My Letter To You

[OOC : This thread is closed for myself and trudee]

Brett dropped down beside the remains of the brick wall with a grunt. His legs were aching from the greater than normal exertion of the heavy load. It finally happened, as they all thought it would. HQ was no longer in contact, which for them meant it was no longer.

He shifted the various pieces of his packs about to allow him to settle into a roughly seated position. The dimming light would work for and against him; harder to see them, but harder to be seen by them too.

The walls were high enough to obscure him from casual view, though the determined scout or scavenger would be able to find their way in. It was protected from most of the weather, so when he finally slept, he would be comfortable. The floor was covered with enough debris that any movement would be heard. He had grown used to sleeping with a loaded pistol nearby. One with a chambered round and the safety off.

"Not one of your better decisions, Brett. Should have gone with the rest of them." He pulled out the canteen and took a measured sip from it. The parched throat was flooded by the cool water. "Well, what's done is done."

He leant back, and part of the wall he was resting against moved. The shrill scrape of brick on brick sounded louder in the background quiet. He froze, eyes looking at his boots as he strained his ears to listen for any reactions to the noise. The seconds crept past, seemingly fearful of making any noise too. But there was nothing. Brett allowed himself to relax.

When he turned his head to investigate the state if the wall behind him, he saw in some rubble what looked like some paper. He didn't take to much notice of it initially, but the colour of it finally caught his attention.

Off white.

The paper was in good condition, and not too faded or showing signs of exposure to the elements. He focused on the piece of paper, noticing the regular shape of the piece that was visible. He shuffled over enough to get a closer look, and was surprised to find it was an envelope. Hand written across the front was a single word - Darling, and it was sealed. Brett pursed his lips as he looked at the envelope. He stuffed it into a pocket, and went back to his spot, and got some much needed sleep.


Brett awoke to the false dawn, a little stiff from his impromptu sleep position. He let the hammer down before he slipped the safety on the pistol. He yawned, stretched and fumbled for some of the jerky he had loose. In his search, he found the envelope.

Brett chewed on his breakfast, starring at the envelope. "Who is 'Darling'? A loved one, or some poor fella named 'Darling'?" He took his knife out, flipping the envelope to open it. The tip of the blade rested against the paper. "Should I be doing this? It's not for me. I'm not sure how long ago it was put there. Maybe the day before I turned up. What the fuck. It beats being bored." The blade easily parted the paper to reveal a letter inside. Brett felt his heart beat increase just a little at the guilty pleasure of reading someone else's correspondence. He unfolded the letter, settled himself back and started to read...

Be safe my Darling. Be safe and know how much I love you.

For you. Mia.xxxx

Brett looked up from the end of the letter. The tip of a finger ran over the where Mia had written on the page, feeling the press of the pen. The subtle dips on one side and ridges on the other. The tactile knowledge that someone else had held the paper and put their thoughts down on it. He looked at the date at the beginning of the letter.

"Just over two years ago. Sorry, Mia, but it looks like he's not going to find it. If he could, he would have by now. He's either dead, or in a place where he can't get away from. Being a doctor, they ain't going to let him go. No one would be that dumb."

Brett folded the letter carefully, not adding any new creases to it, and slipped it into the envelope. He reached out for the place he he found it, but his hand paused.

"If he is alive, he would be coming here. If he really loved her enough to come back for her. And if he got here and found nothing, then he'd have no chance of finding Mia. But then, what if someone else found it?

"Brett, talking to yourself like this is a sure sign that something is wrong. It's a good thing though that I am merely thinking aloud to help the thought processes."

The envelope tapped against his calloused fingers. He stared intently at the place where the envelope had been found. His chest rose and fell with every five taps of the envelope.

"Mia, I hope you will forgive me, but I can't risk someone else finding these, and tracking you down. Hell, I'm not sure that I am someone who can make this kind of call. But I can't see him ever finding them even if no one else did. Hell, Rutherford is close enough to my path that it wont hurt too much to take a peek."

Brett secured the envelope, and ate some breakfast. He rose, stretched, checked all his gear, then proceeded to make his way to the Rutherford Reservoir.


It took him three days to get to Rutherford, then another day to get to the Reservoir. The body of water was more like a large lake, which is why it took him a further day to reach the eastern shore. The next morning, he started to look for where Mia would have left her next letter.

"Somewhere sticking out... Shit. Where could she have chosen?"

He saw a pier, and made his way there. His pace was a little faster than when he traveled from place to place. The voice of his father echoed in his head, detailing all the good places to fish in lakes, streams and rivers.

'Remember, son, most fish like shadowy waters to lie in. Makes them feel better not being seen by predators. Specially those that love still waters, like lakes.'

Brett had collected a good supply of hooks, and kept a reel of fishing line for just such an emergency. As he closed on the pier, he slowed down to take a good look at the ground for signs of worms. He pulled out his folding spade, and dug the earth a few times before he found what he was looking for. He found one of his dixies and loaded the worms into that. He was grinning like a boy as he almost ran down the pier. He sat down on the edge, pulling all of the backpacks off and looking his reel. He found the cork cylinder with the line, and the cork block full of spare hooks buried in the main pack. With almost child like glee, he loaded the hook and cast the line into the dark water near the pier. In less than fifteen seconds, the bait was taken and Brett hauled out the first part of his supper. He kept going until he caught two more.

He put the fishing gear back into his pack, and started looking for somewhere to make camp. His mouth was watering over the prospects of how his catch would taste after cooking over an open flame.

An hour later, he found his campsite, and settled in for the night. The fish was cooking over the deeply dug fire, and Brett was feeling rather relaxed. The reservoir was quiet, in a natural way, rather than because of pending strife. The aroma of the cooking fish was great, and he was looking forward to finally eating some of it.

Dinner was savoured, with all the appropriate sounds of appreciation. Hot, succulent fish almost burned his mouth the first few times he tasted it, but the taste was worth every little sting. He laughed as bits fell from his mouth, as if trying to escape their ultimate fate. He sucked his fingers to get every last morsel from them, along with the juices of his dinner.

"Now, that was a meal worth a five day walk for. Thank you, Mia."

Brett slept soundly, waking refreshed. He quickly ate the remainder of his catch, contemplating whether or not to try for some more. Out of habit rather than any real need, he packed up everything, and put on his packs. It felt wrong not to have the bulky weights on him. He walked out of the tree line, looking over the calm, pristine water. As he stretched, he looked along the shoreline in both directions. "Something sticking out... could be a tree, or ruins, but it will stick out." He clicked his tongue, twisting his lips as he pondered where to look.

His eyes widened, and he doubled over laughing as much as the packs would allow. He finally stood up, wiping his eyes to clear the water away. "Brett, you can be so fucking stupid at times. 'Look for something sticking out', Mia said." He raised his right arm, pointing. "The pier, you fucking idiot. The pier sticks out."

Brett started at the base of the pier, looking at the ground. He ruled out the pier itself, as the risk of the letter getting wet was too great. After two years, anything that was disturbed by the placement of the letter would be lost. But she would have taken the effort to make sure that it was protected from the elements, if the first letter was anything to go by. For an hour, he investigated everything that looked like a hiding spot, but found nothing. He had just reached the treeline, and he turned to look at the pier. It was then he saw it.

"Oh Mia, you are a cheeky one." He walked over to a rather large rock, with a graffiti 'X' painted over some other prewar artwork. He took a look for loose stones or other man made hiding places, but saw nothing. He looked for holes in the rock, but there were none that would work at keeping a letter safe. But he eventually found where she had placed her letter. There was one hole that went up into the overhang, and it had a little ledge that housed an envelope. He carefully removed the envelope, pleased to see the same hand written 'Darling' on the front.

"I found it, Mia. Good spot." It took him a moment to decide to return to his old camp. When he got there, he sat himself down so there would be plenty of light to read Mia's next letter. "I'm sorry that it's me, not him reading this, but I'm sure that he'll understand." He took out his knife, slitting open the envelope carefully. He pulled out the letter within, tentatively opening it before he started to read...

Mathew, my Mathew. I adore you.

Be safe my darling. Be safe.

Always yours. Waiting,.. Mia.



Look for the next body of water on the trail. And I'll find something, anything that will led you to the next letter. God I hate the uncertainty. But I will find something close to water, that will led you to me.!



"Hmm. Mathew. Sorry, buddy, but I hope you understand that you'll never find her again. At least not this way." He folded up the letter carefully, again not adding any more creases to it as he returned it to the envelope. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, getting all of his gear settled in preparation to move off.

"I wonder how Mia's going to react when she sees me wander in with all of her letters to Mathew. I guess that she'll be somewhat pissed, but then, I hope she'll understand that she'll be a step safer. I got to hand it to you, Mia, you're one gutsy lady. I can kinda see why Mathew fell for you. Still, I'm sorry that you'll probably never see him again."

Brett started trudging along the shoreline, close to the foliage if he needed to hit cover. The open ground made it easier to walk, plus the breeze off the water was cooling. It looked to him as if her wish had come true; the bombing and other signs of the war hadn't reached the reservoir. Maybe they could come back there, and make a go of it. Brett frowned. "Which they are you thinking about?" He shook his head and continued the next leg of his trek.


Apart from the vague direction, he had no real idea of the actual path they took once they go to the east most point of the lake. No roads was a good thing, but then for him, it was also a bad thing.

"Old people, infirm and young. Take the path of least resistance."

Brett spent another day scouting the edge of the Lake. He had found their boat. It had sunk, and was starting to rot. It looked like a storm or rain filled it, and nature had been doing the rest. He had found a couple of trails, and one of them looked like it would have been good enough for the rag tag collection to use. Brett moved along the path, noting that there had been recent animal use, some of it rather large.

"Elk, or some other kind of deer. This is good. Not many people around here." He raised himself and continued along the trail. The woods kept the temperature a little warmer than he liked, but it could have been a lot worse. For five days he followed the widest section of the sprawling pathways, keeping heading eastward. He paced himself well, taking care to camp off the sides of the track, foraging when and where he could.

"Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I am doing traipsing over the countryside following a couple of letters destined for another man, from his wife. Seriously, am I doing this to protect her? Just protect her? I can't be that desperate to get into someone's pants that i would resort to this? Fuck, I don't even know if she's still alive, let alone somewhere safe." Brett took a pull from his canteen. "So why am I doing this? I have nowhere to go. My family's probably dead, wiped out like just about every other little speck on the map. Easy target for bandits. If not, then they've got more than enough to keep them going.

"Mia's people are going on guts and hope. Who knows what they have to defend themselves with. They could use someone who knows how to fight. They could have used that two years ago when they started their trek. Well, I'll find out what happened sooner or later. If there is a God, then he'd be giving her a hand quite a lot, I'd say. She's helping herself to help others with little real concern for herself." He turned skyward. "And if you ain't helping her, then I am so going to come up there and kick your fucking arse."


Nine days after leaving the reservoir, and in the third day of being in the hills, Brett came across a small pond fed by two streams, and feeding one. It was serene. Trees formed a natural awning over the small beach like slope into the water. The water was clear enough to see the bottom of the pond, along with the small fish and other creatures that called it home. Three double handfuls of water soothed his throat, and eased him enough to look around for the clue he had read about.

When he found it, it sent a chill through him. Near the stream that joined the pond at the northern side was a small rise made of stones. Grass was starting to claim it, easily hiding the artificial collection of rocks from casual inspections. It was long enough to house an adult's body underneath, rather than a child or baby.

Brett sank to his knees, bowing his head and bringing his palms together in prayer. He closed his eyes and moved his lips as the words rolled through his head. He didn't want to break the peace of the place, not even with the words of The Lord. On completion, the final word escaped loud enough for him to hear.

"Amen."

The letter wouldn't be in or close to the last resting place. Mia had chosen places that were guarded from the elements, and would keep paper safe. But he was to look for a clue, rather than an actual placement of a letter. Brett searched the area around the pond, looking for something out of the ordinary that could hint at a location of the next letter. But the only thing he could see that was not natural was the burial mound. He shuddered momentarily thinking that not only did Mia lay someone to rest, but she also used their final resting place as a hint.

He stood at one end of the mound, looking down the line of it like a sight. The lay of the land was sloped down, and there was nothing but trees. He moved to the other end, and say what looked like a rock face not far behind the trees. He pushed his way through the low level foliage and eventually reached the rock face. There were numerous cracks, crevices and other places where a letter could be placed. But none of them was protected enough to keep an envelope safe.

Brett wiped his face with his hands, sighed and looked up to the sky. "So fucking soon and the trail is lost already." As he brought his head down, he caught a glimpse of something golden in one of the cracks above his head. He reacted up, and found plastic. It was firmly wedged into the crack, and Brett cautiously pulled on the plastic to pry it loose. The last thing he wanted to do was tear or break it. He gritted his teeth and ignored the sweat that ran into his eyes as he slowly won the battle against the plastic. It came free without any warning, almost sending Brett sprawling in his ass.

