he teased. “You're never as difficult as you pretend anyway.” He seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting her tonight. She squirmed in his arms. “Come on. I'm just messing with you. Relax.”

Felicity smiled despite herself and settled back onto his chest.

“Tell me something, Felicity.” He began abruptly.

“Okay,” his tone made her dubious.

“If I could hire someone else to help around the house, what would that person do?”

This vein of conversation took Felicity completely by surprise, not to mention the abrupt manner in which he introduced it. Such a discussion required deep thought and serious consideration, not a casual chat of a moment's notice.

“Um...I don't know. Does it matter?” Though she regularly spent time in introspection, this type of wishfulness only made her sad. “I mean, I agreed to this job when we had kids. It's expensive to hire someone.”

“It doesn’t matter – I mean, the future isn't set in stone just because of the choices we've made in the past.”

“But it's not that easy to do my job. It's not like I can just hand off being a mom.”

Brendon wrapped his arms tighter around her. “It's not so hard to hire someone to take over most of your responsibilities.”

“Brendon...”

“Wait, I've been thinking about it.” His voice grew pensive. “Most of the responsibilities are between housekeeping and childcare – with those taken care of, the kids only need guidance in their character. I hired Briel, and now they have another set of hands to take care of them. If I hired someone else, there would be little left that had to be done by you.”

Brendon's uncharacteristic solicitousness confused Felicity. She could remember a similar conversation less than a year before.

Felicity, we can't live like this, he had chastised. Do you want our kids growing up with so much chaos?

Felicity had wanted to glare at him, but she rarely defended herself, mostly because she judged herself so harshly. It's just so hard, Brendon. I am trying to manage a family without going crazy. I mean, it's not like I get to come home at the end of the day and kick my shoes off and leave my work behind me. And you don't really want to pitch in.

Please, Brendon had complained. You're not a victim. You don't have to stay home. Get a job if you don't like this one.

That argument always sent Felicity into a silent rage. Of course, she could get a job, but to what purpose? Some moms could work and still pay enough attention to their kids, but Felicity knew herself. If she went to work and dedicated herself to a job, she would not be able to give her kids her best. At least if she stayed home, they got her strengths as well as her weakness. If you would just help a little, she had countered, everything would work so much better.

So, you want me to work a full-time job and then come home and do yours, too, he accused.

Again, Felicity wanted to scream. How was raising the kids her job alone? Five years of the same arguments had given her an image of what he thought of her – of what she thought of herself. In his eyes, she loved her kids and treated them well, but she failed at just about everything else about being a mom. And she didn't do too well as a wife, either. Certainly, she wasn't an ornament he could wear on his arm, not the way he wanted her to be. She also couldn't help him manage his belongings or his schedule, she couldn't offer him social or business wisdom. In truth, other than the most basic functions, Brendon saw little value in what Felicity contributed.

In the past year, though, Brendon seemed to have evolved. No, he wouldn't agree to pick up more of the household responsibilities. Nor should he – he didn't possess the consistency kids needed in their day-to-day life – but he would hire someone to take the load off of Felicity. She had to give him credit for what he had done rather than lament what he would not. What had he, Brendon, offered? A chance for Felicity to grow, to develop beyond childcare and housekeeping. Instead of his usual judgmentalism at her weakness, he had seemed to want to help her. Now standing in a beautiful home in beautiful surroundings in a beautiful foreign country, he seemed determined to help her again. Her distrust of him shamed her, and she dug into the depths of her mind to consider. She found nothing.

“Brendon, I…I really don't know. I'll try to think about it.” She laughed humorlessly. Felicity feared indulging herself too much in possibilities lest Brendon's unpredictability prove his words a lie. And how could they afford it? He threw money around when it suited him, but he took it back just as easily, claiming that they needed to budget, because he held that power; he made the money. Felicity pressed her frustration back into its safe compartment and silenced its complaint.

Turning sideways, Felicity snuggled herself into his chest and closed her eyes. “Brendon, we've both made sacrifices. You can't rescue me from life.”

