The last thing I remember was looking out across the floor from my usual bug's eye view, and seeing Fraidycat looking back at me from under a chair. From somewhere I thought I heard Tiffi wailing inconsolably.

---

"Hey, baby girl, how are you today? I-I brought you some more flowers... I didn't know what else to bring..." Silence for a while. "Sure been havin' nice weather at home... th' winter wheat's sproutin' real good... be a decent crop 'f it keeps up, better'n last year, anyways..." More idle farming talk, homey, comforting, seeping into my warm darkness.

The voice was familiar, deep and raspy. Husky now, with emotion. "D-daddy?" It hurt my throat to talk, my voice was a hoarse whisper. It hurt in a lot of places, it hurt to breathe, but the pain was distant, like it was locked in the cellar, scratching to be let out. "I-I can't see..." I tried to raise my hands to my eyes, but for some reason they felt heavy, unresponsive. I began to thrash a little, but I couldn't seem to work up the energy for more than a halfhearted panic.

"Steffi! Oh, lord, you're awake, welcome back, sweetheart. We've been so worried about you." Large, calloused hands wrapped gently around my hands, holding them down. "Shush now, baby girl, easy, you'll hurt yourself some more. It's just nighttime, is all, there's no lights on. Shush, and I'll get the nurse." The concern and relief in his voice was unmistakable, and I felt a reflexive guilt for somehow being responsible.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." The darkness wrapped itself around me again, and dragged me back down.

When I woke again, it was to the sound of a chainsaw battling a brass band; it sounded strangely familiar and comforting, and I lay there for awhile, eyes closed, just letting it wash over me. "Daddy... y' snoring again...go t'bed." I smiled as I said it, an old family ritual. My throat was still hoarse, I could only whisper; but the chainsaw skirmished briefly with a tuba, then called a truce.

"Hmmph? Mmph! Oh, awake again, baby girl. How're ya feeling?"

"Hurts..." I opened my eyes, turning towards his voice. The room was lighter now, but not a lot; the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows through the blinds. He was sprawled uncomfortably over a chair in the corner of the room. Climbing stiffly to his feet, he paused to stretch the kinks out of his back, and came over to press the call button for the nurse. His smile was gentle, but didn't reach the worry in his eyes. "You were in rough shape, honey. D'you recall what happened?"

I nodded uncertainly, "I-I think so. Jake..." My face clouded up and my lip was trembling.

He shook his head quickly, and took my bandaged hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Hush now, girl, it's over now, it's over." His voice was soothing, earnest. "You're safe, here. 'Sides, the police have him, they want to send somebody to talk to you. But we won't let them till you're ready," he hastily assured me.

Just then the nurse breezed in. "Finally, the sleeper awakes! The airport called, seems they're trying to land jumbo jets and could we please keep the noise down." She winked at me. "Oh, look, the patient's awake, too." I grinned weakly back. "Let's get you cleaned up before the doctor comes in."

She chased my father out and drew the privacy curtain, then pulled back the covers and helped me sit up enough to remove my gown, and was proceeding to give me an efficient sponge bath. It felt good in an impersonal way, thankfully there was nothing remotely erotic about it.

I took stock of my injuries as the nurse washed carefully around them. Both my arms were bandaged from mid-forearm to the palms of my hands, probably splinted; I couldn't bend my wrists, and my fingers felt swollen and clumsy. There was an IV needle in my arm, I had a large bandage under my right breast, and my whole right side was a big purplish-black bruise. The bruise Jake had made on my left breast was the same color.

It hurt to move, especially to breathe, but I could feel that the worst of the pain was still being kept away, still locked in the cellar, although it was starting to howl and pound on the door, and seep out around the edges.

My eyes were complaining about the brightness in the room, although the sun was barely up; my head was pounding. The right side of my face felt like a single massive bruise, my eye almost swollen shut; and it felt like a fat lip on that side. My left eye was sore too, when I blinked, but nothing like the right. I realized I was breathing through my mouth, my nose was swollen and stuffed up.

The doctor strode briskly into the room just as the nurse had finished helping me into a new gown, adjusting the bed to leave me sitting up. He was middle-aged, a little paunchy, with a touch of grey at the temples I suspected was carefully cultivated to make him look distinguished. It just made him look carefully cultivated. He had my chart in his hand, and he clicked his pen and started to scribble, barely looking at me. "How are we feeling? How's Sleeping Beauty?"