"A snaplock bag?!? Mia, you must have been desperate to make sure that this one lived." Within was the same style envelope, with the same hand written address - 'Darling'. Brett kept the bag shut. He raced back to the pond, cleaning his hands of the dirt, dust and lichen he gathered getting the letter out. He double checked to make sure that the sky was clear, then he sat down in a sheltered spot. He checked the back, happy to see that there were no holes in it. He held his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled the bag open. He puled out the envelope, holding it in his hands for a moment before grabbing his knife to open the envelope. With near reverence, he removed the letter.

"Sorry, Mia. Sorry, Mathew. I hope you'll both understand that I mean no disrespect."

He unfolded the letter, looking forward to seeing Mia's script once more...

Brett quickly folded the letter and placed it back into the snaplock bag. He fell his eyes filling with tears over what Mia had wrote.

"Fuck. Why," he wiped away the tears in his eyes, "why her?" He quickly found the other letters, and put them into the same bag, closing it tight. "Damn, why I am asking questions that I already know the answers to? It's happened to her because she's a good person. She thinks of others, and does what needs doing."

Brett secured the bag of envelopes in his backpack, then stood up. He moved to a spot where he could better see his surroundings. It took him less than a minute to see exactly where the next letter was going to be found.

"Gee, Mia, you think Mathew needs to some exercise huh? Well, no time like the present, hey Brett?" He shouldered his various packs, and picked up his rifle and headed off to the next mail box.

The days while still in the forest were good. he was able to forage for enough food to feed himself as well as save a little for the next day. By the time he reached the start of the bald beauties, he had two days worth of foraged food on hand. He shifted his packs to allow him to bring his rifle up to his shoulder in case he needed to snap shoot anything. When he came out of the trees, he estimated that it would take him the better part of two days to get to the burned out wreck. Of course, being a lone walker made him a perfect target for anyone with less than honourable intentions. Which is his mind, was 99.9% of the human population.

The first night on the Bald Beauties was bad. It was cold, and it rained. He managed to make a little cover for his sleep spot, and thanked Mia for the snap lock bag that now kept all of her letters safe.

"Mia, I have no idea how you managed to get them all up here. Well, I am amazed that any of you have made it this far. Old folks who need medical care under the direction of a nurse who had little field craft skills before taking this trek. If there is a God, you are being looked after by Him that's for certain. I am having a hard time just hauling my ass through all of this. I couldn't do it, not like you.

"I will admit feeling some jealousy of Mathew. He managed to find himself a really special woman. I have never found me someone like you yet, Mia. In some ways, that's good, because I would have lost her in a similar way that Mathew has lost you. Yeah, you've lost him because of me following you trail of letters."

Brett shifted himself a little to stop a point of one of the rocks from digging into his back too much. "I know that I can't replace him when I finally catch up with you, Mia, but I sure as hell will be useful. More than anything, I want to meet the strong, resourceful woman who not only has the courage to do what is necessary, but still has the compassion to feel the pain when she has to do something drastic. The fact that you loath having done it says a lot about you. A lot of positives. Hell it might have been for a few bits of preserved food and out of date pain killers, but those things were keeping people under your charge alive."

Brett laughed to himself. "Crap. I have been alone too long. I am talking to thin air as though you can hear me. Well, I do have a busy day tomorrow, made all the more fun by this fucking rain. I hope you're sleeping well, Mia. Wherever you are."

Brett managed to get a decent night's sleep, and set out again not long after dawn. The rain has ceased about an hour before he woke, but the Bald Beauties were slick, and there were some small rivulets of water criss crossing the rock. More than once his grip failed, and he slipped and picked up a few scrapes and bruises. But the slick rocks slowed him down that he had to sleep out again before reaching the airplane wreckage.

The next morning, Brett approached the wreckage carefully. Even though it was a burned out single engined Cessna, it was still intact enough to make a home for someone clever enough to make it liveable. The overcast sky robbed just enough light to make out if there was anything done to it. He waited for about ten minutes before he started to change his vantage point. As he started to rise, he heard a gunshot, and his face was peppered with rock fragments.

Instinct took over and he dropped to the hard surface below. He quickly released the packs, and shuffled to a spot close by. He took a look in the general direction of the shot, looking for the person responsible. He caught movement, probably the shooter's head disappearing behind cover. If they were smart, they would change position and take another shot when they could. Brett slowed his breathing, and steadied himself. He was in a known situation, one he knew how to deal with, even if he was alone. He got his own rifle into position, and scanned the horizon for movement. The head bobbed up, and he let off a three round burst. He missed the target, but he was sure that he gave them a wake up call. He moved himself further away from his packs, but found a much better spot. He could take up three different positions to take shots at the shooter and not move too far in the process. He took up the worst of the trio and waited for his next chance.

The shooter was a little more cautious, as well as feeling a little braver. They stayed put, but waited a bit longer before trying to take their shot. They took a shot at Brett, knowing where he was. He played possum, letting the rifle slide back as though he had been hit. But instead, he moved to the safest spot, and laid in wait. The shooter popped up for a look, then disappeared again. After what felt like ages, the shooter got up to check the corpse. Just before the shooter appeared the second time, Brett changed to semi-automatic on the rifle. When the shooter's shoulders came clear, he took his shot. The bullet struck the head, snapping it back. The shooter fell forward, dropping the rifle. Brett waited in his position for thirty minutes before he deemed it safe to move. His packs were where, and how he left them. He went to the plane wreckage, and quickly determined that there was no one else there. He went back, and gathered his packs, moving them to the aircraft remains. Only then, he went to check the shooter.

The shooter had taken one clean, lethal round through the head. The exit wound said everything he needed to know about whether the shooter was dead or alive. But when he looked closer, he realized that the shooter was a teenage girl. He felt a moment's remorse for her death, but she took the first shot. One that was intended to kill. He grabbed her rifle, and went back to the plane. It had been worked on to make it secure against the weather, as well as to make it comfortable to rest in. She made good use of tarps, as well as a lot of blankets.

"Where the fuck did she get all of this stuff?" Once it was secured, Brett started looking for where Mia would have put her letter. The nose of the plane was wrecked, and nothing there was protected enough against the elements for the letter to be there. Everywhere else he checked was burnt, or too exposed to the elements. Brett's frustrations grew the longer he searched. He punched a burnt section of the interior, only to have it pop open. Behind the melted surface of the door of the small compartment was Mia's letter. He reached in carefully, pulling out the envelope with the telltale 'Darling' written on the front. Tears formed in his eyes as he turned over the envelope. He drew his knife, slitting the edge and pulling out the letter.

"God, Mia, I hope you're alright after that run in with the thugs."

He settled himself down, and opened the letter to read her message...

Oh God I want this to be over!! I want to laugh and have wild freaky sex with you, and swim naked in the lake and fuck you some more after, and just be Mia again, with no strings.

Yes. I'm horny. Despite everything, finding Goose Lake and its hugeness surrounded by stunning scenery, I can feel more than feel fear. So I feel horny now too lol.


Brett looked up from the letter, feeling himself blushing. "Damn, I feel like I'm watching the neighbours at it again." He took a few moments to calm himself down, then returned to reading the letter.


Do you remember the first time we did it in the front of your car, and you tied me down with the seat belt and you recorded it on your cell, because I got too fresh with you and wouldn't let you take me home to your bed? That's how I feel now. Goading. Provocatively goading and very dirty mouthed. I don't want to be gentle, and I definitely don't want you to be. If you were to walk up the beach to me now, I'd ask that you say nothing about anything, only about what you want to do to me..Very graphically.
I miss the words ''fuck'' and ''bitch'' in our private dialogue. I miss when you'd put your hand inside my panties, and tell me ''what a pretty pussy'' I have. I miss the nerves in the pit of my belly when I hear you come upstairs, and I know it's not going to be whispered lovemaking this time and gentle touches . I miss seeing you lock our bedroom door, and take the key out, before you turn to look at me. I know I'm in trouble with you when you do that. You have the most expressive eyes, and your tone is just wet worthy when you tell me real quiet...''Take it off'', and I take off my night shirt for you as you stand watching, and ...........


"Jesus, Mia! Thanks for making my next few nights mighty uncomfortable. Man, Mathew sure was one lucky bastard finding you. And you don't mind things a little rough. You like him being a touch demanding and commanding." His mind called forth his mental image of Mia, this time without clothes, and watched as 'Mathew' claimed his wife by throwing her onto the bed, and taking her from behind. He had a handful of her hair, taut in his hand, her back arched to show a face lost in a glow of pure delight as her body rocked under repeated thrusts of her husband.

"Awww, that hurts on so many levels seeing that." He took a hand to shift himself so his erection wasn't hurting so much. He shoved the images aside, and focused on the remainder of the letter


... I love you. I ache..Tonight I ache for you so badly, and as much as it saddens me to be without you, it also fills me with life , knowing I love you so much.

Always, Always Mia.


He folded up the letter with a groan of pure sexual frustration. "Shit, Mia. I had managed not to think about that for a long time, and now you pretty much wave it in my face. I feel doubly sorry for you now. Knowing how much you love him, now, how much you desperately need him physically." He shook his head as he put the letter back into the envelope. "You are one amazing woman, I hope you know. So loving, so strong... not to mention nicely adventurous in a healthy sexual way. Damn, what I would give to have been in Mathew's place. Not only being loved, but being fucked. Being taken in the heights of passion where courtesy could be put aside for a while. Oh... just to take a woman and give her a good old fashion fucking. Enjoying the body and what it can do. I hate you, you lucky, lucky bastard." The envelope was slipped into the snap lock bag, which was then sealed.

"Nah, I don't hate him. I mean he means the world to you, Mia. But maybe we can settle for some healthy jealousy?" Brett sighed and settled back a bit. "Ah, yes, the male fantasy kicks in. Wouldn't be nice that if we ever met, that Mia would be so taken with the effort I made to find her, that she would drag me to her bed, and I would show her I was a good replacement for Mathew?

"Only if there was someone who yelled "Cut" at the end of the scene. It's real life, Brett, not some cheap assed porn flick. I'll be happy to return her letters to her, and have her accept me as a friend. Hell, it would be like she was cheating on him if anything happened. But then, it's been a couple of years, so the chances of them getting together are next to nil, even if they are both alive."

The efforts of the fire fight, plus the lust from the letter caused Brett to drift off to sleep. His dreams were filled with carnal acts between Mia and Mathew that slowly evolved to Mia and Brett. He woke the following morning with a painful hardon, that caused him to take immediate steps to relieve. When he found a safe place to do it, he got his erection out, and it took no more than half a dozen strokes to spark a huge spray of white erupting from his cock.

"Fuck me!! Oh, man..." The torrent continued, drawing out a large amount of tension with it. "Jesus! I never thought I had that much stored up. Mia, you're an evil wench." The last words were grunted as he finally finished. He was a lot more comfortable deflated. With some heavy breaths, Brett went back inside his temporary home, and fixed himself some breakfast.

"Goose Lake, here I come." Brett got his gear together, and looked around in the vague direction of where she might have gone. He saw what he thought might be a large clearing off in the distance, and he picked a substantial landmark along the way that he could use to verify his direction.

Then the penny dropped. "Hang on... Mia was telling me about the place where they went to from here. That means she came back to leave the note." Brett stood there and blinked several times as the full importance of that fact sank in. She left her people to place the note in the plane. It couldn't be that far away for her to make the round trip. Brett's heart rate rose, and he set off at a brisk pace, hopeful that he would finally meet the author of these letters.

It took him five days to reach what she called Goose Lake, as well as finding the place where her little group had stayed. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the small cross and another person sized mound. He walked over, somber at the sight of what was another member of the group that failed to make it to where they were going.

Brett dropped to his knees, sadness welling up within him. "God, I know I haven't been the most devout of people, but if you only ever do one thing for me, please make sure that they get to somewhere safe, so the old folks can be at true peace when you call them back." He crossed himself, then ungainly hauled himself to his feet. He looked at the small cabin, feeling the presence of Mia's group.

Still, he remembered to close on the cabin as if it were dangerous. The door was closed, but not locked. He opened it, checking the inside of the room, then the blind spot behind the door. He cleared the three room cabin in moments. The main living area looked like it had also served as a bed room at one stage. Mattresses and towels were moldering on the floor in a barrack style layout. There other two rooms were a bathroom and a bedroom. In the bedroom was a wardrobe, and Brett started his letter search there.

