The screen faded to black about ten minutes ago but I'm still staring at it, unable to take in everything that I've been told. She'd laid it all out for me, concise, precise and very scientific. She wouldn't be home tonight… There'd been an accident at the lab. Someone had dropped a vial… A vial, which held a rare form of some disease or other… She'd mentioned the name but I can't remember it now, it seems somehow irrelevant.

A careless mistake she'd said. Three of them had been exposed including her, and they wouldn't know anything for forty-eight hours… There was a vaccine of sorts, but it hadn't been tested – that was what they had been working on when it happened.

'Some people have a natural immunity', she'd said… whether to try to comfort me or not, I don't know. 'But we won't know for forty-eight hours, that's the danger period.'

I'd just stared at the screen, the pure fear written over my face reflected in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Nathan… I'm so sorry…"

"Kristin, I need to see you."

"You can't. We're being kept in complete isolation. I had to threaten someone just to make this call and it'll be the only time I can talk to you."

I felt cold… Unconsciously I'd put my hand against the screen in an effort to touch her and she closed her eyes for a moment, almost as though she could feel the warmth of my palm on her cheek. When she opened them again they were bright with unshed tears. "I love you, Nathan. Always remember that."

"I love you, Baby." I whispered. "Kris…"

"Be strong, Nathan."

"How will I know if…?" My composure was strained beyond breaking point and I couldn’t finish the question.

Her answer had been straight to the point. "In forty-eight hours, I'll either walk through the front door or I won't, and then you'll know."

I'd wanted to say so much but found myself too choked to speak, watching as she kissed her fingertips and touched them to the screen.

"Forty-eight hours…"

And then she was gone.

Suddenly everything I wanted to say had come rushing to my lips and I tried to re-establish the connection, only to be told that the line was no longer available.

How do you live when each second lasts a minute, each minute an hour, and each hour a day? You do it because you have too. Because those forty-eight hours become precious… they become your life.

How do you survive? You survive on hope… Hope that maybe this time it will be all right. This time…

Unknowingly, you have lived those forty-eight hours before, countless times… blissfully unaware… Forty-eight hours and your son is gone... Forty-eight hours and your wife is gone… But this time… Maybe this time would be different. A fleeting thought… Only if my luck changes. But is it my luck or is it theirs? I don't know… I just hope and pray that I'll be able to hold it together for… forty-seven hours…

A voice stirs me from my melancholy thoughts. I have to get ready… The ball game… Lucas… It should be Lucas and Kristin… it was planned that way.

I sit in the stands and I'm vaguely aware of a game going on. I hear the people around me shouting and hissing. Someone to my left is cursing the umpire… I feel like grabbing him by the collar, telling him that it's only a game, that it doesn't matter… it isn't important, but then I realise that under normal circumstances he could be me, and I remain in my seat.

The crowd is on its feet and cheering, someone must have done something right. Mustn't worry Lucas… Get up – that's it. Cheer with them. Go through the motions. Somewhere in my head I hear a voice, a familiar female voice asking what all the fuss is about. Telling me that our addiction, is something that girls play back home and without the hoop-la. They call it…? Rounders – that was it.

I've spent hours trying to explain to her that it isn't the same, there's national pride at stake, but she always gives me her 'oh pleease' look and a sympathetic 'Yes dear' smile. I know that she's only teasing but somehow I always take the bait. God, I wish she was here now.

Two days… why did it sound like a lifetime? Because it was, for her anyway – and maybe for me too… How would I go on without her? I shake my head to free it of the unwanted train of thought and look at the clock on the scoreboard. She told me at 5:12pm… Forty-three and one-half hours…

A half-smile comes to my lips unbidden as my mind wanders back to my earlier thoughts. She does the same thing with football, asking why American males found it necessary to put on all that protective clothing just to play rugby? The men at home didn't wear all that paraphernalia – they were real men.

I smile again as I remember the day that I'd countered her argument by bringing up cricket. Commenting that at least 'we' hadn't dreamed up the perfect game to put the spectators to sleep. And how come the English were so bad at a game they'd invented? She'd retaliated by saying that at least other countries all over the world played the game – more than could be said for American Football, and she'd stressed the word American, and rounders, sorry – baseball. The banter would go on all through the drive home until finally we'd call a truce – until the next time.

