As promised, the first thing Taylor did upon Kaylee's release from the hospital was take her out for hamburgers. For a little while, it was almost as if nothing was wrong, as if they were just an ordinary couple on their first date, when nothing could be farther from the truth. There was very little that was normal in their lives anymore, but maybe someday, if they were lucky, they could put all this behind them and have a little normal again.

Also as promised, his apartment wasn't anywhere near the Ritz, but it was comfy and cozy, safe and warm. It was small and simple, but big enough for two without feeling too claustrophobic and confined. The apartment was on the second floor, sparsely but tastefully decorated. A typical bachelor flat, though she might notice there were no photographs or mementos of any kind on display anywhere, his private life carefully guarded against any intrusion. There were several locks on the door, and the second floor at least gave the illusion of offering a little more security than a first floor apartment. He had chosen it in part for its proximity to Rufus' office, which wasn't too far from the Rhy'Din Library.

It had taken a while to get her up here. Being outside, in the spring sunshine, that had been easy. She'd felt almost normal, the barely suppressed panic easing off beneath a clear sky, and though she now had a bit of a stomach ache, the burger had made her day. But getting her inside the apartment building had been difficult. From the street, all she had been able to see was a door into a dark space. All credit had to go to Taylor for preventing a full freak out right there and then. He had eventually convinced her to shut her eyes and trust him, leading her into the building with her hands clenched in his, up the stairs, not letting her open her eyes until they were in his apartment and he had turned on the lights, however unnecessary that might be in the middle of the afternoon. But here they were, finally, and she could feel herself calming down as her eyes flickered about the room.

He understood her fears better than most, since he had experienced them himself, and was both patient and understanding, encouraging her gently and taking slow steps, until at last they arrived at their destination. "Home, sweet home," he declared as he found his way back to her side, the lights not really necessary with sunlight streaming through the windows. If there was one thing about the place that was striking, it was the resident's obvious dislike of darkness. A row of windows lined the main wall, all of them allowing sunshine to fill the room with a warm glow of light. There were candles and lamps in abundance, enough to keep the room lit as brightly as daytime, even during the darkest night. It wasn't only Kaylee who hated the darkness, it seemed, though he'd had seven years to adjust. "It's not much, but it's home. Rufus' office isn't far from here. Close enough in case of emergency." It was a place to seek refuge when the darkness became too much to bear.

The full wall of windows made that barely there smile he'd seen only once flicker over her face once again. There was nowhere else she would have found that, nowhere but with him. Her eyes found resting places on lit lamps. "You-you can turn the lights off," she told him quietly. "I got used to it during the day, while I was in the hospital." Her slender fingers clutched her bag as she took a step further into the apartment. A week in the hospital had begun to put the flesh back onto her bones, her features not quite so sunken as they had been when she had first come home. She was already on the road to a physical recovery, hating the fact that she had whoever had done this to her to thank for it. Whatever they had been dosing her with, it had already closed the wounds left behind on her skin. All she had now were scars no one had let her see.

He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter to him either way. The brighter the better. He was no fan of shadows anymore than she was, but there was no brighter light this time of day than that of the sunlight streaming through the windows. A bookshelf lined another wall in the room. It seemed that he was as fond of books as his uncle, though upon further inspection, she'd find very little fiction there. Some were medical texts, while others were more older, more esoteric. Other than for the books, the room was warm and welcoming, charming even in its coziness. "Let me take your bag and show you the bedroom." Bedroom, not guest room as he'd promised.

She seemed transfixed by the light shining in through the windows, so much so that she almost didn't hear him for a moment, reacting late to something that would have rung alarm bells for anyone not already in a dark place. "You're not going to show me a room hung with chains and manacles, are you?" she heard herself say, surprised by the droll, dark humor in her voice. "Because I can scream loud enough to burst eardrums these days."

Someone else might have found her question amusing, hilarious even, but he didn't. Perhaps he was unsure whether she was teasing or serious, but he took her question at face value, a little surprised that there was still that little bit of suspicion in her, despite all his attempts to gain her trust. And he had lied to her a little. It was just a little white lie, nothing serious, but he had a feeling if he'd been completely truthful, she would have declined his invitation. "Is that a joke?" he asked, uncertainly as he flicked off a lamp or three.

She eyed him, one brow raised in that very Granger way of hers that hadn't dimmed in the months she'd been a captive witness. "Yeah, it was," she admitted. "Not my best, I'm a little out of practice." She paused, letting her bag lower until it was dangling from her hand. "Why lie?"