"Indoors, inside a second 'room'. She'll probably put it up top and at the back to protect it from accidents." He found a chair that managed to hold his weight long enough to prove his theory incorrect. He dropped back down to the floor, swearing. He looked about frantically, searching for somewhere else she could have hidden the letter. He looked everywhere he could think of, turning the inside of the cabin upside down in his efforts to find the letter.

"Oh fuck NO!" He kicked the door open, almost taking it off it's hinges. He stormed out and down the stairs, his voice turning the air blue about him. "No, Mia! You can't have stopped writing the letters. Where the hell is it? Please... let there be another one. There's got to be another one because she's not fucking dead yet! she can't be DEAD YET!!"

He was swept by a sense of calm, or just drained of all feeling. It was then he saw it. On the grave sat a large, long stone. He stumbled over to the grave, gingerly reaching out for the stone. his hands closed as if it was live with electricity. He gripped the stone, full of nervousness that was a mix of fear of desecration and fear of not finding the letter. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he saw the perfectly shielded envelope sitting safely under the stone. He lifted it up from it's resting spot, holding the envelope as if it was the most precious thing on earth, and headed back over to the stairs that led up to the cabin's porch. He took out his knife, but held the envelope up to the light.

"Nope. No stream or smoke from this one. Hopefully she hasn't written anything else raunchy this time." He slit the envelope open, taking out the letter within. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to help slow down his rapidly beating heart. He unfolded the paper, and began to read...

My Darling. Sep 6th (year)

Time does wonderful things. We're here now a month, and for me, it's been a little bit of as near to heaven as I could have had.

We've had our sorrows, and our joys..our rest and healing, and an inflection of laughter that has been much needed. A week ago today, we lost Mrs. Fitzgerald. I was sad, but it was hard to remain so. The last few weeks here gave her the time to relax, and just be the lovely old lady her age had made her. Her mind had accepted the calm she'd found here, and she'd stopped being afraid of everything, and she watched us all with a little smile on her face that was so ...normal.
Marie helped her to bed on Friday night, and she just never woke. It was peaceful, and we buried her on a small patch of ground that seemed very central to all our views. It was hard saying goodbye, but it was freeing for her. Bob sang '' River of no return'', from her favorite movie, and instead of praying for her loss, we thanked God for giving us the time we had with her.
I don't think she ever really remembered any of us, but she looked at us at times, and I think she loved us for those moments.

''Goose Lake'' is aptly named baby. We've had breakfast most days of lovely big blue grey fresh goose eggs, and an actual goose for two suppers, that I shot. There's wild onions, and an abundance of black berries, and fishing is superb. Yes, I know I sound as if I'm preoccupied with food! But for once instead of supplementing our provisions, we can actually enjoy meals, and not count the pieces left.

I think, and I say this almost afraid to tempt faith, but I could stay on here and never leave.

Regardless of what's separated you and I, I truly love it here, and am almost preparing myself to wait for you right here. I can't believe the reason we left the city still exists. Here, Goose Lake is untouched by any aspect of the wars, only for us. I think it's like some un-found Shangri-La. So far, we've seen no sign of anything to fear. It's just been good to us.

It would be perfect though Mathew if you were here too. I worry. I worry so much, and for every minute of happiness I have here, I feel guilty for it. I'm here, safe..and you're where? Out there, not here. Out there afraid, while I can rest with friends, and feel warm and safe, when you're probably over worked and terrified.
I seem to have two conversations going on in my heart. One thanking God that we've made it this far, and another asking him to look after you. How dare they take you away, and abuse your desire to want to help people. How dare they misuse you!.

I love you..I miss and need you. At night, when the cabin is quiet, I lay and talk to you. I tell you all the minutes of my day, and how in every part of them, you're there. How every move made, every thought I think, how every decision mulled over, you're involved because I need you to know how to find us.

With all the love in my heart.

Your Mia.



___________



Darling! Sep 11 (year)

I think we're going to have to move on!

Last night, a plane flew over..a small craft, with military markings. It was spewing smoke, and we heard it explode maybe 2 minutes later. I'm afraid they'll come looking for it, if the pilot managed to radio. Planes are so seldom seen now, that it took us a while to recognize the sound, and I think he might have seen us...because we were on the shore fishing.

Fuck!

I've cried for hours now, and I'm sick that what has been so good to us is now lost. I'm afraid.
I don't know what to do. I don't know if staying and hoping is right, or if we should move and not take chances.

Right now, Bob seems to have more calm common sense than I do. He thinks we need to move, and move fast. He reasons that if the plane was out this far, they must be moving too. I can't write anymore because my minds too jumbled and I'm afraid I'll not make sense.

How will you find me? I honestly don't know! Just please, please oh God Mathew please don't give up looking. I'm just ahead of you. Please come.

I love you.

Mia.

____________________

The letters were put away beneath the flat stone that was laid over Mrs. A Fitzgerald. Months of letters now have made no difference. Mathew was still gone, but if Mia was honest with herself, she would know Mathew was gone to more than the wars.

They never knew if Bob's instincts were right. They moved, and three weeks later, lost their last senior. It was just Bob, Maria and Mia then. They moved faster, covering better ground. But there was no kindness now, just the abnormal fear that was normal in a world at war. And Mia stopped writing.

Somewhere in mid November, she stopped waiting. At least stopped waiting for Mathew. A rock slide left her with a broken left wrist, ..and Bob and Maria dead, buried beneath tons of shifting rocks after a crazy week of constant rain. There couldn't be a God left then in the world if he let that happen.

Ten days sitting against the cold wall of the mountain, with a polythene tarp as shelter, and strained tins of out of date fruit as your only food, tests faith. It tested Mia's resilience too. She'd put the pistol beneath her chin twice before plucking up the strength to pull the trigger. And the fucking thing didn't fire.

The rain was stopped the following morning when she woke up, her face stiff from crying, and her shoulder cramped from her posture. She was wet, cold, hungry and bordering on some fine thread between heart-brokenly wasted and out of her mind emotionless emptiness. She didn't care if she lived or died, but choosing to move,- her wrist bound to her chest, then clambering down the side of the still treacherousness hill, Mia found she just drifted into remaining alive.


___________________-


May 19th. ( following year)

My sweet Mathew.

How long has it been? I gave up on you didn't I? I gave up hoping and waiting. I let you down, or maybe I let you go. I don't know. All I know is that if you are still out there, I'm here. But if you're gone, I hope you know I loved and love you.

I'm alone. But by choice. I've moved along in an amazing straight line of good luck and decent people, and tried to live among them. But I can't. I've still not found where this place is that we were going to. But everyone's looking for it. The fighting hasn't touched here too much..but the impact of its effects has. People steal, that never stole before. People kill that would never have thought themselves capable of a hurt to another. And people love with a need that's touching, and hopeful. Every face I look at, I see me. Everyone is looking for someone. Everyone has lost someone, and wants to find them, find that love..find that hope. So, I chose not to keep looking at myself in them, and I live alone.

I don't think I'm unhappy. I'm just ....here. I see the lights of a ''town'' in the valley two kilometers down below where I live, and they see my lamps at night, and leave me be. And I see the lamps of the other three towers.

There are four watch towers you see, that will give warning if ''they'' come here. I live in the east tower, I have company in the town if I chose it, and if not, I don't.
You used to say, that people at the bottom had no where to go only up. Well, it's up from here Mathew, for me. Up high into the tree tops, with views that stun the eye, and never cease to amaze that we didn't fuck this up too.

Forgive me for not continuing believing in you. It's not a reflection of you. It's not a reflection of me, I hope. I just think it was too hard to hope, and too lonely to wish.

Where ever you are Mathew, I hope you have some kindness with you, and a loving hand to hold. I think you might have needed it more than I did my Darling, so this is my good bye to you. I feel I have cost you your right to rest. I have had a stone made, with your name and some of the words of Magee's poem you loved cut into it.

''Up, up the long delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept hills with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flew;

And, while with silent, lifting mind, I trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God!”


I have to let you go now.

Forever loved, Mathew.

Your wife.

I love you..I miss and need you. At night, when the cabin is quiet, I lay and talk to you. I tell you all the minutes of my day, and how in every part of them, you're there. How every move made, every thought I think, how every decision mulled over, you're involved because I need you to know how to find us.

With all the love in my heart.

Your Mia.


Brett smiled as he let his hands fall to his lap. He leaned back a little, letting his mind see them relaxed, eating well and regaining their lost strength, both physically and emotionally. But looking around, it was clear that they were not there, and hadn't been for a while.

"What sent you off, Mia? The need for something more? Did someone find you? Shit, please God, someone didn't kill her, did they?"

Brett felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt alone at the thought of Mia being dead. But it had been nearly two years since the letters were written. During the Wars, two years was a very long time, and a lot could and did happen in that time. He picked up the letter again, reading it through once more.

"Fuck. What am I thinking? I don't know this woman. I mean I get a hint of her from the letters, but that's not the same as being with her and talking to her. Hell, she doesn't even know me at all. I don't even exist yet. She married, deeply in love with her husband. Even if I did have feelings for her, there is no way anything could come of it. Assuming that she's still alive of course." He let out a long sigh. "It's easy to love an image that you've conjured up in your own mind."

He folded the letter up, readying it to go back into the envelope. "Damnit, Mia!! Why didn't you tell him where you were going? How the hell am I going to find you? Tell you how I think about you, and what you've done for me with these messages to your incredibly lucky husband. Why have you taken away one of the little glimmers of hope that held me together to get this far?" He blinked his eyes clearer, and started to put the letter back into the envelope.

"What the fuck?!?" He dropped the letter into his lap, and slowly pulled out another folded piece of paper that showed it was written on. As cautiously fast as he could, he opened the new letter and read...


Darling! Sep 11 (year)

I think we're going to have to move on!

Last night, a plane flew over..a small craft, with military markings. It was spewing smoke, and we heard it explode maybe 2 minutes later. I'm afraid they'll come looking for it, if the pilot managed to radio. Planes are so seldom seen now, that it took us a while to recognize the sound, and I think he might have seen us...because we were on the shore fishing.

Fuck!

I've cried for hours now, and I'm sick that what has been so good to us is now lost. I'm afraid.
I don't know what to do. I don't know if staying and hoping is right, or if we should move and not take chances.

Right now, Bob seems to have more calm common sense than I do. He thinks we need to move, and move fast. He reasons that if the plane was out this far, they must be moving too. I can't write anymore because my minds too jumbled and I'm afraid I'll not make sense.

How will you find me? I honestly don't know! Just please, please oh God Mathew please don't give up looking. I'm just ahead of you. Please come.

I love you.

Mia.


"Oh, no, Mia. Why? Why no hints as to which way you went?" He quickly folded the letter, and placed the two letters back into the envelope, and added it to the collection in the snap lock bag. He cast his gaze skyward, moving from one of the scant clouds to another.

"So, they panicked, of sorts, then ran. Now, they've been heading pretty much in a direct line so far, so that'll narrow down the possible paths they took. Well, they promised me that I would see the world. They haven't been far wrong so far. I guess I will get to see a little more of it, over that way."

He had been on the move for four grueling weeks. In that time, he spent a terrifying three days moving over and around a rock slide that had occurred some time before, but still gave off signs of instability. He also had a run in with a pack of feral dogs. Wolves were fine. Wolves knew that men were dangerous, and if the wolf left the man alone, the man left the wolf alone. Dogs, on the other hand, saw men as a source of food, and if there was no food, they got angry, and decided that the man would become the food. A lot of precious bullets got used up persuading them that he was not worth the effort.

But he got through those troubles, and made his way into some more forgiving terrain, and a better environment to forage. A few days before, he had seen lights, and signs of civilization, and made his way toward it. he drifted slightly eastward to the village or town, and had been looking for a place to have a rest before making the final leg to the town proper.

Brett found a small clearing, near a bend in a stream that widened into a little pool. He took a moment to drink, and refill his canteen. When he looked for a place to sit, he saw the large stone that had been placed there. He walked over, seeing the words carved into it.

"Nah. It couldn't..." Fear rocked his body almost violently as he slowly tilted the rock. Underneath, less pristine that the other envelopes was another from Mia. Unlike all the previous ones, instead of 'Darling', this one said 'Mathew'. But the script was unmistakeable.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he laughed and cried in equal measure. He let the rock return to it's place, with the reverence given to a holy relic. He quickly found somewhere to sit, wiping his eyes before opening the envelope. He sniffed a few times, took a deep breath, and commenced to read...


May 19th. ( following year)

My sweet Mathew.

...

I have to let you go now.

Forever loved, Mathew.

Your wife.


Brett put the letter aside and cried. He felt the heartbreak in Mia's last letter finally giving him up so she could keep going. If he were dead, and she knew it, it would be much easier for her. But he could be alive, maybe safe and happy with someone else, having gone through the same process as Mia. Brett didn't want to think of the other possibilities, ones that could be very gruesome. Even though Brett supported and agreed with the move, it still cut him deeply.

