"Thank you, sweeting. I see now why women like to go to a salon." He was busy pouring shampoo into his hands, emulating what she had done. "That really felt good." He ran his hands through her long locks, trying to distribute the shampoo. Her heavy tresses felt downright sensual to his touch. Massaging her scalp, he got so caught up in what he was doing that he almost forgot for what reason he was in this situation. He glanced back at the mirror and lifting her hair exposed a large bruise and two bite marks, one of them, still raw and red. He nodded at the light fixture.

Taking a deep breath to stem his anger, he stepped around in front of her and had her lean her head back. "Don't get soap in your eyes, Sweetheart." Smiling, she obediently closed her eyes and held her head under the water for him. There were finger marks on her neck, bite marks on her pretty breasts, and a large ugly multi-colored bruise low on her abdomen. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her completely around to face the mirror. "Now we're going to rinse." Holding her head between his palms, he maneuvered her under the shower head and ran clean water over her head. Kneeling down, he combed his hands through her long hair, all the way to the ends.

On his knees, sitting on his heels, his eyes on a level with her beautiful bottom, he nearly lost it. There were severe bite marks on her buttocks, one of which needed attention. It was still deep enough to bleed. The wound that most upset him though was a wide raw scrape that gouged out a bit of flesh down into the cheeks of her buttocks. He had to close his eyes and breathe very deeply to control himself when he realized what this meant. (...Oh, my brave and beautiful darling... How have you coped? I am so sorry. I vow to make it better if I can...) A lump formed in his throat, but he had to finish what he was doing.

Barely able to control his voice, he remarked, "I think we're rinsed. Your hair is so thick and there's so much, how do you know when you're done?"

"I usually look in the mirror while running the water over it." She glanced over her shoulder and saw the dismay fraught on his face. "It looks fine. Here. I'll run a little more clean water on it to make sure." She leaned forward and flipped all of her hair over the top of her head, exposing the back of her neck and a nearly healed ligature scar. (...Lane thought about different ways he could kill the bastards... most of them slow and painful...) She ran water from her nape to the top of her head until she was sure that her hair was shampoo-free.

He ruminated, How am I going to make this up to her?  And...He realized he had been so preoccupied with her condition that he had forgotten to signal Airen. Perhaps he had seen the marks and did it anyway. He'd have to ask. He wasn't sure that this ploy would work again. Now calm down, so you can get the rest of the way through this!

As nonchalantly as he could muster, he inquired, "Are you ready to go down and have breakfast with the family?"

"Sure. Let's get dressed. I'll wait in the bedroom for you." She reached up to his cheek and gave him a quick little kiss on his mouth.

(...Evidently, I got away with it...) "'Kay."

His next move would be to find a way to get her to see a doctor, maybe a cosmetic surgeon. ...I don't care about her scars, other than what they mean she went through. But she seems to think I do. If she could undo some of the scars, it might restore her pride in her body. Damn! This sneaky stuff is not my style... I hate tricking her... He wandered into his dressing room to find the appropriate attire for a morning with the family and some hidden sleuthing with Airen.

Later Lane determined Airen's location and sought him out rather than have Airen come to him. Airen had documented all the wounds and scars as Lane had hoped. They examined the photos and videos to see which would best convince a doctor to visit. Lane was confident that Airen could locate the best physician and/or cosmetic surgeon. He solemnly turned the search over to Airen, knowing that he would receive his answer right away. They had already developed a plan to explain a doctor's presence. Lane was going to claim that his scar from his time with Varda had been bothering him, so they needed someone with dermatology and scar experience. Once the doctor was on-site, it would be easy to convince Ayla to consult with him as well.

Lane escorted Ayla in to the kitchen and waited for hugs all around before he seated her and scooted his chair very close to hers. Ayla seemed so much more cheerful at table with the family that Lane almost relaxed and enjoyed his breakfast. This was the first meal that the couple had taken out of Ayla's apartment since his return home. Although he had been there only a few days, the family had greeted him as a brother. Everyone knew how she loved him. His unceasing devotion to Ayla and her well being became so obvious that they all knew that this man loved her deeply and would most likely someday really be family. He spent every minute of every day faithfully taking care of her every need and loving her profoundly.

The meal was fun. Lane and Ayla sat very close and held hands or just touched each other as often as possible and still were able to eat. Lisa had prepared eggs, bacon, grits, cottage potatoes, and biscuits on the old stove and provided strawberries for Ayla and tea for Wright. "Lisa," Lane began,"This was great. I haven't had real food in months... Please... May I bother you for another cup of your excellent coffee?"

