Author's note:

People, it's really long. Over 3,000 words. Grab some chips . . .

The breeze was hardly felt by Levi as he cruised down the highway to the countryside. But somehow the rumble of the engine and the two wheels moving against the road drowned out all else. He was well aware of the speed he was on and Hopper's diaphragm paralyzing grip around his middle. He'd promised her he'd be careful—which he believed he was being, but there was no telling how far Greenwood had gone with his business. It was his "assigned" job to get her back to the estate as fast as possible.

The city was soon behind them, parked cars were getting replaced by trees by the side of the road. He tried focusing on his driving and the view but he couldn't keep his mind from straying to other things. He still couldn't grasp how the woman behind him didn't retreat from him after all he'd done today. She knew all his shades—except Fiona. But she didn't need to know, right? She didn't mean anything to him in that way. She couldn't mean anything to him that way. She would be just like all the rest. Maybe she'd attacked him the last time he'd tried to prove it, but it had been his stupid mistake to think she felt anything for him. But if she did, she'd be no different. And he wasn't game to be toyed around with anymore.

But there wasn't any danger of that. She showed a caring spirit of a friend. Right there when he'd let go of his reins of emotion, her attempts at comfort warmed him, broke him! Chris hadn't been very good at physical comfort, but somehow it was as if the essence of Hopper's brought him back to life. Her stout belief that God was tenderhearted astounded him if anything else. Whatever she had, it was genuine.

He would hate to ruin that.

...........................................

Chris made a mental note to never ride on a motorcycle with Stevens ever again. Her heart hammered in her chest apprehensively. All this was worse than motion sickness. She was so sure the menacing machine would tip over with the sharp turns he took.

She dared open her eyes once it stopped. Her legs trembled beneath her as she swung her leg off the thing. She fought to remove the helmet on her head. Her hair was a ghastly mess for sure. But all that dimmed with the wonderful facts that she was off that machine and she was standing behind the large Greenwood property. Great motley of trees stood tall before her, modestly hiding the electric fence that bordered the old apple orchard.

Getting beyond the wire fence was the next obstacle. She handed Stevens her helmet without a glance and strode into the trees. She heard the monster rumble away. Stevens had to stash it somewhere. A bike randomly standing at the side of the road could make unwanted heads turn. She walked along the length of the electric fence, its silent hum warning of its power. To her surprise, there was a gate—which wasn't locked. But she knew better than to just reach out and push it open. She had no idea how many volts would travel through her body within contact—or if they were powerful enough to kill. But that was unlikely.

Her head and hope rose at seeing Stevens jogging toward her. She was amazed how he held on to his emotions. It would seem like a lie if she dared say out loud that he had any at all. But she knew he did. She literally knew. And the deepest desire of her heart was that God would somehow reach out and heal. Nothing she could say would change him or make him understand he didn't have to carry guilt.

She cared about him. She couldn't dare admit anything more, although the thought that he'd turn into a stranger once all this was over was more than horrifying. But why should she be feeling anything anyway? She didn't even know his first name! Although she couldn't deny calling him by his last name was getting to her.

Her heart flipped as an awkward grin pulled the corners of his lips. He held a wooden bat with a narrow handle and a broad flat end—a cricket bat. She grinned down at his creativity before her eyes rose up to his. A longing she didn't know filled her as his deep blue orbs brushed their gaze over hers—gentle yet fierce. She hardly noticed his piercings.

He cleared his throat, his demeanor locked on getting the job done. Chris was left in the dark by the quick unreadable glance he gave as he squeezed the head of the bat between the frame of the gate and the fence. He made the gap created wider by taking several steps to the side, the position of the bat keeping the gate open. "Go on," he nodded to her.

Chris stepped through cautiously, the looming hum sending thoughts of electrocution through her mind. Making it to the other side, she hardly let go of her breath, his turn to come through. He pushed it wider. The bat slipped against the wire, the gate shutting with a resounding rattle.

