Her eyes narrowed a little, and her hand stilled against my cheek.

“Where?” she asked.

“Here,” Mark said.  “Visitors aren’t allowed in the cell units, so there isn’t any other place, and this is a bit of a desperate situation.  He’s in serious danger if he doesn’t get proper sleep.  I can see what I can do to make it more comfortable.”

Lia looked around the room while I tried to make sense of what Mark was suggesting.  I wasn’t successful; it was too hard to keep track of what was going on around me in my present state of mind.  Inferred reasoning wasn’t going to happen.

Thankfully, Lia spelled it all out.

“You want me to just…what?  Lie down with him on the floor so he can sleep?  Do you really think that will work?”

“If he could get some sleep with you here, it could change everything.  Right now I can’t reach him at all—he’s too disoriented. To be perfectly frank, there is a very real possibility of further psychosis or even death.”

“Death?”

“In extreme cases of insomnia, yes,” Mark confirmed.  “I need to know if you’re serious about your suggestion.  Are you willing to help him?”

“Of course I want to help him.”  Lia’s tone was one of annoyance.

Mark moved toward the guard and pointed from the guard’s keychain to where I sat.

“Remove Mister Arden’s restraints.”

The guard let out a sharp burst of laughter, and Mark eyed him.

“I’m not jesting here.”

“You are as nutty as your patients, then, doc,” the guard replied.  “There is no way that loon is getting out of his cuffs.  He’d probably kill you first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Mark waved a dismissive hand.

I might have felt a little bad for my shrink.  He wanted to help. I knew he did, but he really didn’t know what he was dealing with.  It wasn’t his fault.  It’s not like I could tell him what I did for a living.

“You’re an idiot,” the guard snapped back.

“I’m not here to discuss or argue this with you,” Mark said.  “Release Mister Arden from the cuffs, please.”

“You have no idea who this guy is, do you?” the guard growled.

Mark looked up at him and tilted his head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

For the first time since he called me lieutenant, the fat, uniformed guard grabbed my attention.

Fuck no.

My eyes turned to the guard, and I tried to gather whatever energy I had inside of me to give him a slight idea of what would happen to him if he spoke a word.  As I raised my eyebrows ever so slightly, I conveyed a clear message with my gaze.

Don’t even fucking think about it.

He stared back at me with defiant eyes at first, but as I tilted my head slightly, he must have received the message.  His eyes widened, and he took a slight step back—like I had pushed him with a look.  He glanced from me to Mark and then let out a breath through his nose.  He reached up and ran his hand over the top of his bald head.

“Why don’t any of the guards have any hair?”

“What?”  Lia glanced down at me and palmed my cheek.

“I don’t know,” I replied.  I didn’t, either.  None of what was happening made sense to me—it was all too clouded and confusing.

“I can’t do that without written authority from-”

Mark cut off the guard by waving a piece of paper in his face.

“I already had it cleared.”

He looked to the floor and let out another long breath.

“Yes, sir,” the guard said as he walked over and slipped the key into the lock around my wrist.  He did my right wrist first and then waited for Lia to step aside so he could do the left.  He moved silently back to his post next to the door and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me intently.

Lucky for him, I still wasn’t in much of a killing mood because otherwise I would have been seriously pissed off.  I was focused enough on the guard, I didn’t realize Mark had walked out until he came back in again, holding a couple of blankets in his arms.

“Sorry, but this was the best I could do on short notice,” Mark said.  “Hopefully, it will be enough to get you back on your feet again, so to speak.”

“Does he have to stay here?” Lia asked as she nodded her head toward the guard.

“I’m afraid so,” Mark replied.  “It would probably be in everyone’s best interest anyway.”

“Well, let’s do this, then.”  Lia reached out and took my hand.  She led me to the side of the room furthest from the guard and laid out the small blanket on the cement floor.  Then she removed her coat and laid that down on top of it before she sat down with her back against the wall.  She beckoned me, and I sat down beside her.

“Lay down,” she said.

I stared at her against the wall. It felt wrong, but I wasn't sure why. I started to lie down beside her, but it still didn't feel right, so I sat back up and shook my head a bit.  I didn’t know what was wrong, and I couldn’t even find any words that would have made any sense.  I didn’t need to, though—Lia knew without me saying a word.

"Do you want to be against the wall?" Lia asked.

I let out a breath that had been burning in my chest. She moved forward, and I half crawled, half fell into the area between her and the wall.  Lia stretched out beside me as soon as I was in position, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to bring her closer to me.

She was here against my body again after so long.  The thought increased the dizziness in my head but also sent the most incredible sense of relief through my mind.  The nausea of fatigue continued to assault me, but at least she was here.

It was too bright in the small room, and the setting wasn’t at all comfortable.  Still, I was far too mentally and physically exhausted to care very much.  Despite the tiredness, my entire body lay tensed between the cement wall and the woman in front of me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I could only shake my head as my fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt.  Her fingers moved up my cheek and over the side of my head, stroking slowly until my fingers against her back began to match the same rhythm.  I sighed, and my hand moved down the fabric of her shirt until it found the hem.

With two fingers, I pushed the shirt up a bit and found her bare skin below.  Another long breath and none of the discomfort of the rough blanket, the cold floor, or the situation itself mattered any longer.  I placed my head against her shoulder as that fuzzy feeling crept over me.  I closed my eyes and tried to let go.