"I'm sorry, Mia. You shouldn't have had to do that. You deserved to be with him again. God I wish I could give you a hug right now."

The climb down was always more tiring than the climb up. Four tall pillars almost 80 feet tall, with the zig-zagged supporting cross joists, held fast onto the 15 by 15 structure above. The interior of the old fire watch tower was 12 by 12, with a three foot cat walk around the exterior, railinged in, for views that were beautiful, if tragic sometimes...because no one knew if, or when those views would be obstructed with violence.

Mia's legs were tired by the time she climbed down the caged in rungs of the ladder, and she leaned against it rubbing the fronts of her thighs. She needed to eat, and her camp was built beneath the above structure, between the four embedded pillars on the ground, with a lean- to woven ''roof'' sheltering her bedding and provisions. She didn't sleep up in the tower. There was a routine of two towers on, and two off at night, and tonight was one of her nights off, and she needed to just sleep.
Sleep and not think, not listen, not wish, not wonder, not be distracted by the sounds from the town that carried on the air up the mountain side on still nights. She got loneliest then, and often almost gave into the urge to go down, talk to someone, listen to others, be a part of a community that could do with her skills, but to whom she still didn't fully trust. Nighttime was always the hardest.

Maybe that was what it was always going to be like now. No one trusting anyone. Communities built where opportunistic bastards would still try to steal, hurt and maim someone for something worthless, but valuable because it was now unique. It didn't seem to her when in groups, that people had learned anything. Greed still existed. Good still had to battle wrong. And decent people still had to face up to those that would cut their throat for a liter of gasoline.

Sometimes she wished the rock fall had taken her too. Sometimes she wished they'd never left the city. Sometimes she just lay there staring and defying her minds thoughts, with a longing to stop thinking completely.

The water in her canteen was almost warm, and Mia spit out the last mouthful, wiping her hand across her mouth, tipping the canteen upside down and draining it completely to the mossy grass. She crawled beneath the lean-to, right to the back where her ''pillow'' was. She moved the old worn, and now stuffed tshirt that she'd given a second life to, when it was stuffed with other thread worn clean shirts and socks she'd gathered to make such a luxury. Behind the pillow, was her rucksack, and Mia pulled from it a fresh tshirt, and stripped down to her clean but discolored bra and pulled it on. She had two tshirts in her hand for washing, and her canteen when she left the camp to go to the stream..and to visit where she allowed herself think of Mathew.

She didn't allow herself to think of him elsewhere now. Not since she wrote goodbye to him only weeks ago, and began trying to heal the rift in her soul. Thinking of him left her guilty. Guilty for giving up on him. Guilty for moving on, and letting him go. And she couldn't cope with the guilt. It ate at her, and left her feeling extraordinarily empty.

Living alone at the tower for past months, and wanting to remain alone, had thought her how to move quietly out of habit. She rarely rushed at anything now. There was no need, so when she drew closer to the patch of green that opened up to a carpet of healthy thick soft grass around the icy cool pool the stream fed, Mia was surprisingly controlled when she saw the guy sitting not far from Mathew's stone, reading.

At first her heart actually punched her chest with a kick, because instantly, instinctively, she thought..no hoped, it was Mathew. It took her a dozen heart beats to see that this guy was larger, with thicker padding to his shoulders than her slightly built husband. Hope fucked up big time, and Mia placed the tshirts and canteen down quietly, and with just quick glances to the ground, she backstepped about eight feet, into the ticker brush and slowly, silently made her way around behind where he was sitting.

He was crying.

She watched him for a moment, unsure what to do. What to say. How long had it been now when it was necessary to offer a kindness to anyone? To be tender and full of warmth.
Months...Months and months. She'd lost count of when Bob and Marie had died, and when she'd stopped crying over them, and began to give up on Mathew. Was it a year, or was it really now over a year since she'd willingly faced another person?

He was reading Mathews letter! The fucker was reading her husbands letter, and instantly she was enraged.

She felt something ugly and cruel surface deep inside her, and it turned cold when her eyes watered over and she had to blink to see him clearly. Mia wanted to cut into the back of his head and take back the words he'd read and remembered. Words meant for Mathew!.

Closing her eyes, Mia let her breath escape through her nose slowly, and calmed herself enough that when she reached behind her and slipped the revolver from her waist band, her hand had stopped shaking. She aimed, right at the nape of his neck, where the tissue was soft, and where a bullet would pass through, and burst forward through a mans throat.

"I'm sorry, Mia. You shouldn't have had to do that. You deserved to be with him again. God I wish I could give you a hug right now."

Her stomach turned.

Mia didn't move fast then either, she just ducked carefully beneath the one branch of a tree that separated them, and pressed the gun just below his hair line, releasing the safety, and spoke to him desperately quietly.

''You put that right back you son of a bitch. And then I'm gonna kill you''.

The press of the barrel against the top of his neck made Brett piss himself. But through the spreading wet warmth, he berated himself internally.

''You put that right back you son of a bitch. And then I'm gonna kill you''.

"Nope. Not gonna happen. I'm happy sitting where I am, so you can kill me right where I am." His mind raced, trying to think of a way of getting himself out of the hole he found himself in. 'She knows what it is. That means it's...'

"Mia." He sighed, letting his head drop a little. "Heh. To make it all this far, and to be killed by the very woman I was looking for. Well, as they say, shit happens. Just let me close my eyes before you pull the trigger. I'm doubly glad we met this way, Mia. Because I will keep my vision of you, my hopeful fantasy rather than the reality of what you've become. Secondly, I'm glad that Mathew will be spared seeing you this way too."

Months of trekking had built up within him. He had been carrying a small flame of hope that kept his soul alive, but that encounter snuffed it out. The deep bitter pin point of cold cut into him deeply and the emotions boiled out.

"I have spent months following your letters to Mathew. There was no way he was going to ever find them. He's a fucking Doctor, right? Who in their right mind lets a Doctor go while all of this is going on? I found the first letter under rubble, Mia. Anyone could have found it, some one with far less virtuous thoughts than me. The woman who wrote these was someone that I thought could use some help, maybe even some friendship." He swallowed loudly, moving a large lump that threatened to choke him. "I even kinda fell in love with the woman who wrote the letters. What man couldn't feel something for a woman so in love with her husband. Someone who was still reaching out for him, tenderly."

Brett flicked the folded up letter over towards the rock under which he found it. The empty envelope followed. "There, that's the best you'll get from me on the first part. I've said my piece. You can finish it all off, now. I'd rather be dead than live knowing what you've become. Knowing how I fooled myself into thinking you were some one special. That I embarrassed myself by coming all this way for nothing. Go on, Mia, pull the fucking trigger and confirm that you're just like everyone else that's left; that you've given up being a person, let alone a decent human being."

Brett lifted his head up, pressing his neck hard against the barrel of the pistol, his eyes squeezed shut, leaking tears as he waited for her to squeeze the trigger.

Words spoken only serve to confuse Mia, and anger her more. Words that expressed too much personal involvement by a man that she didn't know..didn't care to know, and whose brute honesty hurt her deeply. No one was the same as they were a year ago..two years ago..even six months ago. No one. He hurt her though telling Mia what she already knew. It was all she could think about as this guys words tore at her with his directness. The gun wavered slightly in her hand, and Mia was almost set to lowering it, until he did something he shouldn't have done.

The letter fluttered like the only piece of dirty white honest left in her world. It settled on a clump of glass just by the side of Mathew's stone, and then he flipped the envelope.

To her, it was her entire world with Mathew being spit on, and her hand shook as she heard his emotional words, but didn't register them.

...''That I embarrassed myself by coming all this way for nothing. Go on, Mia, pull the fucking trigger and confirm that you're just like everyone else that's left; that you've given up being a person, let alone a decent human being."

She looked down at him, still not even knowing what he looked like, and yet he was the only person she could connect Mathew with, because he'd stolen her thoughts to her husband.

''In all I am..I never grave robbed the dead you fuck''!

It came in a husky leaked gasp of words as her chest hurt and a gust of a breeze lifted the note from its bed. A bullet could wait, but not Mathew's letter. It was the last thing she'd had to give him, and Mia half leaped over the stranger, and half shoved him aside roughly. She dashed to grab the note, just at the same time she heard a crack in the undergrowth down hill. Quickly she looked to the stranger, but didn't have the time to process what he looked like, as Kurtis Delmar stepped out of the undergrowth with a military issued weapon aimed at the stranger, and a blood thirsty look that she'd seen before on one of the rare visits she'd made down into town, and he'd beaten a man to death with his bare hands.

''NO DELMAR''!

Her scream startled her into skidding to a stop, turning and hurling herself across the clearing, in time to see Brosnan step out and roar at Delmar also..

''STAND DOWN''!

Mia stumbled and almost fell against the stranger. Delmar swore a vulgarage at her, and she turned with her back pressed into the strangers chest, and bawled at Bronsan..

''Tell that fucking idiot to back off''!!

Delmar was a thug..A street thug with every kind of tattoo to boast of his ''campaigns''. He spit curses at Mia, and warned her to shut her 'trap' up, as Brosnan moved to stand in front of him and place his own weapon to Delmars's face.

''I told you to stand down you punk. Now who you gonna shoot if you got no face''?

Brosnan was a hard-nosed street wise ex-cop that had been ''elected'' as head of security down in the ''town''. He looked behind him when Delmar lowered his weapon, and looked at the stranger. Delmar then held up what Mia had failed to catch..Mathew's letter.

''One of the kids spotted your friend in the woods. Thought we'd just check out you were ok.''

He explained as he moved over slowly to her, but never taking his eyes off the man Mia was shielding. He looked only at her briefly, as he spoke, his weapon casually dangerous, aimed from the hip. And Brosnan then looked briefly at her letter to Mathew as he spoke, frowning, aware in part of Mia's reason for the stone and the words carved into it.

''I don't like hearing of strangers snoopin' 'round the spotters. Now he better have a good reason for being up here, cause we've been lucky so far Mia..and I don't want trouble now. ''

Brosnan looked at the stranger then, and lifted his weapon enough to emphasize the importance of his question being answered correctly. Mia's heart felt sick, and she inhaled deeply to keep from rending her stomach at Brosnan's feet. Her hand reached behind her, around the guys hip and she shook her head as Brosnan asked him directly..

''Who are you''?

She could hear her heart racing in her ears, as she reached out and snapped her letter out of Brosnan's hands and Mia heard herself saying, before she had time to think as to why she would say what she did.

''He's my husband! He's Mathew.''

Time seemed to stretch out forever while he waited the inevitable termination of his life.

''In all I am..I never grave robbed the dead you fuck!''

Brett was incensed at the declaration that he'd rob the dead. He started to turn to tell Mia off when she pushed him off balance in her haste to grab the wind born letter. Like Mia, he heard the telltale sound of a footfall in the undergrowth. Given the way Mia pushed him, he was out of reach of his rifle, which was a mixed blessing.

Out of the foliage stepped a man straight from a horror film involving hillbillies and rednecks. Large, tattooed and a face that lacked anything remotely intelligent hiding behind it. What made it worse was the weapon intently pointed in his direction and the hand with a finger on the trigger, ready for business.

''NO DELMAR!'' Mia's scream coincided with her sliding back between Brett and the gunman. With her in the line of fire, Brett hesitated to do anything that would see her hurt. Even thought she had threatened to kill him, Brett still didn't want her killed due to him being rash, or otherwise stupid. He caught sight of another man breaking into the clearing moments before the new comer's voice exploded.

''STAND DOWN!'' Brett felt the unconscious response to the command in the man's voice. He looked at him, seeing the bearing of someone who was confident in situations like the one he was in, but there was not the subtle signs of a military background. Brett put him as a police officer until he could determine otherwise.

But the voice make Mia stumble onto Brett. She quickly turned herself to face the other two. The first man was swearing at Mia, making Brett want to get up and punch the man in the mouth to shut him up.

''Tell that fucking idiot to back off!!''

Brett couldn't agree more with Mia, right down to her choice of words. Brett looked on helplessly as the redneck continued to berate Mia, along with telling her how to behave. Brett's respect for the other man climbed when he pushed his own weapon into the thug's face.

''I told you to stand down you punk. Now who you gonna shoot if you got no face''?

One the weapon was lowered, the commander walked over to Mia. ''One of the kids spotted your friend in the woods. Thought we'd just check out you were ok.'' The man never took his eyes of Brett, watching him closely for the first sign of trouble. ''I don't like hearing of strangers snoopin' 'round the spotters. Now he better have a good reason for being up here, cause we've been lucky so far Mia..and I don't want trouble now.''