From a long way away I can hear Lucas speaking to me and I pull myself back to the present. The game is almost over and everyone is getting ready to leave. He asks if we can stop off for something to eat. Food is the last thing on my mind but the prospect of going home to spend the night alone is even less appealing and so, I readily agree.

I'm not sure how I do it, but I manage to follow Lucas' conversation over the meal, which I put in my mouth, chew and swallow on automatic. Ask me in an hour what the score was of the game or what I've just eaten and I won't know. I only know that she should be here with us, laughing, teasing, asking inane questions about baseball when she already knows the answers… Hell, right now I'd even settle for an argument and Lord, we've had some doozies. "Yes Lucas." "No Lucas." "No, Kristin won't be there when we get home, she's going to be tied up at work all weekend." Well, it's essentially the truth… isn't it?

I let Lucas drive us home, telling him I'm too tired. He accepts that, he knows that I've been putting in all the hours God sends, on the new boat. Time that I should have spent with Kristin but always thought there would be plenty of. I know now that it isn't necessarily so… Still, letting him drive was a good idea. There's no way I'd be able to keep my mind on the road… probably end up in a ditch or something.

"Sir, are you coming in or are you planning on sleeping in the car tonight?"

I'm grateful that it hasn't dawned on him that I didn't fall asleep in the car – something that I usually do – but not tonight. I'm reluctant to move. I don't want to go into the house, smell her perfume… see her things scattered around.

"Cap', are you alright?"

Taking a deep breath I nod and climb out, accompanying him inside. It's dark and empty, just like my life will be without her. I feel my insides clench in response to my thoughts and quickly turn on the light. Sure enough, there are little reminders of her everywhere but it isn't as painful as I thought it would be. It's comforting in a way… She'll be back, her things are here, this is her home… she has to come back.

Forty hours… Lucas has finally gone to bed and I guess I'd better do the same. God, I'm tired… past tired… But will I be able to sleep? Somehow I doubt it.

I move through the bedroom without turning on the light. I can't face it just yet, so I head determinedly for the adjoining bathroom and the shower, hoping that the warm water will ease some of the stress from my body – it doesn't. Sighing, I dry myself and put on some clean under-shorts before returning to the bedroom and switching on the lamp on my side of the bed.

As I turn back the covers my hand comes into contact with her night-gown: The white, lacy one that I bought her for her birthday. I remember when she opened it… She'd looked at me and asked if it was for her or for me. I had feigned ignorance and she smiled and said that I hadn't really bought it for her but for myself, so that I could see her in it. She was right of course, and it had looked wonderful, clinging in just the right places and incredibly sexy, but then she could make even a UEO issue jump-suit look sexy. I hadn't been able to keep my hands off her that night, making love until the early hours. When we were finally sated, she had snuggled up to me and whispered in my ear, 'See, I told you it was for you.'

I slide down between the sheets and try to get comfortable, closing my eyes and praying for sleep to come and rescue me from my torment for a few hours.

An hour later and I'm still lying here, staring up at an unseen ceiling. When I close my eyes I can see her beautiful face. I can remember every detail, feel every contour in my mind as my fingers caress her cheek, her lips… I can see her eyes looking back at me… So kind, so gentle, so loving… I want to hold her, kiss her; make love to her. I need to see her and it scares the hell out of me that I may never get the chance again.

I wonder what she's doing right now… Is she sleeping? I doubt it. Is she as scared as I am? Does it hurt her to know that she may never see me again? I feel a tightening in my chest… I don't want her to hurt and I can't bear the thought that she might be scared… scared and alone…

Throwing back the covers, I jump from the bed and almost run to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, before looking at my reflection in the mirror. Someone, stares back at me with haunted eyes… Is that really me that I see? Yes… Is this what I'd be like without her? Yes.

I hold onto the wash basin to steady myself and then grab my discarded shirt and shorts, pulling them back on before going for a long walk on the beach.

It could just as easily be the moon for all I care... I can't see the ocean. I can't feel the sand beneath my bare feet. I just can't feel… It's like being in some sort of trance… neither living nor dead, just existing. I realise with sudden clarity that whatever happens with Kristin will determine my fate. Will I ever feel alive again? I'll tell you in… thirty-seven hours.

