Without that annoying Adam flitting around moaning about the other two rungs of the Mephisto Troika, Sid felt perhaps he'd experienced Nirvana for a while.

He enjoyed the Mystery show on the screens as he kept track through the night.

However, this latest development?

"What? You think you're too good for our Clarrie, Sheriff Boobie?" he growled at first as he'd watched in disgust that Mystery's noble sheriff resisted his yearning to kiss Clarity ... but then Sid replayed the scene twice before seeing something he did not recognize at first but some instinct inside one of his personalities had a clue ... it was ... it was ... something he'd never identified with the sheriff.

It was ... lust.

Good, old fashioned Deadly Sin Numero Uno.

Sid smiled and it took a long time for him to allow that smile to slither fully across his face. His eyes glinted merrily. His chuckle was a high pitched glee. He clapped his hands together.

"This ... this makes it all so very worthwhile ... Oh, Sheriff! Once a fallen angel, never is the step to devil easier ..."

Turning toward the bank of keyboards, Sid hopped into a chair before one and turned up the music program ... in a split second, the sound in the lab became a lush, vibrating incandescence of pulsing rock that had him dancing throughout the space, veering around equipment and counters filled with an assortment of gear.

As he passed the outer door, now locked from inside, he pressed a sleek blue button on the wall and let the doors slide open. Peering out, he saw two white-coated little men scurry away, toward where Loriebat was keeping busy with Biebe.

He would need to check on the polar bear, Sid knew.

Needed to make sure Loriebat didn't think he could disobey his directives, Sid thought to himself, his eyes narrowing at just the hint that Loriebat might cross him.

But before he did, Sid stepped back into the lab, closed the door, entered instructions on another keyboard, and turned in time to see the leather chair cradling Clarity rise from beneath the floor, where she'd been safe and sound from nitwit Adam.

Nearing her, he watched her breathing. He stroked her hair and watched her hands. Looking from her up to the alter ego Clarity on the screen, he watched her pacing in her little room in Mystery.

"Proof, love dove, that's what we want," he whispered to her. "And proof comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. You'll bring something back for papa, won't you, cherie? I know I can count on you, Claire, to prove my hypothesis ... make me proud."

Where was Adam, after all? Sid needed him to snap back from whatever little crap was going on with him once the sedation wore off. So the other Mephisto Geeks were dead or on the run? So what? What did that matter?

Once he made his experiment bear fruit, Adam needed to witness Clarity's return from Mystery ... see her bringing back some tangible proof that what Sid he could do was truly possible. Sid would then need the Mephisto infrastructure to make his plans into a larger reality ... to bring him power and adulation that he deserved.

As he lowered Clarity back into her safe den and turned to go find Loriebat, Adam and the Great Arctic Boobie Bird, Sid took wagers with himself over what it would be that Adam would demand that Sid have Clarity bring back with her to prove that she'd not just been in the movie ... but that she could return with a tangible treasure ... imagine the criminal mayhem this could cause? Sending his people into the movies, rob the people blind, do whatever else they wanted, return with the treasures ... divine.

Just before he left the lab, Sid looked up at the screen and watched transfixed for a few seconds.

"All hope is not lost ..." he said softly and then quickly darted through the open door.

Clarity was on her bed, trying to read once more. She thought she hadn't read as much as she was doing daily now, since she had finished her studies. She was sick of reading, sick of this quiet life. Sick of being alone.

It had been more than one week since she had arrived here, and where was she? 

Nowhere. 

And nobody. 

She had to get real; it was becoming more and more probable each day that she was stuck here, and would have to spend the rest of her life in Mystery.

Not that she didn't like the place and the people. She did. Very much. But it was not home to her, and it could never be. The town was too small for her and a John Biebe who was not hers, if they were never meant to have something again together.

And they were not. 

This was her reality now. SID might never get her back. Maybe he couldn't? What did they know about their strange world anyway? Maybe was it her punishment for having asked him to mess with John's movie and their reality last year?

And now, here she was, fighting each minute not to think about what had happened to her John there in France, fighting each minute not to fall in love with this John here.

Wrong. She couldn't fall in love with him. She already was. And would always be. Just because he was himself, John Biebe. 

Each time she generally lost the fight and was overwhelmed by the craziness of the situation... and by a painful headache. Each time, she had to go ask for those pills Doc Savage had given to Doreen for her. At least, they made her doze and stop thinking too much.

Putting her book down, Clarity thought about this past week. She had seen Sheriff Biebe almost each day... wait, not almost, in fact it had been each days indeed. Each time had been both a pleasure, brightening her monotone days... but also a torture, when he was going back home to his life, where she had no place. And to his wife, who was someone else.

On the first few times, she hadn't really known how to behave with him, and what he thought about her. He was probably just doing his sheriff job. But, she started to have doubts when she noticed he was seeing her for less and less official and valuable reasons. It made her smile. Yet, she forbade her imagination to wander, and herself to hope.

Bumping into John Biebe in the most unlikely place of the town for someone like him, increased her doubts. But she let herself get caught up in the pleasure just to be with him, to exchange shy smiles, like teenagers, to be able to tease him again, to feel his strong and reassuring presence fill a room when he entered it, making her feel as if nothing could happen to her.

But something did happen. Or nearly. If it hadn't been for his last-second grip on reality, they would have been in for the most foolish thing they could have done in such a situation, with possible witnesses around.

His sudden departure had left her with, of course, a very deep frustration, but also strong and contradictory feelings. 

