Part Seven, Eight, Nine

Clare's cargo of two laptops, a briefcase, several notebooks and a workout bag made it something of a challenge to get the office door open without offloading everything onto the floor. After finally managing to hook a couple of fingers around the lever, she kicked it the rest of the way open, shuffled carefully in and dropped her freight gratefully on her desk.

Stephanie was nowhere to be seen at the moment, but the fact that the door had been unlocked and the lights on indicated that her office mate was already there. In truth she was glad that Steph wasn't at her desk - she really needed to gather herself before possibly being poked, prodded, and cajoled for details of her date. She held a sliver of hope that maybe Stephanie still didn't know, but when she'd voiced as much to Elliott on the phone that morning, he'd snorted at her and said, "yeah, right."

She booted up her computer and began scanning her e-mails, working her way through the ones with attachments first. There only appeared to be one in the inbox of any personal nature; it was from Fiona and titled, "SO?????" and marked "urgent". Clare stared at it for a moment. A big part of her was hoping no one would make a big fuss over her weekend with Neil, but there was no denying that it was kind of cool to have something like this to share. She'd been out of the dating scene for so long - admittedly, she'd actively avoided it to a great extent - that she sometimes felt unable to relate to her single friends.

She put off answering Fiona for the moment and opened another, more recent missive from the Associate Deputy Administrator, Chuck Spinks, requesting a meeting with herself and seven other astronauts - Elliott's name was there - in his office at ten-thirty that morning. Clare wondered briefly what that might be about, as the ADA generally stayed behind the scenes and didn't interact much with the corps. Her speculation was short-lived.

"We're fucked." Elliott's voice startled her and she jumped.

"Sorry," he apologized from the doorway. "Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Someone got wind of Saturday's fun and games in the sim, and certain people are not happy about it. We're supposed to see Spinks in his office" -

"At ten-thirty," Clare finished. "I know, I just read the e-mail." She clicked it open again; sure enough, the other addressees, besides Elliott, were those of the Prime Crew. "Shit. Well, we know he won't fire the crew." She raised her eyes again. "Know Spinks?"

"I've met him two or three times, and he doesn't seem like a blowhard. I think it's mainly for appearances' sake, and an opportunity to hammer home the "training equipment is not a toy" message." Elliott's answer was more or less reassuring. "Worst that will happen is we get assigned some kind of PR crap as punishment." Almost everyone hated PR assignments, and the NASA administrators had long ago learned that the threat of public speaking was an effective tactic for keeping their astronaut employees in line.

"Well, I'd hardly classify that as "fucked". How'd he find out? Who told? That was pretty damn fast," Clare wondered out loud.

Elliott parked himself on the ugly black vinyl chair that Stephanie had scavenged from another building. "Dunno, but it was going to become known anyway. I've been here all of twenty minutes this morning, maybe a little longer, and I've already heard from two people that Clare Lefebvre had a date with Neil Peart this weekend. So be prepared to be sort of an object of interest for a little while."

He grinned at her suddenly. "Speaking of which?" He raised his eyebrows, trying unsuccessfully to disguise that this was the real reason he was here. "You two officially an item now, or what? I talked to Fiona, she said you guys disappeared pretty fast Saturday night."

Clare grinned back at him, then crossed her arms, propped her feet on the edge of her desk and leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, I, uh, we did, I guess." She felt her face starting to turn pink; damned if she hadn't blushed more in the past three days than in her entire life prior.

"Aaaannnd? Come on, missy, you know I have to have details. Just so you know, I like the guy. He's very. . .real, for lack of a better word. None of that celebrity entitlement attitude - you know, that arrogant shit we get from the senators' kids and stuff. I think he's a nice guy and you two look cute together, in spite of the height thing. And he has a super-prime ass. So you can tell me everything and I won't be anything but approving."

"Well, whew," Clare said sardonically. "That was my biggest worry, you know, that you might not approve. He is tall, isn't he?"

"And you're short. Stop stalling. Are you planning to keep seeing each other?"