Sleeping, maybe. Not beauty. "F-fine, I guess. How long was I asleep?"

Apparently annoyed that he was unable to fulfill his doctorly obligations without touching the patient, he resigned himself to actual patient contact. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he began prodding me along my right side. "How does that feel?"

Apparently satisfied by my stifled scream, he took a penlight and shone it into each eye, making some more scribbles on my chart, before answering my question. "You were brought in early Saturday, sometime around 2 AM. Today's Tuesday." I've lost three days.

He began probing the back of my head, discovering a goose egg I had somehow missed in my initial inventory. I yelped and flinched for him, just to make him feel like a real health care professional, and he nodded in satisfaction and scribbled appropriately.

I just sat overwhelmed, as he pinched and prodded my fingertips, and listened to my chest and back. I did remember to wince for him at the coldness of his stethoscope, it seemed to make him happy. "W-what all's wrong with me?" I asked, weakly.

There must have been something in my tone that appealed to the human being in the doctor suit; he put down the clipboard, and spoke directly to me. "First of all, nothing permanent. You'll be sore for a while, but in a couple or three months, you'll be good as new. You do have a lot of healing to do." He lifted the chart, flipping through it for reference.

"From top to bottom, you took a pretty good knock to the noggin -- you have a fractured skull, and a pretty serious concussion. You have a fractured cheekbone, and a broken nose; a lot of nasty bruising, but no lasting damage; the swelling should go down in a few more days, and once it all heals you'll be as pretty as ever.

"You have a really vicious bruise on your left breast that looks deliberate, the finger marks are obvious. We took photos for the police. On the right side, two broken ribs, one of which punctured your lung; that's why your throat is sore, we had you on a ventilator for a while. We're looking at maybe six weeks for the ribs to heal."

He gave me a severe look, and tapped the chart with his pen. "And that brings us to the fact that you did attempt suicide. Those wrists gave us a scare. You made a bloody mess, but you were very lucky; you passed out from your other injuries before you could do any real harm, the actual damage was minimal. We'll probably unsplint you in a week or so. You'll have some stitches, though." He sighed. "We want to be sure you won't try to hurt yourself again, and maybe do a better job of it, before we let you go home."

I nodded glumly.

"I know you must be hurting, but we're gonna switch you off the heavy-duty IV painkillers over the next day or two, so enjoy them while they last. Ribs, well, we can't bind 'em, and if we numb 'em too much, you're liable to do something you shouldn't, and injure them again. So they're gonna be uncomfortable. I know it hurts to breathe, but you have to remember to take deep breaths, even if it hurts. If you don't, you run the risk of getting pneumonia, and you don't want that kind of a cough, with those ribs."

"Oh. Great." I felt like crying.

He gestured with his pen towards my head. "I know the light's bothering your eyes, that's the concussion talking. We'll keep the room dark for a couple days, it'll pass. You'll be headachy for a while, though, could be a few weeks, on and off. Pain meds will help with that. If you get any dizzy spells, close your eyes and take deep breaths -- it might hurt your ribs, but not near as much as being sick will. Let a nurse know if they happen more than once or twice a day, or if they get too bad, and we'll prescribe something for motion sickness."

He made a last notation on the chart. "How's your appetite? Think you might be able to eat something?"

I realized I was ravenous. "Maybe."

He smiled, "Good. That's always a positive sign." He turned and left me to my thoughts.

A month at least, maybe two. I knew the hospital wouldn't keep me that long; as soon as they were satisfied I was stable, I'd be out the door. A week or two, maybe. Where could I go?

Daddy would want me to come home with him, but I couldn't leave Tiffi alone. Why does that bother you? You were going to leave her alone anyway. I shook my head, denying the thought; I'd been out of my head. Still, it scared me that at least a part of me had thought it was a good idea.

I closed my eyes and sank back into the pillows. I felt drained and sore, overwhelmed, helpless. What a mess. Jake, you unutterable bastard.

It was as I was dwelling darkly on Jake that something landed out of nowhere on my chest. I screamed in terror and thrashed to get away from my attacker. My ribs sent waves of agony down my side and across my chest as I fell out of the bed onto my injured side, knocking the IV stand to the floor and tearing the needle from my arm, unable to use my hands to break the fall. The nurses arrived at a dead run as I scrabbled frantically to try and squeeze under the bed in a blind panic, cowering and whimpering hysterically, "No... no... nonono..." It took two orderlies to pin down my leg long enough for a nurse to stick a needle into me, and then everything went kind of rubbery.