Brett got a sinking feeling in his stomach. There were few options that would see him living to see the next sunrise, and all of them involved not shooting anyone. He watched the slow shift of the weapon in the commander's hand as it came to bear. Close enough to come to play quickly, but not pointing directly at him. He felt, but distanced himself from the feel of Mia's hand coming to rest on his hip. The man who was staring at him with an intensity that made Brett almost shudder took in a breath.

''Who are you?''

Brett's mind raced. His only plan that had any measure of success was to bend the truth slightly and tell them he was looking for Mia, due to his connection with her Husband.

''He's my husband! He's Mathew.''

Brett let out his held breath as a way to hide his surprise. It was clear to him that they were aware of the name and connection. They were also surprised that he managed to get there. Both men looked hard at Mia, as if they could break through and confirm her call. Brett called on his reserves, and looked back at the man who Mia had snatched her letter back from. Brett looked him in the eye, daring him to call her a liar. No a word was spoken, but the message was clear from Brett.

The other man chewed the inside of his inside lip, the barest of flicker in his eyes as he looked from Brett to Mia and back again. Keeping his eyes on the couple, he turned his head towards Delmar. "Get back to town. All's right here."

There was a moment's defiance on Delmar's face before he put his rifle up and made his way down the hill. The lone man waited, listening as the footsteps faded into the distance. The commander turned his full attention back to them.

"When you can give me a proper explanation, Mia, just make sure that your... husband... doesn't come to town alone. I'll be back to check on you in a day or two. And you," the man pointed to Brett, "if anything happens to her, I'll be killing you for it."

Brett watched as the man slowly walked backward, keeping his attention on Brett. Brett stayed still, not making any sudden moves, nor having any interest in his gun. He remained that way until the sounds of the other fellow were gone.

With gentle hands, Brett got Mia off him, and slowly stood himself up. He took off his backpacks, letting them drop to the ground. He carefully opened up one of the backpacks, and pulled out the snap lock bag of her letters. He held them out to her.

"These are yours as well. I wanted to return them to you when we finally met. I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I'm also sorry that you and he wont be together again." He felt the pain of her loss well up within him. The only way he could relieve the pressure the pain was causing him was through his tears. "I know that there is now no way he can find you, if he had the chance."

Brett gently placed the bag in Mia's lap, and went back to pick up his rifle, then sit down back at the tree where Mia found him. He started to shake from the moments where he was the centre of attention of some very effective firearms. "Fuck me. I hope I never go through something like that again. Being killed while in a fire fight sucks, but at least I can think about killing the other prick. Sitting there, without a weapon in hand while looking down the wrong end of a fucking barrel..." Brett's eyes were wide as saucers. "Those fucking things look like storm water drains when gazing at the business end of one."

Brett rocked backward and forward for a little while, the emotional turmoil bleeding out of his system in the quiet of the glade. He took a sniffling breath in, and wiped his eyes of the water in and around them.

"So, since you told them I'm your husband, what do we do now?"

"if anything happens to her, I'll be killing you for it."

They were gone then. First Delmar, and then Bronson, but not after he had the last say. A say that left her feeling cold...even guilty, but mostly icy cold inside.

"When you can give me a proper explanation, Mia, just make sure that your... husband... doesn't come to town alone. I'll be back to check on you in a day or two. And you, if anything happens to her, I'll be killing you for it."

While he didn't know her enough to know she'd lied, he didn't know nor trust Mia enough to know she'd not. No one around here trusted anyone only themselves anymore. Not even in the town., or maybe especially in the town. There you had the comfort of not living alone, of hearing voices, of sharing a communities responsibilities, but you had that with people you didn't know. People who arrived with nothing only their word to offer you, and people who had done things no one knew they were capable of to survive. People who had been stripped of behavior that had once been socially acceptable, but was now socially necessary.

Bronsan walked away with a stride that was comfortable, determined and confident. Delmar was dangerous because he was ...dangerous. But Bronson was dangerous, because what he did, he planned. He didn't act irrationally. Like Delmar who struck instinctively and for his own sadistic enjoyment. Bronson knew the breath he was taking in a weeks time, and where he'd be. And a stranger too close to what he was trying to keep safe, was not in his plans.

"These are yours as well. I wanted to return them to you when we finally met.......''

The package of letters were like some visual end to a hope she'd maintained deep deep down. Mia had said goodbye..let go..Gave up. But seeing the letters to Mathew were like evidence to his being long gone. He'd not found them..never seen them...never touched or read them. Two years. Two years hoping, wondering if he was behind somewhere trying to find her. Two years believing that if she kept writing, kept directing him, that he'd come.

The stranger left them with her, and sat back a short distance from her. He'd removed his packs, and now sat speaking of the reactions he felt to Delmar's arrival. She watched him. Listened but didn't quite hear him. He appeared exhausted. That kind of exhausted that left you alert but emotionally raw. That kind of tiredness that becommes part of living every day keeping your feelings under wraps, simply so you can concentrate on living with what you have.

She didn't know how to react to his tears. Didn't know how to console or offer consolation. She didn't know if she wanted to. He'd taken Mathew's letters. But why?
Right at that point, Mia didn't want to know why. She just knew he did, and the why's didn't matter. Mathew had never read the words she'd given him...but this man had.

"So, since you told them I'm your husband, what do we do now?"

It was perhaps the biggest question facing her in recent years. Bronson's distrust of the stranger put them both in danger. She'd made a liar of herself, and if Bronson suspected it, she was in danger of being asked to leave the protection of the town. Her choice of solitude came at a price. She watched over the valley from the east, and they left her alone, but they protected their ''spotters'' in return for their service. Making herself into a liar fucked that up royally if Bronson suspected it..and Mia had no doubt that he did. She sat folding the letter, and tucking it in with the others. Rising to stand, she took a long breath watching after where the men had disappeared into the treeline. She'd no reason to feel she and the man she'd said was her husband, were being watched. Somehow, it wasn't Bronson's style to be a creep. He'd just go with his instinct, and place his trust where it was earned.

She crossed back to Mathew's stone. Somehow now it didn't hold the meaning for her that she'd wanted. It wasn't a place to go and think of her husband anymore. It wasn't a place to remember and hope. Hope seemed to be finally really gone. Saying goodbye had been one thing, because she always had hope. But now with the letters to him back in her hand, and no Mathew after over two years, it felt very final. What had been designed as a memorial, had become a tiny tomb.

Pushing against the stone, rocking it back, Mia slipped the letters beneath it and allowed the stone drop back on top of them. Stepping back from it, she slowly backed away, before turning. It left her facing him. The man she'd said was Mathew. God how could she have done that? What had possessed her? Why hadn't she just stood back and allowed Bronson handle the situation? Was it because of Delmar? She wasn't sure. Mia pushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, and then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

What were they going to do?

If she denied him now, he was as good as dead. If she admitted to the insanity of her lie he was dead anyway, and she was as good as eventually. Looking back up the rise towards the roof top of the watch tower, she slowly turned towards where she'd dropped the water canteens and her dirty tshirt. In living up to her lie, it meant he'd have to stay here, or move on..and move on fast, and she'd have to go too. She didn't want to go. Despite everything, this was a good place. For the first time since she'd left the city with Bob and the others, she didn't have to do all the thinking for everyone. She just watched...and slept, ate, swam, watched again..hunted a little. And watched.

''You'll chop wood, hunt..and stay out of town. And if you know what's good for you, you'll answer to nothing now only ''Mathew''.

She wasn't angry now. Delmar had stolen that from her. She was now just jaded and drained.
She looked back at him. He could go, she couldn't stop him. Her lie tied him down to her, to the place...but it also offered him a reprieve from the constancy of being afraid and weary of every movement and every sound. She didn't want a husband, and certainly didn't want anyone to act like one. She had a husband. And as she looked at guy who had come with all the letters, and found her through them, she felt the weight of what she might have committed them to in giving him Mathew's name. Mia spoke quietly as she knelt down to fill the canteens..

''Cause we're fucked if you don't.''

Time had changed her. More correctly, the outcome of the Wars had changed her. Just like everyone else. But in her letters, she was so different. She was alive, hopeful. Harbouring a small flame of joy and sanity in the dark world around them. Brett wondered if his arrival with her letters was what smothered that little flame. Mia seemed harsh, cold and empty. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest at those thoughts. She was just a bitter husk of the person he longed to meet.

He just watched her, too drained to try and stand up, or move. Mia put the last letter into the packet, and put them all under the rock. It was placed back the way it had been, not looking like it had been disturbed since it had been first placed there.

''You'll chop wood, hunt..and stay out of town. And if you know what's good for you, you'll answer to nothing now only 'Mathew'."

Brett winced at the pain in her voice. He felt the heat of her anger as well. With two short sentences, she had bound them together tightly. Whether she was angry at him or at herself, it didn't matter to Brett. He was going to have to live with it.

''Cause we're fucked if you don't.''

Brett nodded mechanically. He took one final deep breath, and dragged himself to his feet. He lifted each of his packs that now each weighed tons, getting them into position. He looked blankly at Mia. "Well, then, please lead on. I would like to see our home."

Military service had left Brett with a healthy build on his six foot tall body. He was well muscled from daily activity, as well as not eating much in the way of junk food as he had before he joined up. His fair skin was nicely tanned, again from his time outdoors on patrols and other missions. He managed to keep his dark brown hair short, and it looked like it was self inflicted too. But his uniform, and his gear, were all well tended, and clean.

He followed her as she went back to the tower. Brett spent most of his time looking at the ground and trees about him. He wanted to get a better feel for the lay of the land. he also wanted to be sure that no one had any surprises for them. His long held desire to stare at Mia was in a critical condition, and not likely to see the next dawn.

But the arrival at the tower finally clinched it for Brett. Mia of the letters was gone. In her letters, she was organized, as well as being someone who respected herself and took pride in herself. Her home said anything but. It was put together with the "Yes, that's good enough" approach. The walls were made of whatever materials she could find, and just placed or piled in such a manner that they filled the functions required. While the ground was not littered, it was not well tended. Long grass capable of hiding anything up to a small man grew way to close to her place of refuge.

'A real fixer-upper as my Dad would have called it. My mother would have called it a hovel.'

Brett shucked off his backpacks near what he hoped was the door to her home. He took a slow walk around it, sizing it up and making some rudimentary plans for it. When he got back to the front, he looked directly at Mia. He placed the rifle down beside his backpacks, then closed the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her as though he was hugging her.

"Don't panic," he spoke into her shoulder. "It's all for show. Plus, I can ask you a question. Why did you tell them I was your husband?"

The watch tower stood tall and elegant, head to head with some truly magnificent specimens of trees that had grown and lived through more than this war, and the ones before it. In the distance, approaching it, there was almost a mystery about it. But once the tree line was broken into the cleared enclave surrounding it, the mystic was worn away. Mia didn't see the decline in a standard she'd tried to keep when the others were with her. She didn't see how a combination of lack of interest and a refusal to seek a little help from Bronson and his people, had left what was to have been a ''home'' a sad depressing affair. She had been focused on nothing only a disbelief that had drained the life out of her, and something inside her shut down and became cold.

She didn't look around at the man who was now going to share what little she had, but felt his movements behind her. As she placed the water canteens down in the shade, she knew he'd dropped his packs, and had began exploring the surrounds of what she'd put together as shelter. The tower above looked like some elevated out of the reach perfect cabin, with its lowly distant relation huddled beneath it in the grass, between its four legs for shelter.

When he came back around,.. suddenly approached her and held her to him, Mia stiffened in hostile shock. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd been close enough to anyone to reach out and touch, never mind hold onto. Her body froze, and her breath instantly hushed from her lungs before he spoke quietly..

"Don't panic,..It's all for show. Plus, I can ask you a question. Why did you tell them I was your husband?"

Her eyes instantly darted to the undergrowth. Had he seen someone watching them? She knew Bronson wouldn't creep around. He was the kind that left you to stew in your juices, until you literally hung yourself with your lie in front of him. But Delmar was a sleaze who because of Bronson's control couldn't do what he wanted when he wanted. But he'd probably watch Mia and the stranger like a hawk, to justify then his blood lust.

The stranger was a large guy. It was automatic to compare him to Mathew, who was equally as tall, but slender,- less muscular. Mathew always smelled of expensive aftershave, in an effort to conceal the sterile smell that he and Mia worked in at the nursing home. He always felt warm, and he always felt right against her.
This guy felt ..different. It was a natural difference, but an alien difference. He didn't feel right so close to her. And she didn't hold him back when he held her. Despite the tightening of the fibers in her body, and shocked air sucking stiffness of her form against him, Mia wouldn't admit the obvious. That she fit against him. Just like with Mathew, she fit against this man, whose breath warmed the side of her neck. He smelled more earthy,..raw..But then she did too. It wasn't a bad scent...but at this closeness it was an unfairly unwelcome one.

