Nat sighed.  “Crap . . ."

He rolled onto his back as he fell across his bed and stared at the ceiling.  For several minutes he looked at the poster the stood and took it down.  Carefully rolling it into a tube, he tossed it into the corner.

               From the dresser, he pulled a soften pair of jeans and an equally dubious tee shirt.  Dropping the robe he carried the clothes into the bathroom and took a cold shower, carefully washing off the remnants of his emersion in the autodoc.  His hair he simply rinsed, not bothering with shampoo.  Drying off gingerly, he pulled on the jeans and tee then hung the robe on the back of the bathroom door and took the time to stand the rolled-up poster upright.

               As he came up the stairs he was whistling Jingle Bells and he naturally turned into the common room.  Wren was coming down stairs and gave him an odd look at his choice of tune.  She was wearing loose fitting Yoga pants in unbleached cotton and black tank top.  Though she looked smashing, she clutched the hand rail on the stairs with great determination.  He smiled.

               “You okay,” he said, going to her and taking her elbow.

               “I'm fine.  Just . . . easily affected by medication it seems.  It's common in dancers,” she said with a tiny smile.

“Let me help you to the couch,” he offered.

“I’ll be . . .” she began then paused.  “Okay.  You tell anyone about this and I’ll do . . . something!”

“Lips are sealed,” he promised.

Nat put an arm around her waist and helped her to the couch.  She settled carefully, leaning back against a pillow.

“Thank you,” she said as if embarrassed.

“Something to drink,” he offered, stepping over to the mini-fridge.

“Sure, thanks,” she said.  “Water, please.  The regular kind.”

Nat grabbed a couple of bottles of water.

“You mean in a regular bottle and not a hairy pouch?” he said with a grin. 

               He handed one to her then seated himself in the huge chair designed just for him.  They were only a few feet apart.

               “Something like that,” she agreed.  With a twist, she removed the top and took several little sips.  Nat, not being so delicate, down most of his bottle without a breath.

               “Thirsty much,” Wren said with amusement.

               “Burns take all the liquid out of you,” he said automatically.  He frowned.  “How did I know that?  That autodoc talk to you?”

               “Maybe?” she said.  “I asked for sleep and that's exactly what I got.  A very black sleep.”

               “I think it told me to drink a lot of water,” he said thoughtfully.

“Smart autodoc,” she commented.

               Nat looked over at her, catching her eyes.  “You okay?”

               “You’ve already asked that,” she reminded him.

               He shook his head.  “I didn’t mean physically . . .”

Wren closed her eyes and leaned back.  "Mentally, I am very, very angry.  Or at least I will be once this fuzziness wears off.  Other than that, you're fine.  So I'm fine."

Nat leaned forward “Why are you angry?"

Wren opened her eyes suddenly, leaning forward herself.  "Three idiotic little children almost got us killed for a cause that was purely their own even AFTER I had already told them that I refused to go on their quest to make one of them a dragon.  I feel I have more than enough right to be angry, thank you.”

Hesitantly, Nat reached out as if to touch her hand then stopped.  After a second he decided and covered her hand.  “They are five, Wren . . . smart as hell, but five.  Jessy should have told us they can do things like that.”

She closed her eyes tightly, her curls bouncing as she shook her head.  “I don’t care, Nathaniel.  If that makes me a horrible person, so be it but I don't care."

"There's a lot more going on around here then we see, Wren." Nat whispered.

When she opened her eyes they were bright, on the verge of tears.  Nat’s heart surged.  He’d never seen Wren cry before.

"If it means that people die for a cause that they don't believe in, I don't think I want to be part of it.  It's hard enough when they die for their own cause." She said.

“We'll know better next time . . .”  He slid off the edge of the chair and knelt before her.  For a moment he gazed into her eyes then carefully hugged her.

“I HATE YOU!” Jessy screamed and stomped out of the room.

Nat fell back onto his heels and closed his eyes with a sigh.  He and Wren exchanged a look of helplessness and Nat dropped back into his chair.

“What am I supposed to do with her, Wren?” he said.