He frowned thoughtfully over at her, knowing if he didn't gain her trust, she was likely to leave. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that she stay, but it was. Maybe because she was the only person he'd met in the last seven years who came anywhere close to understanding him. "Look, I'm not gonna force you to stay, if you don't want to, but I can promise you my intentions are honorable. You won't find any chains or manacles here, but I do have a few secrets."

"I didn't say I wasn't staying," she told him. "I'm just curious. Why did you offer me a guest room when you don't have one" And don't think I'm not grateful," she hurried to add, one more step bringing her into the warmth of the sun shining through the window. "This is just curiosity. I'm here now, and I chose to trust you. Besides, if you were gonna take advantage, you'd have done it already."

He shrugged again. "Because if I'd told you I don't have a guest room, you would have said no. I'll sleep on the couch. It's not a big deal. I sleep there half the time anyway." When he could sleep. It seemed like a logical enough and truthful explanation. "There's a spare room. I just....haven't really gotten around to cleaning it up yet." So it wasn't a complete lie, just a partial one. "The bedroom's this way," he said, changing the subject and waving a hand toward a short hallway that ran off the living room. It was a small apartment, and she probably didn't really need his help in finding her way around it, but she was his guest, and it was the least he could do.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch," Kaylee heard herself say, a little confused as to what she was actually saying. She fell into step, hesitating at the opening of the hallway before continuing on behind him. "I can sleep on the couch. I mean, it's your apartment. And ....well, I don't really sleep. So you should keep the bed."

And he'd spent the last seven years trying to forgive himself for the same thing. "Right," he replied, realizing his mistake and misunderstanding her anger at herself for anger at him. "Sorry. I'll be in the kitchen, if you need me." He turned to leave, pausing momentarily in the doorway. "You drink coffee?" he asked abruptly. "I was going to make a pot."

"Uh ....yeah," she said, and her voice was something closer to normal as she answered that supremely normal question. "If you don't mind, I ....I thought I might take a shower. They wouldn't let me in the hospital, they made me take bed baths."

"Of course I don't mind. Mi casa, su casa or however it goes. There are towels in the bathroom. I wasn't sure what kind of....toiletries you like so I had to guess. We can go shopping later if you want and get some things." He was glad they were talking about normal things again, though he was feeling a little awkward and guilty after his faux pas.

"I'd like that," she nodded, relaxing out of her tension as the normality made its appearance once again. Pulling fresh clothes from the bag, she gestured across the hall. "That door, right' I'll try not to use all the hot water."

"Kaylee," he started, feeling as though he needed to warn her before she looked in the mirror, gentling his voice as best he could, though he was feeling almost sick with grief and guilt on the inside. "Don't go too fast, okay' You've been through a lot. Don't expect too much too soon. Give yourself some time." Without saying it outright, he was trying to warn her about what she might find when she looked in the mirror. He presumably carried the scars from the same wounds, faded but always there to remind him of what he'd gone through - what they'd both gone through. It was the wounds that didn't show that were the hardest to heal.

She paused, hugging that bundle of fresh clothing to her chest as he offered her his gentle warning. A small part of her tried to rebel against being told what to do, but it was overwhelmed by the larger part, the part that recognized that he knew something of what she'd experience and had yet to struggle through. "I'll try," was all she could promise, trusting in him to give her the glue to stick herself back together again if she did go too fast for herself. That was why she was here, after all.

She had to face her demons sooner or later; she had to face the reality of what they'd done to her, though he knew the invisible scars were far worse than those of the body. "I'll be in the kitchen, if you need me," he reminded her, just in case, adding almost as an afterthought, "You can leave the door open, if you want. I won't peek. Promise." Whatever made her feel more secure was all that mattered to him.

"Thanks." There was that word again, and again, it was said with more meaning than she'd fully appreciated before. She still didn't quite understand why he was doing so much for her, but she wasn't prepared to analyze and over-think it. She was just going to be grateful. "Uh, so, uh ....can-can I go into the bathroom now" Or did you need it?" There was a hint of humor in her eyes as she gestured past him to the hallway and the bathroom door.

"No, I think I can hold it for a little while longer," he remarked, with just a hint of humor in his voice, a faint trace of a smirk, promising that he did have a sense of humor, if the circumstances called for it. "Or I can always go in a bush," he added, turning to leave the room and offer her some small amount of privacy.