Clare lifted her feet off the desk, letting the chair's front legs crash back to the floor. "Right now, yes, that is the plan," she said cautiously, not wanting to gush. "He has about ten days off two weeks from now, so we're looking at getting together then, of course he'll have to come here since there's no way I can get vacation time." In fact Neil had already booked a flight, but Clare didn't want to share this with Elliott yet. Just in case.

"Okay, very good, plans already in the works," Elliott mused. "I suppose you spent the entire weekend with him? How'd you keep him occupied yesterday, or dare I ask? Screw that, I am allowed to ask."

She aimed a smug little smile in his direction. "Ask away, but I'm not telling you what I know you want to hear. In other words, no, yesterday was not the sunup to sundown sexfest you're hoping I'll say it was. We spent pretty much the entire day just hanging around the pool, talking and reading. Very boring, sorry to say."

In fact it had been anything but. After running through options on what to do before Neil had to fly out, he had confessed that a day doing nothing but reading by the pool was his preference. "With, of course, your beautiful and engaging self for company," he'd added, making her melt inwardly for perhaps the eight-hundred-thousandth time that weekend. So after a quick stop at the hotel gift shop to purchase a ridiculously overpriced pair of swim shorts for Neil, that was exactly what they had done.

The thing that had made the biggest impression on Clare that day wasn't any one particular moment - nothing he had said, no one spectacular kiss (though there had been plenty of those), no extraordinarily intense gaze - but how startlingly intimate their silences had been. She felt totally, remarkably at ease with him, completely unselfconscious. There was no need to fill every moment with conversation, nothing awkward. Just a comfortable companionship, relaxed; she was still marvelling about how easy it was to just be with Neil.

Elliott's next question interrupted her reverie. "So he left last night, then?"

"Actually" - dammit, her face was heating up again - "it was this morning," she mumbled.

"This morning? As in, he stayed over at your place last night? Holy crap, Clare." Elliott was perched on the edge of the ugly chair now.

"Mmm-hmm. He was supposed to leave around eightish, but at the last minute he cancelled the commercial and chartered a flight out this morning instead. He was up when I left"-

"I'll bet," Elliott sniggered.

Clare ignored him -"and is probably airborne right now. Elliott, really, innuendo is beneath you. That's Jay's specialty."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? You're not telling me the one piece of information you know I'm dying to ask, so I have to resort to desperate measures. Did you?"

Clare let Elliott stew for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "No. And I am not really sure what to think about that."

Elliott gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Good girl. Not that I mean I don't want you to, but I think it's better this way, wait a bit. What do you mean, you don't know what to think?"

"I mean," Clare tried to figure out a way to explain without sounding utterly naive, "that he, you know, didn't really even make a move in that direction. No pressure at all, I mean none. Of course it probably didn't help that I fell asleep Saturday night while he was in the shower."

"Fell asleep?" Elliott was incredulous. "Clare, you didn't. You're right, that's not behavior that exactly screams, "I must have you, now!"

"I know," Clare sighed, a trace of self-recrimination in her tone. It was true. She'd settled herself on the bed in Neil's hotel room and turned the TV on to distract herself from the very obvious and moderately disconcerting fact that Neil was going to be naked for at least a few minutes, mere feet away from her. She'd awakened in the still-dark morning hours, still fully clothed except that Neil had thoughtfully removed her shoes before tucking a light blanket around her.

Remembering it now brought a warm rush of feeling. For Neil had been fast asleep himself, his arm resting lightly across her hip as he cradled her carefully against him, spooning her into the warm curve of his body. She'd lain awake for quite some time, just enjoying the soft feel of his breath against the back of her neck.

"You still with me, missy?" Elliott brought her back to earth again and she met his gaze with a small, slightly guilty smile. He studied her for a moment, then shook his head, laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing," Elliott chuckled. "You were saying, you fell asleep Saturday night. What about last night?"