God, I'm so tired… Wearily I make my way back. One step at a time that's the way… It's almost as though I've forgotten how to walk. I'm having to concentrate really hard just to stop myself from sinking to the sand and fading away.

Eventually, I'm walking back into the bedroom, undressing, climbing back onto the bed and pulling up the covers – it's all so much effort. Will it always be this difficult without her? Probably…

I'm desperately trying to settle. I've never noticed before, how big and lonely the bed is. Funny, it always seemed too small 'til now. How many times have I woken in the night to find myself right on the edge with Kristin snuggled tightly against me? Sometimes having to put one foot on the floor just to stop myself from falling out. Or, having to get up and walk around to sleep on her side because it was empty.  What wouldn't I give to be lying here now, with her hair tickling my nose? Or to be half on my stomach, feeling the weight of her body as she uses my back for a pillow, her leg splayed over both of mine, pinning me beneath her.

The vivid memories are causing tears to well in my eyes and I squeeze them tightly shut… No, not now… If I start to cry I won't be able to stop. I'll cry the next thirty-six hours away and that won't help either of us. My hands are clenched into fists and I can feel my nails biting into the flesh of my palms as I fight for control and finally achieve it, albeit a tenuous one.

In my distress I find that I have gravitated to her side of the bed and I grab hold of her pillow, hugging it tightly before I at last fall into a restless sleep.

It's morning… I lay here with my eyes closed not wanting to wake up. I feel terrible. It's almost like a really bad hangover but I wasn't drinking last night. What was I doing? Slowly I struggle towards the surface. There was a ballgame and Lucas… and dinner. Kristin couldn't make it for some reason… Forty-eight hours… Forty-eight hours, the words keep echoing in my head. Oh Christ!

I reach out for her but she's not there and reality comes flooding back. She's… I feel suddenly disgusted with myself. Kristin is alone, not knowing if she is going to live or die and I'm sleeping through it… I actually slept while she… My stomach lurches and I know that I'm going to be sick, so I fly from the bed and dive into the bathroom.

How the hell could I do that? How could I sleep so peacefully while Kristin…? I throw myself back onto the bed, noticing for the first time that the sheets and pillowcases are soaked with perspiration… Maybe, it hadn't been such a peaceful sleep after all? Somehow that makes me feel a little better.

Struggling to my feet I once more make my way into the bathroom, before stripping the bed and changing the linen. I determinedly keep my eyes off the clock. I don't think I want to know how much longer I have to hold it all together.

When I finally pluck up the courage to look, I'm surprised to find that it's after 11:30. Thirty hours… just thirty more hours and I'll know.

Taking a few deep breaths to compose myself I head to the kitchen to see what Lucas is up to. The house is quiet, which is very unusual. I find a note on the table that explains it.

Tim and Miguel stopped by. I didn't want to wake you so I've gone with them to the Mall. They mentioned something about going down to Pensacola for the rest of the weekend. I'll call later to see if it's okay. Give my love to the Doc when you see her.
   Lucas

If I see her. Maybe some coffee will help? I reach out to pick up a mug and my hand is shaking badly. It would be easy to blame it on exhaustion but I know what it is – the stress is getting to me. Put me on a submarine and no matter how serious the situation, I can cope, but when it comes to someone I love, and I do love her deeply, I fall apart. I'm scared, I don't mind admitting that to myself. I'm afraid of losing her… Of never again being able to hold her. Of never having her arms around me, to comfort me when I need it. And God, I need it now. Of never feeling her lips on mine, her hands on my back caressing me as we make love long into the night.

Never again feeling the joy of joining my body with hers, the overwhelming desire or the perfect peace of holding her in my arms when all passion is spent, wanting it never to end.

I am brought back to reality with a jolt as the hot coffee which I had forgotten I was pouring, spills over my hand and a word that I would never dream of using if others were in the house, escapes my lips. I reach for a cloth to mop up the mess I've made and in a moment of pure despair I hurl it back into the sink, watching the liquid splash up the tiles.

Grabbing for the back of the chair to support myself as I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, I notice that I am breathing heavily – almost hyperventilating.  "Christ, I can't take this… I can't…" I yell to no one and then I close my eyes tightly and try to calm down once more, convincing myself that there's still hope.

I need some fresh air.