So he was feeling something for her after all? Or was it just the old male attraction for a new and still young face? Her heart was jumping in her chest at the thought of that moment, but she understood that he couldn't let this happen. Not this John. Not here. Not now. And she couldn't allow that either. She had no right to destroy or even damage his family life. She had had her time once, a short but wonderful one, in another place, another time. It was gone now. She just had to admit it.

Easier to say than to do. 

On the next day, in spite of her good resolutions, Clarity couldn't help going to the Saturday game. She tried to convince herself that it was only to see, through her own eyes, that famous weekly event so important for the whole town.

But she could hardly lie to herself and knew very well that, in fact, it was to see him, and only him. But he hadn't even looked at her. After what had almost happened on Friday in her room, she shouldn't be surprised. But yet, it still hurt.

She couldn't miss Skank Marden's lustful look though. It made it harder for her to imagine him as a good step-father to John's children. But it's true that it was in another reality... or not at all. She would probably never know. Maybe there really was a nice person hidden behind Mystery's famous womanizer?

On Sunday, yesterday, she had been to the church, although she had stopped to believe in any god a long time ago. Again, she tried to tell herself that it was just to do like all the other people in this town, out of respect for their beliefs and traditions, to try and be part of this community.

But, again, she knew that it was just to have a chance to see John Biebe's strong figure. And, once again, he wouldn't even have looked at her if Donna hadn't nudged him in the ribs after having waved at her. He had looked distracted and had just nodded at her briefly, turning to one of his sons to fiddle with his book.

He was right. That was silly and couldn't go on. What happiness could she give and get out of a man who was so deeply attached to his family, to his wife? It was one of the reasons why she loved him so much, and she was on the edge of trying to destroy that? He was more reasonable than her. Always been. Or maybe was it just easier for him because it was only a physical attraction?

If she really had to stay in this life, maybe it was time for her to move, to go and build herself a life, or at least find a place where she could live in the memory of what she had lost, instead of having it waved under her nose each day. The best way to resist temptation was not to be tempted anymore.

Clarity closed her book and sat up on the bed. She really couldn't concentrate on it anymore. She distractedly looked at the title of the book, she didn't even remember what it was, she just knew she had already read it, a long time ago... Ernest Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls." How suitable! She felt like it was tolling for her, or rather for the person she was, in her former life.

She had to get out of this room or she was going to get crazy. 

She went downstairs, looking for Doreen to see if she could help, make her useful. Clarity heard kids' laughters and followed the sound, to where life was. It led her to the kitchen where Doreen was trying to resist three adorable boys who were begging her for some cookies, explaining to them that, if they wanted some, they had to go play together and let her bake those cookies for them.

It didn't take long to Clarity to recognize John's boys. After having met Donna, meeting the kids was another shock for her. She immediately fell in love with the three of them. They had their father's eyes. Well, okay, their mother's bright smile, too.

"Hey, Claire! Come in! Meet my favorite little monsters!" 

Clarity stepped in, suddenly very shy, more than she had never felt with any kids before in her life. 

"Let me introduce you... Michael..." The boy held out politely his hand to the foreign lady, as the well-mannered little man he already was.

"Joey..." The younger boy imitated his elder brother's action.

"... and our little James." The toddler hid behind Doreen's large skirt, peeked to look at the unknown woman, then hid again, as red as a tomato.

"Boys, this is Claire. She's French."

"Wow!" Michael said with a big grin... this time, it was his father's one.

"She's what...? Fresh?" asked Joey.

"She's French, from France, Joey," Doreen corrected softly.

"Aaaah! I see!" said Joey knowingly. Then he frowned his brows and whispered to his brother, "What is...Trance?"

"France, idiot!" answered his brother. "It's a country. Mom said that it's very, very far away."

"As far as the moon?"

"Not that far," said Michael, "but much farther than Juneau, that's sure!"

"Farther than Juneau?" The younger boy's eyes widened and he whistled while looking at the foreign woman with amazement. "You came from so far away just to play with us, miss... Clear?"

Michael could resist going on showing his knowledge and superiority over his younger brothers to the two women. "Shush, you stupid! She's the woman dad's investigating on."

"She is? The one who has damnesia? You have damnesia, Ma'am? That hurts? Is it contagious? I don't wanna have damnesia."

"Stop it, you fool! That's not polite! You don't even know what it means," said his older brother to Joey, pushing him in the ribs and smiling, embarrassed, at the young woman.

"Yes I know! My buddy Ricky said it's when you can't even remember your damn name! There! Fuck you!"

"JOEY! You better stop cussing ... you do it again, I'll tell Dad. He'll punish us if he knows!" Michael turned to one of the women, then to the other, with a sheepish smile. "You won't tell him, will you? He's just a baby. He heard that in the locker-room, you know."

"I AM NOT A BABY! James is the baby here, and Polly is even babier than him! And it's worse for her coz she's a girl!"

"Joey Biebe, I hope it's not your father who put such ideas into your cute little skull or he will hear from me! Okay now, boys, you leave Miss Claire alone and you go play. She and I are going to bake those cookies you wanted so much, aren't we, Claire?"

Clarity nodded "Certainly!" She still felt oddly shy in front of those cute boys. 

"You bake, Auntie Doreen! Miss Clear come play with us. Even if you have damnesia, you remember how to play games, don't you?"

"Be good now, kids, Miss Claire doesn't have time to play with you."

