Storm Surge

Chapter Twelve

DAR WOKE UP in complete darkness disoriented and not entirely sure of where she was. The smells and sounds were wrong for home, and she remembered light pouring in her window from the street in her London hotel.

Here, just darkness, and lots of quiet.

After a second of confusion, she remembered, and her tensed body relaxed back onto the goose down topper on the bed's mattress.

Sir Melthon's estate was set back from the road and surrounded by hedges and land, and thick gates. Far enough from the city sounds to be silent, much like it was in her condo back in Miami.

But no ocean sounds. If she concentrated, she could hear crickets though.

"Sheesh." Dar rolled over and lifted up her watch, pressing the side button and checking the digital display. "Ngh." She set it back down. "Four in the morning." She counted back, then reached over and picked up her PDA to check for messages.

Sure enough. Dar clicked contentedly and opened it.

Made it. Slept most of the way. Mother won't hear of my getting a cab this late so she's sending me in the car to the hotel once we drop her off at the townhouse. Lesser of two evils. I will end up being on the local late news in Michigan though. There was a press bunch that cornered us at the airport. Interview wasn't bad. They were too busy with all the disaster news to ask me stupid questions about my sex life. Mom likes my sweater by the way. She thinks you have good taste if a rather odd fixation on small mammals. Love you. K.

Dar started laughing, the motion waking her up enough to make going back to sleep immediately out of the question. The tone of Kerry's note was a little resigned, but amused, so she figured things weren't going along too badly.

She sat up and crossed her legs up under her and leaning her elbows on her knees as she removed her stylus and started an answer.

Hey Ker--

I've commissioned a knitted pullover for you with the Gopher from my program in poses guaranteed to get you thrown out of Wal-Mart. Tell her that. Glad you made it okay. Hope everything is calm in the city. Mother or no mother I'd have rather you go directly to the border and not stay near anything white and colonnaded just in case. I know that sounds callous and obnoxious but I am sometimes.

Dar could almost hear Kerry's objection to that, but it was true, and she knew it.

Send me a note when you get to the hotel. I have no doubt the Mandarin Oriental will have a room ready for you, but I'd sleep better if I knew you were in it.

DD.

Dar clicked send and lay back down, letting the PDA rest on her chest. Aside from the early waking, she'd slept pretty well, the quiet and comfort of the room allowing her to get more rest than she'd really expected to.

She wasn't really tired. She didn't want to spend hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling either. After a moment more of it, she sat up and swung her feet off the bed, reaching over to turn the lamp on. A soft, golden light filled the room and she took a moment to stand and shake her body out before she walked over to retrieve her laptop.

It was quiet enough that the zipper of the case sounded loud, and she glanced around a trifle guiltily, though she knew full well the sound wouldn't penetrate the walls.

At least she hoped it wouldn't. She removed the machine and its cable from the case and took it back with her to the bed, laying it down and then returning to the sideboard where there was a tray resting with cups and several bottles.

Reviewing her options, she poured a cup of still warm milk out of a very efficient thermal carafe and brought it back to the bed with her. She set it on the bedside table and sat down, opening the lid of the machine and pressing the power button.

Her PDA was blinking.

Dar smiled and opened it, bending her head slightly to read the message.

I would wear Gopher Dar on my chest any time, honey. But telling my mother that here in front of her little aides is not going to make this road trip any shorter if you catch my drift.

"Probably not," Dar had to agree. "And you'd have to explain it anyway."

And I'd have to explain it anyway. You know I would.

Dar started laughing.

Why are you up? It's four in the morning there. But if you are, after we drop Mom off, can I call you? I want to try and get through, and it would be nice to talk for a few minutes before all the crazy stuff starts up all over again. I'm sure tomorrow's going to be worse than today. I think everyone-the business people I mean-are in shock. Tomorrow it'll be--well, okay, but when will I be back up?

Dar nodded in agreement. "Yup."

It's so quiet here in the city. I know it's sort of late, but there's hardly a car on the street. It's almost spooky it's so quiet, and I realized just earlier how funny it was to not hear airplanes. You never think of that, but we have them all the time at home flying over head. I've been here a couple hours and not one except for fighters. So strange.