Chris bit her lip and clenched her fists as he went through the whole process once more. She couldn't help the sick feeling something would go wrong with the way he played this whole thing, his fingers about two inches from the edge of the bat. The colossal rattling echoed in her memory. Half his body was in the clear, but she wouldn't rest easy until all of him was through. His fingers went closer to the edge, wanting more grip. The rest of his body made it through, his back to her as he proceeded to gently close the gate.

"Please be careful," she said, heart in her throat.

He turned his head to give her a drawl look. "I am being—"

The gate shut, the bat dropping to the packed earth with a woody thud—Stevens vibrating as the electric current flowed through his body.

A scream was dead in her throat as alarm swept through her as she retrieved the bat from the ground and batted his arm away, breaking the current. Horror gripped her as his frame slumped to the brown earth, the reality of the merciless volts flowing through the fence.

She dropped onto her knees before him. "Stevens?" Panic shot through her at his horribly still form. She patted the side of his face. She slapped him with all she had, unbelief combining with the fear building up as his head only swung to the other side.

She shook her head defiantly. "He's not dead," she whispered into the static air. He was still with her. CIA needed him still. And so did her. She placed two of her fingers underneath his jaw to detect a pulse.

It was nothing she'd ever felt in her life.

Turning frantic, "Lord, please," she whispered, her heart crying out. She unzipped his jacket and placed her ear against his solid chest.

Nothing.

Her throat constricted, her heart ripping, one seam at a time as her head rested on his chest. Broken sobs rose from her depths. Why had this happened? She could not perceive it. "God, why?" It was too soon!

She grabbed a fistful of Stevens' cotton shirt. She could still feel his warmth. But for how long? She let grief take the reins. She couldn't care less if she got caught. Her mind played back to everything they'd been through so far. She shook off the memory of what an idiot she must be. She'd come to like him—too much. Now he was gone. Where was he?

She wept at the thought. She wasn't sure. She didn't want to be! She couldn't bring herself to think of where he was. And all this time she'd done nothing to at least try to change his fate. "God, please," she prayed amidst her tears, "If he isn't with You, I beg You to bring him back."

No reassurance was given. God seemed to be silent. Chris raised her head to the clear past-noon cerulean sky. She clenched her fists as if wanting to squeeze the bubbling hopelessness in her. She groaned, her heart pleading yet without words.

He heard.

.............................................

Michael slapped his laptop shut as his office door opened. He wouldn't call what he was doing wrong—although he had built a wall which only showed to other devices only what he wished them to see. It was unlikely that anyone had found out. But maybe he'd have to see who came through that door first.

Lisa.

And boy, did she look animated. He didn't feel like hearing anything she had to say—but it wasn't like she ever noticed. "What's up?" he asked anyway.

She bounced on her heels, her dark eyes glowing. "I'm finally going back to the Isle!"

"Whoop! Whoop!" he replied with dull sarcasm, punching his fists into the air.

Lisa was totally disgusted. She sat on his desk, knowing how it peeved him. She ignored the grey silent glare. "Aren't you happy for me?"

He gasped and knitted his brows dramatically. "Whatever gave you the idea that I ain't? Friends are always happy for each other."

"Then why are you jealous?"

Michael chuckled in good humor. "What makes you think that I'm jealous?" He patted his desk. "I am more than content to be seated right here." He steepled his fingers. "So be chill, honey."

Lisa sighed, fighting irritation. "I understand that you're beyond a brain and I must seem to have mashed potatoes instead, in your sight. You're an important part to this whole thing and I'm like the extra that hardly gets seen. But your vinegar isn't going to get to me. I'm still excited to be getting to stretch my legs."

Michael gave a hang-man smile. "Beautiful speech you just gave!" He leaned forward, his eyes' humor dying away. "But I hardly care." He leaned back on his chair contentedly. "So go on. Be the hero who saves the day or try to be or whatever. It won't matter to me whether this Greenwood guy gets caught or gets away."