"Oh come on, Miss, please, pleaaaaase, pretty please!" begged Joey "Grownups are no fun! Aunt Doreen and Uncle Marty always say they are too old, Mom never wants to play with us, and Dad... he does it less and less now."

Clarity stepped closer and squatted down to their height. Little James, whose natural curiosity had made him forget for a while about his fears, but who was still hanging on Doreen's skirt, slipped back to his safe place, behind the older woman's legs.

"Well, you know boys, I'm sure that it's not because they don't want to play with you. They certainly wish they could more often. But your dad works hard all day long to watch over everyone, and keep peace and safety in Mystery, so he's tired when he comes back home."

Almost together, the boys nodded and said proudly "That's true! Our dad's real important. He's the sheriff!"

"And your mom must be really busy taking care of three adorable little 'angevils' like you...and her husband... your dad, when he gets home, he needs her attention, too..." She blushed at the image in her mind, and although the kids couldn't understand, she quickly added, "... to prepare his meal and all."

Unconvinced, Joey said "Don't forget Polly, she takes all of Mom's time."

"Polly?" asked Clarity. 

Doreen explained: "In fact, it's Grace, their little sister, but everyone calls her Polly."

"Ah. Yes, Polly probably needs a lot of attention, because she's a baby and you three are big boys now. You will soon be able to help your parents to watch over your little sister, too," continued Clarity.

"I already do," commented Mike proudly.

"I am not surprised, Michael, you look to be as a good carer as your father."

The boy beamed at that compliment and gave Claire a big smug smile. It went straight to her heart. He looked so much like his father at that very moment.

Joey, jealous of the sudden attention on his older brother, brought back the conversation to a more useful and interesting topic: "But you can play with us, Miss Clear! You don't work, so you're not tired and have lots of time. And you've no kids and no husband?"

Clarity looked down at the floor and shook her head 'no' sadly, at the reminder of her loneliness.

"So you can play with us!" With that, he took her hand and dragged her to the next room where some toys where piled together. Clarity smiled at Doreen, shrugging, and held out her other hand to little James. "Okay then, but let's play something that everyone can play."

"No, not him, he's too little!"

"So what?" said Michael, "you've been little, too, and I had to play with you, whether I liked it or not... and you were much more annoying than him, I can tell you!"

"Okay, okay," grumbled Joey. "... he can play."

James didn't need to hear it twice and ran to his brothers, still prudently avoiding the foreign woman. 

They played for hours. For the first time since her new life had started, except for the few moments she had spent with their father, Clarity didn't see the time pass and enjoyed herself immensely, running after the kids, laughing with them.

While baking the so-desired cookies, Doreen smiled, thinking that it was the first time she had heard Claire laugh. 

When they were finally exhausted... at least, Clarity was, Doreen made them all sit at the kitchen table, and placed in front of each of them a plate full of still warm good-smelling cookies and a glass of milk... including Claire.

Forgetting his good manners in the excitement, Michael, with his mouth full, told their new friend how lucky she was to live in another country.  Joey didn't fail to remind his elder brother that talking with his mouth full was not polite. Of course, his own mouth was also full when he said that, projecting cookie crumbs everywhere. This made him an easy prey for his brother who said that he was disgusting, and shamed him in the presence of ladies.

Michael went on while his younger brother was pouting. He said that he had seen documentaries on TV about France and he thought it would be sooo cool to live there, where it was not cold most of the year, where people seemed to eat at the restaurant almost each day, and girls seemed to look nicer with their fancy clothes than the Mystery girls... Of course, not nicer than his mom, no one could even look as nicer as his mom! But, well, cool even so. Anyway, he explained that everything looked better there than here. He used to love that this place, when he was younger and was happy to go fishing or hiking with his dad. But now, he was grown up, or almost, and he was eager for more than that. Any place looked better than this isolated place to him.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't say that, young man!" said Clarity. "You will probably leave this place someday, when you're older, and if it's still what you really want then. But, when you come back here, you'll see your childhood town through other eyes, and will be so very happy to be here again, believe me! You will realize how dear it is to you, and remember with nostalgia how safe you felt in the care of your parents, in this lovely little town. And maybe you'll find out then that you had been looking very far for something that was under your nose, right here, in Mystery. Freedom has a price, Michael. Always think deeply before making a choice, think about what price you're ready to pay for it, and if it is worth it."

With their attention rapt to her voice, Clarity found herself suddenly with so much she wanted to say ... and she found herself continuing on ...

"Let me tell you a story from my country about a goat that dreamed about freedom all her life, fought for it, escaping the attentive care of her farmer, and when she finally found that freedom... and met the wolf, she learned that everything comes with a price. It's called, 'La Chèvre de Monsieur Seguin'... Mr Seguin's goat. In French, it starts that way: 'Qu'elle était jolie, la petite chèvre de Monsieur Seguin!'... meaning: how pretty was Mr Seguin's little goat."

While she was telling that story, excerpted from the 'Letter of My Windmill' by the Provencal writer Alphonse Daudet, the kids became very quiet, settling around her on the floor. Little James who was not intimidated anymore by the strange woman who could play, eat cookies with them and tell stories, climbed on her lap and placed his head on her breast, sucking his thumb, lulled by the soft tone of her voice. At first surprised and moved by the little boy's acceptance, Clarity went on telling the story while stroking his soft hair. As soft as his father's.