There are lots of soldiers around. It almost feels like we're at war. Are we?

Dar gazed thoughtfully at the message. "Good question," she said aloud. "Have we ever not been at war?"

Anyway, we're pretty close to the townhouse now. So hopefully I'll be calling soon. Hope you're up just because you're up and not because you're doing stuff.

Dar glanced guiltily at the laptop. Then she half shrugged and decided to look forward to talking to Kerry instead of worrying about it. She took a sip of her warm milk and logged in, waiting for the machine to present her desktop before she started the cellular card up and connected.

It wasn't nearly as quick a connection as she was used to, of course. The cellular service provided speed more or less like a fast modem though, and it was enough for Dar to start up her VPN session and connect to the office. "Might as well clear some mail," she decided. "With any luck, everyone will have been a lot busier with everything else than sending me a lot of it."

She took another sip of milk, licking her lips a little at the strange but not unpleasant taste. Different grass, maybe, or just a different way of processing the milk, she wasn't sure. She suspected she'd get used to it after a while.

The computer chimed softly, and she started up her mail program. "Of course, I'm not gonna get the chance." She sighed. "Bastards."

It wasn't logical for her to be upset, and she knew it, because given what so many others were going through her lack of a touring vacation was so petty she'd have been embarrassed to mention it to anyone other than herself.

But she was mad. She was pissed off her life had been disrupted. She was even more pissed off that she wasn't going to get to enjoy some simple wandering with Kerry that she'd looked very much forward to. "Bastards," she repeated. "They're damn lucky it's not my finger on the nuclear button cause if it was I'd have pressed it."

Self centered, shocking, and unworthy of even thinking it. Dar watched her inbox fill. A thought she wouldn't consider repeating to Kerry. But the venal stupidity of the act chewed at her, since the reasoning behind most of the world's ills right now was based in the unthinking animal tribal instinct that humanity had no real hope of getting rid of any time soon.

There was no logic there. The instinct to hate what you weren't was written so deeply, Dar felt that on some level it wasn't something you could address with words or thoughts. It was a burning in the gut. A fire in the brain that resisted any attempt at change.

It was easy for people, and she'd heard many of them in the last few hours, point at a particular group and act like those people were so alien and so isolated in their hatred. Easy, especially on a day like yesterday. But the truth was, the ravaging need to destroy what wasn't you was universal.

Dar sighed. "So I go and say something like, yeah, I want to blow them off the face of the earth, and thereby prove out my species." She shook her head. "Asshole."

She scanned the mail, seeing not a lot that wasn't either group sent mails or brief acknowledgements. Her brows raised in surprise. "I know I said I didn't expect much mail, but I did expect some."

But really, there wasn't any. Dar reasoned that maybe the fact they'd all be in a huge conference call all day accounted for that. She could imagine sitting down to write some mundane note and just stopping, and clicking the close button instead.

She minimized the mail program and called up her status screen instead waiting for it to appear and the counters to settle in and show what the latest was across the company. There was no audio, she wasn't about to trigger the voice link over the slow connection.

Instead, she studied the lists of employees, checking first the one from the Pentagon area, and then the one from New York.

Each person's name had a red, a green, or a yellow tag next to it. Green meant they'd been heard from, and were okay. Yellow meant they'd been heard from, but were having problems. Red--

Dar exhaled slowly, her eyes running over all those little red dots. A dozen in Washington, and three times that in New York. She studied the names, her stomach dropping when she saw Bob's name still stubbornly crimson.

They hadn't exactly gotten along. She hadn't exactly enjoyed his company. But he was an old friend of Alastair's and now, his proud enthusiasm about his city caused a pang in her chest as she remembered very clearly not wanting to hear a second of it.

She'd argued with him just the other day, over parking spaces at the office there. He wanted to spend money for covered parking.

Native Floridian Dar had thought that was crazy. Bob had gotten frustrated, and almost hung up, but then had gotten lucky in the form of Kerry's arriving and explaining to her tropical lover trying to get your door open in an ice storm.

Saved by the Midwest. Bob had almost seemed embarrassed, but they'd ended up splitting the cost and now, she was glad.