"You often pee out your own window?" she asked, and yes, there was a tiny tremor in her voice that betrayed laughter. Genuine laughter at something she found funny. Evidently the darkness hadn't embraced her entirely. She paused again at the door to the bathroom, one hand on the handle. "Hey, Taylor?"

Maybe the darkness hadn't completely consumed her. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all. Maybe there was hope for her yet - and him, too. Was he trying to redeem himself through her somehow, or was he really just doing this because of some perceived connection' He wasn't too sure himself, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He turned back to her again, just before he was due to turn the corner into the kitchen. "Yeah?" he asked, as he glanced over his shoulder at her. It seemed as though it was the first time she called him by name, though he wasn't too sure. He hoped she wasn't going to thank him yet again.

She held his gaze for a long moment, brown eyes that should have been vibrant with life still dull with pain and fear but deep with honest gratitude. "I really do appreciate this," she told him softly. "I really hope you don't end up regretting it. But thank you, again. I can't say it often enough. Thank you."

Okay, so she was thanking him again, but this time her thanks seemed more sincere and less practiced, like she really meant it. Not that she hadn't meant it before, but now that she was here, it wasn't just a promise anymore; it was real. "I won't regret it," he assured her, somehow knowing in his heart that he'd done the right thing, no matter how things turned out in the end. "You might stop thanking me after you've had a taste of my cooking," he warned, adding a little humor to help lighten the situation, though he knew it wasn't his cooking that might bother her so much as his habit of walking the floors at night when he couldn't sleep.

And there was her smile, not just hidden in her eyes, but out in the open, a reflection of the sudden sense of satisfaction that there was something she could do to make his life easier. "I'll cook," she promised him through that smile before it faded, her fingers gripping the handle to open the door. "I won't be long." She stepped out of sight, leaving the door cracked open, placing her trust in his teasing promise that he wouldn't peek. Not until she'd seen herself, anyway.

No argument there. Even if he wanted to argue and point out that she was his guest, he saw the logic in her suggestion. He worked long days, which left little time for him to dabble in the kitchen, eating out a little too often or skipping meals altogether. He led a busy life, and a good portion of that life had been dedicated to helping others, partly through his day job as an EMT and partly through his desire to end this horror story forever. She stepped out of sight before he could reply, and hoping to give her some semblance of privacy, he continued on to the kitchen to put that pot of coffee on that he'd promised. He kept one ear perked while he moved around the kitchen, unsure what her reaction would be to the half-healed wounds that the hospital staff had kept carefully hidden from view.

His back was still turned toward her, a little lost in his own memories, her ordeal bringing back memories of his own, nearly as fresh as if they'd happened yesterday. He made no reply for a long moment, the fingers of one hand curled tightly together into a fist at his side, as if he'd like nothing better but to smash that mirror again, behind the towel that covered it from view.

"Taylor?" Alarm colored her voice now at his lack of reaction, at the sight of his hand curling into a fist as he stared at the covered mirror. No, he couldn't do this, not right now. She needed him to stay on target, to stay focused on the now, not on the past. If he couldn't do that, then she was going to break, and with her, most of his valuable possessions. She knew her own temper and what she was holding inside herself. Forcing herself to stay calm, she reached out, the fingers of her hand touching his back tentatively. "Don't embrace the darkness. You can't."

The anger, the rage, the hatred that had filled him for seven years, that had driven him onward to finish what he'd started, seemed to coil inside him like a snake ready to strike, tightening in his chest, volatile and dangerous, until he felt her hand against his back, slowly drawing him back to the present, and he let go of the breath that he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. The fingers of his fist uncurled as he slowly relaxed, the simmering rage under control once again. "I'm all right," he answered her quietly, slowly turning to face her, the haunted look in his own eyes slowly fading.

"Good." Making an effort, she let go of the facade that she'd been holding up for her family and for the hospital authorities, letting him see the shock and fright and vulnerability she couldn't let anyone else see. "Because I need you to be all right, just now. If you crack up, then who's going to stop me when I do?"

"I won't crack up," he assured her, knowing himself better than that. It had been seven years, after all. He'd had seven years to learn how to cope with it, though she might not agree with his coping methods. At least, he didn't wake up screaming in the middle of the night anymore. His neighbors were happy about that, anyway. "I'm all right," he reassured her again, or maybe he was just trying to reassure himself. "I'm sorry."

She watched as he came back to himself, holding his gaze with that terribly fragile look in her own eyes until she was sure he was in control again. Then she looked away, nodding as her arms came up to wrap tightly about herself, the only comfort she knew how to give herself these days. "Don't apologize," she told him softly. "I think I know better than most what just happened."