The last thing I remember was looking out across the floor from my usual bug's eye view, and seeing Fraidycat looking back at me from under a chair. From somewhere I thought I heard Tiffi wailing inconsolably.

When I awoke again the room was in semidarkness. My head felt fuzzy, like I couldn't seem to wake all the way up. There was no pain at all -- I knew where it was, but it couldn't quite catch my attention. The little TV over the bed was on, tuned to a football game, the sound off; the flickering images cast an island of light and shifting shadows in the dark room, like a campfire in the wilderness.

I must have made some kind of sound, because instantly Daddy was there, stroking my head, speaking softly. "Welcome back, sweetheart. How's my girl?"

"'M okay..." My throat was sore again, my voice barely recognizable. Daddy put a straw in my mouth, I sucked in a little cool water, felt it soothe it's way down. "Can't feel... 'm sorry Daddy..." I knew I was feeling tremendous guilt over causing my father so much worry, but all I had was a kind of place holder for where the guilt should be, with a string running from that to the dark space under the bottom of the cellar door. "'m s-sorry..."

"Hush now, baby girl, don't talk like that. It's not your fault. None of this is. We just want you to get better. Tiffi's just a mess about it. The doctor gave her some pills, Bridget came to take her back home to Uncle Brian's. A simple accident, is all it was."

"Tiffi... did this? Where is she?"

"Shush baby, she's okay. The doctor gave her some pills to make her sleep. You can see her in the morning."

"Tiffi hurt me, Daddy." I was the six-year-old tattletale, confidently expecting perfect justice to descend and smite my sister. "Tiffi hurts me sometimes."

"Oh, baby girl," his voice was choked as he kissed me gently on the forehead. "Tiffi is so, so, sorry." But I was already asleep again.

In the morning I woke, still muzzy, but I retained enough presence of mind to wake Daddy and send him off to sleep in a real bed. Somebody had to look after him, that was our job, Tiffi's and mine. He promised to be back later in the day, with Tiffi. I drowsed a bit, until the nurse came in and began doing her nursely duties, which were mostly cold and impersonal and much too intimate. Especially cold. And intimate.

I managed to get the nurse to explain what had happened.

"Your sister -- you're twins, aren't you? She's such a pretty young woman -- oh, you'll be pretty again too, just give it time -- anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, your sister came to visit you -- she had a stuffed animal with her she said was your favorite -- so when she gets to the door, she thought she'd just toss it onto the bed with you, as a little surprise. I guess you know the rest, poor thing." She placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

"Fraidycat?" I looked to the bedside table, and as well as I was able, around the room. "Where's my Fraidycat?" The nurse couldn't seem to find him either, until I remembered where I'd seen him. I pointed. "S' under the chair." Having been properly searched and rescued, Fraidycat was airlifted to safety, which turned out to be my left shoulder, where I could at least cuddle him against my cheek. Which I promptly did, and dozed off again.

Mid-afternoon, the doctor came in and conducted another examination of my ribs. Fortunately the painkillers made it bearable, although I tried to make appropriate suffering noises so he wouldn't be too disappointed. He made some stern-sounding scribbles on my chart. "Well, it could have been worse. Nothing new broken, thank goodness, although those ribs took another beating, you'll feel that."

Oh, terrific. I nodded unhappily. "W-will it happen again?"

He sighed, and the doctor shell cracked open to let the human peek out. "You've had an awful, horrific experience. I can't imagine what it must have been like. Some kind of delayed reaction is perfectly normal." He peered at me over his bifocals. "Of course, that particular reaction caught us all by surprise." I managed a weak smile.

He stood to go. "Anyway, for the moment, I've prescribed something that should keep your emotions at arm's length. How is it working?"

I made a face, although with the condition of my face, maybe he couldn't tell. "S'not just my emotions, it's my whole me. Feels like I'm thinkin' at half-speed. " I shook my head. "I don't like it."

He nodded. "It'll wear off by the morning, and Dr. Ruiz will be stopping by, to talk to you about your experience, help you find ways to deal with it. She's nice, you'll like her." He pointed his pen at my wrists. "She'll want to talk about that, too." Oh, great, a shrink. Wait'll she gets a load of my delusions.

Dinner was completely mortifying: My hands were swollen and shaky, and I couldn't manage to grip my spoon. So of course I couldn't feed myself. So I had to be spoonfed, like a baby. Which wasn't humiliating enough, it had to be a candy-striper. Worse than that, it had to be somebody I knew.