Wren muttered a string of curses, again in that unrecognizable language.

Nat popped out of the chair.

“Guess I’ll run off and hide too,” he didn’t move.

“I don't know . . .” Wren said.  “I am quite a piece of work, doing this to my team members.  I'm sorry.”

“You didn't do anything,” Nat said hotly.  “I hugged you, not the other way around.”  He snatched up his bottle of water and downed it.  “She wants me to be her boy friend . . . I don't even know her!”

He began pacing the room.  Halfway across he hurled the bottle at the trash can, knocking it over.

“Maybe I should go back to the beach and my surf board,” he growled.

“Hey . . . Please don't,” Wren said softly.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said throwing his hands up “Not have any friends but her?”

He stopped his pacing beside her.

“I like you, Wren,” he said softly.  “You're easy to like.  I like Brit.”  He began pacing again.  “Damnit, I'd probably like Jessy if she'd just stop being so damn pushy!”

“Nat . . . Nat . . . Nathaniel.  There.  Nathaniel,” she said.  A flicker of something crossed his face as she used the diminutive.  She wasn’t sure if it was disappointed that she reverted to his full name or something else.  “She was brought up much differently than you and I.  I don't think she understands.”

“Different?” He said, looking at her.

“Well, I got that idea, anyway.  I don't know the whole story,” she said.

“What do you mean?” He slowly sat back on down on the edge of the couch beside her.

“I just . . . it seems very secluded is all,” she tried to explain.

Wren sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, the exhaustion showing.

“Mark told me about her spending years off this world . . . how secluded is that?”

“Maybe their world is different than ours, Nat,” she said watching his reaction to the shorted name.  He actually scowled slightly as if it was distasteful to him.  “I don't know.  I don't have all the answers right now.”

“So . . . I can't have friends?” he said.  “FEMALE friends?”

“Nathaniel, I don't know!” she said with growing exasperation.  “Maybe you should ask her.  Or someone who knows her.  I just seem to succeed in making her very upset.”

“I hugged YOU,” he said.

“You haven't done the same to her, have you,” Wren said flatly, not a question.

Nat frowned.  “She scares me!  IF I hug her, she'll think I am in love with her or something.  Maybe I should talk to her mom . . . She prolly know her better than her dad . . .” He grinned weakly.  “Besides, he scares me too."

Wren tried to smile but Nat could see she was too tired.

“I won't ask what you mean by ‘too’ because I'd have to debate it with you,” she said.

“Like his daughter,” he said.  “You are tired, Wren, why don't you go to bed?”

Nat started to put his arm around her shoulders but stopped, the motion unborn.

“I'm having this wonderful conversation with you,” she said.  “Not that I'm tired.”  She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“Wren . . .”  he began.  “If I carried you to bed, Jessy'd die . . .”

“You're saying that like I don't already know it.”  She managed a smile.  “Not to mention the fact you're also saying it like I wouldn't punch you in the face if you tried.  Or at least slap you.  I'm more up for slapping.”

Nat half smiled back  “Maybe I should try you . . .”  He shook his head.  “I think I am going to walk down to the beach and sit in the water for a couple hours.  It helps me think.”

“M’kay . . .”

“’Nite, Wren,” he said, standing.

Wren rubbed her eyes sleepily.  "Think you could handle walking me to my room to make sure I don't fall down, first?"

“I can't go up the stairs.” He said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Right.  All right then,” she struggled to her feet, “I'll just hope that Spock takes pity on me if I do fall down.  It's better for my reputation anyway."

Nat moved closer.  “How 'bout to the stairs?"  He offered his arm.

Wren smiled sleepily.  "Fine then."  She laid her hand on his arm.

“Take it slowly, okay?” he said as they walked down the hall.

“I am tough,” she assured him.

“SPOCK you watch her!” he warned.

“Don't get so protective, people will think things,” Wren said with a smile.  “I sure know Spock is a rumor starter.”

She started up the stairs and Nat waited at the bottom.  Wren called down from the top of the stairs.  “Goodnight Nat!  Sleep well!"