He frowned, wishing she hadn't seen that, resolving not to let her see him crack again, if he could help it, though it was doubtful he'd be able to remain in complete control 24/7. "It doesn't happen often. I promise," he told her, needing her to believe him and trust him, though he wasn't really sure why it was so important. Maybe it was because, despite the face he showed everyone else, he felt very alone in the world, and she was the one person - maybe the only person - who had any chance of really understanding him.

In control of herself once again - or as much in control as she was ever going to get - Kaylee raised her eyes to his once more, letting her arms drop from their protective wrap about herself. "You said you had something to show me," she reminded him. Anything to get them away from what might have happened if he'd given in just then. "What is it' A fully stocked fridge?"

He'd been tempted to touch her, just as she'd touched him a moment before, but he held himself back, not only afraid his touch might startle her, but afraid she might not welcome it. Her question made him smile, however, and he wondered if she was really ready for what he wanted to show her. "No, we'll probably have to do a little shopping. I don't usually do much cooking for myself." He searched her eyes, as if he was weighing the importance and immediacy of what he'd been about to show her. Maybe it could wait a while longer. "Doesn't matter. It can wait. I made a pot of coffee," he reminded her, thinking it might be better to let it go for now.

"Well, your stomach can relax," she said, taking refuge in something very everyday and normal. "Cooking is one of two things I do very well." There was a pause as he searched her eyes, as he decided to let whatever he'd been about to share go to rest once again. "Coffee sounds good, thanks."

"What's the other?" he asked curiously, having no idea what the answer might be to that, but relieved to change the subject. There was enough darkness in their lives, and he refused to surrender to it. Maybe that was why he'd brought her here - not only to help her, but to help himself. He started toward the door, to lead the way back down the short hallway to the kitchen that was adjacent to the living room, sunlight streaming in through the windows. There were a few plants here and there, which added life to the place, the walls purposely painted light shades of cream and yellow to add to the brightness.

She just barely hesitated before answering as she fell into step behind him. "Music," she admitted, not exactly reluctant to offer this. "I haven't ....haven't played in a long time, but some things don't go. You name it, I can play it. Or sing it. I brought an album out last year." And didn't that seem like a long time ago. It was a life she knew now she'd never go back to again.

"Guitar?" he asked, happy to get her talking about her life before the ordeal, which might lead her to decide what she wanted to do now that it was over. "I took guitar lessons for a while, but wasn't very good at it. My mom..." He trailed off before he could go much further in regard to that subject. "I'd like to hear you play sometime," he added as they reached the kitchen and he pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.

"Yeah, I can play guitar," she nodded, carefully not commenting on his almost mention of his mother. Her own mother was still around, but practically the definition of neglectful. Jay had never really been very interested in either of her children. "Like I said, pretty much anything. It'd take some practice to get into it again, though." For a moment, her expression sobered, regret touching her eyes for the lost months, and she looked down at her sore fingers. "Maybe more than a bit." She forced her eyes away from her fingers toward the liquid gold sunshine pouring in through the windows in the main room. "So what do you do, besides EMTing and taking in strays?"

That was an awfully big promise to make for a man who had said just a few days ago that they weren't in any position to make a commitment, however teasing he might have been at the time. But Kaylee took the promise to heart, uncurling a hand from her coffee cup to press her palm over his. "Lead the way."

He set his own coffee cup down as her fingers found his, and he tugged her back toward the door, down the stairs, and outside into the brilliant sunshine of a glorious spring day. There was a bit of a cool breeze, but the trees were starting to bud, flowers pushing their way up out of the ground to awaken from a long winter's sleep. The world was slowly coming to life again, and if they could somehow manage to put the past behind them, maybe they could do the same. "There's a garden around back. Would you like to see it?"

Following his lead, she left own coffee beside his, but that was where the ease of the little expedition ended. He had the same trouble drawing her through the windowless hallway and stairwell as he'd had the first time, though perhaps, with time, she would be able to do it herself. As it was, when they emerged into the sunshine, she was pale and shaking, pressing her back against the wall as she looked up at the sky, ashamed of herself for having so much trouble with such a simple task as traversing hallways and stairs. His mention of a garden caught her attention, drawing her out of the remembered, learned fear as she looked to him. "Yes," she answered simply. "Yes, I think I would."