Doreen, who had been cleaning the kitchen, finally sat on a chair, her wet sponge still in her hand, and listened to the story too. When Marty arrived with Tree, she hugged the big boy, really happy to see him, but hushed them both and pushed them into chairs too, motioning to them to listen to the story. And Claire's audience grew.

While still trying to keep the morale of the story, Clarity changed the cruellest parts of the story though, making them milder for the young children. She also changed the ending into a happy one, having the little white goat come back to her safe home and caring farmer instead of being killed for freedom like in the original story. She made all the voices, Blanquette, the big bad wolf, the kind farmer, using that lilting South of France accent so dear to her heart, and even adding the song of the cicadas to complete the picture. The children, and even the grown-ups, were successively laughing or wincing, captivated by the story.

Donna arrived at the Sleeping Bear Inn in a great mood. She was happy to have found a dress that could still keep her baby girl warm in the winter, but that also looked cute enough to remind her she was a girl. Until now, the baby had worn clothes she had inherited from her brothers, but Donna suddenly wanted to make it more obvious for both John and she that they had, at last, the little girl they had craved so long.

She was grateful to Doreen for having kept the boys with her, once more, while she and Polly were going to the clothing store. That way, she could calmly chose something for her daughter, without having to watch over a bunch of little monsters running everywhere, yelling at each others and playing hide and seek in the rows of clothes.

'Polly...' Donna thought that she had to be careful not to use this name too much in John's presence. He disliked it. Grace was her real name and the one John had chosen himself with much thoughts and care for their first, and probably last, daughter. She had immediately liked it too. But, since the very moment when Skank had taken a peek at the baby, he had renamed her Polly, nobody knew why, not even himself. Everyone used that name now. Everyone but John.

Donna had found the perfect little dress for their princess. John would love it! She was not really sure why, she had also bought a new dress for herself, even though she used to wear mainly nice but essentially warm and comfortable clothes at that time of the year.

To be honest, the thought that it could be to compete with that French woman had crossed her mind, but she had pushed the idea away. She didn't need to do that, and there was nothing for her to fear from this girl. John loved her, he loved his family; there was no doubt about that. His big warm, white-knight heart was just reacting to a damsel in distress... and his male flesh to a new, young and fresh female figure. Nothing else.

With a smile, she pushed open the door of the Walkers' house, her little girl asleep in her arms... and found everyone around the said French girl, listening to her as if bewitched. Well, most of them. Marty was obviously fighting to keep his eyes open after a long day in the outdoors.

Donna first felt the unusual tweak of the infamous green-eyed monster hit her hard, unknown to her till this day. Not only had that foreign woman seemed to have an effect on her husband and made him act weirdly... she had already heard unpleasant hints from Mira Houles and some others town gossips... of course without minding them... too much. But now she also had her own boys' attention? And her friends? Even Tree was listening to the French girl with his mouth half open, and various emotions showing in his eyes while he was 'living' the story that girl was telling them.

Sheriff Biebe's wife had always been the pretty, nice, understanding and patient kind, but at that very instant, she couldn't help feeling irrationally but deeply annoyed by this. What had this 'little Miss-Claire-come-from-nowhere' done for them all, other than telling a story? Had she carried these boys lovingly during nine months until the day she had suffered every hell - happily that's true, but suffered even so - to give them birth?  Had she been here for them nights and days to soothe their pain when they were ill? Had she cradled them in her arms when they were crying in fear during a nightmare? Had she shared with these friends the best and the worst times of their lives?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down and get back to reason. This was silly! 

At the same time, the soft voice of the foreign woman telling that story obviously set in France with that funny accent, made her way to Donna's ears, and to her mind. It reminded her how lonely and lost this unfortunate girl probably was, far from the people who counted for her, so far from her country, her culture, among these perfect strangers. She imagined how she would feel if she found herself alone, far from her own family, her children, John, far from her friends, her parents, Mystery.

Donna was now looking pensively at the scene in front of her, when little Grace woke up and whimpered. 

It attracted everyone's attention to her and the mother and her baby were soon surrounded by the boys jumping on her, asking if she had bought them candies because they had been good boys with Doreen... and with 'Clear' (even Mike had adopted the nickname Joey had given to Claire) who knew how to tell tales. Tree hugged Donna, a little too tight as usually, but with all the affection of his big heart for a sister, or a sister in law. Marty, who had lost his fight against sleep a while ago, woke up in a start, wondering in his half-woken state, what was causing all this noise and if the Russians had finally landed in Mystery.

Doreen also got up to welcome her with a big smile. But before, while Donna was overwhelmed with the boys' enthusiasm, the older woman said softly to the French woman who hadn't moved: "Claire, honey, this is a good start! Can you remember anything else from your country?"

Clarity suddenly realized what a big mistake she had just made! She was certainly not even supposed to remember a story. It was her first mistake, at least the first noticed one. She was sure that there was soon going to be some others. She knew she wouldn't be able to pretend being amnesic very long. She had never been good at faking and lying. What would happen when they would know that she was not amnesic and that no one was looking for her anywhere... at least, not in that world?

She shook her head 'no' at Doreen's question.

"Don't worry, sweetie, it's not a problem. Doc Savage had warned us that it could come back by bits; sometimes the oddest memories come back first. But it's a good step on your way to recovery, I guess. We're getting there!"

Clarity looked relieved at Doreen who was now rushing to the new comer. Then she looked at Donna and her baby waggling in her arms, her young boys hanging on her coat, all her friends around her... and couldn't help feeling even more lonely.

