Nat came into the kitchen with some trepidation.  As luck would have it, Wren was seated at the kitchen bar with a light breakfast. 

He blushed, “Morning, Wren.”

“Good morning, Nathaniel,” she said, spreading marmalade on her English muffin.  A newspaper was folded in half beside her plate.

The orange juice sat on the counter and without thinking, Nat grabbed it, shattering the bottle.

“Damnit!” he growled. 

Pulling most of a roll of paper towels off, Nat knelt and mopped up the juice then picked up all the pieces of glass he could find.  Wren turned the page of the paper, sipping her own juice.

“All right?" she asked.

“Yeah . . . no blood,” he said, not looking up at her.

She set the glass down and folded the newspaper before returning it to its place beside her plate.

“I wasn't talking about the bottle,” she said.

Nat dropped the shards of glass into the garbage.  He rinsed his hands then opened the refrigerator and found a second bottle.  Wren watched him like a bug crawling across the kitchen, or at least that was how he felt.

“I wish they'd get cartons . . .” he muttered setting the bottle on the counter. 

Very carefully, with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Nat pulled the little cardboard top off.  He sighed and took the titanium glass he used from the cabinet and just as carefully poured.  Wren turned her attention from him ostensibly to the paper but she watched him out of the corner of her eye.  Returning the cap to the bottle, he sighed in relief and picks up his glass.

“I hate that,” he said.  “Anybody up yet?”

“Not a clue.”

Nat moved over to her and pulled out a chair then stopped and gazed down at her, a distant expression clouding his face.

“Umm . . .” he said and sat slowly.

Wren raised an eyebrow.  "I don't bite this early in the morning."

“Just gotta little dilemma.”

Nat propped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his fist.

“Anything I can help with?”  Wren looks at him over her glass.  "Within reason, of course."

Nat grimaced.  "What's reasonable?"

“Don't make me get into it.  It will only turn you seven shades of magenta red.”

"Okay . . . look . . ." he sighed and took the plunge.  “I got something I should give to someone but I'm afraid they'll think I did it."

Wren calmly picked up the English muffin and took a bite.  “Mmm . . .” She  hummed through a mouthful.  Nat looked at her for a long time. 

"I didn't have anything to do with getting it."  He said, standing suddenly and nearly uprooting the counter.  “Let me go get it . . .” He steadied the counter.  “Sorry.”

Wren watched him silently as he strode out of the room faster than she had ever seen him move.  As he went, she thought she heard him say ‘I'm gonna hate myself in the morning . . .’.

Less than a minute later he returned, a manila envelope in one hand.  He returned to his seat beside her and laid it down reluctantly.

"I didn't have anything to do with it; the kid just gave it to me." He said.

Wren blinked slowly.  Picking up the envelope she opened it and slid out the contents.  Nat wasn’t looking at her but his face was scarlet.  She hardly glanced at it before sliding it back in the envelope.  After closing the clasp, she slid it back to him.

"I've already seen them," she said calmly.

Nat stared at her wide-eyed.

“But . . .” he stammered.  The blush deepened.

“Yes?”  She gave him her standard blank look.

“Umm . . . I . . .” Nat looked at the envelope.

Wren remained perfectly composed.

“What should I do with it?” he asked her.

“Anything you'd like,” she said.  “I would prefer that you didn't advertise it but I suppose it's on the Internet already.”

There was a sinking feeling in Nat’s stomach.  Even if Wren wasn’t reacting, he knew this had to hurt her.  He took the envelope back.

“I guess I need a shredder . . .” he said.

“Yes, that might be best.  It's not the one of my better side anyway,” she tried to sound flippant.

“Not . . . your . . . best . . . side . . .” he said slowly.  He swallowed hard.  “Looks pretty damn good to me . . ."

“Perhaps.  But you can make out the mark on my shoulder in it,” she said.

Nat had to fight the urge to take out the picture and look for the mark. 

“What mark?” he said instead.

“It's more around my back, actually,” she said.  “Hardly respectable for me to show you at the moment.”

Nat half smiled.  “Maybe later?”

“Maybe, if you are good.”

He could almost feel her fingers stroking his cheek at the words.  Quietly he asked, “How do you . . .  handle something like this?”

“Like I handle just about everything,” she said her face placid.

“What's your first class?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Dance.”

“I've got Criminology,” he said toying with the envelope.

“Sounds like fun,” she said dryly.

“Actually, it is interesting,” Nat replied.  “Archer’s teaching it.”

“Mm.  Any killer robots yet?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“No, he's going on about ‘observation’.”

Wren nodded, remaining silent.  She reached for her juice and sipped.

“It's Friday . . . you wanna do something tonight?” he asked.

“What's there to do?”

Nat smiled.  "We can do the Mars coaster again."  He came to his feet and slipped the envelope under her hand.  She drew back as if it were hot.

"I don't want it, Nathaniel,"  she assured him.  He signed and took it back.

“Maybe we better get to class now, Wren.”

Nat moved over to her.  She looked up, startled out of her revelry.

“Hm?  Oh.  Yes."

Nat whispered “You okay?"

“I'm fine,” she said in a normal tone.  Gathering up her dishes, she placed them in the dishwasher and wiped down the counter.  Nat added his glass and moved with her as if they were in a dance.  Finally she picked up the dance bag and slung it over a shoulder.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all.”

Nat took her hand.  She glanced at the laced fingers for a brief moment the withdrew hers.  He said nothing just pushed the door open for her.  She shook her head slightly, amused at his gallantry then preceded him.

“Wren . . . are you okay?” Nat frowned, looking worried.

Automatically she replied “I'm fine."

“Yeah, right,” for the first time since he had met her, sarcasm tinted his tone.  “Spock!”

“Yes, Nat?” the computer responded.

“I have an envelope with me, I need it destroyed.”

“Place it on the floor.” Spock instructed.

Nat laid it down and the thing sparkled.

“I have scattered the molecules,” the computer reported.

“Spock.”  Nat watched Wren as he spoke to the air.  “You have access to the ‘net.”

“Of course.”

“Can you find all instances of a file or a picture or series of pictures?”

“Yes.”

“Can you eliminate them as well?”

The computer actually paused.

“What are you asking, Nat?”

Nat watched Wren as he spoke.  “Can you find every picture of Wren on the net and get rid of it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because she's a minor and they are illegal.” He said.

“What type of photos are they, Nat?”

Nat whispered "Nudes."

“I shall discuss this with Archer,” the computer said.

“Thanks, Spock,” Nat said.

Wren swallowed hard, trying to stand a little straighter.  She didn't say anything, just nodded a little in thanks then looked away.

“Nat, Archer has authorized the search and destruction.  I have initiated the action.” Spock told them.

Nat nodded and put an arm around Wren’s shoulder.

“Come on . . . you need to dance for a bit.”

Wren stepped out of the circle of his arm and nodded again.  “Yes."

For a split second Nat felt a stab of pain but then he understood.

He smiled.  “See you later."

“Have fun,” she said.  “I'll meet you up for lunch?”

“Sure,” he agreed.  “What would you think of a picnic?

Wren smiled a little.  "All right."

They parted just outside the dance studio and Nat had to run to class not to be late but he felt like, for the first time, he had rescued someone important to him.  He liked the feeling.