Faint hints of dawn-red and gold were showing through the gap in the living room curtains. Johnny was sprawled on his back on the too-short living room couch, one arm thrown up and over his eyes to shut out the hint of light, an action taken without conscious awareness. The blanket he had been using as ward against the growing chill of nights had fallen half-off, and one bare foot rested on the floor. Despite the uncomfortable position, he was sleeping soundly.

Until, that is, the door to the bedroom which Sarah Whittaker now inhabited alone flew open and the woman herself flew past into the cabin?s one bathroom with a slam of the door. The suddenness of sound and motion drew a mumbled protest, and without thinking Johnny turned over to put his arm where Sianna should rest. The motion took more room than the couch had, and he landed on the floor with a thump, only then really waking up.

Blinking sleep from his eyes and levering himself to his feet, he tried to figure out what had just happened. Meshed fingertips rubbed across a jaw that was now more bearded than stubble, a concession to local fashions. He had to make those concessions, to fit in, now more than ever. Evan?s death hadn?t been followed by the simple move back off-planet that should have been. Not when the rebels in the mountains attacked the spaceport, and in retaliation the interstellar government shut off all communications and supplies to this beleaguered planet. Not when the nearest neighbor was an open supporter of the government and too suspicious of Johnny?s sudden arrival. Evan had backed the rebels and Sarah had backed Evan ? Pal Jenks wanted to see them repaid for personal as well as political reasons, and with Evan dead his malice had turned to Sarah ? and returned to Johnny. They had unfinished business, after all.

But he was moon-braining again, and this time nothing productive was coming from it at all. What had woken him up so abruptly, and with that surge of disappointment not to have the warmth of Sianna tucked close? It was the shut door of the bathroom that gave him his first clue, and he padded across the wood floor, tripping on the braided-rag rug on the way. Still rubbing the heel of one hand into his eyes, he leaned against the door and tapped on it lightly. ?Sarah? Ya righ? in there??

There was a long pause before the toilet flushed and he heard water running from the tap. Longer before Sarah?s voice drifted out, faintly unsteady. ?Fine, Johnny. ?M just shiny. Be a minute ?r two before I?m out an? then ya can have it while I make ya something ta eat.?

Blonde eyebrows rose sky-high at the sound of Sarah?s voice, and he frowned. When a few minutes later Sarah emerged, pale and with a few tendrils of her hair wet and clinging to her cheeks, his suspicions deepened. She fled back to her bedroom before he could get out a word, and he looked after her with emerald eyes narrowed. If what he was thinking was true, the heap of trouble he knew they were already in would get much, much worse.

He?d give her a few days ? perhaps, after all, she was just feeling poorly ? but if she didn?t speak soon he would ask. And hope that her answer would ease his worries instead of add to them.