For a while, she had been allowed to feel the warmth of a family and friends. But it was only illusion. This was not her family, these were not her friends, this was not her hometown. These were Donna's.

As John was. She should not forget that again. Ever. 

Life had a way to take revenge sometimes. Most of her life, she had ran after freedom, like Blanquette, Mr Seguin's little goat... and, she had run away as fast and as far as she could from any family life, from the moment when she had lost her parents.

But that was before she met 'good wolf' John, in another life, and let him willingly and happily 'devour' her need for freedom, and lock her up in his big loving heart.

And now, she was here, irrationally envying a woman who was stuck at home most of her time, whose schedule for each day was mostly to take care of four young demanding children, and wait for her man's return, tired and grumpy after a long working day, to feed him, and, eventually, if both of them were not too tired at the same time, when the kids were asleep...

Clarity looked again at the happy little group, not really knowing what to do, aware that there was no room for her in this scene. She tried to concentrate her attention on the baby struggling in her mother's arm to reach her brothers' hair. So John finally had had that baby girl he was dreaming of! She was so happy for him! Happy for them both... She wondered if she really was being honest with herself then... was she sincerely happy for the two of them? Yes, she probably was, even if, at the same time, this made her loneliness even deeper and more painful.

Donna had noticed that Claire seemed not to know what to do in her presence. The Sheriff's wife tried not to stare at the foreign woman, but the little she could see in her eyes was more about shyness and incertitude... and maybe also envy, than guilt or jealousy. Donna chose to do as she had always done all her life:  to listen nicely to what people wanted to tell her, but not believe it until she had seen by herself and could form her own opinion. She trusted John with all she had, and decided to keep her eyes open, but be friendly with that poor woman... until she gave her any reason not to... if she ever did.

So, Donna walked to Claire and stood in front of her. None of them was smiling. A heavy silence fell on the room, as if the others were unconsciously wondering what was going to happen between these two women.

Donna just hugged Claire. And the hubbub started again. 

Little Grace, from her mother's arms, being the lively and bold baby she was, gurgled and instinctively held out her little chubby arms to the other woman. Claire looked at the little girl's arms, then at Donna, not daring to do anything.

Donna held the little girl to the foreign woman with a smile. The look that the two women exchanged, one of them knowing, and the other one simply feeling, couldn't have been read by anyone around them. Maybe not even by themselves.

When she was able to get a grip again on her emotions, with the little girl still babbling in her arms, Claire simply said softly to Donna: "John Biebe is a lucky and a happy man..." She looked at the sheriff's wife intensely, then finished her sentence, trying to make it lighter, addressing to the kids around them "... to have been blessed with those little angevils..." and in a whisper, added for Donna's ears only "... and to have such a wife in his life."

Donna felt something odd in the French woman's voice and tried to look in her eyes to see if there was a meaning behind these words. But Claire was already playing with the kids again, pretending that she was going to throw little Grace to the boys, and taking her back when they could almost catch her. The children were all laughing loudly and yelling with joy.

Donna shook her head. There was no meaning. Just a lonely woman who was probably longing for the family she didn't even remember having, but that was probably waiting for her somewhere. She was sure that Claire had a loving husband somewhere looking anxiously for her, she could feel it. And maybe kids. If she hadn't any children yet, she was obviously ready to have some.

That is, if John ever found a way to send that unfortunate woman back to her man and to her life.

In the meantime, while playing with the kids, wheels were turning in Clarity's brain. The thoughts she had had in her room a few hours before, about having to leave that place, had just been confirmed, if needed. She couldn't risk doing any harm, even unwillingly, to this family, and to the man she would love all her life.

And she probably would, sooner or later, if she stayed there any longer. 

It was time for her to really admit that SID was not going to bring her back to her home, to her family, her friends. And to her man. One week had already passed... still no news from SID. Maybe it was not even him who had sent her there. It had just... happened? They knew so little about that reality they had taken for granted for years now, clinging to the fool belief, or rather hope, that it would never change.

When Donna and her kids left, it was almost dinner time. She was awfully late and John might be home before her. He wouldn't like that. She called the station but he had already left his office. She pushed the boys outside of the warm house.

"You are the bad wolf, I am the brave Blanquette!" said Mike to Joey.

"Aww, why is it always me who plays the meanies?" grumbled the younger boy. And their voices were muffled by the door car their mother slammed on their never-ending arguments.

Dinner in the Sleeping Bear Inn this evening was enlivened by Tree's strong presence. Brett Humps was in his taciturn mood, as usual, but they were used to it now, and, if everybody was always polite with him, nobody paid more attention to him than was necessary.

Clarity was really delighted to meet Tree and had loved him immediately. In fact, she already liked him from the movie. She always had had a soft spot for the different persons. And Tree sure was different.

But, in Mystery, unlike in some bigger towns or other countries, everyone knew everyone, and there was respect and acceptance for every kind of people, no matter how they were, mentally or physically.

So, all along the dinner, Claire asked tons of questions to Tree, about his life in the woods... and, of course, hockey. He was obviously as happy to answer her, and it was his turn to tell them all funny, moving, scary stories with his contagious enthusiasm. He used the French Canadian word 'tabernacle' and other funny ones as often as he could once he had noticed that it made Claire laugh each time, beaming when he got exaggerated reactions from his audience. It was impossible not to love Tree.