Despite the blanket, the floor was cold, and the buttons on Lia’s coat were pressing uncomfortably against my arm as she covered me with it.  I shifted up, tucked my face into the space between her neck and shoulder, and shivered.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.  “You’re going to be okay.”

I took another long, shuddering breath and seemed to melt further against her.

“Now I am.”

My eyes closed.

It didn’t take long.

At least, it didn’t feel like a very long time.  I woke sweating with the taste of sand in my mouth and dryness in my throat that kept me from screaming out loud.  My heart raced, but before I could move, I felt Lia’s warm hand against the side of my face and heard her voice.

“I’m right here,” she whispered.  “I promise—I’m not going anywhere.”

My grip on her tightened a bit, as did hers on me, and my fingers found their way against the skin of her back again.  With my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against her shirt, I slipped back into slumber.

This time, whatever dreams I had weren’t enough to wake me.  As I regained consciousness, I could immediately feel the difference even before opening my eyes.  The fog was gone and so was the dizziness. My head still throbbed, but the beat was slower and the intensity less.

I could think again.

More importantly, I could feel Lia all around me.

Her scent covered me—relaxed me.  I could hear her slow breaths, which further calmed me.  Her fingers tugged gently through the strands of hair just behind my right ear, and it was as if each stroke over my scalp was removing pieces of the pain, the guilt, and the damage inside my brain.

I could have stayed right there—cold floor be damned—for the rest of my life.  The scent of her electrified me.  The touch of her fingers soothed me.  The length of her body pressed against mine excited me.

I moved my hand a little farther up her back and caressed her skin with my fingers before I turned my head and looked up at her.  Her dark eyes met mine, and I pulled air into my lungs to speak.

“Hey.”  It wasn’t much, but it was probably better than I had managed before sleeping.

“Hey, yourself,” Lia replied.  “You’ve been out a while now.  I was afraid I’d have to move in here.”

“Fuck no,” I said.  “No way would I let anyone put you in here.”

There must have been a little more venom in my voice than I had intended because Lia shrank back a bit.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.  “It’s just…this place is…well, it sucks.  Let’s leave it at that.”

“I think that’s part of the deal, yes.”

The door clicked as it opened, and Mark Duncan peered around the corner of the frame to look at us.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I fought the urge to give him a flippant, obnoxious reply.  As my mind focused and understood better where I was and what was going on around me, I knew Mark was going to be my key to getting out of here.  Moretti’s lawyer could only do so much without my shrink saying I was safe enough to be out on the streets.  Without his recommendation, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I feel a lot better.”  It was easier when I didn’t have to lie.  “I feel like I can think straight again.”

I glanced back and forth between Lia and Mark a few times and let my eyes widen.

“I really fucked up,” I said.  I shook my head a little before glancing back to Mark.  “Shit—did I hurt anybody?”

Mark let out a long breath.

“No, Evan.  You didn’t hurt anybody.”

I nodded slowly, internally pleased that he was none the wiser about my actual activities.  All I had to do now was keep myself in check—calm and collected—until Rinaldo and his resources could get me out of here.

That didn’t end up working out so well.

Mark Duncan left us with the guard so he could go to the warden and discuss some paperwork. I sat up and leaned against the wall of the room with Lia sitting next to me, rubbed at my eyes, which were thick with sleep, and tried not to let the grit remind me of sand.

“How are you really feeling?” Lia asked quietly.  She glanced up at the guard and then back to me before she reached over and placed her hand on my thigh.

“Better,” I said honestly.  “My head’s a little clearer, anyway.”

“You woke up a couple of times,” Lia said.  “I wasn’t sure what I should do, but you settled down within a few minutes.  You seemed to sleep pretty well after that, though.”

“I remember,” I told her.  “How long was I out?”

“Almost six hours.”

Maybe it wasn’t a full night’s sleep, but it was a hell of a lot better than I had been getting.  I couldn’t have said I felt right, but at least I knew what was happening around me.  I leaned my head against her shoulder and touched my nose to her neck.  I wanted to turn her toward me and kiss her the way I knew she liked it but not with the guard watching over us.  I wasn’t much for public displays.

“Evan?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me what happened.”

I tensed, wondering for a moment if she meant what I had done from the balcony of my apartment but understood pretty quickly that my display there wasn’t what she wanted to know.  I knew it before she even had a chance to confirm it.

“Tell me what happened to you over there.”

“Fuck.”  The word escaped from my throat like a rifle blast.  My hands clenched into fists as images of tanks, uniformed enlisted troops with their eyes wide and nervous, and sand filled my mind.  I shook my head to rid myself of the images, but it didn’t work.

“Please—I want to know.”

“No,” I said.  I pushed myself up using the wall as support and stumbled a little as I gained my footing.  Lia stood with me, her hand reaching out to touch my arm.

“Evan—I need to know so I can help you.  How else am I supposed to know what to do?”

I stared at her, breathing through my mouth and trying not to hyperventilate.  The thing was, I wanted to tell her—desperately so.  I wanted to tell her everything—even the shit I never told the military during debriefing.  But could I do it?  Could I relive all of it over again for the sake of total disclosure?  The guilt?  The pain?  The heat?  The fucking sand?