Chapter 4

Her brow flicked up, her hands slowly dropping to her sides as she realized she'd not let go of him. "More like surprising how you manage to show up where I am."

"Maybe you just have a magnetic personality," he quipped with a smile to cover the let down he felt when she pulled her arms from his neck. He rolled onto his back and braced his hands behind his neck relaxing. He wasn't sure what to say or how to proceed and it unnerved him. He was usually so confident with the ladies. Ok who am I kidding? The term ladies, was a loose reference to his usual company. He was just so used to one type of woman that he had no idea how to treat this woman who seemed unimpressed and rather perturbed by him. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to not want him that made him want her. Maybe she did want him but didn't want him to know she wanted him. Maybe she was using reverse psychology on him or something! yeah that was it! He was on to her game!

She felt him shift to the side and almost wanted to whimper. She'd felt so warm, so safe for that few brief moments. "You'd be the first to say that." Her words were droll, as she carefully turned to the side, watching him as he fit his length onto the hammock more securely. "Seriously though, what has you out walking this late? I know my reasons for being on the hammock, but.."

"Ah I couldn't sleep," he sighed. "Seems like lately I've been up more than asleep," he said dryly

Her words whispered out on a sigh, "Insomnia?"

"yeah un-fuckin' believable," he chuckled "The last time I had insomnia it was self induced."

She nodded, actually understanding the problem, if not the cause. "How do you self induce insomnia?"

"Too many drugs darlin,'" he blurted out before he could stop himself. He sucked in a surprised breath at his honesty and barely hid the wince that followed. Way to impress the lady man!

She twisted slightly to move away from him, her breath catching in her throat. He did drugs?? He'd looked so normal! "You.. you don't look like a druggie."

He felt the hesitation in her tone. "Former druggie," he clarified. "Long story but at the time I needed it. I don't anymore."

She sat up, her body going tense as she studied the languid grace of the man on her hammock. "Why on God's Green Earth would ANYONE need that?"

He snorted. "16 months of touring followed by another 16 months non stop and you just might need a lil pick me up too darlin','" he said dryly

Her brow quirked upwards, "you toured, and needed to drug yourself to vacation?" she shook her head at the absurdity of it. "I stand on my feet for hours each day but I've never resorted to fake pick me ups."

She swung her legs over the edge of the hammock, intent on moving away from him. "Vacations are supposed to be restful, not drug worthy."

"This is the first vacation I've had in years." He frowned, wondering why she thought he was talking about the present. All that was in his past. Why he'd even brought it up was a mystery to him.

She nodded quickly, at least that she could understand. "Its the first one I've had in a long time too, supposed to be resting." She snorted slightly, she hadn't slept decently since she'd gotten here.

"Yeah me too" he said, thankful for the slight change of subject. "I'm supposed to be back next week but I think I might take just one more week."

She glanced back and recognized, even in the shadowy darkness of her backyard, the same dark circles under his eyes that she seemed to carry these days, and for some odd reason she felt the need to just talk about it, to someone she'd never see again. What he thought wouldn't matter. "Yeah well I'm tempted to myself. Took this vacation to escape, but here its even worse, has been for the last few days."

"Crazy shit huh?" He sat up and looked out to sea. Fog rolling in once again. Funny how fog seemed to relate to her. He shook his head. "Ya know I been thinking I was slowly going crazy. I mean I keep thinking, maybe its just ya know the place. The Bermuda triangle ain't far from here is it?" He laughed to lighten the somber mood that seemed to have come over them.

She watched as the first tendrils of misty fog swirled in and couldn't restrain a shiver. "Too crazy, stupid crazy dreams, stupid happenstance." She watched him quietly and wondered why the fog always seemed to appear when he did. "You know the last few times you showed up the fog did too?"

"Me? no it's you," he frowned as he watched it roll in, faster than it ever had before. "Always there every time."

Her eyes centered on the fog, even as her skin chilled, "always covering, hiding, keeping things from view. Never let you see whats right there. Makes ya wake in a cold sweat."

"Yeah like.... you almost get it then BAM!" he clapped his hands together "that damn fog just fades it away," he sighed and looked at her. As crazy as it seemed he just knew she knew what he was talking about.

"Funny thing is, somehow someway, you recognize it, each time." Even now she could see the hat, its silvery band, the dark hair, "and you just know if you could make it through that fog, your questions might get answered."

He shrugged "Just don't know how to make it go away," he waved his hand in the fog that had enveloped them.

She stood suddenly, needing away from the fog that wound about her feet. Backing towards her door she muttered, "The one in the Stetson might could make it go away, but it always vanishes in this stupid damn fog."

Too much like her dream, it WAS the dream and she wasn't even sleeping. She watched as it swirled around the man sitting there and felt her heart beginning to pound. "Its gonna eat you up too, just like it does him."