Of course, John Biebe's name was mentioned many times by Tree. Doreen and Marty even told some stories of their own about such or such thing that John, Tree and other boys had done together when they were younger. Clarity enjoyed getting to know John better through the eyes of his friends. Tree called him affectionately Johnny and had obviously a strong admiration and respect for the good sheriff of Mystery.

But it was true that, since the moment she had arrived, Claire had heard only positive things about the good sheriff. She expressed it, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Doreen looked at the young woman and frowned, thinking to herself that she hoped it would stay that way. Like Donna Biebe, she had heard some whispers about the Sheriff and the French woman's paths crossing a little too often. But she had shut them down each time she could, reminding the 'whisperers' that there was nothing more natural for a sheriff as committed to his town and human beings in general as was John Biebe, than trying to help someone who was in trouble, and to be concerned about him or her. She had also refreshed each of the gossips' memory about how happy they had been when he had helped them at such or such moment of their lives.

It was soon time to go to bed. Brett Humps had gone back to his room a long time ago already, grunting a vague general "good night". They were almost relieved when he did so, and the atmosphere became even lighter after he had left.

Tree stayed a little longer downstairs with Marty and Doreen. But Claire was exhausted by all these emotions, and Doreen, thinking it was because of her flash of memory this afternoon, rushed her gently to her room.

Claire went up sleepily, wondering if she would have the strength to leave this town she already loved so much and its so endearing inhabitants, particularly to go to an unknown place.

She was going to open her door when Humps' one opened suddenly. He shot out of his room like a snake and hissed like one: "Time to have fun, just the two of us, petite Mademoiselle..." He winked at her with a perverted smile and tried to drag Claire into his room.

She stayed oddly calm and spoke softly but firmly to him. "Vous êtes fou? Are you drunk, Brett? Just go back to bed and let's forget this, will you?"

"Come on, Miss Goody Two Shoes, don't give me your haughty look... you're less shy with the good sheriff, aren't you? Don't deny it, I seen you a few days ago, when I was looking for Walker in the house. I've seen you two in your room, you were in his arms. Sooo touching! I'm sure the sheriff's nice little wifey would be delighted to know more about it. Don't you think so? Come here now, I'm going to show you how to pleasure a real man instead of a teddy bear who's probably as soft outside as he is inside." He then grabbed the stunned woman's arm and tried again to drag her into his room before she could react.

Tree was climbing the stairs with a broad smile on his face. It had been a great evening, he had had fun with people who were like family to him now, his belly was full with good food, he was going to spend the night in a warm place. He loved his life in the woods and wouldn't have changed it for anything in the world, but it was good to enjoy good company and a little civilization every now and again. And the woman from France was nice and kind. He blushed while remembering how she had kissed his cheek when she had said goodnight. Not many girls had kissed him, not even his cheek. It was a pleasant feeling that warmed him and made him feel all funny inside.

"Hey! What's going on? What are you doing to Miss Clear?" Tree had adopted the Biebe kids' name for the lady. "Leave her alone!"

"Ain't your business, lumberjack," spat out Humps, furious to be disturbed. 

"I don't like people molesting women."

"I'm not molesting her; I just intend to pleasure her. And me, even more. What about having some too, big boy? Huh? When there's enough for one, there's enough for two... or more. Ask your friend, the polar bear..."

"What?"

"Seems that not everything in the young lady's body has lost its memory ... and the good sheriff seems to be very willing to play doctor with her."

"Don't say that about Johnny," whispered Tree with a cold voice. 

"Why? Why would you defend him? I've heard that he's not always been very nice to you, calling you... hmm, how was it again...? Ah yes... 'back end of a moose' and also 'Sasquatch'... what a good friend, huh? Not that he was very far from the truth anyway but... "

Before he could finish his sentence, Humps was propelled back into his room where he landed heavily against his night table that creaked in protest. As in retaliation, the molested furniture let loose a pile of stacked dirty magazines on the man's head.

"You don't say bad things about Johnny, and don't bother Miss Clear, you hear me? And you'd better leave town before I tell the sheriff. Mystery doesn't need any trouble makers, eh!"

He was right, thought Clarity, still shuddering at what had just happened. It was more than time for her to move, too, before she did any more harm to the peaceful quietness of this town, its inhabitants, and the Biebe's family. If she didn't, people were going to be hurt in the process. Better stop it now and limit the damage to only one person being hurt: her.

And better do it now. Before it was too late. 

Early the next morning, she was at the station, explaining to a stunned Sheriff Biebe, as convincingly as she could, that she couldn't stay anymore in Mystery and had to go to a bigger town. First off, she might have more chances to find something about her past there. And, if this situation was going to last, she couldn't go on living from the charity of all the good people from Mystery. She had to build herself a life, find a job. She wanted to thank him and everyone for having been so kind with her. And she wanted to reimburse the town and all those who had helped her, with her first salary as soon as she could earn her living.

It first surprised and then hurt John. He was going to try and make her change her mind. But something, probably instinct, made him shut his mouth, leaving unsaid the words that had first rushed to it. He just looked her in the eyes, silently, intensely, for a while. She finally lowered her gaze. Deep inside himself, he knew, as much as he hated it, that she was right.

What was her future here? There was hardly any work in Mystery for all its natives... so what about a foreign amnesic woman? He was not sure though that it would be better for her in Juneau, and he would not even be there to protect her!

Precisely. That was the point. 

"I'll drive you to the nearest airstrip in a few days. I gotta contact some friends in Juneau. They can let you stay awhile until things move for you the way you want them."

"Thank you. But I'd like to leave as soon as possible. Would tomorrow work for you?"

