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On her hands, Jane, could feel only the smell of death. Beyond the mountains in front of her, on the other side of the lake where a high waterfall fell down forming a small river, the sun was setting. Behind her thin body, the setting sun projected a long shadow on the trail up to the chalet where it turned upwards following its wooden walls. She turned around and she dried a tear, determined. When she finally reached Pauline she crouched down by her side. She was so beautiful, so beautiful like when Jane used to wake up during the night and rest on her elbows just to watch her sleeping. She caressed her cheek trying to ignore the purple bruises on her neck, she kissed her cold forehead then she stood up again and walked away, walking to the end of the unsteady pier. A pang in the heart, a flashback, the image of her thumbs pressing hard in her beloved friend’s skin, the frail neck of Pauline surrendering to the pressure of her fingers and her – Jane – who couldn’t do anything more. It wasn’t so much the popping sound that announced his presence, as much as the strange feeling that came over her. She could literally feel him walking into the room as if someone had just turned on a heat lamp. Frowning to herself, she murmured “Short of hanging a ‘closed for business’ sign on my bed, how can I get you people to stop bothering me!” Rolling over, with the phaser in hand, she stopped. She was pointing the gun at the most stunning man she had ever seen in her life. And he was stark naked in the middle of her bedroom. He was sleek, and lean, and muscular, but not in a modern sort of way. More like….a Greek statue. That was what he looked like to her. Without a doubt, he’d be a model any sculptor would kill to get as a subject. It took a full minute before she looked up at his face and realized that those intense, black eyes were staring back at her with a bit of shock as well. He stood there, completely still, just staring at her. As she sat up straighter in bed,.
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