Stetson? Man in a stetson... he ran a hand through his hatless hair. He hadn't worn his stetson once since he'd been here. "Bailey, hey don't go..." He stood as she backed into her room.

She halted at his words, her hands twisting together nervously. "Its bad enough to dream it, but it keeps showing up in my reality. I hate it don't you see?"

He swallowed hard. Did she have the dreams too? That was not possible! He felt his heart race in fear. "I um.. look I'm sorry I uh.. I better go." He backed up and nearly fell over the bench he'd been sitting on earlier. It all became so clear. It was her, the one in his dreams. Dreams he'd had for as long as he could remember. How the hell was this possible?? It sounded like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie not his life!

She whimpered as he backed into the mist, as HE backed into the mist! Dear God in heaven, the dream guy was real? He was real and the mist was eating him? She gasped as a tear stroked her cheek, the slightest whimper leaving her. "Don't.. please, not here too."

"I.. I just need to..... think. I...." I'll get my damn hat to be sure. "I'll be back... I'm sorry," he shook his head trying to clear it. "I'll be back," he almost whispered as he turned and set a fast pace back to his hotel.

She dropped to her knees, the quiet sobs closing her throat as she watched him yet again vanish into the fog. He didn't have that hat, but something about him felt right in the fog. He could have made it go away, but he'd vanished, and all that was left was darkness, chill and mist.

~~

She ran, the soft leather surrounding her feet keeping her soundless, even on the heated desert floor. She wasn't supposed to be so far from the village, but just over the hill was a small stand of trees that sheltered a small pool of water and she wanted to be clean.

Although her father, Great Eagle had told her to be careful, that the white man with the booming sticks had started getting closer she wanted her bath. Her gaze scanned the area and seeing nothing she quickly slipped into the trees, dropping the doeskin from her body before diving into the pool.

She swam and played, laughing as the chill of the water washed away the dirt and grime of moving camps. It seemed they moved each new moon, always trying to stay steps ahead of the white faces that snaked into their lands.

The skittering in the bushes had her stalling, her eyes worriedly searching the area, her eyes going wide to see brown eyes staring back at her. Great Spirit he was dressed so oddly, in his dark clothes that weren't made of animal, the hat on his head so odd to her. It looked right on him though, the wide brim shading his face even as he sat his horse watching her.

And oddly she wasn't afraid, even when he spoke to her in some odd language she couldn't understand.

She never was afraid, even the day he rode into her camp, his men around him and his booming sticks took from her all she knew, even as her eyes closed in death......

She jerked awake, her eyes recognizing the wood of her porch, the fog still there in front of her as the visages of the dream faded slightly. He had been there in this dream too, with his hat, loving her, even though they were from different worlds, even as she died, his sad eyes watching, She'd known him, somehow even then she'd known him.

~~~~~~

He was sitting on a horse. He frowned as he looked down into the clear pool of water and saw himself, not someone else but himself, Richie, wearing a blue antique uniform, a black wide rimed hat, his hair long as usual. He frowned wondering why he would dream such a thing. The dream faded into fog that flashed from one scene to another.

She was there bathing in the pool of water dressed as an Indian. He called out to her but she remained silent and stoic, unafraid. His consciousness faded and he no longer knew if he was still dreaming or actually living it.

The scene changed. They were now lying in each others arms near a fire, fog surrounded their secluded camp. She spoke to him in broken English interspersed with a gutteral tongue that he surprisingly seemed to understand. How would they manage to be together? The secrecy was killing her. It was killing him too. His job depended on no one ever knowing he was sleeping with the enemy, literally. His family depended on him to uphold their honor, and being the loving caring son he was he couldn't let them down. He loved them. But he loved her too, his dark maiden with the strangely blue eyes. She'd never been able to tell him why her eyes were those of the white man. He didn't care, he loved her just as she was. He only wished somehow the war would be over between their peoples but somehow he knew it never would. Not in his lifetime.

The scene changed again. There was smoke and fog, children crying, women screaming. He knew which teepee was hers. He'd made sure he'd known before they'd launched the attack. He tried everything within his power to change what had to be but no one would listen to him and in fear of outing himself as a traitor he'd finally shut up and fell into line. Now he ran calling her name. She was running, he had to get to her before anyone else. He was stopped in his tracks by menacing brown men wielding axes. He pointed and fired without thinking. He thought only of her.

He heard the report of a shot too close. He saw her go down and screamed "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He shot up straight in bed. sweat pouring over his skin as his breath came in ragged sobs. what the hell?? He blinked in the dark his eyes wild as they found on his Stetson lying on the chair across the room. The same Stetson from the dream, the same exact hat....