Lisa was perplexed. He really didn't care? Or was he bluffing to cover up his true feelings? But if he really didn't, that would be startling! He'd just be here for what? Nothing was stopping him from taking somebody else's offer for a tech job. "That's—cold."

His eyes were worse. He shrugged dismissively.

She walked out of there chilled—afraid of what he might be tempted into.

.....................................................................

He'd never felt anything like it. Through his arm, mighty electrical currents of deathly voltages ran through every part of his body, choking him. Then it all ended.

Darkness surrounded him, swallowed him.

It wrapped its fingers of death around him. Terror he had never known grabbed hold of his soul. His whole being chilled as a dark, raspy, echoing voice from some other dimension filled his ears, his bones.

"You are mine! Finally!"

He was falling, falling, falling into the darkness—tangible darkness. Horror filled every fiber of his being. Where was this? This was what it felt to be alone—isolated—abandoned—separated from everything and everyone everywhere. Yet what did he hear? Screeching, shrieks of agony, moaning. What did he feel? Torn, grieved, guilty, worthless—dead.

Even in the darkness, a hideous beast flashed before his eyes, lion-like teeth bare and sort of exaggerated in size.

Torment.

Then a Voice like thunder, rushing water took over. A Voice with the power to burn the earth to ash, called out to him.

Levi!

He felt he would explode; the mighty Voice was not only audible, but somehow tangible. His whole being trembled. Who was it?

Come!

He rose—he had no idea how, but he rose nonetheless.

"No! He must stay!" the other hellish voices screeched around him.

He never would submit to their wish. His heart was about to rupture as he rose higher and higher, the darkness disappearing as the blinding light swallowed him. He could barely draw breath as the tangible glory was all he could see and feel. He trembled with fear. He could not stand before it all!

He needed to go—but not back to the darkness!

I give you a second chance.

At a speed no one could measure, it all faded away. He landed into a different darkness—a darkness of a sleep of nothing.

He felt a gentle hand running through his hair in unhurried strokes. A feminine voice whispered something he couldn't grasp. Birds chirped a melody that almost soothed his body that felt like lead. The musical rustling of leaves was more beautiful than he'd ever heard before.

He forced his eyes to open and focus on the blurry images before him. A finger traced over his face before stilling over his chest. Green leaves waved above him, some lighter green round stuff hanging amongst them. Oh, and the woman above him! He sucked in a sharp breath of awe. It was all beautiful.

"What happened to me?"

Chris couldn't describe the joy she felt at hearing his deep voice—speaking. She had no idea either. But as she sat under the apple tree with his head on her lap and her hand on his chest, all she knew was that his heart was beating. It was weak, but it was beating. He was breathing. His beautiful eyes on her, she couldn't look away. "The fence electrocuted you."

He knitted his dark brows, confusion etched on his features. "No, I mean what happened?"

She chuckled—even under the circumstances. "Well, your heart decided to stop beating, and made me start doubling my nose size with crying." She had dropped her accent and was trying to be humorous—yet deep inside, she thanked the Lord over and over for what He'd done.

Levi mused that over. His had heart stopped. Goosebumps crawled up his whole body. He remembered the outer darkness, the light—the Voice.

He got a second chance.

...................................................

Chris gave up trying to convince the man to slow down. He was impossible! His heart was barely beating in her opinion and here he was, insisting he was okay and didn't need a hospital. He hardly had enough color in his face!

He stopped and stood behind one of the trees, heaving for breath. Chris marched up to him. He'd worked himself out. Good! Now she could talk sense into his skull. He was sheet-white and glistening with sweat! "Stevens—"

His eyes widened, flashing with danger. He pulled her against him, turning her so her back was to him. She turned her head slightly and looked up, puzzled. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Someone's coming."