I haven't got very far. I had intended to go for another long walk but instead I find myself sitting on the beach just outside the house and making patterns in the sand with my finger. Looking up I see Darwin playing just off shore. The sight has a calming effect and I quickly strip off my shirt before making my way into the water to join him.

It's a mystery to me how he can gauge my moods, know exactly what I need. There's only one other person on the entire planet, who can do that. Carol never could but she can… I remember asking Darwin once how he did it, and he'd tried to explain it to me in his own unique way… "Darwin love Bridger. Bridger love Darwin. Darwin a part of Bridger. Bridger a part of Darwin. Darwin know."

When I mentioned it to Kristin she'd said that it was a bond – a very special bond – that only ever happened very rarely… Something to be treasured. But it has happened to me twice. Does Kristin feel it too, I wonder, then realise that I already know the answer, it's there in her eyes every time we make love… She'd said it was a bond that could never be broken even if the people who shared it were separated, maybe even in death.

I know the first to be true, God knows we've been apart often enough. But I find that I have no desire to discover if the latter is also true. A fresh wave of grief and fear washes over me, leaving me cold and trembling. I feel lost but then Darwin swims by and brushes against me, shaking me out of my melancholy. I play with him, but my heart's just not in it. Darwin senses it and after a while he brushes against me one last time, before swimming away.

Sadly, I make my way back to the beach and sit down heavily on the sand, staring out to sea. Something else that usually relaxes me, but not today… I feel… I don't know what I feel. Apprehensive… Worried… Very, very lonely…

I need her. I need to speak to her. Hear her tell me that everything is going to be all right. She can lie to me if necessary - I don't care. I just need to hear her say it.

My hands are clenched and full of sand. With an effort, I will myself to open them… I have to calm down or I'll go crazy, but it's getting harder and harder. The sand slips through my fingers and it is oddly soothing. Once more I have control – for now… For now…

Twenty-six hours… I've showered again to remove the sand and now I'm getting annoyed. I can't find my favourite denim shirt. If Lucas has taken it, I'll…

The bedroom looks like it's been ransacked, and it has. All my drawers are pulled out, the contents spilled over the floor and the bed. I've been through my side of the wardrobe twice. I've looked in the laundry hamper, the clean washing and the ironing – nothing.

I'm not usually this irrational over my clothing, but today every minor annoyance has become a great drama. I want my shirt, damn it! I've got others, dozens of them, but that's not the point. I've returned to the closet for the third time and I'm going through all my clothes again without any luck. My anger gets the better of me and I slam the door. The force causes it to bounce back at me and at the same time, the other door comes open… Kristin's door…

All my anger evaporates as I reach out to touch the dresses hanging there, running my fingers lovingly over each one. In my mind's eye I can see her wearing each of them, even remember where… My gaze drifts to the shelves and a sad but resigned smile crosses my lips. There, nestled amongst her blouses, is my missing shirt. I shake my head – I really should have known but for some reason, I'm not thinking all that clearly today. For all the clothes she has, and she has a lot, she's always 'borrowing' mine and 'forgetting' to return them.

I slip it from the pile and hold it to my face, breathing in her scent. She says that wearing my clothes makes her feel safe. Safe…

The feelings that flood my body are so intense they drive me to my knees and suddenly I'm on the floor, clutching the garment tightly to my chest, gently rocking as my body is wracked with dry sobs. God, I'm losing it. I'm really losing it…

My attention is caught by something under the bed and my curiosity seems to bring me to my senses. I slip the shirt on, not bothering to do it up and move forward on my knees until I can slide my hand under and retrieve it. It's Kristin's earring. I'd given them to her a few months ago, 'a special gift for a special lady' I'd said, but she'd lost one.

She'd been so scared of telling me because she knew they were expensive and so damned upset at losing it that she'd cried in my arms for almost an hour and I'd begun to wish that I'd never bought them. If I'd known how distraught she'd be I wouldn't have. She'll be so pleased when I give it to her - I can almost imagine the look of happiness on her face. As soon as she comes in, I'll… if she comes in.

I couldn't stand it at home on my own a minute longer, and so now I'm sitting in my office at U.E.O headquarters and trying to get on with some design work. I would have gone to the boat but I don't trust myself there – my concentration just isn't up to the challenge.

I'm past the twenty-four hour barrier and I thought that it would get easier but it hasn't. It's still hard, so damned hard. I'm staring at the plans in front of me… my plans, my schematics, my designs, but they might as well be written in Sanskrit for all the sense they make.