"Well, yeah of course we slept in the same bed, and it was nice. But he made no move to try anything, we didn't even discuss it. I don't know what to think?" She was rambling, she knew, and wanted to stop, but the words continued to bubble forth in a sort of stream of consciousness. "I mean, I know I'm not bad-looking, Hasbrouck always complained about my flat chest and that I wasn't tall but Neil told me several times that he thinks I'm pretty, so he must be attracted . . . Ells, stop laughing, damn you, it isn't funny!"

Elliott struggled to compose himself and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry, really I am, but it kind of is. You should see your face - you look totally. . .baffled. You are way overthinking this, missy, in that way of yours. Calm down. You say there was snuggling and cuddling? Random hugs for no real reason? Hand holding?"

Clare nodded. "Yes. A lot all of the above, in fact."

"And kissing? Real kissing, tongues and sloppiness, not just little pecks on the lips?"

"You don't have to make it sound so distasteful, but yes. Plenty of that too," Clare affirmed.

"Then for once you can give yourself a break on worrying about nothing, in my opinion," Elliott concluded. "He's just being careful, being a nice guy, which is a good thing. If that's what you want. I assume it is, or you wouldn't be making plans to see him again. Look at it this way. If he'd been out for a quick and easy piece of booty, he'd have had nothing to lose by making an effort to get you naked and sweaty. He'd either have gotten what he was after or not; either way, he was leaving after the weekend and wouldn't have had to stick around to endure the messy heartbreak or, on the flip side, the embarrassment of getting shot down."

Clare brightened. It made sense, the way Elliott laid it out. It irked her in a way that the issue bothered her at all, that she so glaringly lacked the cooler-headed experience of someone like Stephanie. "I just feel so out of my depth right now," she confessed to Elliott. "My own fault, I guess, in a way, but I feel like I've no idea what to expect. What I'm supposed to do, or even what I'm supposed to want to do."

Elliott got to his feet. "You're to stop obsessing over what you're supposed to do, mainly. Clare, look. I know it's been a while. I know Has Been or Hasbrouck or Handfuck or whatever his name was is an asshole. Don't make that comparison, it's not fair to you and it isn't fair to Neil. You managed nicely for three straight days from what you've told me. Obviously Neil thought so. Just let it happen," he advised. "But do keep me up to date on all the details; you know I don't dare date for fear of freaking out the wrong people. So I have to live vicariously through you." He patted her head, something only he was permitted to do. Anyone else who tried it would lose a hand. Except that she might very well allow Neil a pass.

"Okay." Elliott was right, of course. "Thanks. And I'm not obsessing."

"Sure you're not. I've got to go check in with my gang right now, but let's have dinner this week. I know I'm not Neil, but you'll have to take what you can get for the time being. See you in a couple hours."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________


After Elliott left Clare resumed answering the e-mails that required timely attention; Fiona's could wait, since they were planning to work out together after work. Right now she needed to check in with her OMS team. Since she was going to be devoting most of her time to mission training soon, she needed to bring the guys up to speed on her work so they could continue without her for a while. If she hurried, she could avoid Stephanie; that thought motivated her to grab her laptop with the orbital maneuvering systems work on it and get moving.

It quickly became apparent on the short walk to the lab that Elliott had been right about news of her weekend with Rush's drummer spreading among the employees and staff. No one said anything to her directly, but Clare was acutely aware that she was attracting an unusual amount of attention. She did her best to ignore the stares, merely giving what she hoped was a friendly smile and greeting by name the people she did know. How, she wondered, did Neil handle this sort of thing on a daily basis? At least in her case the interest was likely to fade.

She was prepared for some sort of display from her team, and sure enough was greeted with a few good-natured wolf whistles and cheers and "atta girls". By now she'd given up on trying not to blush, and they teased her about this a little bit as well.

"Nice to see that the rock stars occasionally go for the nerdy chicks over the supermodels," Quinn Carter commented.