He sighed heavily. 

And agreed. 

He carried her belongings out of the inn in silence, not really knowing what else to do. In some ways he felt a sense of relief. This girl had tested his resolve in a way that should never have happened. He could hardly believe what he had almost got himself into back there in her room the other day. But it hadn't just been then. Right from the start he'd been trying to get close to her. Pretending it had all been about his duties as sheriff was just fooling himself - and worse than that. He had been unfaithful to Donna in his mind just by putting himself near this girl, never mind some of the other thoughts he'd been having about her. To almost kiss her had just been the end result of his philandering; he had let it happen by the rest of his reckless behaviour.

Stowing the meager belongings in the trunk, he climbed up next to her and set off. The weather was closing in but it was still early in the day and he would be back before it got too nasty. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle anyway. His SUV was tough enough for all the weather could throw at him and regularly serviced. The police vehicles always had to be in tip top condition in a hostile climate like theirs.

They drove for a while in silence until Clarity began to speak hesitantly.

"Thank you for arranging this for me, and for speaking to your friends in Juneau. I appreciate all you've done for me..."

"It's just part of the job, ma'am..." he replied unconvincingly. Claire shrugged. If that was how he was dealing with it, pretending nothing had happened between them, then she wouldn't say anything to the contrary. It was probably best to bury the whole subject anyway.

Thus his next comment took her by complete surprise.

"I just wanted to say..." He ran his thick fingers nervously through his shiny locks. "...I just wanted to say that I apologize for that...whatever it was...you know, in your room...? I don't know what happened...it was very wrong of me...I just wanted you to know I was sorry..."

Sorry. He was sorry. He regretted what he had done. Even though Clarity knew there was nothing else a decent man like John Biebe could say about such an unwise action, she still couldn't help but feel melancholy at his rejection of her. It was so cruel. The man she loved was taken away and then pushed back in front of her - but unawares of what they had shared in another existence. Sid had a lot to answer for this time. She hoped he was happy at what he had done to them both.

Clarity did not answer John, merely turning to stare out of the window, afraid that he might see the tears in her eyes. The weather was turning bad, worse than she had envisaged now they were out of sight of the town. Snow was falling heavily and visibility was poor. She would have been afraid to drive in such conditions but he did not seem unduly bothered. She supposed this was fairly normal for him at this time of year.

It was a few miles later, when they were about half way between Mystery and their destination - in other words in the middle of nowhere - when the first signs of trouble appeared. The engine shuddered a few times as if it was running low on gas. John frowned and accelerated slightly. The engine picked up and seemed to return to its smooth running for a few yards.

And then it died. Power failed completely as the wagon slowed down and came to a stop. John swore quietly under his breath, tried to start the engine again, got nothing and then hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Have we broken down?" Clarity asked.

"I don't know what the hell's going on. The tank's full of gas...but everything's gone...electrics...power...Jesus Christ....I don't understand..." he muttered as he tried over and over to get something from the engine.

Even in the few minutes since the breakdown, the full force of the cold was beginning to hit them. Clarity pulled her scarf closer round her neck and shivered as John opened the door, popped the lid of the engine and helped himself to a flashlight from the glove compartment. The full icy blast of the wind like a thousand needles roared in as he jumped down. "Just take the wheel. Turn on the engine when I shout..." he disappeared under the hood, looking for something that might explain the mysterious problem. But no matter what he tweaked and tightened, the engine refused to fire.

"Fuck...!" he gasped as he hauled himself back into the cab, clearly freezing, his beard already jeweled with ice. He reached for his radio. "Betty...you there...Betty...? Jesus Christ, what the fuck...?" He fiddled with a few dials but to no avail. His radio was dead, too. For the first time, he began to feel a sense of concern. This was not funny. The temperature had fallen faster than he had anticipated and the blizzard was worse than he had expected. Without heat they wouldn't last a few hours out here.

And, although a lot of people knew where he was, he didn't imagine most would be worried yet. It was early afternoon. No one would miss him until nightfall and even then it would be presumed he had stayed over at the airfield if the conditions deteriorated. Donna would know something was up if he didn't call. But by the time she began to worry and did something about it, the chances were they would have frozen to death. They couldn't stay here.

"Claire...I don't want to worry you but we can't stay here. It's too cold. There's a log cabin about half a mile off the road from here. We need to head there and wait out the storm. Bring anything you got with you to keep you warm...tomorrow things will look better..."

"But...what about the plane...?"

"I doubt anything will be taking off tonight...if we don't show they'll know something has happened...we need to wait this out until they come for us..."

Clarity's eyes showed the dawning realization of how little choice she had in the matter. To spend a night alone with John might be madness but yet she knew that the conditions were so bad that if they didn't take refuge they could well freeze to death. "What should we take with us?" she asked quietly.

The trek to the cabin was enough to show her the wisdom of their evacuation of the cold vehicle. The blizzard was thick and unforgiving, the wind cutting through even the all weather clothing they wore like sharp blades through flesh. Without John she knew she would never have made even the short walk in such a storm. How he could even recognize the path was a mystery to her, when the world about appeared to have disappeared into a howling, whirling whiteout.

John had filled a backpack with anything he thought might help them that he kept in his wagon. With his large gloved hand firmly holding hers he steered her steadily through the snow, remorselessly driving her on, aware that time was of the essence.