I find myself debating the ironies of life. It's Saturday evening; I'm alone with my work. There's no-one vying for my time and nobody waiting for me to be somewhere else - I can return home whenever I like. My head is suddenly filled with snatches of the arguments that Kristin and I have had about my hours.

I remember the terrible words that we've traded over the past months. Telling her that my work was important and not only to me, in my mind that made it paramount. Sacrifices had to be made and if my home and social life were two of them then so be it.

Now, I wonder how I could ever have thought that. I'd just taken it for granted that she'd always be there waiting for me, no matter what. Maybe she would have, I don't know… But it was still wrong. Why should she be? It was her life too, and not just my own that I was putting on hold. And as for my 'take-it-or-leave it' attitude… I know that I'm usually out-on-my-feet when I use that argument, but what right did I have to behave like that? I feel disgusted with myself now, but now could be too late… What the hell have I been doing?

I've been given another chance… A woman has come into my life, who I love more than I have ever loved anyone or anything and I've practically thrown it away for the sake of a boat – a boat that two years ago I didn't give a damn about. Where were my high and mighty principles then?

I argue with myself that seaQuest IIis more important now for world stability. Well, that's a pretty big ego you have there, Bridger. Yes, it's important but not at the cost of everything else.

It really hasn't occurred to me, what I'm doing to her. Not true. It has occurred to me somewhere deep inside but I've always ignored it until now. Maybe I should have just broken off the relationship, it might have been kinder? But, God, help me, I love her and I need her beside me. It can't be too late…

My thoughts are racing away. If I had paid more attention, given up a little of my precious time to share it with her then perhaps this wouldn't have happened. Kristin has been throwing herself into her work lately, probably to compensate for not being able to spend time with me. Could it have been her who dropped the vial? She didn't say.

Don't do this, you don't know what happened. When she gets home I'll spend more time with her, I promise. Just let her come home. I can't believe that I was prepared to throw this relationship away. I'd vowed to myself at the beginning, that this time I'd get it right, but instead I've stuffed it up even worse than the last. "Damn it!"

My fist smashes down onto the desktop and I watch in fascination as the pens and pencils leap up into the air before falling back to almost their original positions – the storm over. But the storm inside me won't be silenced that quickly. It would be so easy to break all these new promises… Keep them for a few weeks before lapsing into old habits… Like all those New Year resolutions that blow away in the wind. Not this time. If she… when she comes home, things will be different… They will.

Well having accomplished nothing except some serious soul-searching, I'm now back home, sitting on the porch and staring out to sea. Impressive huh? When I'm at home, I want to be at work and vice-versa, but at least I've stopped pacing – for now. I'm sitting in her chair with a very large whiskey beside me. I tried so hard not to give in to my craving but it's like Kristin… the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did. So now I'm nursing a drink and thinking of her. I really should have eaten something first and I'll probably pay for it later but my stomach is… is… I feel sick… and scared… and tired… and lonely – business as usual, I suppose.

It's just started to rain but luckily, the breeze is blowing away from the house and not towards it. I don't want to add wet to my troubles. My mind returns to another evening… Funny, it's been doing that a lot in the past few hours. Its way of coping I suppose.

<< I'd finally managed to wangle an evening off, Lucas was out with the guys and I wanted nothing more than to just relax and unwind – but she had other ideas…

When she'd suggested going for a walk along the beach I'd been disappointed, but I'd foolishly said that it was her choice what we did and I had to suffer the consequences.

"But it's going to rain." I'd whined.

"So?"

"So…" She had that resolute look in her eyes. "So, nothing…" I'd finished moodily while reluctantly getting up from my comfortable chair.

And, I'd been right… We'd walked about half-a-mile when the Heavens opened. "I told you." I stated smugly.

"A little rain never hurt anyone, Nathan Bridger."

"Perhaps not, but this is more than a little and it'll be just my luck to catch a cold."

"You can't catch a cold from getting wet – that's just an old wives' tale." Seeing my doubting look she mumbled. "Pneumonia maybe…"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I groused.

"No. Pneumonia actually makes you feel worse."

She had her hands on her hips and her 'don't mess with me, I'm a Doctor' look and no matter how I tried I just couldn't help it…

Kristin had leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Thank God for that."