"Too bad for you that the supermodels don't go for the nerdy guys, though," Clare bantered back. Knowing that nothing productive would be accomplished until questions were answered, she obligingly gave them the short version of her weekend with Neil. Somewhat surprisingly, they were respectful enough to not press her further, beyond asking her to bring Neil to meet them when he was in Houston again. Well, that and the fact that she finally had to ask Joe Talanero to please stop singing "Tom Sawyer".

"What, I thought you'd like the song?" Joe teased her. "You're a Rush girlfriend now. You have to demonstrate loyalty, no?"

Clare peered at him over her laptop. "There's a difference between "girlfriend" and "groupie", you know," she told him. "And it's a little early to call me a "girlfriend". And you can't sing, sorry. Come on, guys. We're kicking ass on hitting the critical path deadlines on this thing, and I don't want to blow that over the next few months." She'd made her point, and they were able to make a bit of headway on putting together a plan before she had to leave for the meeting with the ADA.

Spinks was a small, slightly doughy looking man, completely unthreatening in appearance and manner. Still, the group assembled in his office was uncertain what to expect. They glanced around uneasily at one another until Spinks cleared his throat.

"The training equipment," he began, "is not a toy. . ." Clare had to fight the urge to look at Elliott. Doing so would be deadly; there was no way she'd be able to contain her laughter. Beside her, she saw Mike Chavez, the Prime Crew commander, biting his lip hard in an effort to conceal a smile.

After several painful minutes of the usual patter about professional behavior and the need to attain "appropriate security clearance for visitors", Associate Deputy Administrator Spinks concluded his lecture and dismissed them. THe way they'd been standing in the office, Clare was the last to leave; she had one foot out the door when he called her back. "Dr. Lefebvre!"

Clare turned. "Yes sir."

"In two weeks there's a Senate subcommittee function NASA are invited to, and they very much want an astronaut to attend and make some remarks. Nothing too in depth, as it's mostly a social sort of thing, with a dinner reception afterwards. You get the nomination to cover this one. I'll have the details sent to you in an e-mail. You know, of course, your speech will need to be cleared and approved first. You're okay with getting all of your travel arrangements taken care of?"

Clare was groaning inwardly at the prospect of a trip to the Capitol, but she merely nodded. She knew she was in no position to protest. "I've done it before, I know how it works."

"Good. That's all settled, then. Thank you," Spinks added, somewhat unnecessarily.

Clare took that as her dismissal. Elliott, Chavez, and the rest had waited for her outside the door and were looking at her with restrained sympathy.

"Fuck," she muttered as the door clicked closed. "Yes, I got nailed. I have to fucking go to give a fucking talk to some fucking politicians in fucking DC in two weeks. Make NASA look good so they keep giving us money."

"Shit, Lefty, I'm sorry. I thought we were home free." Chavez did look truly regretful. "Sucks that you have to take the fall. It's not like we broke in, for chrissakes."

"Eh," Clare shrugged resignedly. "What were they gonna do? I was the one who had the idea, asked Elliott to make the arrangements. Besides, you'll be in orbit by then. Even senators don't expect that to be delayed on their behalf. I hope," she added. "I'll deal with it. It's not one of those huge budget things where we have to stand there with our hands out asking for funding, anyway." Those were the worst; no one liked having to kiss political ass.

"Who're you asking to go with you?" Elliott inquired. Political events were always attended in pairs as a matter of policy, and it did make sense. It kept the female astronauts from being hit on, for one thing. The astronaut headlining the appearance could either take a spouse or another astronaut; last time Clare had asked Jay Olmsted to go with her and they'd actually had a fairly enjoyable time of it, given the circumstances. In addition to having an irreverent and sometimes outrageous sense of humor, Jay was a good dancer.

"Dunno." She shrugged a second time. "I'll see if Jay is willing, but that might piss Stephanie off, and I could do without that. You wouldn't want to volunteer, would you?"

"Not just no, but hell no. You of all people ought to know better than to even think of asking." Elliott had grown up in a political family and had had his fill of it. He changed the subject. "By the way, if you're going back to your office, just a warning. I've heard there's a BFRC in there."