"Oh. My. God. Steffi? Tiffi? What happened?"

I cringed when I recognized the voice. "Hey, Cindy, 'm Steffi," I sighed. Cindy was one of the cheerleaders we met at the tryouts, one of Tiffi's new friends. "'S that m' dinner? 'M really hungry."

If I thought I'd distract her, I was sadly mistaken. "But, what happened?."

I opened up my mouth, like a baby bird, hoping she'd get the hint.

She spooned me a mouthful of something bland. "But, oh my god, Steffi! What happened?" Relentless like a pit bull with lipstick, was Cindy.

I was tempted to spin her a story, but I barely had the mental energy to deal with reality, let alone make something up. "Mmmph" I tried to taste what she was feeding me, but as far as I could tell the flavor had been removed. It might have been children's paste. "'M sorry hon, I really don' wanna talk about it, okay? Let's talk about somethin' else. Did you make the cut?"

Cindy pouted, but was somewhat mollified having a captive audience for her gossip. It turned out she had made the cut, and was happy to chat about this year's cheer team, and the routines they had to learn, and the football team's chances, and who was dating who, all from attending one single practice. Eventually I discovered I'd finished my baby food, and I realized how much I'd been enjoying her company.

"Cindi? 'M really glad y' were here. Thanks."

She smiled broadly, clearly pleased. "Oh, I'm happy to help out. Maybe I can come tomorrow? I can bring some magazines, or we can just chat again?" She looked around to make sure she wouldn't be overheard, and then whispered conspiratorially, "Otherwise they make me work."

I smiled. "I'd like that." She gave me a little wave and left with the tray, and I closed my eyes and lay back, tired from just eating dinner. About fifteen seconds later, Cindi's voice came down the hall, "Tiffi? Oh. My. God. What happened?" and I completely lost it to the giggles.

Tiff found me clutching my ribs and gasping for air. She seemed drained, with dark circles under puffy eyes, from lack of sleep. The terrified look on her face as I struggled for breath was like a bucket of cold water, sobering me instantly. "M'okay Tiff, really. I hear you met Cindi." The giggles attempted to break out again, but I gave them a stern look and they backed down.

Tiffi breathed a huge sigh of relief then attempted to gave me a glare, which was spoiled by her inability to keep the grin off her face. "Don't do that to me! You scared me half to death!"

Her tone was light, but at her words the rest of the giggles popped like soap bubbles. "Aw, Tiff, 'm sorry. I've been doing that a lot, lately."

"Now you stop that!" she scolded me. "This isn't your fault! You just shut up and get better!" She sat on the side of the bed, on my left, my good side. Well, my less-bad side. "Now, scooch over just a little."

I scooched as best I could, and Tiffi lay down carefully beside me, trying not to crowd me too much. My bandaged arm lay between us awkwardly, and I lifted it so she could snuggle into my shoulder. It started to throb almost immediately, but it was a tradeoff I gladly accepted; and the pain meds helped. Tiff put her arm gently across my chest to my shoulder, and gave me a very tiny squeeze. "I thought you might need a hug." she whispered.

I did, badly, and of course she knew it, and I knew she needed one too. I nestled my cheek against her head, which was the best I could manage. For a few minutes, we just lay there, not needing to speak, content in the knowledge that each of us was there for the other. Then Tiffi whispered in a Cindi-like voice, "Oh. My. God. What happened?" and the giggles came and snuck past our defenses, and had their way with us, until I had to sit up and clutch my ribs again, fighting to breathe through the laughter. It hurt like hell, but it was worth every second, and I lay back down feeling lighter than I had in long, long time.

Tiffi took advantage of my sitting up to shift her position, so now I snuggled into her shoulder.

"Daddy was still asleep at Uncle Brian's, he really needed it, so I wrote him a note and took a cab. Bridget sends her love, by the way."

I blinked. "Oh, damn. Poor Bridget. The wedding! What's she gonna do?"

Tiff gave me a squeeze. "Well, after Jake -- wait, you don't know that part, either. Let me start at the beginning." She shifted a little to get comfortable, and adopted a prim, storytelling voice. "Are we ready? Well then, in the beginning, there were two baby girls, identical twins. Tiffy was the much older and wiser of the two, and everyone said she was more beautiful, as well..."

I raised my bandaged arm, threateningly. "Do not make me club you, because I so will."