"What?"

"I've finally made you smile, you old grouch. Now, can we please go home before we catch our deaths?"

I'd pulled her to me and kissed her soundly, before laughing all the way home.>>

How is it that she can do that to me? No matter how angry, preoccupied, tired or miserable I am, she can always make me smile. I'm smiling now, just thinking about it.

The rain is getting heavier and the wind seems to have changed direction, so reluctantly I stand, pick up my empty glass and move inside. I consider replenishing it and drinking until I pass out, but I know that's not an option, no matter how much I'd welcome it. For the thousandth time I wonder how Kristin is doing, if she's okay… God please let her be okay.

I'm dreading going to bed and waking in the morning will be even worse. Tomorrow is going to be hell…

Hell came sooner than I expected. I went to bed in quite an optimistic frame of mind, considering. Perhaps it was the effect of the triple whiskey on an empty stomach, I don't know, but the same phrase kept running around in my head… No news is good news. No news is good news… If nobody has called, then she has to be okay. On that note I'd fallen into an almost peaceful sleep.

Now it's 3:00am. I've showered and I'm standing in the kitchen making toast and drinking milk to settle my stomach. Perhaps, drinking my way to the bottom of the bottle would have been a better option after all.

My dreams turned into nightmares and my fragile peace of mind has shattered into a million pieces. I'd convinced myself, well almost, that Kristin is all right because I haven't heard anything, but in my dreams I'd relived Carol's last moments in vivid detail. It had reminded me that illness can be sudden and death unexpected, then Carol had turned into Kristin…

I'd woken in a cold sweat, my stomach churning – drinking after hardly eating for over a day, really isn't a good idea. How many times has she told me that? So now I'm making the meal that I should have eaten earlier but I still don't want it.

Why is it that toast can sometimes be the perfect solution and at other times, it tastes like corrugated cardboard? Tonight it was definitely the latter but I force it down anyway, whether it will stay there is open to debate.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, having eaten half of what I'd made. I just couldn't eat anymore. Periodically, my hands start to shake and I clench them into fists in an effort to control them. It's no use… My nightmare has left too deep an impression and there's nothing I can do to still the tremors of panic that assail me. I wish that I had someone to talk to… to share this with… but whom? Lucas – No, after all he is just a boy. Bill? No, he would tell Janet and she'd want to come over and sit with me. I couldn't bear to be fussed over.

Kristin's daughter… Well, maybe I should have contacted Cynthia, but why put her through this? The waiting is tearing me apart and I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy, let alone her. No, best to keep it to myself until I know for sure.

I am at a loss to know what to do with myself. I know that I can't spend the next thirteen hours just sitting here. It's the middle of the night and I should be in bed, but I don't want to sleep. If the bad dreams return I'll lose my mind… I know I will.

What I want to do is speak to Kristin. I need to see her to reassure myself that she's all right. I wonder if she's awake too? She could be sick by now or maybe not. I don't know. I just don't know… I just wish that… A snatch of a poem has suddenly sprung to mind – I have no idea why…

If wishes were horses,
Then beggars would ride.
The truth of the adage
Can scarce be denied;

A paradox, though,
In this proverb lies hidden:
The wish of all horses
Is not to be ridden.

I haven't actually ridden a horse in years, imaginary or otherwise and it was something I really used to enjoy. I know why though… Carol couldn't ride - in fact horses scared her. I wonder if Kristin can? It's something I've never asked. God, there's so much that I don't know about her, so much left to learn…

I fold my arms on the table and rest my forehead on them for a moment. My mind is wandering, going off at complete tangents, I know I'm exhausted when that happens. My eyes close of their own volition. I need to rest for a few minutes – just rest.

I'm suddenly alert, something has disturbed me and I don't know what it is. In a panic I look around, my heart hammering in my chest, but everything is as it was. A flash through the window catches my attention, followed closely by a very loud clap of thunder.

I'm up out of my seat and halfway to the bedroom before I come to my senses fully. I'd been going to check on Kristin, to make sure she wasn't frightened. I'd found out some time ago, to my astonishment, that she was afraid of thunderstorms.

Wearily I retrace my steps, feeling for the first time a niggling ache in my back and I check my watch to see just how long I'd been hunched over the table – only an hour? It seemed much longer. Going back into the kitchen I pour myself yet another glass of milk and go out onto the porch to watch the lightning as it dances across the sky.