BFRC stood for "Big Fucking Red Cloud" and meant the aftermath when a rocket test firing went awry and had to be blown up by the Range Safety Officer. The term itself was well-suited to any number of situations, most often a particularly egregious mistake on someone's part or, on occasion, a noteworthy display of temper. Clare figured it to be the latter this time.

Clare had been planning to go check her phone messages before returning to the fluid dynamics lab in case there were any that needed returning. In the back of her mind she was also hoping Neil might have called her, but she didn't want to dwell on this in case he hadn't, so she wouldn't be disappointed.

"Steph's back, and in a shit mood?" she wondered aloud. Great, just what she wanted to face now, after the Washington bombshell. Stephanie's nasty moods were the stuff of modern day legends, and unpleasant ones at that.

Elliott didn't elaborate further. "Just warning you," he said, with an odd little smile. "I'll see you later. Meantime, I was actually doing something productive before I had to stop and come up here for this useless meeting, so see you later." He waved as he turned down the stairwell.

Clare stood for a moment, dithering over whether she should steer clear of her office for the time being. On the one hand she didn't want to have to deal with Steph in one of her moods. Screw that, she decided. My office too.

Stephanie was back; Clare could hear her talking on the phone. Nothing in her voice indicated that anything might be amiss - she sounded perfectly fine to Clare's ears. Still, there was Ell's warning. She listened for a moment longer for any hint of irritability. Hearing none, she pushed the door the rest of the way open and came face to face with the BFRC.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

And a very BFRC it was. Clare stood in the doorway and stared, open-mouthed, at her desk, the top of which was almost completely obscured by the largest arrangement of red roses she had ever seen. And they were real - the smell permeated the normally stuffy, windowless little office.

Stephanie pulled the receiver away from her ear. "Those showed up about an hour ago. There's a card there - Clare, that's five dozen roses!" she exclaimed before resuming her conversation.

Clare found the envelope buried deep within the floral explosion; her hands were shaking so that she had a hard time extracting the card. It was handwritten, rather than typed, she noticed, meaning Neil must have gone to a florist in Houston. The small, neat script covered both sides of the card.

Clare, lass

I know flowers are kind of trite and unimaginative (and red roses at that!), but my options were limited at the time, so I hope you'll overlook the cliche. In future, I promise you more creative expressions.
I want (need?) to let you know how much the past three days mean to me, but I am not sure how to phrase it. I feel calm, yet charged up, relaxed, but full of an energy I can't describe. Already I am missing you and I'm ready to get the next two weeks done so I can see you again!
You are a remarkable woman, and I am so glad I managed to find the nerve (unusual for me) to attempt to get to know you after Thursday's awkward introduction.

His writing became smaller and more cramped as he began running out of room:

I see I'm out of space and my flight is waiting - will call you later.

And it was signed, very simply

Love, Neil

She'd read the card three times and was starting a fourth when Stephanie interrupted her thoughts.

"Looks like you had yourself a weekend. Five dozen roses. You must have made quite an impression." Something in her voice made Clare look up from the card.

"You've read this, haven't you? Stephanie" -

"Oh, get over it already. It's not as if you weren't going to tell me anyway." This was precisely the sort of thing that had made Clare reluctant to share anything with her office mate. Where anyone else's romantic life was concerned, Steph had no concept of boundaries. She behaved like a gossipy seventh-grade girl instead of a forty-something married woman, constantly demanding details, wanting to compare notes, and offering unsolicited advice.

Well, no, Stephanie, Clare thought, I actually had no intention of showing it to you. In fact, I had planned to withhold as much from you for as long as possible, because while I mostly like you enough to work with you, you're a nosy pain in the ass about stuff that's none of your business. Plus it amazes me that you manage to so easily forget the inconvenience of your husband.

But she gritted her teeth. "Probably," she said coolly, and let it drop as her eyes settled once again on "Love, Neil". And he missed her! Shit, I'm getting all mushy and stupid like. . .well, like Stephanie. She'd always thought she'd have an easy time avoiding the ridiculous gushing behavior she noticed in other people; there was something so undignified about it. Now she was not only feeling positively sappy, she was enjoying it.