Tiffi grinned, and then settled into a more serious tone. "After you left for work" -- she put a finger to my lips to shush me as I was about to interrupt -- "shhh, baby sis, I am so sorry about hurting you. We do need to talk about it, but let me finish this. Anyway. I got ready for work and came in about half an hour late. I was working the front room, and when I could, I looked in on you, to see how you were doing. Sweetie, you looked awful, I felt so bad... I wanted to tell you to go home, but you were so mad at me, I didn't think you'd listen. Sometime after midnight, I guess, I lost track of you. I didn't think much of it, we were extra busy for a bit, and then Stella asked me if you'd gone home; she said she'd sent you to take break in the office, but you weren't there. And it didn't help that I found your purse and overnight stuff still in the office.

"That got me worried, and the first place I checked was the back alley, but you weren't there. I didn't know what to do, nobody else thought much of it. Stella was a little annoyed, but she figured you'd gone out for some fresh air, or something, and then it was last call, and we were rushed again. Of course, nobody else knew what I knew, either. I didn't even know Jake had been in the bar, until Bridget remarked that he'd ordered a beer, and hadn't come back to drink it.

"The alarm bells went off, then. I had to tell Bridget that I suspected Jake had done something awful, and she got snippy with me, saying that you and he had probably just gone off to be alone. I was worried about that, too, but not the same way. She was upset because I was trying to ruin her wedding. We had a tiny scene, then...

"Everybody thought I was crazy. I went looking, but sweetie, I never expected to find you, I thought Jake had taken you. I walked back to the dorm -- that late, it wasn't smart to be out on the street alone, but nobody else would come -- and you weren't there. I walked back a different way, calling your name, but there was no sign of you anywhere. I didn't know what to do, I was frantic; I called the police, but you'd only been gone a couple of hours by that time, and it was a college town on a Friday night, and I guess they were used to strange behavior. I couldn't get them to do anything.

"There was no way I was going to stay over at Bridget's with you missing, especially after the attitude she was giving me, so I took our stuff and grabbed a cab back to the dorm. They were just loading you into the ambulance." Her voice was choked, "Oh, Steff, I was sure you were dead... and the last words we said to each other kept going through my mind, and I was terrified those were the last words we'd ever have a chance to say..."

I craned my neck to give her a reassuring kiss on her cheek, and tasted her tears. "I'm so glad they weren't... what I said was horrible, I didn't mean it, I swear --" She shushed me with her finger on my lips again. "Shhh, we can talk about it later. Let me finish before I lose it completely.

"I rode with you to the hospital. Now I had the policeman's attention, so I told them about Jake -- but I had no idea what is last name was, or where he lived, or anything. So they had to get Bridget out of bed, and when she found out why, she came straight to the hospital with Uncle Brian. By that time you were in surgery."

She drew a shaky breath. "I had to call Daddy, too. God, that was hard..." There was a long pause before she could continue. "By the time you were out of surgery, the police had found Jake -- and his face had some very nasty scratches. That was you?" I nodded, and she gave me a careful squeeze, a grim tone in her voice. "You do good work. But, nobody had seen him hurt you, nobody could even say they'd seen the two of you together that night-- and you weren't talking, so the evidence was circumstantial. I promised I'd call when you woke up -- and I did, I called them this morning, so they're sending a detective to talk to you."

She stopped and stole a sip from the water cup on my bedside stand, before holding it for me to take a drink. "Anyway, Jake's been arrested, but they might not have enough to prosecute, without your testimony. Bridget is beside herself, worrying about you, but needless to say, her wedding plans are a mess. She's furious at Tony for having such an asshole for a friend."

I growled my agreement with that sentiment. "Maybe... it would be best if the wedding didn't happen? You know what she's headed for."

I felt her shrug. "From what you told me of the spell, who knows? Maybe it would just kick in with the next guy -- and the spell said this one would love her and be a good provider, at least. If she's going to spend the next twenty-five years or so raising eight kids, that has to count for something."

I nodded unhappily, there was really no good answer. "So what's she going to do? Postpone it?"

Tiff shook her head, her voice was cautious. "Well, she wants to go ahead, but with a smaller wedding party, just a maid of honor and a new best man... we figured you might not be up to it, so she's asked me to be her maid of honor -- is that okay with you? I told her I needed talk to you, first." She waited apprehensively for my response.

I laughed sharply, feeling the twinge in my ribs. "If that's what she wants, I'm fine with it, really. It's not like I'll be ready for the job any time soon. Besides, you're better at that stuff anyway." Bridget would be a nervous wreck, I didn't envy Tiff her job.