She was glad they'd ended the meeting not screaming at each other.

Her PDA flashed. Dar was glad enough to push aside the laptop and pull the smaller device over, opening it up to find another message from Kerry.

Streets full of soldiers, Dar. They blocked off most of the streets. I don't think we're going to be able to get close to the townhouse I'm not sure what's going on.

Dar sat up straight in alarm, feeling a surge of adrenaline hit her.

Something about a car bomb. Crap.

Dar reached over and grabbed her cell phone, hitting the speed dial button. Instead of a fast busy, the call went through and she heard it ring twice before it was answered. "Hey."

"Hey." Kerry cleared her throat.

Dar could hear Kerry's mother in the background, and a male voice, lower and official sounding. "Listen, you want me to call up the hotel and make reservations for the whole lot of you? Kerry, you are not going anywhere near a damn car bomb."

There was a moment of silence. "Yes, I would like you to do that. A lot."

Dar yanked the laptop over and rattled in the travel website. She stopped on hearing noises in the background on the phone. "Were those gunshots?"

"I don't know."

The website responded, and she typed in the information. "Hell, your suite's got three rooms you could probably cram everyone in there if you had to."

Kerry cleared her throat again, this time with a completely different inflection.

Dar scanned the response. "They have two rooms available," she said. "I'm grabbing them. Must be last minute cancels because they weren't there earlier."

"Okay, let me get things organized on this end." Kerry sounded resigned. "Wish me luck. Thanks sweetie. I'll call you back in a minute."

"You'd better." Dar clicked the reserve button. "And get away from those damn sounds!"

"MA'AM, I DO understand, but I can't let you go any further. It's dangerous. They have the road blocked off, and they called the bomb squad," the soldier said. "No telling when they'll get here. They've been all over the city tonight. People are real nervous."

Senator Stuart folded her hands in exasperation, turning to look at her aides. "This is ridiculous," she said. "I understand security, but what are we supposed to do, sleep here in the car?"

"Senator, please," the most senior of the aides, a middle age man with a bearded face said. "Let me arrange an alternative. I'm sure there's a hotel in the area we can go to. I have your overnight bag in the trunk."

"That's a good idea ma'am," the soldier added, respectfully. "Though you might need to call around, I hear it's pretty busy."

Cynthia sat back, distress apparent on her face. "Well, my goodness."

"Mother." Kerry leaned forward and touched her knee. "My hotel had two rooms left. I had them held."

Her Mother glanced around at the four aides. "I certainly do appreciate it, however--"

"My suite's got three rooms," Kerry accurately intercepted her concern. "You're more than welcome to share it with me." From the corner of her eye she saw the aides relax, their shoulders dropping and veiled looks of gratitude being nudged in her direction.

Her mother though, still hesitated.

"I mean," Kerry could feel the irony right down to her toes, "we are related."

That seemed to snap the Senator out of her reverie. "Of course we are," Cynthia said, briskly. "Of course, and that's a perfect solution. Thank you so very much, Kerry." She motioned to the window separating them from the driver. "Please tell him to drive on to..." She glanced at her daughter.

"Mandarin Oriental." Kerry supplied. "It's on the edge of town."

Her mother's eyes blinked. "Yes, it is," she agreed, in a mild tone. "Lovely hotel. I attended a banquet there just last month."

"Mandarin Oriental," one of the aides told the driver. "Let's get out of here."

The car turned, and headed away from the blockaded area and every one settled back in their seats as they moved through the almost deserted city.

"Well," Cynthia said, after a moment. "That was unexpected." She folded her hands in her lap. "I'm glad you had the forethought to call the hotel, Kerry. That was very proactive of you."

"I've been called that before." Kerry decided her boss wouldn't mind her taking credit for her quick thinking just this once. "I'm glad they had the space. It's been a really long day," she said. "I'm looking forward to just getting some rest."

The aides nodded. "You're right there, Ms. Stuart," the senior aide said. "It certainly has been a rough time today."

Kerry realized it was the first time the aide had addressed her directly. "This is one of those things where I think you'll remember where you were when it happened," she remarked. "I know I will."

The other aides nodded.