Then Stephanie dropped the bomb. "I hope you slept with him?" The directness of the remark surprised Clare, even considering the source. She sidestepped it neatly, though.

"Why would it matter if I did or didn't?"

"Oh, Clare, come on. This is all very sweet." Stephanie waved a hand towards the roses. "And I'm happy you finally decided to stop being such a hermit. Believe me, it will be good for you. But you don't really think it's going to turn into something serious, do you? He travels all the time, you're effectively tied down here, and he doesn't even live in this country. I'm just saying you ought to take advantage while you can, go to bed with the guy at every opportunity. I think you'll regret it if you don't, when it ends." Stephanie was the very picture of sisterly concern. Behind the kindly tone and seemingly well-intended advice, Clare detected a hard edge. Jealousy? She didn't know, honestly, and at the moment, she really didn't care.

Nonetheless, Stephanie had managed to aim a dart directly into her one sensitive spot. You bitch, Clare thought defensively. No, it may not work out, but I'd say our chances are a hell of a lot better than yours are with Jay. For a second she thought she'd spoken out loud, but Steph's patronizing smile never wavered.

"Well, Stephanie," Clare answered after a moment, choosing her words deliberately, "not that it's really any of your concern, but Neil and I actually discussed" - The phone rang and she grabbed for it, grateful for the timing.

"Dr. Lefebvre speaking." She didn't care who was on the other end. Even if it was an automated sales call, she was going to stay on the line; anything to shut Stephanie up.

"I'm surprised you're there. I had planned to leave you a message." Neil did sound slightly surprised. But his voice was warm and somehow immediately calming. And - big surprise - she was blushing again.

"Neil, no, perfect timing." She couldn't resist aiming a slightly triumphant look in Stephanie's direction. Either it worked or Stephanie couldn't find a valid excuse to hang around and eavesdrop; flipping her fingers in a girlish little wave, she left Clare to continue her phone conversation in private.

"You," she told Neil, "are unbelievable. Five dozen roses?"

"You counted them?" Neil sounded pleased.

"You didn't? And no, it was actually my office mate," Clare explained. "I wasn't here when they were delivered, and she, well, let's just say she's nosy."

"Ah, understood. Really, I just told the florist to send enough to cover a medium-sized desk."

Clare couldn't stop smiling. "And now we know that number is sixty."

"The scientific method in action," Neil agreed, and Clare could hear the smile in his voice as well. "But you liked them?"

"Neil, I love them. You may think it's unimaginative, but I'll tell you the truth. The only other person who has ever sent me flowers was my brother, when I got accepted as an astronaut candidate. So it's new to me and a complete surprise and I love what you wrote. I guess you're in Richmond now?"

"Landed a bit over two hours ago. I left probably a half hour after you did. You make good coffee, by the way."

They talked for a little while longer, neither one willing to hang up. But Neil was ahead of her, in the Eastern time zone, and he needed to start his preparations for the evening's concert. For her part, Clare had stayed in her office longer than planned, and she knew she couldn't count on Stephanie being gone much longer.

"Hey, I'll call you tonight, if that's okay," Neil told her. "It's a one-nighter, so we're leaving immediately after, and I can call once we're settled in and on the road. If it's not too late," he clarified. It wasn't, of course, and she assured him of that.

Wanting to avoid any further exchanges with Stephanie, Clare wasted no time heading back to the relative haven of the fluid dynamics labs. When she rejoined her colleagues she found that news of the BFRC had preceded her, so she once again was faced with getting everyone back on task.

The remainder of the day played out in much the same way; Clare was getting a crash course in Rumor Mill 101. Among other things, Clare learned she had met Neil when she accidentally ran him over with her motorcycle. Well, she mused when she heard that, the truth really isn't much less outrageous.

She was surprised at how the attention wore her out mentally. Fiona noticed immediately when the two of them met at the athletic complex after work.