He had patiently drawn her through the hallway and down the stairs, in no rush to be outside, whispering words of encouragement along the way, until finally they had emerged into the afternoon sunshine. He wondered if there was some way he could make the passage from street to apartment easier for her, but the only thing he could think of was to ask that the lighting be increased. It might have been easier if they'd lived on the first floor, but he'd felt the second floor was safer, away from the street and without such easy access.

He couldn't help but notice the lack of color in her face and the trembling, but he thought a little fresh air and sunshine would do her good. With his fingers still linked to hers, he led her around to the back of the building where there was a garden of sorts, park-like in appearance, created for the recreation and relaxation of the residents. He led her to a bench situated beneath the boughs of a tree and beside a small rose garden. It wasn't his garden, nor did he maintain it, but in the summer months, he sometimes sought refuge there. "It's still a little chilly, but spring is coming!"

The combination of the breeze, the sun, the sound of wind in the trees, and his hand wrapped reassuringly about her own were enough to restore the fragile balance of Kaylee's mind. As they walked toward the bench, the color rose in her cheeks once again, brown eyes flickering about the green place he had brought her to. "It's perfect," she heard herself whisper, knowing now where she could go when things became too much. Even at night, this place would be lit, and there were ways to avoid the shadows if she had to.

As they settled themselves on the bench, a small bird flitted down onto a nearby tree branch, chirping a greeting and cocking its head one way, then the other, as if curious to see who it was that had come to share her garden. Taylor remained very still, so as not to frighten the tiny creature away. "Hello, there, little one," he greeted the bird in a calm, gentle voice - the same voice he used with Kaylee when he knew she was upset. "Are you anxious for spring?" he asked the bird.

Where Taylor went still, Kaylee froze. It had been a long time since she had seen anything so harmless as a tiny bird who was just going about her own business, and the last thing the broken girl wanted was to frighten it away. She watched as her companion spoke to the little creature, her eyes straying to his face, charmed by the gentleness he showed.

"Hold out your hand," he suggested in a quiet voice, his gaze just in time to catch Kaylee watching him. "The birds are pretty tame here. They've become accustomed to people. I feed them sometimes. They'll eat right out of your hand, if you let them."

She looked into his eyes, wary and uncertain. "I don't want to frighten her," she admitted uncomfortably. "What if I do, and she never comes back?" What if everything I touch now turns into dust, just because of what happened"

"You won't frighten her, Kaylee," he reassured her with a small smile. "Watch," he said as very slowly he held up his hand, palm upwards, very close to the little bird who cocked her head again, more curious than wary. He pursed his lips to whistle a soft greeting back at the little bird who returned his greeting with a small chirp and a hop closer.

Despite having been born and bred on Rhy'Din, Kaylee couldn't think of anything more magical than what she was seeing in that moment. Something so simple as a man coaxing a bird to sit on his hand with no intention other than to have it closer was more magical than everything else she had ever seen. And without realizing it, she found herself inching closer to him, each movement so slow as to be almost unnoticeable, but each one bringing her just that little bit nearer.

The little bird hopped closer to the young man, even as Kaylee did, and Taylor slowly eased his hand closer until it was so close that the little bird hopped down into his hand with another quiet chirp. She looked around for a treat, but finding none, remained there anyway, more curious than wary. "Hold up your hand, Kaylee. Very slowly," he told her, his eyes remaining fixed on the bird.

Maybe this was where trust came into things as well. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't thinking about the voices screaming in her mind, or the darkness that always lurked. She was completely focused on a tiny bird in her companion's hand and, oddly, the musky scent rising from his skin. No matter how wary she was, she had promised to trust him, and there was no better place to prove that than right here. So very slowly, she raised her long-fingered hand, palm upward, settling it beside his.

This was a new hand and a new person to investigate, and the little bird was not only curious but trusting, accustomed to the residents of this place who often offered treats to their little feathered friends. Taylor smiled encouragement as Kaylee at last lifted her hand, and the little bird paused a moment to inspect her before hopping down into her palm. "See?" he asked, while the little bird chirped a greeting at this new and unknown person. "She likes you."

"Not really," she argued quietly. "I don't need back story, I don't need to know every detail. I just want to know why you chose to live alone, in an apartment that only has one way out."

"Only has one way in, too," he pointed out. There were windows if one had to get out in a hurry, but only one door to have to worry about defending. "I stayed with my uncle for a while, in the beginning. The truth is I probably wouldn't have made it through this with my sanity if I hadn't, but eventually I had to go out on my own. I had to prove to myself that I could do it."