Cynthia pursed her lips for a moment. "I do honestly think I'm very glad I was at home when I did hear," she said. "And that all my children were there also. You do worry about your family at times such as this, and we had so much going on."

Surprisingly, Kerry found herself in agreement. "I'm glad too," she said. "I'm glad you weren't in Washington, and I'm glad I didn't have to chase around looking for Mike and Angie to make sure they were okay, and that Mike wasn't off in New York on some promotion or other."

"Absolutely," her mother murmured. "Do you still have people unaccounted for?"

Kerry nodded. "But we hope it's just because so much communication structure is not working," she said, quietly. "Maybe we'll hear from them tomorrow."

A pensive silence fell. Kerry let her head rest against the window. Her eyes burned, and she checked her watch, seeing the hands pointing almost to midnight.

It had been a very long day. The time she'd spent doing crunches in the early morning light now seemed to be from a different time.

A different lifetime.

She glanced out the window seeing a blast of flashing lights. A line of police cars blazed past, heading in the opposite direction in an eerie, siren-less silence. She studied the buildings going past, most with darkened windows, some with entryways blocked by large, solid looking vehicles.

Under siege?

Kerry supposed that's what it must feel like. No one really knew if there would be more attacks, and if there were, what form they might take. Car bombs? Maybe. Human bombs? Happens in the Middle East every day.

"Crazy." One of the aides was also watching out the window. "What the hell's wrong with these people?"

"Well," Senator Stuart spoke up. "I would guess that they-whomever they are-probably are saying much the same about us, wherever they might be," she said. "There's just too much intolerance in the world. That's the real problem."

"Senator, these people are crazy. People who fly airplanes into buildings aren't intolerant, they're nuts," one of the younger aides said. "That's not human."

"They were celebrating over there. Did you see that on CNN?" the young woman aide said. "There were people over there cheering when they saw bodies dropping from the tower to their deaths."

Senator Stuart laced her fingers together. "Now, why would they do that?" she asked. "What kind of hatred can they have that makes them celebrate such a horrible thing?"

"I don't think I want to know why," the woman aide said. "There's no way to understand that. We should just send our own planes over there and get them back."

"Make them stop cheering," the young male aide agreed. "They're just animals."

Cynthia frowned. "I'm sure we will do something as a response." She sighed. "And yet, what will that bring in the long run? More disasters." She shook her head. "I fear though, you are correct. We have no common reference."

Kerry tilted her head to one side and poked her finger in her ear, wiggling it vigorously.

"Something wrong?" her mother asked.

"Sorry." Kerry gave her head a shake. "Thought I felt my brains leaking out there for a minute." She laced her fingers together in her lap. "Lack of tolerance and understanding is not unique to the people who drove those planes," she said. "I think it's something that's part of human nature, to not like, and fear things we don't really have a handle on."

Her mother's eyes narrowed slightly, but Kerry managed to retain a mild expression. "But still, there's no excuse for what those people did. There would be no excuse for us if we did it. Violence isn't the answer."

The senator nodded immediately. "Exactly what I meant."

"Especially not in this circumstance," Kerry went on. "Let's say we do send planes over and drop bombs. Then what? We don't know where the people who planned this are, so we drop a bomb and kill a couple thousand innocent people. How does that help? How does that make us any better than they are?"

"Well--" the woman aide said.

"So they just send more people to do more horrible things, and we send more bombs. What's the point? That doesn't get you anywhere." Kerry sighed. "My mother's right. We have no common frame of reference with this group of people who have been a civilization for twenty centuries at least. More than our country has even existed. They might as well be ET."

Cynthia looked a bit overwhelmed by the agreement. "Yes," she said, after a pause. "My point exactly."

Silence fell as they drove on past another block of police cars.

"That was a really good movie," the young male aide ventured. "ET, I mean."

It almost made Kerry giggle. She leaned against the arm of the limo door and rested her head against the glass again and hoped the hotel wasn't that far off. The conversation was veering toward the positively dangerous.

THE HOTEL LOBBY was definitely quiet. Kerry had her bag over her shoulder, and she headed for the reception desk where two receptionists were standing, backs turned to her, watching CNN on the television.

One of the aides hurried to catch up to her. "Listen, Ms. Stuart..."