"Didn't quite expect all this fuss, did you?" she asked sympathetically. "You want to just go for a run, get away from everybody?"

Clare looked at her friend gratefully. "That would be perfect. I'm not complaining, mind you, it's just been a bit more than I was prepared to face."

"I'm sure it was," Fi agreed.

They ran intervals, sprinting as hard and fast as they could for a few hundred yards, then slowing their pace to a jog to recover. During the recovery periods, Clare related the chain of events since she'd last seen Fiona backstage after the concert.

"Well, I can tell you one thing," Fiona declared, puffing a little after a sprint, "he's mad for you."

Clare wheezed out a laugh. "That's a bit strong, don't you think? Okay, yes, I know he likes me, but "mad about me"? They took off again, running flat out until their lungs burned. Despite Fiona's advantage in height and her longer legs, Clare kept an even pace with her.

They slowed again. "Don't be too sure about that," Fi was able to answer when she caught her breath. "I suppose you didn't notice the way he looked at you when he saw you come backstage Saturday. I did, and let me tell you, his face lit up, it really did. He was absolutely thrilled to see you."

Sprint.

Clare gulped air. "Really?" Fiona's assessment filled her with a pleasant warmth (she was fairly sure it had nothing to so with the running, anyway). "Because Stephanie. . ." she briefed Fiona on her earlier exchange with her office mate, finishing just in time for another sprint.

"Clare," Fiona gasped, "you know Steph is my friend, so you know if I tell you to ignore anything she has to say on the matter, you should listen. Steph is a little scrambled right now. I think Jay's about to call it quits on her."

"Aw, shit. Well, he needs to."

"Hey, I completely agree," Fiona said. "She needs to either work on her marriage or move on to divorce, but this can't go on. I think Jay's finally realized it's going to be some serious trouble if he doesn't back out now, and I think Steph's picked up the vibe. Last one?" They resumed another all-out burst, this time making it competitive. Clare finished ahead by about a half-stride.

"Anyway," Fi continued once she'd caught her breath, "I wouldn't place too much credence in Steph's opinion. She's. . .not in a good place right now."

"I suppose I could just declare the subject off-limits," Clare said as the two of them slowed to a walk. "Ah well, with mission preparations soon, I won't see a whole lot of her anyway."

It was after nine by the time Clare parked the Jaguar in the garage. She'd opted to shower at the athletic complex, then stopped for a smoothie on the way home. Initially she'd planned to do a little work before going to bed ( and of course awaiting Neil's call), perhaps get a start on her speech for the Senate bunch. But she sat staring at her laptop in its case in the passenger seat for a few minutes, trying to convince herself to pick it up, and finally decided against it. She left the computer where it was and went inside.

She felt strange. She was exhausted, both from the out-of-the-ordinary events of the day itself and from the punishing run afterwards. But at the same time she was oddly energized; perhaps this was the same feeling Neil had mentioned in the card he'd sent with the flowers? Thinking of that brought a smile to her face. She couldn't ever remember feeling this way with Hasbrouck, her ex.

The phone rang at a little after ten and she forced herself to let it go for three rings. She was already smiling when she picked it up and heard Neil's baritone on the other end of the line.

"How'd it go tonight?" she asked.

"Very well, thanks for asking. Nothing remarkable, but it was pretty tight. Another one in the books. We're on the bus right now, stopped at a rest stop for most of the night. Geddy's already crashed out, but he said to tell you hello." Just then Clare recognized a familiar voice from Saturday night.

"Hey!" she heard Alex shout. "Is that Air Clare? I want to talk to her. Neil, hand me the phone for a second."

"You've a new nickname, in case you didn't hear that," Neil told her, amusement in his tone. "You mind saying hi to Alex? It's the only way to get him to go away."

Clare was laughing now. "Sure, put him on."

"Air Clare!" Alex didn't sound like she'd expect someone who'd just finished a three hour concert would. "How's it going? When are we going to see you again? Can you just maybe snag a spare space shuttle and come out for another show?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Neil. I think borrowing shuttles for personal use is frowned upon, though. I might have to rely on commercial air travel." Once again, Alex had her giggling with his exuberance.

