(Caution: This chapter contains mature content. Viewer discretion advised.)

It was bound to happen.

Day Fourteen dawned at last.

At six o' clock sharp, my eyes opened to a pair of long-lashed, shut ones. Freddie lay at my side, facing me.

I leaned over to gently kiss his rough cheek, and would have whispered "Good morning" but memories of that nightmare were too fresh. I didn't honestly believe Freddie would suddenly erupt into that same shape-shifting doubt-monster, but I didn't feel like taking any chances just yet. I was way too sore for that.

But as soon as my lips touched him, his eyelids fluttered- and my heart skipped a beat. Don't bite my head off, please.

To my relief, he didn't even open his eyes, instead yawned widely, and said in a muzzy voice, "Hmmm... whatimizit?"

I smiled. "Six o'clock."

He rubbed his face, then rolled over. "Bad dreams?"

"No," I lied. "Just felt like waking up."

"Good for you... I should get out of bed myself..."

"You don't have to get up yet."

"Rubbish... you already up... make me look bad..." Freddie murmured into the pillow, before he sank back into sleep mid-sentence. I couldn't help smiling. God, he was so cute when groggy.

Very slowly I dragged myself away from him, almost limping to the bathroom. I had to clean up; remnants of last night still clung to me, and I wouldn't feel anything like myself until they had been completely removed.

I popped my contacts in, glanced in the mirror, and almost screamed at the wreck staring back at me. I knew Freddie had roughed me up considerably, but I didn't think it would be this bad. To put it mildly, I looked like hell. My naked body was bruised, my lips, neck, and breasts covered with red marks where he had bitten and sucked a tad too eagerly. My face was smudged with mascara, giving my eyes a hollow, sunken look, and my hair was knotted almost beyond belief, from where Freddie kept pulling and tightly working his fingers in it each time he took me.

Cheeks flushing, I yanked off my thumb ring and set it on the counter. Tentatively I tried the wedding ring again, and found my finger didn't sting quite so much as yesterday (at least, not when compared to every other ache now plaguing my broken little body), but I left it on regardless. I stepped into the shower, turned on the hot water, and just stood there a few minutes, leaning wearily against the wall while it rained down onto me.

I stood there, combing the knots out of my wet hair with my fingers, and daydreamed about the night; how he had once again dominated my defenseless frame, taking me with that ruthless brutality- then caressing me with "I love yous" and the tenderest of kisses, holding me close as we came down from each high.

Wrapping the towel around me, I edged out of the shower, feeling much better now that I was clean. Softly I sang to myself, "What a beautiful mess, what a beautiful mess I'm in/ Spending all my time with you/ There's nothing else I'd rather do-"

I slapped my own face.

WAKE UP, SLUSH-BRAIN! I berated myself. I suppose I wasn't totally gone yet; there was still a little shard of vertebra keeping me upright. I have less than six hours now, and I have to choose! Shake the cobwebs out of that skull and start thinking again!

So I started thinking again. And it became clearer than ever that I was, in reality, standing at that cliff from my dreams. My whole life hinged on this one choice: to stay, or to go. Live in the past, or live for tomorrow. The lover, or the life.

I wanted to be loved by him always, but Freddie preferred things in multiples- and of a different kind than me. For however long I might be allowed to stay close to him, he would never make me his wife. There was no point in asking him and humiliating myself further. True: right now, Freddie loved me. And only last night we had promised to keep each other's noses out of trouble- but as my manifest insecurity had so nicely put it, "The wonderful thing about promises- they always end up broken."

Besides, Mary was the love of his life, not me. Everyone knew that.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. The red spots were still there, and somehow even more pronounced. But I was clean and fresh-faced; I couldn't ask for more. Oddly, I couldn't find the thumb ring. I knew I had only set it on the counter a moment ago, but for some reason I couldn't find it. Oh, well. It couldn't have gone far; it would turn up eventually.

I tiptoed out of the bathroom and put on Freddie's robe, then headed off to start a pot of tea and decide on a good breakfast. But before I could do either...

"Ju-liaaaa," Freddie softly cooed.

I turned around. "Mmhm?"

He reached his arms out to me, eagerly opening and closing his hands. "Come here, baby."

I needed no more explanation. My heart melting within me, I padded over to the side of the bed and sat down next to him.

He took my hands in his, a smile on his scruffy face. "Well, well. Don't you look fresh."

"So do you."

"I look anything but."

"Okay, fine. You look like a hobo. Happy now?" But from my tone of voice, I may as well have been telling him "Hello, gorgeous."

"I'm glad to see you, too, darling," Freddie replied. "God, I feel such a sloth. You're already up and I can barely keep my eyes open." He let go of one of my hands and rubbed his eyes, letting out a soft, uncomfortable sigh.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I just- I think I'm rather sore, actually. Last night was insane."