"Hm?" Kerry turned her head and regarded him. He was a medium sort of person. Medium height, medium coloring, medium shade of brown hair. The only thing that stood out was a set of beautiful, long, well maintained eyelashes that looked very much like they were fake.

She hoped they weren't. "Yes?"

"Thanks for getting the rooms," the man said. "I wasn't looking forward to sleeping in the car."

Kerry's brows creased a little. "Don't you have an apartment here?" she asked. "You don't sleep in the townhouse garage, do you?"

The man chuckled. "No, there's a staffer's apartment building but it's right across the street from the Senator's place. We live there."

"Ah." Kerry removed her wallet as she approached the desk. "Good evening folks."

The two receptionists spun around. "Oh." The one on the left hurried forward. "Sorry about that. We were just--"

"We know." Kerry held a hand up. "It's okay. I have a reservation. Actually there are probably three of them under the name of either Stuart or Roberts."

The aide looked at her, his brows knitting over his outstanding eyelashes.

"My married name," Kerry was unable to resist, adding a smile as the man jerked a little. "I never know how Dar's going to book it."

"Yes, we do have them, Ms. Stuart," the receptionist interrupted. "I have two deluxe rooms with two beds, and the Presidential Suite." He glanced behind her. "Is there luggage we can take care of for you?"

"No." Kerry handed over her corporate card. "I have my overnight, and the rest of our party wasn't expecting to need a hotel. Do you have a sundry kit available for them?"

"Of course," the man said, instantly, handing back her card. "This is prepaid, ma'am."

Kerry rolled her eyes. "Of course it is." She chuckled under her breath. "Okay, we need two keys for each room, please." She tapped the card on the desk. "And could I get a pot of hot tea sent up to the suite? My head's pounding."

"Absolutely." The receptionist scribbled something on a pad. "Any particular type? We have a selection."

"Green Jasmine?" Kerry asked, hopefully. "With honey?"

"Not a problem."

"Do we want to mention--" The aide glanced behind them, into the depths of the spacious lobby where the Senator and the other aides waited

"Probably not," Kerry said. "No sense advertising, even if my mother's not really a hot potato on the international scene like my father was." She caught the receptionist's furtive glance, and smiled.

"Good point," the aide agreed. "Presidential Suite huh? I've seen pictures of that. It's swank."

Kerry collected the keys being handed to her. "After a while, they all just look like hotel rooms." She handed the aide the other keys. "No matter how nice, it's not home."

They walked back across the lobby floor to where the rest of the group was waiting. The other three aides stopped talking as they walked up and glanced at each other.

The female aide cleared her throat. "Basil, you want to share? We went to college together."

"Sure," the other younger aide said. "No problem."

The aide with Kerry passed out the keys. "That means I'll share with you, Robert," he said. "Ms. Stuart asked them to bring us up necessities."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Kerry," Senator Stuart said. "I am very glad I thought to bring my little overnight bag, myself."

Kerry hefted her own bag. "Okay, have a good night, folks. Time to get some rest." She herded them toward the big elevators, already imagining she could feel the softness of a bed under her back and the taste of hot tea on her tongue.

"Robert, please make sure my schedule is set for the morning," Senator Stuart said, as they entered the elevator and it started to rise. "I think we convene at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow"

"Yes, ma'am, that's correct," Robert said. "I'm sure the roads will be clear by breakfast tomorrow."

"I hope so."

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and the four aides got out. "Have a good night, Senator." Robert gave her and Kerry a little wave. "Ms. Stuart."

"You too." Kerry waved back, as the doors closed and they headed up to the top floor.

"Well," her mother said, as they exited and headed to the door of the suite. "This was certainly an unexpected end to a very unexpected day."

Kerry opened the door and entered, holding it for her mother. She detected the competing scents of fresh wax, steaming tea, and chocolate. Even she blinked at the grand entranceway and expansive stretch of the room they were staying in. "Wow."

"My goodness." Her mother stopped and peered around. "Is that a grand piano?"

"Is that a telescope? Kerry muttered in response. "Well, Mother, I think we've got enough space here."

"To play tennis, it seems," Cynthia remarked with surprising humor.