"Well, do it soon," Alex commanded. "Good night!" And he handed the phone back to a chuckling Neil.

"Thanks, and sorry," he said. "Believe it or not, he's completely sober. How was the rest of your day? It's good to hear your voice again," he added.

"You sure you want to ask?" Talking to him, she felt her stress beginning to ease. There was a rhythmic, calming quality to his voice that seemed somehow to settle her.

"Uh-oh. Bit of a rough Monday?"

"You could say." Clare paused, unsure whether or not she should continue. "Well, I guess I can tell you that I was a little bit of an object of fascination today." She told him about the stares and some of the rumors, but skipped over the part about Stephanie.

"Lass, I'm sorry," he said when she was finished. "I've never gotten used to it myself, and I'm sorry you've got to deal with it now as well."

"No, it's really okay," Clare replied. And in fact it was okay, now that she was talking to him. "Fiona and I were talking about it after work, and it'll go away. People will either get used to it or forget about it entirely. Or I'll get used to it. No need to apologize on your part, anyway. But the worst was that I found out I have to go to DC in two weeks and make a stupid speech to a bunch of Senate people." She explained about having gotten busted for Saturday's activities. "And don't blame yourself, either. No one who was involved, including me, would have done any differently if we had stopped to consider we might get in trouble. But this is NASA's way of giving me a little hand-slap for that."

Neil was silent for a moment, and Clare started to wonder if she shouldn't have told him. Then he said, "Two weeks?"

Shit.

"Aw, crap, Neil," she groaned. "You're right, I was so pissed at having to go that I didn't stop to think. Fucking speech. Fucking Capitol." For of course, Neil was planning to visit in two weeks during his break.

"No, no," Neil said slowly, thinking out loud. Then, "Are you allowed to take a date to this fucking Capitol speech? Even if he's Canadian?"

Clare hadn't thought of that. "You know, I don't see why not. Neil, are you sure? I've had to do these things before and they suck. But it would suck less if you were there."

"Well, find out, because I'd love to go with you. I promise, I'll do my best to make it not suck. Then we can just resume things in Houston as planned."

The phone call was approaching the two hour mark when she distinctly heard Neil stifling a yawn. "I'm sorry," she said. "I keep forgetting about the time difference; I'm just not sleepy. Should I let you go?"

"Well, how about a bedtime story?" Neil suggested.

"A bedtime story?"

"To maybe make you sleepy. I can't promise that it will be any good, it might just bore you to sleep, but still."

By now Clare was so used to blushing that she didn't even notice. "Okay," she giggled. "Let me get into bed. . ."

Once she was settled, Neil began. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in the Land of Houston, Texas."

Clare interrupted with a laugh. "The Land of Houston?"

"Kingdom, then, if it makes you happy. Now hush," Neil scolded. "This is my story."

His voice was low and warm and very soothing. "This princess was not only unutterably beautiful, she was also very, very smart. She had a job that only very smart people can get, and worked in the Castle of Lyndon B. Johnson."

"One day, a common frog from the Land Of Canada was visiting the Kingdom of Houston, and he snuck into the castle where the beautiful and smart princess worked. Because he was a very curious and a very naughty frog, he wandered off where he wasn't supposed to be. . ."

Clare turned off the beside lamp and burrowed into the covers, lulled by Neil's steady, gentle words.

"Clare? Lass, are you still with me?"

She started awake. "Sorry." She yawned. "I think it's worked."

Neil laughed softly. "Well then. Good. Maybe I'm better at this than I thought. Talk to you tomorrow sometime, then? We'll be in Philadelphia for a couple of nights."

"Okay," Clare mumbled sleepily. "Sleep well. Thanks for the bedtime story."

"It was my pleasure. Maybe I'll give you another installment tomorrow night. I miss you, Clare."

"Miss you too. Goodnight." Still wrapped in the comfort of Neil's voice, she drifted off, smiling into the darkness.