“No, I figured that out a long time ago.” His voice was bitter, and Felicity's heart constricted with her own melancholy. For several minutes, they lay there, Brendon's arms wrapped tightly around her.

Jumping back to his earlier manic state, however, Brendon kissed her lightly on the head and said, “Let's take a swim.”

Felicity could have remained with him on the couch forever; it had been years since she had felt so much pleasure in his arms. She would not resist him, however. Reluctantly, Felicity leaned up and placed her feet on the floor, Brendon following her lead.

“It looks so cold,” she shivered.

“Don't be a coward,” he teased. “Haven't you heard of the Polar Bear Club?”

“I am not a polar bear,” Felicity gazed unhappily at the pool outside.

“Come on,” Brendon rose and pulled Felicity to her feet. Meandering over to the suitcases by the door and opening his own, he reached in and held something up. It looked like a napkin. “I brought this for you,” he grinned mischievously and handed the lump of material to her.

Holding it before her, Felicity recognized a bikini, not particularly indecent, but certainly not something Felicity would wear in public. She hadn't worn anything like it since high school.

“You're kidding me, right?”

“For me,” he pleaded, wrapping his arm around her waist and grinned his most charming smile. “I’m sure you didn’t bring a swimsuit. And you don’t want your clothes to get ruined if I have to throw you in fully dressed.”

Felicity glared at him but sighed her concession. “Fine.” And she headed to the guest bathroom to change. Even though she had agreed, she thought about locking herself in the bathroom rather than brave the cold water.

When she left the bathroom, she was glad she hadn't been stubborn. Brendon didn't even ogle her. He just grabbed her hand like a child and led her to the back doors.

“Ready?” he smirked.

Before Felicity could answer, Brendon opened the door and dragged her through the frigid breeze to the edge. He didn't stop. He just pulled her directly into the pool, laughing at her the whole time. As her body broke the surface of the water, she screamed.

Seconds later, they both emerged, Brendon laughing and Felicity gasping for breath.

“Not funny,” Felicity spat at him, splashing him as she bounced to her feet. Despite her complaint, the water felt warm against her skin.

“Yes, it was,” he chuckled again at her irritated expression.

Contrarily, Felicity swam toward the edge of the pool, daring him to stop her. Before she could clear the steps, he wrapped his arms around her and lugged her back into the water, spinning her to face him.

“You are going to have fun here,” he commanded. “You should squeeze every drop of fun out of your life.”

Finally conquered, Felicity smiled at Brendon's persistence.

“And you are going to be a pest wherever we are,” she accused impishly.

Laughing, Brendon hugged her to him. “That’s the least of your problems,” he murmured, nipping at her ear.

Felicity said nothing, enjoying his attention. After several minutes just melting into his warmth, she leaned back slightly to look at him.

“I am honestly so surprised that you did this for me.”

“I have to take care of you. This is the best place to do that.”

“Well, it works. Everything. The plane ride, the surprises, this house.” Felicity sighed.

Gazing back at her, Brendon leaned his face to hers, forehead to forehead, and pulled her waist as closely to himself as possible. He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her even closer until the side of her face rested against his shoulder. Their bare flesh burned where it met, and Brendon began to run his hand up the skin at the small of her back.

The inevitable chills flooded her mind, melding with all the other sensations that assaulted her and causing her mind to cloud. As her head swooned, Felicity caught a glimpse of Brendon's smug expression. Whatever he had intended for the next few weeks, he seemed very pleased with what he had already accomplished.

Why did the chills seem unnatural instead of exciting? Because the solicitous attention rang unfamiliar, unlike anything Brendon had ever felt or done. Depressing how his apparent kindness could create mistrust, the echo of an agenda whispering to her mind. Brendon always had a purpose for his actions, one intended to manufacture his desired end. What was his desired end in regards to her? The husband she wanted to believe in would just want her happiness; the husband she knew would intend his own, regardless of its effect on her.