''Shall I call them back and tell them you followed me here?''

She tilted her head back to look at him, her whisper close enough to his face for only him to see and hear, as her right hand found its way to his hip , with her forefinger looping into the belt hoop of his pants in an odd familiar manner.

''What did you want me to say Mathew?''

Pushing back a little against him, Mia touched his cheek gently with her left hand..for the benefit of anyone who might have back tracked and watched them.

''I've seen what Delmar does to people..''

Her hand lingered against the pulse flickering beneath the hollow of his throat, and Mia watched it, and touched it lightly..

''What you did angers me. But what he'd do to you, isn't worth a bunch of letters. Not even letters to my husband.''

In all honesty, if she had had the time to construct an answer, Mia knew she didn't fully know why she'd said what she'd said. Delmar and his fondness for inflicting pain was part of the reason somewhere,- but he wasn't the sole reason she'd done what she'd done. Maybe it was her instinct to preserve life. But then it didn't answer why she'd threatened this man when she'd first realized he'd Mathew's letter in his hand. Maybe the answer was simple. She was just fucked up.

''I don't want to know your name. It's best. I can't make a mistake then. If you don't like it, move on. But if your'e staying, just ...just...''

and she backed away from him, and gathered a glossy jet black strand of hair , combing it back of her brow. Her hair had grown since Mathew had last seen her, from its usual fashionable style, to now hang to the base of her back. She had been thinner by the time she'd found the town and its four watch towers, but in the last months she'd slowly began to look less gaunt, with a softness rejoining a body that was now physically well sculptured after over a year and a half of hard hiking through places she'd never have seen before the wars . Her face was too angular to be classically pretty, with her strong jaw and high cheekbones; but she was, quoting her husband '' a woman a man would wake up beside for the rest of his life, and wonder how lucky he was.''
Her eyes were chocolate brown, and she had little mole just above the top right side of her lip. She used to speak with a gentle tone and she smiled all the time...But that was gone now, replaced by a flat quiet voice that had no real emotion unless angered, and she never smiled..and she definitely never laughed.

''...don't over do it with the touches.. ''

Grabbing her riffle, Mia went to the rungs of the ladder that would take her back up to the tower, ..a tower she was supposed to have had the day off from, and she half looked back at ...at. Him.

''We need fire wood. I hope you like rabbit stew, cause that's what we're havin' for supper''.

And she swung the riffle strap over her shoulder, and started climbing up away from ....''Mathew''.
She needed time. Time to try work out why she'd done what she'd done, and time to work out how to live with the results. Her brain was frozen on the fact she now had a man living with her, calling her place ''home'', and she couldn't see a way out of it, without getting them both killed, or at best having to move on, and in her mind she wrote to her husband.

Mathew..Darling Mathew.

Why?

Always, Mia.

Brett felt Mia stiffen as he wrapped his arms around her, as well as the intake of breath. He felt a slight stab of discomfort as he felt her reaction, feeling like he had broken some inviolate barrier. He didn't want to force himself on her, or make her uncomfortable.

''Shall I call them back and tell them you followed me here?''

It was his turn to stiffen, his brought about by fear. He was willing to fight to the death, but he was not willing to drag anyone else down with him. Not even this version of Mia. He had not fully adjusted to the reality of the woman his future was now linked to. He still saw her through the rose coloured lenses created by her letters. At least the fires her sexy letter had caused were now firmly extinguished by experiencing her as she was. So, at least some good had come from the meeting.

But then he felt her move slightly, her head shifting enough to allow them to look at each other's face clearly. The feel of her hand coming to rest on his hip, catching something intentionally, easily, made his heart beat a little faster and his mouth dry out a little. The soft zephyr of her breath carried her words to him, fading soon after passing his ears.

''What did you want me to say Mathew?''

The distance grew between them, but the feelings tightened, and drew him closer to her. He felt the passage of her hand on his stubble, making him want to rest into it and whimper softly at the seemingly delicate touch. Again, her words declared the truth behind the motion.

''I've seen what Delmar does to people..''

Even with the verbal splash of cold water, he couldn't help but succumb to the ingrained belief he created of Mia. Her actions fitted the caring woman who's letters he read. He felt a tenderness that was not given, a love that a stranger can give to one in need; a love that is focused care, attention and dedication to help and heal. Tears welled in his eyes as her simple touch drained some of the festering grief buried deep within him.

''What you did angers me. But what he'd do to you, isn't worth a bunch of letters. Not even letters to my husband.''

The full weight of what he had done finally broke through the barriers he had erected with each letter he read. He knew he had all but cut their relationship up, killing it in a practical sense. Again, he knew that he had hurt her by what he did, and he didn't excuse himself for it. His head bowed slightly, to the observer he could have been staring at her bust. But Brett couldn't see anything through the tears, and if he could, his focal point was miles behind her.

''I don't want to know your name. It's best. I can't make a mistake then. If you don't like it, move on. But if you're staying, just ...just...''

He sniffed, nodded and wiped his eyes clear of his tears. He lifted his face, trying to push a serious expression onto his face as he took his first serious look at his... wife.

The first thing he saw were her eyes. Eyes that once would sparkle, and probably join in on many frequent smiles. But what he saw were twin portals manned by vicious sentinels ready to stop anyone finding out too much, if anything, about what lay beneath. Her face was still lacking the conditioning it would have had before everything fell apart, but she was not showing signs of starving. Her sable hair was surprisingly free of stressing gray, and was a simple length of straight hair. What he could make out of her body, she was well shaped, obviously healthy from her trekking, and still managing to maintain it once she settled.

''...don't over do it with the touches.. ''

He was brought back from his observations by her simple declaration. He nodded slowly. "We have been apart for a long time, Mia, so it will take some time to get used to each other again. You have been through a lot, and there will be time to adjust to having me around, after being alone for so long."

Brett stood still as Mia went about heading up the tower. She carried the rifle like she knew how to use it, which was a good thing. He preferred to know that if she shot him, it was intentional rather than accidental. Unprofessional or novice shooters made him nervous, especially after seeing a new recruit forget simple safety routines and killed one of the other riflemen by accident.

''We need fire wood. I hope you like rabbit stew, cause that's what we're havin' for supper''.

"Firewood. Right. I'm on it." He took his own axe, and a pistol, and moved into the perimeter of the forest, looking for good fuel for the cooking fire. A simple, straightforward task with an equally simple goal. Dinner. A hot meal. He gathered wood of different sizes and thickness to allow for greater control over the nature of the fire. He returned to Mia's home, and found where the fire wood had been stacked, placing the bundled fuel there.

He went back to his packs, and laid down to rest a little and unwind further. His mind reviewed the nature of his new home. It was big enough for one, but would be a bit cramped for the two of them. Plus, he was not confident in the sturdiness of the construction. He mulled over various options, revising each as he went through the list of tools and material needed for such a task. Everything he thought of was easy enough to do - with power tools or lots of manual help. Of which he had neither, and probably wouldn't ever have either.

He heard Mia coming down from out of the tower. He turned his head slightly towards her. "I wasn't going to go in until I got your OK. So while I was out here, I did a little thinking. We'll need a saw, a proper wood axe, a plane or adze and whatever passes for mortar in these parts. Do you think a bar of chocolate would cover it?"

Town looked busy. Each time over the last month, that Mia looked through the binoculars, she could see changes on its landscape. Today, a group of men were beginning to add the beams for a roof on a large building that had being under construction for weeks.
Last week, she'd watched as a water tower was finally finished, and how that night there had been a celebration.

But she'd also seen how hunger had driven people to fight over food that was still being rationed until the first vegetables were ready for a first harvest. Hunted meat was currency. It could buy you just about anything that Brosnon sanctioned the sale of. He had made the decision until the town was self sufficient and secured, that everything brought into it by a people wanting to stay, became community property. Ammunition, arms, tools, food, even a persons trade. But meat, fresh meat, could buy you just about anything.

She watched, and strolled around to the other side of the walk way, and watched the valleys that dipped in the mountains. She watched for movement, until her arms ached and Mia lowered the binoculars.

Then when she knew his back was turned, Mia watched the man that was now called her husband. It was obvious that he was familiarizing himself with the surroundings..and the structure she slept beneath. She never lost sight of him beneath her vantage point, so Mia knew he never once entered the lean-to. Moving back around to the door inside, Mia sat at the stool at what had been the radio desk, and she rested her head in her hands.

She'd made this his home too, and he seemed to be accepting it for now. The obvious question regarding both of them, was why? Why had she done it, and why had he stayed?
When he'd held her, and she'd moved away to the tower, Mia had been aware that she'd brought him to tears. And it hurt her. She didn't know why, because she was simply being honest. She didn't know him..nor he her. Why would what she said matter to a man that didn't matter to her?

And she felt it then. A cut. A cut deep inside her that hurt. She felt it bleed, and Mia knew a sense of shame. She'd written letters to her husband, and the man below had found them...and what ever he'd seen in them, he'd seen enough to want to follow her paper trail to.....To what?
How would he know Mathew was dead or alive? What would he have done if he'd found Mia and her Mathew together? What had he hoped for that when he looked at her, his emotions didn't conceal his hurt?

He was not Mathew! He would never be Mathew! She loved her husband. And the man that had spoke of them being separated for a long time earlier, was not, nor never would be Mathew!
Why in God's name had she given him Mathew's name? It was a salt to a raw wound every time she thought of calling him by the name. But it was only a name Mia insisted. It was only a name.

She climbed down the ladder when hunger drove her to. He was standing in the evening light and partially turned to look at her.

"I wasn't going to go in until I got your OK. So while I was out here, I did a little thinking. We'll need a saw, a proper wood axe, a plane or adze and whatever passes for mortar in these parts. Do you think a bar of chocolate would cover it?"

She appreciated that he'd not gone inside. She'd nothing to hide or found out, but it mattered he'd given her the consideration of waiting.
But Mia frowned as he presumed to already be making changes. Walking past him, at first she didn't reply. The shelter wasn't much, but it had been hers for months now, and because of a decision made in a seconds panic, now what was hers was to be changed.

Looking back at ''Mathew'', Mia saw what he saw. Suddenly it wasn't a serviceable shelter that offered her a dry nights sleep. Suddenly it wasn't more than a dried out collection of dead branches, and woven reeds that had dried so much they'd snapped. The only thing sound were the four stout supporting columns for the watch tower above. Everything else was shite.
She hadn't done well since she'd lost Bob and the others at all. She'd only survived to exist.

It was an eye opener and Mia felt as if she was being pushed too suddenly. Made face a direction she didn't want to face. She looked at ''Mathew'', and actually felt for him. It was a peculiar feeling. It wasn't emotional, and wasn't physical, and it was neither warm nor cold. They weren't a ''couple'', but yet he was taking the role she'd pushed on him, and was trying already to help as a husband would do, by making their situation better, and she felt sad because she'd not done it herself.

''Friday's trading day. We'll hunt in the morning.''

There was no expansion on her quiet toneless words, and she moved by him towards the shelter, and ducked beneath the bent frame to go inside. '' in the morning''.It had the note of reminding her that there was a night to get through first, and Mia was distressed as each second of time passing brought with it the realization of what she'd committed them to. Every word spoken changed everything.

The pot of rabbit stew made the evening before, was in the corner covered with a wet cloth to keep it from spoiling, and Mia went back outside with it, and headed over towards the fire. Only then did she explain what she'd said.

''I'll go down to the town alone. You can do the watch for me, and I'll get what I can.''

She looked at ''Mathew'' then, after she'd rested the pot on the embers.

'' ..and I'll help you if...if. ''

and Mia looked back at the pot and stirred. What were they going to do? This situation wasn't real, and yet they were going to make it so. They had to. She'd said what she'd said, and he'd stayed. She still didn't understand why ''Mathew'' hadn't just gone after Brosnan left. If she hurt him, as she seemed to, then why was he staying? And why didn't she ask?

''They might be watching, so it'll be expected.''

It hurt him to see Mia so guarded, almost cold and shut down. It was hard to look at her like that, but then he was going off thoughts and feelings that were years ago. And because of the War, what was as good as a lifetime ago. But it seemed worse by his presence. By him masquerading as her husband.

'So, why am I staying? Why did I come all this way? I know those letters weren't to me, those words, thoughts and feelings were for him. But damn me, I kinda fell for her. Yes, I would be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about her sexually. But did I think that I had a chance? Seriously? No, I didn't have a chance. But hell, I wanted to be this woman's friend. I wanted to be in the warmth of her flame, and feel something I haven't felt since all this shit happened.