"You're telling me," I grinned. "Shall I rub your shoulders?"

"Honey, I'm not sore in the shoulders."

I blinked, and decided not to encourage that discussion. "Maybe not, but it'll make you feel better."

"Are you sure?"

"I mean, I'm no masseuse, but I'll try."

"Mmm... those sweet little hands don't have any trouble..." he murmured, then rolled onto his stomach. Freddie just loved to set up springtraps for dirty banter. But I'd already made up my mind not to fall into them this morning- on purpose, anyway. I began squeezing the muscles around his neck and shoulders, delighting in the yummy moans it provoked.

"Tell me when," I whispered.

Freddie gave some sort of reply, but he was face down into the pillow, so whatever he said, I only heard a mash of contented, garbled syllables. After a minute or two, I let my hands drift up into his soft, messy hair, and loved the way it felt between my fingers. I could do this all day.

"Shame," I mused aloud.

"Wertsersherm?" Freddie asked.

"Hm?"

He turned his face in profile. "I said, what's a shame?"

"Shame you cut your hair," I replied. "It used to come down to your shoulders."

"You like long hair?"

"Yours, anyway. Looks good on you. Most guys can't pull it off."

"Well, I tell you, it was a nuisance. It frizzes so easily. Had to straighten it."

"With a flat iron?"

"No, dear, a clothes iron. I got the most peculiar looks from people in the dressing room." Then he laughed at his own sarcasm. "Yes, a flat iron!"

"We're feeling cheeky this morning, aren't we?" I noted.

"What did you expect? Ask a stupid question..."

"Well, excuse me for my stupid questions," I remarked matter-of-factly. I slapped his bottom and rose from the bed.

Freddie sat up a little. "Hey, where are you going?"

I replied, "To start some tea, funny man."

"Darling, it's not even seven yet!"

"Yeah, but you like to get there around nine, and what's more you take forever to get ready, so I thought I'd get things going. Also, I want a cup of tea."

"Tart."

"No, I'm not, I just don't want to slow you down!"

He sulked. "Yes you are. I'll be up in a minute, you taskmaster."

"I'm not a taskmaster, I'm just trying to be conscientious of your commitments!"

"You didn't even kiss me good morning."

Freddie had me there, so I walked back and bent over him. "I'm sorry, my prince, I don't know what I was thinking," I whispered, before closing my eyes and kissing his lips. "Good morning."

I started to slowly draw back, but Freddie put his hand on the back of my neck and held me there. As always, one wasn't enough. Before long, the kisses stopped feeling friendly. My body was still very tender from last night's passion; I didn't think I could withstand much more so soon, and here we were again, turning each other on. I felt myself climb back up onto the bed, straddle his hips while a pronounced tent in the blankets formed just beneath my legs-

And then the phone rang.

Freddie closed his eyes. "I swear, if that's Straker-"

I burst out laughing. "Let me answer it."

"No, no, I'll handle this," he said quickly. Freddie sat up, lifting the receiver and declaring to the other end, "Have you any idea what f---ing time it i- oh!" Then his voice changed, became much less accusatory. "Oh, it's you, Paul. Good morning."

Pudding Face! Great. I took that as my cue to slink downstairs; surely Freddie wouldn't want me eavesdropping. Very subtly I crawled off of him, but Freddie held onto my hand and didn't let me go.

"Paul, really, I'm quite all right," Freddie assured him. "I'm honored that you're so worried about me, but-" A pause. "Oh, I know. I know. I can tell you more about that later- Are you going to come up there with Reid today?"

Wordlessly I pried his fingers off my hand and scurried away. But Freddie somehow managed to grab one end of the belt, undoing the knot when I walked away so that the robe, under which I wore nothing, flapped open. My face flushing (which really was quite ridiculous, considering he knew quite well how I looked without my clothes), I tried to yank the belt away from him, but he kept moving his hand just out of reach.

"That's wonderful," Freddie spoke to Prenter as if nothing was happening.

"I will hit you," I growled.

"Sorry, Paul, I'm actually in the middle of something right n- yeah. No, it's fine, I'm glad you called." Freddie winked at me and shook his head. "I'll see you later today. Oh, and don't forget to-" He smiled. "You read my mind. Perfect. Bye-bye now."

Freddie hung up the phone, looking a little confused. "That's so odd."

"What?"

"First thing out of his mouth, after Hello, was-" Then he shot a look at me and shook his head. "Never mind."

I folded my arms. "That's not fair."

"Oh, very well, you already think he's the devil incarnate." Freddie sighed. "I apologize in advance- but he said, 'Is that little c--- still there?'"

I sighed. "Remind me again, why are you guys buddies?"