"I had them send up some tea." Kerry felt a little nervous and more than a little unsettled now that they were here and alone, and she realized it. "Have some if you like. My throat's a little sore." She moved past the ornate living room and found her way into one of the bedrooms.

"There's a large basket here. Is that from the hotel too?" her mother called in. "How nice of them."

"Is it fruit or chocolate?" Kerry responded.

"I believe it's--yes, some type of candy."

"Not the hotel. Dar." Kerry looked around the room. "Hm." She set her bag on the credenza and opened it. "Feel free to have some of that too." She pulled her shirt from her jeans and unbuttoned it, kicking off her sneakers at the same time.

The windows had an expansive view, and she turned to look out them as she removed her shirt. It was a little hard to believe she was here.

Okay. It was impossible to believe she was here. Kerry went back over to her bag and removed her bra , trading it for a long, soft T-shirt that she pulled over her head. She unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them off folding them in thirds and laying them down with her shirt on the dresser.

Then she squared her shoulders and faced the door, heading back out to where she could still smell the tea and hear her waiting parent. "Be good, Kerry," she muttered under her breath. "Be good."

THE BASKET WAS a typical Dar basket. Kerry studied it, loosening the ribbons as she pondered whether her partner had some cosmic internet shopping service with her favorite things predefined and simply pressed the correct button at the correct time. Or whether she took the time to select each item.

Knowing Dar, if she'd had the time, it was the latter. She was single minded about certain things, and Kerry knew she was one of them.

The basket held several types of chocolates, a pair of soft, fluffy socks, an aromatherapy eye shade that smelled of peaches, and a beanie baby that was the image of her pet Chino.

The crinkly plastic came off. She set it aside, glad her mother had decided to retreat into the second bedroom. "Hmm." She selected a wrapped Lindt chocolate ball and took it with her over to where the teapot was sitting along with the socks.

There were comfortable wing chairs to either side of the small table, and she sat down in one, putting the socks on her feet, then extending them across the marble floor and crossing her ankles. Dropping two sugar cubes in a cup, she poured out some of the steaming beverage, releasing a strong scent of jasmine in the air.

She unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it, enjoying the rich, creamy center. She washed it down with a sip of the hot, mildly astringent tasting tea, the clean freshness contrasting with the indulgence of the chocolate.

"That smells lovely." Her mother appeared wearing a plush robe and slippers. "Do you still favor tea? I remember you did always like it better than coffee." She walked over to the table and prepared a cup for herself.

"I do," Kerry said. "I'll drink a cup of coffee in the morning, but tea after that unless I'm doing an all nighter or that sort of thing." She took another bite of her chocolate. "This is pretty good."

Her mother sat down in the other chair on the other side of the table with her cup. She took a sip. "It's quite good. I prefer tea myself. I find it more delicate," she said. "I think it's calming."

Kerry thought so too. "Might be the illusion of Zen," she said. "But it works for me."

They were silent for a minute. Kerry got up and went over to the basket, picking up a couple more of the Lindt balls and bringing them back with her. She sat back down and stifled a yawn, unwrapping a chocolate.

"That was very kind of Dar," Cynthia ventured. "Very thoughtful. Does she do that often? I seem to remember Angela saying she'd gotten you a cake at the restaurant the other night or something like that."

Kerry rolled a Lindt ball over in her direction. "On special occasions, sure," she said. "When we're apart, we try to do little things for each other." She sipped her tea. "Not always baskets, but like reserving each other the nicest hotel room, or renting each other a fun car."

Her mother paused, and looked around the hotel room completely. Then she picked up the Lindt ball.

"I would say she did well in this round," she commented. "It's nice to hear that you two get along so well. You're really quite unlike each other."

"Probably why we get along as well as we do," Kerry said, briefly. "We like a lot of the same things though, and naturally we've got our work in common."

"Of course," her mother said. "And you are both so clever," she said. "You know, I was listening to Dar speak earlier. What a charming voice she has."

Charming. There were lots of things about Dar Kerry found charming, but she half suspected her mother was trying to be a little over the top nice, to avoid any uncomfortable discussion between them. That was okay by her. It was very late, and she was both tired and emotionally overloaded from the day. "I could listen to her talk all day," she responded with a smile. "But really, you should hear her sing."