"Those bridesmaid's dresses were hideous. Maybe you could break a leg, too, or something." I suggested helpfully.

She giggled and swatted my arm. "Nasty girl," she scolded. "You know you can't escape the wedding that easily, Daddy will bring you in a wheelchair, if necessary. I could tell Bridge she can have another bridesmaid..."

I snorted. "Oh, nice. I'm not in enough pain, I have to wear the dress, too?"

We both giggled, happy to have each other back again. "You know I'll wear the dress for Bridge." I whispered drowsily.

Her tone was smug. "I know. I already told her you would."

"I am so telling Daddy t' push my wheelchair over your toes." I muttered.

I had very nearly drifted off, when I remembered something important. "Oh. Tom... c-can I call him out?"

Tiffi's voice was relieved. "Would you? I-I know you were mad at him, so I wasn't going to ask... but I'd really like to talk to him, too. I brought a notepad with me, just in case."

"Tell him... 'm not mad an' I'll talk with him soon. Tiffany, r'member." I mumbled, and snuggled into my big sister's shoulder, and fell unconscious.

When the nurse woke me the next morning -- being an invalid has much stricter hours than I'd imagined -- my brain felt like it was firing on all cylinders again, and my ribs were killing me. I guessed my meds had worn off. The nurse presented me with a couple of pills that seemed much too small for the task, and helped me swallow them, but I knew they'd take a while to kick in.

I found Fraidycat standing guard on my pillow, a sheet from Tiffi's notepad folded up and stuck in his collar. Eventually my clumsy paws were able to unfold it:

Gone to home to sleep, cuz you snore! Be back tonight. Tom says hi. Going to sub for Bridget at the bar this afternoon so Bridezilla can visit you. (EAT THIS NOTE!!!!) Stay out of trouble! Love ya, baby sis -- Tiff.

I gave Fraidycat an extra-big hug for being such a good messenger.

When my breakfast tray eventually arrived, it was accompanied by a police detective, which I thought a bit extreme, even for hospital food. She was a middle-aged woman, with a no-nonsense attitude.

"Miss Burke? I'm Detective Cerone. I was hoping we could talk about what happened to you."

I nodded to the detective and tried to speak around a mouthful of toast. "Of course."

"How about we start with when you met Jake Karides?"

I wish I'd had time to think about this moment, about the answers to these questions, how to not sound like a complete slut without seeming evasive. "That was this past Thursday night. I'd never met him before then."

I told her what happened, on Thursday and then on Friday, and tried to put it in the best light I could. I knew I'd done nothing that deserved being beaten up, but I sure didn't want anything to confuse the issue. Recounting the details was much harder than I expected; I couldn't tell the story without feeling like I was reliving it, a little, and the emotions flooded over me again. I was crying hard by the time I was done, and I wished I had Tiffi with me for support.

Detective Cerone flipped her notepad shut, and gave me a sympathetic look. "I know it can be hard to think about it again, so soon. But I think we have enough to charge him now."

I nodded wordlessly, and she passed me the box of tissues on the bedside table, and left her card in its place. "Call us if there's anything else that comes to mind." She gave me a brief smile and left.

The rest of the morning passed in an uncomfortable drowse, I was perpetually tired but couldn't seem to rest. The pain meds were valiant, but they were certainly no opiates; the cellar door was wide open and the pain was creeping up the stairs; they were fighting a pitched battle, but giving up a step at a time. Fortunately lunchtime brought distraction in the form of, well, lunch. And reinforcements, in the form of another couple of inadequate-looking pills.

My postprandial snooze was a little better, the pain had retreated a bit and the pills were doing crafts and facepainting and little shadow-puppet shows on the cellar steps to keep it distracted. I woke to a hand gently shaking my shoulder.

"Mmmph. Tiff? What are you doing here? I thought Bridezilla was coming." I asked drowsily.

Tiffi had a terrified expression on her face, but her posture was oddly relaxed. "I'm sorry, Steff. He saw me at the bar. He made me bring him here. I had to do it," she whispered.

A cold chill ran down my spine, and any thought of sleepiness vanished. "Oh, shit." My eyes shot to the doorway, and my heart threatened to explode. My feet scrabbled against the bed, galvanized, in a futile attempt to push me farther away.

Jacobi was standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket.

In the other, he had Tiffi's disk.