'I got caught up in a dream which turned out to be just that, a dream. Now, this woman's gone out on a limb and said I'm her husband. If I leave now, or too soon, then she'll be dead, or in grave danger. I can't let that happen to her. I'll hang around until the story holds up, then I'll go saying that we're two different people now, and we need to find our lives a new.'

''Friday's trading day. We'll hunt in the morning.'' Her voice could have been computer generated by the way it sounded. There was nothing there but words. No tone, no flow. Not one drop of emotion.

He looked at her, his mind furiously trying to get a handle on her. Trying to find that spot where he could start to connect with her, even if just as another human being. But she was locked down tight, and there was no way she was letting anyone in. There would be a chink in her defences somewhere, he would just have to search, or wait for it to show.

Brett remained where he was as Mia went inside their home. Since she had the home ground advantage, he was playing it reserved and cautious. he made no move, and he simply waited for Mia to call him in. But the call never came, because she returned with a pot covered by some cloth, and headed over to the cooking fire. He sat himself up, ready to help her in what way he could. Also, sitting up was a lot more polite than lounging back on his packs, regardless of how comfortable he may have been.

''I'll go down to the town alone. You can do the watch for me, and I'll get what I can.''

Brett nodded. "Sounds like a good idea to me. Since I am going to be here with you, I should split your duties with you too. Mind you, not being able to head to town for a while is going to be a pain in the ass, but I'm sure that there will be plenty to do around here to remove the need for me to go there."

'' ..and I'll help you if...if. ''

he waited for her to finish what she was going to say. he sensed the opening he was looking for was about to appear, but before a word got out, she slammed herself shut again. Mia had turned her attention to the food, stirring it while not focusing on him. Like him, he guessed that some of the realities of what had happened were starting to hit home painfully.

''They might be watching, so it'll be expected.''

He got up, and walked over to the fire, dropping himself down beside her, but keeping a little distance between them. "Yeah, I expect them to be watching me too." He looked at the pot that was seemingly the centre of her attention. He kept his voice low so she could hear him, but it didn't carry much further. "I'm going to hang around until it's safe for me to part company with you. It'll be easy enough to do. We've been apart too long, and our relationship can't be salvaged. By then, I could move into town, or just move on. If I pull out now, then you'll have to leave with me, or soon after, if they don't kill you. I can't live with that, Mia." He stared above the fire, off into the distance, not seeing anything.

"I just started to head home. The war was over for us. No one was about to give us orders or direction, so we headed off back to where we came from. All the rest of them lived in the same general area, me... I came from somewhere else. I decided to go back home, rather than stay with them. I was about to turn tail and try and catch up with them when I found the first letter. If I sat somewhere else, if I looked anywhere else, I would have missed it." Tears started to well in his eyes. "But to find a letter, that I knew was not meant for me, it gave me a sense of connection. I felt bad reading it, I felt worse taking it with me. In that moment, I found out that I had no hope left. Because that letter gave it back to me." Thumb and finger wiped the tears away. "I followed the chain, Mia, to find this woman who held on to the good things when everything else around her was turning to crap. Was I coming here because I thought these letters were for me? No. Did I think you were going to fall head over heels for me? No. I wanted to join up with you, so I could be a part of the good you would be doing."

Brett bent his head, looking at the patch of ground surrounded by his legs and body. "I knew the moment I put that first envelope in my pocket, that I was effectively killing any chance of him following the chain. But anyone else could have found it after me. He had plenty of chances to find it, but he didn't. I didn't want someone else to come along with intentions worse than mine." He turned his head towards Mia. "When it's time to sleep, just find me a space on the ground clear enough for me to roll out my sleeping bag.

"I'll be deadly serious with you, Mia. I wont share a bed with you unless you're willing for us to have sex. I have been away from a woman too long to be able to just sleep beside one that close. Put me on the ground, you'll be safe from me. I respect you, as a person, because of who I got to know via the letters. I respect you enough to want to bed you, but I am not gone enough to just do it without your consent."

He straightened up, stretching slightly as he did. His voice returned to the normal volume. "No offence, but our home is not inspiring of confidence. I guess one person there hasn't pushed the boundaries of the construction that much, but two of us? Plus, there isn't the space within for the two of us. That's why I made a list of tools and such. I'm planning on adding a little more space, and making a sturdier home for us. It'll take a while, but I've got some time to spare."

Brett let the silence fall over them, looking at the embers of the fire, trying to divine the future they had before them.

He joined her then. At a slight distance. But he joined her by the fire, as she stirred the stew over the slow heat. The ''Mathew'' that spoke about her letters, spoke quietly to her. His words were not picked carefully, they were just honest. Again, he told her of how he'd found the first letter, and followed it to the second. She didn't want to hear it again, but yet Mia knew each time it was said, it took a little more hurt out of Mathew never finding them.

But it changed then..and while he was speaking to her, ''Mathew'' wasn't speaking to her.

"I just started to head home.......''

They were both damaged in some way. She could see that without really looking at him. It wasn't just about her and the loss of an adored husband, and hopes gone that connected her to him. This man beside her had lost out too. Lost out on going home because he found her letter. A choice had been made and he'd done what she'd hoped Mathew would do. He'd followed her.

What had she said that had created that need in him to find her? What had there been in the letters that another man could read, and want, even when knowing they'd not been to him.
There was an awful feeling in her belly that she'd failed him..this ''Mathew''. Failed him by not being the woman that had been proud and hopeful, and full of a still desirous love for a missed husband.

It was guilt, and Mia accepted it and hated it, and resented its presence in her self imposed emotionless isolation.

''.........Did I think you were going to fall head over heels for me? No. I wanted to join up with you, so I could be a part of the good you would be doing."

The stew began to warm, with a slow bubble rising in the center of the pan. She popped it with the spoon, and ''Mathew's'' voice remained peacefully intrusive. She couldn't but listen to him, even if she didn't want to hear all of it. He had a lovely speaking voice, and he was a man that didn't conceal anything from his words or his emotions.

But when he spoke, each word brought ''Mathew'' closer to words that Mia felt were coming, but didn't believe would be said.
There had been letters she'd written that were that of a wife to a husband..But there had also been words written from one lover to another. Intimate private words, written to arouse her husband, and invoke memories of their more lurid private moments. Her face burned, and Mia felt her eyes well with tears, so she squeezed them shut. This man's whispered moment threatened to be soured by a harsh reality, that ''Mathew'' read even those words.

"When it's time to sleep, just find me a space on the ground clear enough for me to roll out my sleeping bag.

"I'll be deadly serious with you, Mia. I wont share a bed with you unless you're willing for us to have sex......''

Looking to her right at him, she remained squatted as ''Mathew'' spoke his truth, and Mia stared at him open mouthed, her face paling, as he warned her of his physical need, and how he wouldn't mistreat her. At first she'd thought he was insane, then the cold reality of how and where they lived reminded Mia there was little sanity in their existence any more.

They seemed to do nothing only hurt one another. Even now when her indifference had almost softened.

In all honesty her mind went blank. He was a man she'd given her husbands name to, and who after word spread, would be her husband to everyone else. Yes if he left, she'd have to go or face many questions if he left too soon. Yes they ran a risk with the lie she'd professed in panic..but Mia hadn't thought of what would happen if he stayed. Even for the short while he spoke of before he'd leave.

She looked up at ''Mathew'' when he stood. This time she didn't like seeing how she lived through his eyes. It made her feel useless, and after coming this far she didn't care for it.
Mia wobbled, having to drop one knee to the ground to balance herself. For the first time since he'd arrived, she was nervous of him. Rising slowly, the spoon dropping into the center of the stew, Mia took a step to the side away from the fire..

''What did you expect?''

Swallowing, Mia clenched her fists, her shoulders raising in anger and she strode back over to him agitated. But she couldn't breath, and doubled over with her left hand on her thigh, the other covering her mouth gulping back a sob that physically hurt to swallow.
There was no way she was going to cry in front of him. No way she was giving into the first true emotion she'd felt other than anger..because of him! She heaved for breath, her fingers paling as they dug into her left thigh.

How dare he criticise,- how dare he presume,- how dare he imply,- how dare he warn her that he wanted the woman from her letters, and that she needed to know he fucking respected her!.

''What did you ..............expect?''

Mia looked up at him, her head cocked to the side, the veins in her temples straining as she fought her temper and tried to keep her voice down..

''I did my best on my own. Fuck you if it's not nice enough.''

and she stood up straight and closed the space between them, on hand gripping the front of his tshirt to pull him down to her height..

''....And I don't remember asking you to share my bed.''

There was a crack in the brush then, and Mia's eyes widened as they glanced over ''Mathew's'' shoulder and all she could think about was if they were being watched, how much had been heard, if any. She thought her chest was going to burst for want of air and Mia inhaled heavily, as she looked at him, and whispered damn near against his mouth..

''In fact when I was putting this shit together, you weren't even a dirty thought honey!''

Brett turned quickly at the wobble form Mia as she stood up as well. He could easily see that she was not handling his arrival too well, or more importantly what he had been saying all that well. But she soon righted herself, as if defying gravity to interfere. He felt that the calm was merely the gathering of the monumental forces to be unleashed in the coming storm. After she took a step away from the fire, his suspicions became founded.

''What did you expect?''

Her voice started to have more tone, inflection, and dare he think it, more life to it. She packed more emotion and more of herself into those four words than the rest of the words she spoke to him up to then.

he almost ran to her side as she doubled over. One hand over her mouth, the other used to help keep her upright. He frowned, not sure what she was getting at with her question. What kind of response she wanted, or needed, to hear. For their own safety, for the next few months perhaps, they were trapped by her single declaration. He was going to stay, play the part of the loving husband returned to his wife, but they would be a couple that had grown apart while they were separated. At least, that was his hope.

''What did you ..............expect?''

He could hear the walls that dammed up her emotions starting to crack. She was looking back at him, still bent over. Now, he could clearly see the fury she held in check bursting out. Every twitch of her body was evidence of how much she was trying to stay in control.

''I did my best on my own. Fuck you if it's not nice enough.''

In a seeming instant, she was there right in front of him, fistfuls of his shirt anchoring her so she could look directly in his face. At close range, he had to not only fight his instincts to retreat, but his instincts to fight back against the threat that loomed in front of him.

The words were almost snarled with the ferocity contained within them and the woman who spoke them. ''....And I don't remember asking you to share my bed.''

He heard the crack from the woods, he went stiff as she had. It could have been a dead fall, or some lurking. No predator would have made such a sound, and few prey animals would have been this close to humans in the open. He did his best to behave as though it was nothing, but the normal fear of strangers was a necessity of life. He caught the smell of her as she closed on his mouth. He thought for a moment she was going to kiss him, but he quickly pushed that fantasy aside.

''In fact when I was putting this shit together, you weren't even a dirty thought honey!''

Brett forced himself to relax, to ignore whatever was stomping out in the forest. If it meant trouble, it would have happened not long after the noise was made.

"Yes, it may be good enough for just you, but there isn't just you anymore is there? When did I say that it wasn't your best? All I said is that for both of us, it's not going to do the job. Stop being so fucking sensitive about things. I am trying to help, to make the place better for us, OK. It has served it's purpose in keeping you out of the elements. Now it's time to upgrade."

He took hold of her wrists, holding them firmly in place. "And what did I expect? I expected to meet the strong, brave compassionate woman who still held a small flicker of hope in her heart that helped make things better for others." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You know how heart warming it was to know that you still loved your husband after so long apart?" His voice returned to the normal volume. "I hoped that I would find you flourishing some where, happy with your new lot in life, even when harbouring certain hurts."

He pulled her hands away from his shirt, releasing her wrists. "Did you think that was the first thing on my mind? 'Does he think this means we'll fuck, since he's my husband?' Guess what? I don't want to share a bed with you as you are right now, even if it meant no sex. Hell, right now, I am so horny I'd fuck anything that moved, and a majority of things that didn't if I was stupid enough. But as horny as I am, I'm not fucking you unless you want it, and are clear about it. Got it? I'm not a fucking rapist, never have been, never will be."

He stepped closer, crowding her with his closeness. "You fucking well put me here. If I try and leave now, I'm dead, and you'd probably be dead not long after. So stop piling all your crap, anger and other stuff on me. Anyway, not all of your shit is because of me, and what I have done. Yell at me about what I did, but you get your shit together and deal with the rest of it. If you try and take it out on me, all I can say is don't. Remember, we need each other if we're going to survive, and look like we're married. Given the way we're fighting, I'm sure that people will believe we're married."

He took two steps back, and looked at the fire. "I think we should eat, and get some rest if we're going hunting tomorrow. It's going to be one hell of a busy day."