"Really?"

Kerry nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "We have a lot of fun together," she said. "I'm sorry she's going to be flying so long tomorrow. A lot can happen in ten hours."

"Goodness," her mother murmured. "Isn't that the truth. I don't really know what to expect, actually. I think everyone was just overwhelmed today, and tomorrow all the reactions will start," she said. "It's been very curious to be involved in the government, you know. After being a spectator for so long I mean."

"I bet it has," Kerry said. "From the interviews we were seeing on the news, it seems like most of the people in Congress are pretty much in agreement with each other though."

"Well." Cynthia curiously inspected the unwrapped chocolate, and then bit into it. "My, that is wonderful," she said. "In any case, there are the things one is expected to say to the press and in public, and then there are the things everyone says in private in the council chambers, and that is what made me understand just how much of a charade we do play here in Washington."

Kerry blinked a little in surprise. Not from the revelation that Congress often said different things to the press than to each other, but that her mother seemed so disapproving about it. "I just hope everyone sits down and thinks about what to do instead of just reacting."

"I hope so too," her mother agreed. "What will your plans be for tomorrow?"

The long day was now creeping over her. Kerry blinked a few times. "I have to go to our office in Virginia in the morning to see what the problem is with the government officials showing up wanting to tap our circuits," she said. "Then we'll probably go to the Pentagon. I want to visit my team there."

Cynthia pondered this for a minute. "Well, if there is anything I can help with on the government side," she offered diffidently, "please let me know."

Kerry nodded. "Thanks. Hopefully, it's just a misunderstanding," she replied. "I've gotten requests like that before, where people ask for things because they've either been told to, or someone mentioned a buzz word and there really isn't a full understanding of what they're asking."

Her mother finished her tea and set the cup down. "Well, it has been a long day, so I will leave you to get some rest. Perhaps you can join us for breakfast before you leave?"

"Sure." Kerry was too tired to even mind. "Good night--Oh." She felt a little sheepish. "Sorry about the table."

Her mother, already at the door to her bedroom, turned and peered at her, a faintly bemused expression on her face. "I have to admit," she said. "After all your talk about being this terribly different person, finding you under my dining room table amongst broken crockery was really quite amusing."

There wasn't really any defense to that. Kerry rested her head against her hand and gazed back at her mother through her somewhat disordered bangs. "Not everything's changed," she admitted, with a wry smile.

"No." Cynthia smiled back. "Not everything. Good night." She turned and went into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Night." Kerry remained slouched in her chair, sipping her cooling tea. She finished her chocolate, then stood up and set the cup down, heading for the refuge of her room as the day's tension and discomfort started to rub against her like sandpaper.

She sat down on her bed, resting her hands on the mattress as she looked out the window.

She could see the Jefferson Memorial. It was shrouded in shadows, its normal brilliant lighting dimmed for safety she supposed, but she felt somehow that the somber sight reflected her attitude about the events of the day.

She felt like the world was overcast. With a sigh, she got up again and turned out the desk light, and went to the already turned down linens and started to get under them.

Her cell phone rang. Kerry cursed under her breath at it, then leaned over and grabbed the phone, turning and using her momentum to land back on the bed as she opened it. "Kerry Stuart."

"Hey sexy. You naked under the sheets yet?"

The mental whiplash made her sneeze. "Buh!" She rolled over onto her back, her gloomy thoughts lifting like magic. "I forgot to text you!"

"Is that a yes or a no?" Dar's voice sounded amused. "Or were you partying with your mother?"

Kerry started laughing. "Actually we had tea and chocolate together. Thank you, my love. The socks are warming my toes as we speak."

"I was just standing on my head for twenty minutes. My nose is throbbing," Dar informed her. "It's goddamn boring in a country mansion in England at five in the morning you know that?" she complained. "I'm afraid to go out and run in case they have foxhounds or something out there."

"Well." Kerry smiled. "You're a fox. It's a valid concern." She heard a conspicuous silence on the other end and her smiled grew wider. "Oooo--I gotcha."