Lisa was inordinately pleased and poured him another cup with a bright smile. Lane smiled his gratitude at her and made a big show of sipping the brew. Ayla watched her love at his most charming and was so proud to know that this man loved her. She reached over and laid her hand on top of his. He stopped in mid-sip, turned his soft smile her way, twined his fingers in hers, and just gazed at her for several long moments.

The rest of the family didn't know whether to continue eating or ease out of the room and leave these two alone.

In his on-going campaign to restore Ayla to her sweet, strong, happy, confident self, he developed a program of positive reinforcement, physical training, and lots of love. ..."Ain't I the professional therapist?"  he mocked himself... He needed help with at least the first part of that effort. Calling from his regular spot, on his back on the sofa, Lane addressed the air, "Yo, Airen!"

"Yes, sir?"

"I need your help, Buddy." Airen appeared and nodded enthusiastically. "Wow. That was fast..."

Airen grinned. "I am fast, sir."

Lane continued, "I've been reading soul-soothing, spirit-restoring passages for Ayla." Airen looked interested. "My problem is that I have to spend so much time looking for appropriate articles that it's not as effective as it could be. I was hoping with your extensive databases that for you the search wouldn't be so cumbersome."

Again, Airen nodded. "Of course, sir."

"What I need are passages from the religions and the philosophies in their original tongue, (...I can still read and speak some languages... and some things sound more beautiful in their original language anyway...) in a phonetic text, (...in case I can't...) and an English translation..." Airen agreed with a single nod. "If I give you a list of subjects, can you locate some articles for me?"

"Certainly, sir. How soon do you need them?"

Lane chuckled. "Yesterday."

"I am fast, sir, but time travel is as yet beyond my abilities."

"As yet?" One eyebrow climbed Lane's forehead. Airen performed a passable shrug. Bemused, Lane advised, "As soon as you can..."

"'Kay."

Lane advised, "I'll be in the Conservatory with Ayla this afternoon, if you can get me a few to get started." He handed Airen a thumb drive, nodded his gratitude, and strode toward the great indoor garden.

As he entered, the warm, moist air felt like a tropical breeze. He located Ayla on a cushioned bench, eyes closed, breathing deeply. So as not to startle her, he made a noisy production of opening and closing the door. She looked in his direction and stretched a beckoning hand his way. "Lane," she called. "Come smell the citrusy scent right here." Reaching her side, he slid onto the bench beside her, snaking an arm around her waist. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and sniffed the air. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Taking her hand, he held it close to his heart. "Almost as beautiful as you, Sweetheart..."  He kissed her fingers and was amazingly gratified at her soft smile. He pulled a small volume out of his back pocket and began to read to her in his beautiful baritone.

It was one of her favorite books, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. He knew how much she loved it, but it was beginning to worry him, because it was a real tearjerker. He had to admit that even he choked up at the ending. He wasn't sure whether tears would be cathartic or a setback. She sat listening with eyes closed, leaning on his arm, a serene smile on her face.

Less than half an hour since he had spoken to him, Airen peeped from behind a large-leafed tropical plant. "Master Lane?"

Noticing Airen, Lane excused himself with, "Sweetie, I have to confer with Airen."

She glanced up. "Sure, sure." She closed her eyes again.

Lane approached Airen. "Hey, little buddy, did you get me a couple of articles already?"

"Here are all the passages I could find. There are only a couple thousand, so I can have them printed out for you if you'd like." Lane's brows rose with his genuine surprise.

"Just how smart are you, Airen?"

"I do not know, sir. I am not allowed in the building that houses my mainframe. Great Grandfather Towers used to ask me if I would like to play a game, and when we would play, he would always get upset. After a few times, he stopped asking and locked me out of the bunker, physically, and also forbid me online access."

The hairs on Lane's neck stood up. Good God! Glad he loves us! "Uh, I think I'd like the first ten of each version loaded onto my tablet. Ayla seems to like 'puters more than books anyway.  Except for her collection of Heinleins... That might make it more comfortable for her when I'm reading to her." He laid his hand on Airen's shoulder. "Thank you, Airen. You're a good friend."

Airen lowered his eyes and murmured, "De nada... Lane." Lane smiled softly as he watched Airen retreat and pondered the amazing turn that his life had taken. His best friend was a robot.