Over the next couple of days, a routine developed. Airen had set the lights to a daily schedule, so Ayla awoke before Lane. She slid her pallet under his bed, performed her own morning routine, and consumed her breakfast. Usually she would awaken him and feed him his breakfast. On the third day, Lane awakened feeling strong enough to get "up and at 'em" on his own.

He propped up on his elbow and was immediately stunned by an unobstructed view of a wet female body. As she turned her face up to the shower, she raised her arms over her head to squeeze the water out of her hair, lifting her pretty breasts, and thus causing the usual bodily response of the male of the species. As she attempted to rinse the lather from her shapely legs, she turned them this way and that, flexing and relaxing her heart-shaped bottom. "Ouch!" He hoped he hadn't said that out loud.

She turned the rest of the way toward him. His eyes were drawn to that so-small waist and a womanly "landing strip" of dark hair. "...Carpet and drapes," He mused. She looked in his direction and they made direct eye contact. He blinked and performed an exaggerated gulp. She smiled serenely, as he flopped back onto his pillow, thinking of all kinds of unsexy situations to "calm himself down." He tried to remember his multiplication tables, his grandmother in her bloomers, his bunk mate in Varda's barracks. She serenely finished her shower and her AM ablutions.

Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, she approached his cot, calling cheerfully, "Good morning!" Without comment, she helped him get out of bed and dressed by reaching into a small cubbyhole by his cot and handing him a neatly folded pile of clothes. He looked perplexed by an outfit of jeans, chambray shirt, and "tennies." He glanced questioningly at Ayla. She nodded, "Yours, while we clean your own clothes."

As the morning progressed, she was very busy ignoring him ignoring her. Finally they were so successful at ignoring each other that they got in each other's way, and grinning, went on about their day, once again comfortable with each other. As had become their habit, they talked or read, played chess or cards, and sometimes watched a movie, compliments of Airen. Ayla wouldn't allow Lane to do anything strenuous as yet.

Daily, she continued helping him with his morning routine until, after a few days, he was able to manage completely on his own, including that belated shave. He seemed relieved to clean his chin and neaten up his mustache. Solemnly, he twitched it for her. She acknowledged, "Mas macho."

He bowed deeply and spotted her pallet under the cot. "What is that?" he asked accusingly.

"That's where I sleep." He whirled on her and crossed his arms over his chest. She stammered, "I didn't want to leave you here alone, and that was the only way I could stay down here in the clinic. I'm perfectly fine sleeping on the floor." He assumed the role of injured party.

"How could you do this to me, Sweetheart? I owe you so much." He strode toward her and swept her into his arms, holding her gently to his chest. He admonished, "You'll take the bed tonight."

Regaining her strength of will, she replied, "No, I will not. You're not completely healed, and I'll not have you undo all my good work." She pouted her lips and tried to look stern.

"You'll sleep with me then."

"I... I will?" She cocked her head and thought it over a second.

"No double entendre. As you said, I'm not completely healed, so I cannot attack you ...yet." He performed a double lift of his eye-brows and grinned down at her. He hugged her, having held her a little longer than he had thought proper, and finally stood away from her, holding her at arm's length. "So it's settled then." He dropped his arms and settled into a chair, picking up a magazine he had been scanning, occasionally peeking surreptitiously at Ayla as she tidied up the clinic. Somehow, they both ended up looking forward to bedtime.

When evening came, they both carefully donned full sets of pajamas, and with a great show of nonchalance, lay down back to back. After mumbling perfunctory "Good night's," they lay awake a long time, each acutely aware of the warm body that was pressed against his or her back. Sometime later, Lane awoke with a start. Something was wrong. Reaching behind his hips, he encountered a female hip, shivering with cold. All the covers seemed to be piled around him.

Flipping completely over to face her, he observed "Poor baby." He wrapped himself around her in a close, tight "spoon." Her body stiffened a moment. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Shh, sweetheart. Go back to sleep." As she warmed, she relaxed. Drowsily, she acknowledged at the edge of her consciousness, that she was safe with Lane's strong arms around her. She snuggled closer with a soft sigh, her rounded bottom pressed tightly against him. He nearly groaned with the male discomfort this brought on, even as his heart swelled. "She trusts me," he marveled. Closing his eyes, he wondered, "Should she?" Squeezing his eyes shut, he eventually fell back to sleep.

After a couple nights of "not sleeping together", and a couple days of not talking about "not sleeping together", the whole thing became a non-subject. It was as normal an activity as having breakfast and getting dressed. But Lane was pacing like a caged beastie! Twice Ayla saw him go to the outer door and just stand there staring at it. The third time, she spoke up, "Lane?" He spun around. "Do you want to go out?" she inquired.

He looked guilty. "I don't want to, but I... I think I have to."

"You have to pull out?"

He looked startled, then grinned, "Can't pull out..."

She giggled appreciatively. "I've missed you. Thought you'd forgotten to be the bad boy." She knew he'd have to leave sooner or later, and acknowledged to herself, "...And I am going to miss you so much."

He dropped his eyes and softened his smile. "I've enjoyed getting naked and sleeping with you, but I do have to finish my... ah... mission." He walked back to her and draped his arms around her, kissed her brow, and stood just holding her. He sighed heavily, glancing at the door.

Assuming her facade of all business, she inquired, "Will you wait a couple days? I'd like to give Airen a little time to scope out the best way to get you out of here without drawing attention from our mutual 'frenemies'."

He nodded agreement and stepped away from her. Wiping his hair from his brow, he looked toward the door again and back at Ayla. Thinking about what she had said, "... And what she hadn't said", he mused. He nodded agreement. "And I'm going to miss you too, sweetheart."

If Lane must leave so soon and from the North gate, Airen could offer little good advice. He didn't want to let Lane leave without at least some prep. He suggested that the two of them come up to the house and allow him to do more research. If nothing else, they could let Lane out at a different gate. Also, Airen wanted to talk with Lane to get additional perspective, since Lane's closer encounter would allow more data for Airen's "Varda dossier."