His breath was like sparks of fire, but she fought to ignore it. How come she hadn't sensed someone approaching? Then all of a sudden she felt it too. It was a moment before she saw from a distance four guys, all carrying large cardboard boxes. She didn't see Richard among them. But with all her heart, she prayed that Stevens and her wouldn't be sighted against this slender tree.

From where they stood, they saw them approach the gate, open it, and leave. Chris couldn't see any vehicle, but it had to be there somewhere. "I wonder where they're going," she wondered aloud. She had to find out.

"We'd better start moving." Levi summed up that this place was too sparse to hide anything. How in the world had those guys not seen them? But then again what if they had but were not showing it? Standing here was playing the sitting duck, ripe for getting shot down. He'd tasted death. And he knew he didn't want it.

Hopper moved away from him , turning to face him. His eyes saw her as though for the first time. He always saw her as attractive but not beautiful. Her black pants were stained with brown earth, her checkered flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves, her long blonde hair a bit disheveled, but she was beautiful nonetheless. What if she'd been the one shocked and not him? He'd never forgive himself—or her God. But here he was, alive—like her.

In his heart he knew Who the Voice was, but he didn't feel ready to acknowledge it. He had been given a second chance. And somehow he felt it was because of the woman before him—from her God.

"I gotta go after them."

And now she was talking of leaving to stalk these guys—in broad daylight. "Try not to get yourself killed." That was cold but he didn't care.

Her emerald eyes turned to steel as she sauntered back to him. "You're the one who said we outta start moving."

"And that I will."

She stopped and looked down, a foot from him. "Just don't walk through that gate again," she said near a whisper.

"Yes, mom."

She punched his chest. "I'm serious!" Her eyes glistened in assurance of that.

He nodded, ready to abide to her wish—even though it meant more risk. He thought of her safety. He brought out the Baby Glock from his jacket and handed it to her. Her mouth dropped open. He seized the opportunity. "You don't know how to use one of these?"

She playfully slapped him. "Shut up."

He grabbed hold of her hand before it dropped to her side without fully thinking it through. Her eyes lit up with surprise. His thumb rubbed against her wrist.

So soft.

Her pupils widened in awareness as color flooded her whole face. He didn't want to let go. "What's your name?" He asked before he thought about the question.

"Dumb question," she quipped.

He chuckled. "No, I mean your first name?"

"I thought you liked last name—"

"Okay, I take it back," he snapped. He let her hand go, her eyes altering noticeably.

Silence stretched for but a moment. "It's Christina."

His head came up, surprised she'd spoken at all. "What?"

"But people don't call me that because I think it sounds like an Italian saying Christine which was my aunt's hamster's name, and Christi was my English teacher's name, so people ended up calling me Chris."

Her face turned beet-red after her speech.

Levi hardly noticed.

Chris.

He hadn't dared utter that name out loud since today. And here he was, being given the opportunity to say it—to the living. "Chris," he said with a flat tone that gave nothing away. "I'm Levi."

Chris nodded, the only thing she could do. He told her! She had not heard it from someone else. Levi told her. God, does this mean he's accepted me?

He grinned awkwardly. "Take care of yourself."

Without thinking better of it, she reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders in an embrace, and also to hide her tears.

His arm instinctively wrapped around her back and his hand cupped the back of her head. As her scent filled him, a strange unbidden warm took him over. The body of the gun, he felt against his back, but it was so insignificant. He submitted to the urge to press his lips against the side of her neck as he drew her closer.

Chris breath hitched as she felt shockwaves coursing through her body. Her free hand slid down to pushed him away, but stilled when she caught his rapid heartbeat—matching hers. She didn't want to pull away—although she knew she had to. Heat she hadn't known filled her. "They'll get away. I gotta go."

His hold reluctantly slipped away. She stumbled back. There was no way she could look him in the eye.

Chris turned and ran.

Author's note again:

Soooo . . . what do you think? I'm so sorry for the length. So if you're reading this, you're GREAT!