Dar chuckled softly. "You did," she admitted. "So how's it going?" Her voice altered. "I'm stopping you from sleeping so I'll keep it short."

"Don't," Kerry said. "I could easily talk to you all night long," she added. "Even my mother thinks you have a charming voice."

"Huh?"

Kerry cleared her throat a bit. "It's not bad," she said. "This room you rented for me could hold our entire department with room for our dog. Mom's being okay. I think after that blowup she's just staying away from a lot of stuff. Which is fine by me."

"Yeah."

"I wasn't in the mood for a fight tonight anyway," Kerry said. "And after I made that whole speech about being grown up and everything we were playing hide and seek in the house and I knocked a freaking table over. Ended up breaking a bowl the size of our sink."

She could hear Dar muffling a snicker. "No, go ahead and laugh." Kerry sighed. "Talk about blowing my image. I could have smacked Mike. He tripped me right into the damn thing and I hit the legs sideways."

"Table didn't have a chance." Dar commiserated. "You've hit me in the knees. I know what that feels like."

"My sister was laughing so hard she was crying," Kerry admitted. "And the look on my mother's face when she came around the corner to see what the hell was going on was pretty much priceless." She paused. "It reminded me of the fact that growing up in that house wasn't always a horror show."

Dar chuckled aloud.

"Anyway." Kerry sighed. "So it's not going too bad. How about you? Are you ready to fly?"

"Yeah. Actually, the timing is going to give me a problem trying to get hold of Gerry," Dar said. "If I don't get him before I take off, I might need you to call him," she said. "I'll message you if that's the case. It'll be really early your time when I leave."

"No problem," Kerry said. "I think I'm going over there in the afternoon so I can touch base with him. Shouldn't be an issue."

"Good," Dar said. "We can stop taking about business now. How did my voice come up in conversation?"

Kerry closed her eyes and smiled, narrowing her world down to the sound in her ear. She reached over and turned the bedside light off, leaving her in darkness that only made their conversation all the more private. "She was being nice. She was listening to you when you were on the conference call. Angie said something too, about your accent."

"My what?"

"Your cute little Southern twang," Kerry clarified. "I'm so used to hearing you I don't really hear it anymore, but they both noticed."

"I don't have an accent. My father has an accent," Dar said. "You have an accent."

"No I don't."

"Sure you do."

"I do not!"

"You do!" Dar insisted. "Everyone has an accent. Except me."

Kerry started laughing, "You're so funny. Thank you for calling me. I was starting to really get bummed out."

"Why?" Dar asked. "You said things were going okay."

"I know. I don't know," Kerry replied. "I just was. All the stuff going on and thinking about our people who are still missing, and not knowing what's going to happen with the government tomorrow-- it was just bumming me out." She thought about that. "Do I sound like a weenie?"

"No." Dar's voice deepened a little, warming audibly. "I was getting bummed here too. I feel like I'm so far away from everything," she admitted. "I'm glad we're leaving today, but knowing I'll be out of touch for that long is driving me insane."

"Me too," Kerry agreed, in a wry tone.

They were both quiet for a moment. "We're a couple of goddamned idiots," Dar said. "We'd give Mr. Rogers diabetes." She sighed with exaggerated exasperation. "Wait. Let me go out and see if I can find a box of bonbons and a pair of pink fuzzy slippers."

Kerry started laughing. "I have the bonbons and fuzzy slippers here, honey. Come and get them."

"If I could," Dar said. "If I could close my eyes and will it, and be there, I would in a heartbeat." She sighed. "But unfortunately I'm not a refugee from a bad science fiction movie of the week. I did tell Alastair I'd need to head out to Washington as soon as we got in the States though. I'm hoping the planes will be flying by then."

"Me too." Kerry could feel the beginnings of a disassociation that meant she was falling asleep. "Would you do me a tiny favor?"

"You have to ask?"

"Sing to me. Just for a minute."

Dar hesitated. "Oh. Uh--okay. Sure."

"I just remembered when I was talking to Mom what that sounded like and I want to hear it. I love your singing voice." Kerry smiled, as she heard Dar clear her throat softly, and she took a deep breath and released it as her partner complied, easing her into sleep so gently she didn't even remember the tune.