"He had a rough time when he was younger. Very rough. I thought I'd give him a chance. If he talks that way about you again, though, I may have to rethink this whole idea of keeping him close. I mean, he's very helpful to me- very organized and things. But if he's really no good-"

"No, no, no. Don't not be his friend, Freddie, like I said before. Just don't let him run your life."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying. He's the last person I'd suggest to be managing you. That's all."

"Mmm," he nodded. "I'm not worried, I have you to protect me."

"Me? Protect you?"

"If Paul turns out to be a vicious little sneak, I'll just turn you loose on him. Watch you rip him to shreds."

"That's Rudy's job. He's your bodyguard."

"Yes, but I'd let you do the honors there."

"On that wizened fellow?" I shook my head. "He'd disintegrate if I breathed on him too hard. That wouldn't be fair."

"So you don't want to tear him up?"

"Nah. I'd rather just shoot him."

Freddie laughed. "Oh, yes, that good old American way." He made a gun gesture with his hand and went "Pow! Pow!"

"Saves you from getting blood under your fingernails, see," I said. "Or on your clothes. It's very efficient."

"You sound like you're, um- experienced in this."

"Maybe I am," I whispered, saucer-eyed.

Freddie blinked. "I, uh- I was actually kidding, you know. About, um, all that- I was kidding."

"So am I," I laughed. "Even point-blank, I'm the worst shot ever. I couldn't hit a barn door from two feet."

"Oh, how disappointing," Freddie shook his head. "I suppose that means we'll have to let Paul live."

I nodded. "This time."

"That's fair, I think."

"Good. Shall I go make the tea?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

I pecked his lips and tried to walk away again, more purposefully this time, but he stepped on the hem of the robe, causing the thing to fly off of me and collapse by his foot. Now I was standing there naked, watching him for his next act.

Which was to draw the covers back, revealing that he was apparently not sore enough in regions besides his shoulders, and slowly saunter over to me. I didn't move. So much for the shower.

"Freddie, I think you're even hornier in the mornings than you are at night," I said.

He stopped walking a moment. "Is that your way of saying you don't want to make love right now?"

"No," I smiled. "Just an observation."

"Well, I do like to start and finish things with a bang."

I rolled my eyes, tried to laugh and mean it. "Freddie, you need to save your batteries. You've a big day today."

"All my days are big." Freddie must have seen where my eyes went as he said that, because he added softly, "Just like my c---."

I just looked at him, blinking. Oh, no, you did not just say that. "I beg your pardon?"

His dark eyes danced with a risque gleam. "Isn't that what you were thinking just now?"

I pretended to be oblivious. "What?"

"That I have a big c---."

"No- although I do have to say- it is, I ought to know that much," I stammered clumsily. "I was thinking- I thought you wanted tea. And breakfast."

He smirked. "Later. First, let us attend to some unfinished business."

Freddie held out his hands to me- and then I saw it. He must have snuck in when I wasn't looking and snatched it off the counter. The Vegas wedding band, that cheap little thing I'd been wearing on my thumb all day yesterday, the ring that now sparkled happily in the bright, soft sunbeams creeping into the bedroom- was on Freddie's finger.

Oh, God. That should have been enough. That should have been all I needed, as if I needed any more evidence. How could I not have seen it- seen what it meant? What he was trying to tell me? Such a fool. Such a fool. Oh, dear God, of all the lightning rods You could have sent, why did You send such a blind, blathering FOOL?

Freddie gently touched my wet hair, the new love bites on my skin, and smiled approvingly. "My God, you're beautiful."

I seized his ringed hand and kissed both sides. "And you- are- everything."

He shivered, then took me in his arms. There was something new in the way he held me at this moment. I felt desperation in his embrace, something helpless, like the way a child will cling to his mother when he's been terribly frightened. He wasn't being cute anymore. This was serious.

"I want you to stop," he stated.

"Stop what?"

"Stop worrying. Stop doubting. Stop playing coy and trust me like I trust you."

"I do trust you!"

"Because, there's something I want to say," he went on thickly. "There's something I- oh, Julia, darling..."

"What is it?"

"Not now," he murmured. "I- can't say it now. I'm no good with words, you know that, my God, I sound like such an idiot when it matters."

"I don't care how you say it, just say it!"

But he shook his head vehemently. "No. It won't do. I can only show you- show you what I feel."

"But Freddie, there's so little time-"

"Darling, shh," he whispered, laying me down against the rumpled covers. "Besides, don't you know by now?"

"What?"

He Eskimo-kissed me. "We have all the time in the world."

I swallowed, then shut my eyes and let him take over one last time, writhing fitfully under his maddening touch, pulling him in deeper and deeper, crying out when the feelings became too much for my weary little body- while those last words of his rang in my ears, as they still do today:

We have all the time in the world.

Oh, Lord, if only.