"So why an apartment on the second floor in the middle of the city?" she asked, more curious about his choice of location than anything. "Why not a house with glass walls, somewhere that's green?" She didn't understand, though naturally her standpoint came from someone who had never lacked for resources or funds.

"Glass walls" God, no. I don't want to live in a goldfish bowl." He almost shuddered at the thought. The explanation for his choice of apartment was a lot less interesting than she might like. "Location, mostly. It's pretty safe here, and it's not far from work. The rent's not too bad, and people are friendly here." He offered a small smile as he turned to her. "Besides, what would the birds do without me?" It was hard to tell from that smile if he was teasing or serious.

And to judge from the look on her face, she had no idea whether he was teasing her or not. She hesitated, stopping herself from answering, from asking another question that would not be so easy to answer, and turned her eyes to the garden yet again. But this time, her other hand descended to his where they lay wrapped about her own fingers, and she shared something that she wasn't sure it was sensible to share. "If I'd met you a year ago, I would have kissed you by now," she said very softly, unsure how he would take that confession. "Now I'm scared to even think about it. Did I grow up, or am I hiding?"

He arched a brow, more than a little surprised at her confession. He had to admit that he'd thought about it, too, but didn't think it was a very good idea to take advantage of her and had dismissed the thought from his mind. At least, until now. "What are you scared of?" he asked, not because he was trying to figure her out, but because he wanted her to figure it out for herself.

"Because, in my experience, kissing leads to other things," she murmured, looking down at their joined hands. "I can't even look at me. Couldn't ask anyone else to look at something I can't. And even if I could, I don't wanna see disgust in the eyes of someone I trust. Simple as. I'm damaged beyond repair. And I gotta live with that."

He furrowed his brows, almost disbelieving that the obvious hadn't occurred to her yet. He let go of her hand so that he could very gently touch her cheek to turn her head to face him. "Kaylee, I've already seen your wounds. I treated your wounds, and I think you're....You're beautiful. Besides, I have those same scars."

"That doesn't stop me being scared," she admitted reluctantly, looking into his eyes with gentle regret for her own cowardice. "Maybe someday. But I can't see it happening today." She shook her head, looking away, letting the sun warm her face as she tilted her head back, closing her eyes against the pain of the direct light.

"What if..." he trailed off, his stomach doing weird things that he hadn't felt in so long he'd forgotten what it felt like. What if he kissed her first' What if she hated it' How would it change things" He watched her silently, studying her profile, the way the sun kissed her face, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks. Her lips looked soft. What would they taste like"

She'd had those same thoughts about him. What would he do if she kissed him' What would he taste like" What would it feel like to be in someone's arms, now" But with those thoughts came others, less curious, darker. What would he do when he felt the raised scars on her skin" He'd said she was beautiful - how long would that opinion last when he saw how much she hated her own form' Would she destroy a new friendship that was so very important to her by allowing that kind of closeness"

The possibility of a kiss raised all sorts of questions in his mind, as well. Like, what would come after" Would it lead to something else, and if so, what? Was she ready for that after what she'd gone through not more than a week before" Would he be taking advantage" What would she think when she found out what he did with his nights" Would she be supportive or would she think he was nuts" In the end, he decided it was too soon. If she wanted to take the next step, then it would only happen if and when she was ready. "I used to think that way, too," he admitted finally, going back to what she'd said about being damaged. "Hell, I can't remember the last time I was on a date. Waking up screaming in the middle of the night isn't very romantic, I guess."

"I guess that would depend on whether or not your date stayed to hear you scream," Kaylee mused, raising her head from where it had fallen back to look at him with a wry expression on her face. "Mine tended not to. I don't think I've shared a bed with anyone but my brother all night in my whole life."

"Well, I don't wake up screaming anymore," he admitted with a wry smile. Where some men might find it odd that she had such a close relationship with her brother, he only felt envious. "You're lucky to have that. I didn't have any siblings."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be sometimes," she warned him. "But yeah, I am lucky to have him. Or he's unlucky to have me. It's a toss up." She shrugged, the movement no longer bringing with it a wince against the tug of motion on her healing wounds. "You said something about shopping" I, uh ....I like to cook. I'd like to cook for you, if you'd like it."

He was almost relieved to have her change the subject again. His past and family weren't something he felt all that comfortable talking about. "I won't stop you, if you want to cook. It's not that I can't cook. I just can't be bothered for just me." He shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal. "I did a little shopping, but I wasn't sure what you'd like."