It came then with a torrent of cold words that struck and punched holes in Mia's almost permanent anger. The words that were spoken were more imposing because of their quietness, and she hated him for the advantage he had over her in knowing her better than she knew him.
She cursed Mathew and the letters to him, and then felt guilty for it. ''Mathew's'' honest stripping down of her retaliation was efficient, and she embarrassed because Mia knew most of what he'd said was true.

"You know how heart warming it was to know that you still loved your husband ......''

He had no right to having a view on how she felt about Mathew. In truth if he'd minded his own business, he would have had no right to know she loved anyone at all.

''Guess what? I don't want to share a bed with you as you are right now, even if it meant no sex.......''

Her face actually felt as if it had been scalded. And as he backed away from her, Mia backed away from ''Mathew'' also, until the heat of the fire behind her confined her.

''I'm not fucking you unless you want it, and are ............''

It just kept coming at her, in waves of words that were as effective on her as little blades whipping at her skin. He had no right to even bring mention of any kind of intimacy between them, much use it to shame her.
She hadn't done what she'd done maliciously. But she was sorry she did it now. Not because it left her and him stuck together...but because right then , at that very second, she wished Delmar had him.

''.............going hunting tomorrow. It's going to be one hell of a busy day."

Mia looked down behind her at the pot of simmering stew. Her stomach lurched, and she inhaled deeply against the nausea.. The hunger was gone, but the need to vomit was strong.
She turned her back to ''Mathew'', squatting down, and stirred the stew, inhaling deeply a few more times until she trusted her stomach more.

What had she done? She had in a moment of nothing only preservation, and the natural instinct to see no one harmed, bound herself to a man who she couldn't bare to look at , because he reminded her of what he'd taken from Mathew. And she'd given him Mathew's name. The sting from that truly caused a deep hurt. Mathew had been a good man..a good husband...a man she loved easily and willingly. But this man...this ''Mathew'' - all she could see in him was the man that took what she'd left for her husband , and now used it to cut her down.

''I'm not hungry.''

Rising, Mia grabbed the empty water bucket, and went back to the lean-too and found the two tshirts she'd wanted to wash earlier. Stuffing them into the bucket, with a clean but colorless towel and bar of soap, she came back out and took a long breath, closing her eyes as she tilted her face upwards to the last of the evening sun.

She didn't want to be this woman ''Mathew'' spoke of. Didn't even really know her. She missed the woman that had thrived on the satisfaction she derived from her work, and her interest in people. How had she lost her? When? Did she want her back? And why? Was it because she had been the woman ''Mathew'' had wanted to meet, or because Mia was just tired of resenting everything that breathed.

Fuck him!

Looking over at him, she couldn't find one reason why she'd stood and listened to him, and not defended herself against his views...his opinions. Deep inside she knew it was because the truth had hurt, but so had hearing it from someone that had had no right to know it. No right to speak it. He didn't know her. He only knew parts of her that belonged to another man!

She slowly closed her eyes looking away from him, and felt her stomach growl in objection at the smell of the food again. Being around him left her resentful, hatefully so, and she was now weary enough of him not to want to risk another argument. Weary of hearing more caustic reminders of how she should be..used to be. Was, with Mathew.

**

The water was icy cold, and stung her face as she dove in. The pond was deepest furthest away from Mathew's stone, and Mia was glad. There was enough coarse growth in bushes blocking the view of his stone from the far side, and she didn't feel reminded. The tshirts were steeping in the bucket of water, soaped down and scrubbed. ..as too were her socks and the tshirt she'd worn down. Her jeans she'd dove into the pond in, and pealed off herself beneath the water, and soaped them as she stood shoulder deep and washed them.

She would love a bottle of shampoo. Something with apples or cocobutter. How long had it been since she'd been washing her hair with bars of soap. Soap that was hard to get, and lasted so little when it was used for washing her clothes too. Friday. Maybe Friday a shipment of supplies might have reached the town, with something other than Palmolive soap.

The water around her was milky soft, despite the cold, and she flung her jeans over to the grass. She swam off some of the tension in her shoulders, and threaded water in the middle, and just let herself think, as she rinsed soap from her hair.

He was only a man. ''Mathew''. He was only a man, and yet to her, he represented everything she could be angry with. His intrusion..his use of her letters...his honesty, his .....his sheer physicality.
Was that part of why she was so easily anger around him..and part of why she'd not allowed Delmar harm him?
It was a question she didn't want to answer. Mathew had been the only man that she'd wanted. Looking at another man had never been needed nor indulged on. So why had she done what she'd done? Or was it just the resurfacing of a patch of her nature, that had her lie to try keep someone alive?

She dove beneath the water again, the splash a crack of noise and Mia held her breath beneath it, until her temples hurt and the need for air was the only thought her brain could process. She didn't think of ''Mathew'' then as her lungs felt as if they were about to burst, and she broke the surface gasping loudly , her chest paining her.

''Aint she reaal nice. ''

Delmar then barked at one of the men behind him, nodding towards the path back up towards the tower..

''You watch for him...I'm gonna have some fun with this bitch''..

Mia allowed herself sink a little lower in the water, until her nose was just above the level, and she watched Delmar, and the two others. Her eyes darted to the one moving to the path, and then back to Delmar and the other guy. She remembered the snap of something moving about in the trees close to her and ''Mathew'' earlier, and Mia knew their arrival at the pond only confirmed that she and ''Mathew'' were indeed being watched. Delmar pointed his gun at her and smirked ..

''You get over here now, or I'll shoot you first, an' do you later''..

Mia inhaled slowly and deeply, watching him. It was dark enough now that the water was almost black. A bullet would travel pretty quickly through water, but only if its firer could see her. She kicked upwards, and literally pulled herself back beneath the water, using her hands to pull against the water, and she was beneath the surface as the first bullet whipped past her face. Then she kicked to strike out towards Delmar.

Bullets riddled the water. She knew ''Mathew'' would hear, and in the still of the evening, maybe even Brosnan down the mountain.

Shot after shot sliced in the water, and she could hear Delmar's muffled roar at one of the guys to ''Shoot that fucker if he comes down''..

Grabbing the loops in the patched military styled trousers he wore, Mia pulled hard as she lurched upwards to grab him,- toppling him over her into the water.
The other guy actually ran back into the bushes. That stunned her as Delmar spluttered to the surface and Mia grabbed for his gun. Everything was awkward, with churning water, no ground beneath them, and a fury to keep above the water leaving them working against one another. But she managed to grab hold of his wrist and aim at the guy about to shoot at them from the pathway, and she shot at him three times until he fell, squeezing Delmar's finger against his own trigger.
Delmar was too strong to release the gun, but he was struggling with the weight of his clothing and boots in the water...and Mia started to scream at the top of her lungs. She clambered up on him, pressing his head beneath the water as he punched and struck her with the gun, he resurfacing. Her lip was bleeding, as she slapped back at him, knocking the aim of the gun to the side as a shot rang out, before she managed to wrap her legs around his chest, pulling him back beneath the water as she screamed and screamed......

Brett felt an emptiness eating away at him inside as he saw Mia's reactions to his words. She had thrown her hurt at him without any reason or need. He merely stood up for himself, or so he thought. her reactions tended to tell him otherwise.

He followed a dream, a hopeful fantasy that he would find something worthwhile in the mess of the world he was now living in. He found evidence of a woman who carried a spark that warmed him from years before. Stuff found in letters written to another man. Brett had grown attracted to that woman, not in a sexual way. Well, that letter still brought him some rather wicked images and dreams, but reality had removed those from him fairly quickly. But he was attracted to the woman who stuck to her beliefs, who held onto that something that made people more than the animals that he encountered so frequently. But somewhere, she lost that spark, as stopped being the woman he had been looking for.

She had turned her back on him, ignoring him while she looked at the cooking dinner. He could feel the tension in the air. It was the enormous brick wall between them. Every attempt to break it down merely added to it, making it stronger. He had little idea of what was going through her mind, how she was truly feeling. He started to take a step forward, so he could offer her an olive branch. They needed to live together, and the way they were, that was not possible.

''I'm not hungry.''

He didn't even bother to continue with his plans. Her tone spoke in greater strength, depth and detail than the few words she used. Her every action told him that she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted to be alone, away from him and all the hurt he seemed to cause her. He stayed put, not wanting to get in her way as she moved around her home with a sense of determination that was fueled by her current emotional state. He turned his focus to the food he was going to eat, making sure that it didn't burn. He took deep breaths, enjoying the aroma of the simple meal. There were herbs and spices in there that he couldn't pick out, but they definitely added something that hinted at a pleasantly different taste to the dish.

He watched the food cook, stirring it from time to time, letting the heat work through the contents of the pot. When it smelled like it was finally ready, he took the pot off the fire, giving it a good stir to make sure it didn't burn or stick too much as the pot started to cool. He dug out his mess kit, spooning out a little of the food before taking a small taste. "Ohhhhh... Mia, this is great." He spoke softly to himself, out of the habit he acquired as he moved alone through the wilderness. He managed to get another spoonful into his mouth when he heard the gunshot.

His dixie hit the ground, spilling the stew over the ground as he raced for his rifle. He snatched it up, getting it ready as he ran as fast as his feet could carry him. The sounds of rapid firing made him slow down. There was only one type of prey that required that many bullets. The other thing that made him slow was the direction that the sounds had come from. It was near the place where they had first met. Brett felt the emotion drain from him, his senses sharpening as he slowed his progress. This was a combat zone, and a clear head was one that wasn't blown off so easily. The dusk was making it hard to see threats that may be hidden in the forest about him.

He didn't hear the words, but he heard the intent as well as enough to know who was speaking. The spike of adrenaline at that point was what probably saved Brett's life. He saw the slight movement of the rifle coming to bear. By the time Brett saw the muzzle flash, he was already close to the ground, the bullets flying over his body deeper into the forest. He scrambled on one hand and his feet, changing his position and hoping the shooter was not well trained. Brett looked for the shooter, thanking God that the man had not moved. He shuffled himself around, coming into a low kneeling position, with his head close to the ground. When finally set, he bent himself straight and fired a burst at the shooter. Over the roar of the weapon, he heard the distinct sounds of bullets tearing flesh, along with the screams of the man going down.

Making the most of the moment, he moved down the path in a crouch until he came to the body of another man who had been gunned down. He barely slowed enough to confirm the status of the corpse before he continued to the sound of the fight in the water. He saw Mia, partially naked, struggling to hold someone submerged under the water. The rifle wielding assailant was lashing about with his weapon, but Mia was batting it away.

He ran to the water, plunging into the numbing water. He thrust his hand into the water, finding some clothing. He grabbed it and yanked the body out of the water, throwing Delmar onto the ground. Without pausing, Brett stomped on the wrist of his rifle carrying arm. The snap of bones breaking filled the quiet of the clearing, before Demlar's cry of pain.

"Some big man you are, you fucking cunt! Couldn't take on a lone woman single handed? Had to bring some buddies along to make sure that you could do it? Well, you useless piece of shit, you made you last fucking mistake." Brett dropped his knee into Delmar's back, adding at least one rib to the growing collection of broken bones. "That's my wife you tried to rape, prick."

Brett thrust his hand into Delmar's lanky strands of hair, more dragging than guiding the redneck away from where Mia was in the pool. Every time Delmar tried to resist, Brett paused long enough to kick him in the body, or leg, then continued to drag him into the undergrowth. He threw Delmar against a tree face first. Before the wounded man had much time to react, Brett rammed the barrel of the gun against the the base of his skull, and pulled the trigger. He stepped back, letting the body drop to the ground. He looked down contemptuously on the corpse of the man who attacked Mia, then started to walk back to the pool, before breaking out into a run.

Without thinking, he dropped his rifle at the water's edge before embracing Mia tightly. With her wrapped in his arms, he brought her out of the water, dropping them both to their knees beside his rifle. He pressed her tightly against him, fighting back tears as he held her. Brett finally allowed the terror of the event to sweep over him. Mia came close to being killed, raped or both. He was screaming at himself for not being there to protect her.

"It's ok, Mia. You're safe now. You did well holding him off as long as you did. Dear God, when I heard you screaming , all I could see was terrible images of what could have been happening to you. But, you're safe now. I wont let -"

The sounds of crashing through the woods nearby got Brett reacting on instinct. Mia found herself roughly thrown to the ground on her belly. Brett picked up his rifle, and stepped between her and the sounds closing on them.

"Name yourselves or the body count goes up!"

"It's Bronson here, Mathew!" Bronson's voice cut through the din with ease. "Friendlies approaching, we're coming in slow, weapons are up." The sounds became softer, but the fact that they were humans was clear. A long minute later, Bronson and three other armed men eased out into the clearing. Only then did Brett put his weapon up.