The last few yards made them break out into a trot, eager to reach the shelter afforded by the simple cabin. John found it locked, extracted a pair of wire cutters from his backpack and simply forced his way in, dragging her behind him and then barring the door, shutting out the blast of the storm.

Clarity backed into the dark little room, unsure what to do now. John immediately set to, searching the cupboards, shining the flashlight and pulling out oil lamps, lighting them and then kneeling by the hearth and attending to the log fire, blowing on the flames to make them take.

"There's no food. I've got some energy bars and water...there's some coffee here...we need to get something warm inside us and sit round the fire.  Take off your wet outer clothes. There's a couple of dry blankets here..." He carried on giving her instructions and busying himself on a variety of tasks as if he was afraid to stop and think about what the reality of their situation really was. They were alone in the middle of nowhere with a long lonely night ahead.

"I've got the rest of the cognac...the bottle the Judge brought me..." Clarity pulled out the bottle from her leather bag. "Maybe we could sip this..."

"Great..." John pulled off his coat, gloves and hat and hung them over a chair to dry. Shyly, Clarity did the same, turning her back even though she was still wearing a thick jumper and jeans. But the removing of clothes in his presence seemed an act laced with an intimacy to which they had no right.

He made coffee and added a large splash of brandy into each mug. They sat by the fire on a nest of cushions and blankets. Inside, the cabin felt like a cocoon far away from the icy blast of nature; the flames from the fire and the flickering light of the lamps cast ghostly shapes on the walls and ceiling. It was almost impossible for them not to shift closer and let their bodies be warmed by each other.

"It's normal in the cold...to stay close. Even guys roll up together if they're out hunting and get caught in a bad one..." John observed as he topped up their drinks. They gulped the liquid down and on empty stomachs it began to hit their system fast.

"Reminds me of the time I was out with a girl...years ago...in the back of the car..." he stopped and rolled his eyes. "God's sakes, I can't tell you that..." he  suddenly stopped and laughed, shaking his head. "...I must be losing it...!"

"...Frostbite in your head?'

"Actually...it was in the other one..." he burst out laughing, taking another healthy swig... "...damn...I didn't mean to say that...!"

"What happened?" Clarity asked, although she had heard the story often enough to know it off by heart. What made her encourage him further, she did not know. Was it the loneliness or the knowledge that this night was probably the last one she would ever spend with him - fuelled by the strong liquor that blew away her last remaining inhibitions.

John grinned, running his hand back through his long hair. "I was with my girl....we were fooling about...and...I got carried away...but it was cold....and suddenly I realized that it was numb...down there... Well, I was pretty scared, I don't mind admitting it...no guy wants to risk frostbite in that part of his anatomy..."

"What did you do?" Clarity chortled and this time poured out her own drink and splashed more into his cup.

"Pretty much the same as this..." He raised his glass. "...except I didn't drink it that time...just got it out and stuck it in...a whole new use for brandy, huh?"

They clinked their mugs, both snorting laughing. For a while after they had quieted down, both found themselves staring into the flames, the moment of gentle humour now replaced by a sudden awareness of each other that inhibited them both.

"I think we should try to catch some sleep..."John muttered. "I'll lie down here...you snuggle up in my arms...I'm not trying to...but...it's just...we can get the best use of the blankets that way..."

"That makes sense..." Clarity replied as she settled down in the warm embrace of his body. "We should treat this just as an emergency...like the kiss of life...if you're drowning..."

"Yeah..." John said, looking into her eyes. "...like a kiss....of life..." Then he coughed nervously. "Just settle down...try and doze off..."

Clarity lay quietly down, snuggling into his body enough to keep warm, but holding herself apart. She was tired, drained by the emotion of the day and now the debilitating effects of cold and hunger. Her eyes began to droop and slowly she fell asleep.

John did not find it quite so easy. He lay staring at the ceiling, trying not to let the feel of her body resting against his have the natural effect. He tried to think of anything else he could to lessen the effect of her nearness, try to ignore her fragrance and the soft sound of her breath. It was going to be a long night.

In time, he too felt the welcome drowsiness of sleep stealing over him and let himself drift. But as soon as he let his guard down, instinct took over from caution. His body shifted, unconsciously adjusting until his groin fitted into the soft curve of her buttocks. His left arm flopped over her body to rest on her stomach, his leg threaded though hers. His inner desires were revealed in his subconscious caress.

John's movements worked similarly on Clarity whose body recognized the familiar feel of her husband's - and made its own responses. She eased herself round in her sleep until she was facing him, her head on his chest, her hand stroking down his chest. John moved again with a soft groan and rubbed himself against her thigh, drawing her closer.

"John....?"Clarity murmured.

"Mmmmm?" John's hand slipped up under her sweater, finding her warm, soft flesh and settling on the swell of her breast.

"Oh, John....!"

"Claire...!"

"John...mon Nounours...!"

"...That's more like it boys and girls..." Sid rubbed his hands together in glee, his experiment finally coming good. "It was a close thing there...you almost managed to convince me that you could fight nature for a while...but all it took in the end was a little tweak to the controls. Like any good scientist, it's just a matter of trial and error...But I knew in the end that I was right...It's Gone With the Wind, Dr. Zhivago and Romeo and Juliet all rolled up in a blanket. Snug as two bugs. I tell you, Siddy boy, there's nothing like a log fire and a bottle of booze. Works like a charm. All you have to do it set it up - and let the games begin..."Don't get too comfy though, sheriff....Tomorrow morning, you are going to feel so bad...so, enjoy it while you can...."