The storm rages for over an hour and I find myself envying it. If only I could do that… Release all the tension and fear I'm feeling in one huge tempest and then experience the perfect calm afterwards, but I can't. I have another ten-and-a-half hours to endure.

It's getting so much more difficult to concentrate. The closer the time comes the more agitated I'm becoming - I can't seem to settle. One minute I'm sitting, the next standing and then I'm pacing – it's a vicious circle that I find impossible to break. I'm going through one emotion after another but the most deeply rooted is fear, plain and simple. The fear that she won't come through the door and I'll be left alone again.

My optimism has faded totally now, it's been engulfed by doubt, and memories - bad memories. I've never been lucky before, so why should this time be any different? Everyone I've loved has died… Robert and Carol, and now Kristin… No dammit, don't give up yet – there are still four more hours to go. Four more hours…

My head is throbbing painfully – the ache caused by the constant stress. My stomach is turning somersaults and I daren't eat anything, drinking is difficult enough. I've taken a couple of painkillers and now I'm laying on the bed and trying to rest, but it's no use… I just can't keep still.

In the end I return to the beach. The storm is long past and the sun is trying to shine… I know how it feels. I occupy myself by searching the debris to see what the tide has brought ashore, not caring how far I stray from the house but making certain that I'm wearing my watch, so I can be back at 5pm, even though I'm scared to death that I'll be there alone.

A little over an hour and I'll know… I'll know how the rest of my life will play out. Complete happiness or complete desolation… There's no middle ground I've accepted that. Sink or swim… sink or…

I'm making my way back along the beach towards the house, my feet dragging in the sand and a feeling of dread beginning to close in on me. Looking up, I see a lone figure in the distance and wonder who it could be. Maybe Lucas has come back early? God I hope not, I wanted to spare him. I'm not sure how he will react if the worst happens and I don't think that I can cope with his grief as well as my own. How can I be strong for him, when all I'll really want to do is curl up and die?

I draw nearer and realise with relief that it isn't him, completely the wrong shape and size. But if not him then whom? I don't want visitors… I can't handle it. I think about changing direction but I know it's futile. If I've seen them then they can see me – there's no escape.

Another step, and then another… The figure seems to be closing the distance between us. Whoever it is must be walking towards me… Maybe they have news? I stop for a moment, willing myself to be calm and then start forward once more. It suddenly strikes me as funny that I am now measuring the time in steps rather than hours.

As I watch, the person ahead of me starts to wave… My breath catches in my throat. ~ Kristin? ~ No, it can't be… It's too soon, she said forty-eight hours and it was only forty-seven. Left foot forward, then the right – that's the way… My heart leaps, there's no mistaking who it is now and I'm running towards her. I've never really noticed before how difficult it is to run on soft sand. My anxiety level is decreasing with every step…

She's in my arms and I'm clinging on to her for dear life, not quite believing that she's here and not wanting to let go in case she disappears. I hear her whisper in my ear, just two words… two wonderful words… "It worked."

"Thank Christ… Thank Christ…" I hold her even tighter, if it were possible I'd crawl into her skin, I need to be that close. My lips are travelling down her neck, planting frantic little kisses there, but it isn't enough… It's not enough. I need to feel the warmth of her body to reassure myself that she's alive and well. I'm tugging at her sweater to free it from her jeans. Sliding my hands inside to touch and caress her, wishing that she would do the same to me. And then miraculously she does and I can't smother the groan as I feel her soft hands gently stroking my back, as mine do hers.

My legs are buckling as the enormity of the relief I feel overtakes me and I sink to my knees, bringing her down with me. I can feel myself trembling in her arms and her voice in my ear as she tries to comfort me. "It's over Nathan… It's all over."

The dam I'd built has finally broken and I can't stem the flood of tears running down my face. Tears of relief, tears of joy and fear – so many tears, so many feelings. I suddenly have an uncontrollable urge and my mouth searches for hers and captures it in a passionate and desperate kiss, filled with raw emotion. She returns it in kind until we are forced to break apart to breathe and I go back to hugging her once more.

I have no idea how long we stay that way, just holding each other, but now the needs of my body are outstripping those of my mind and I have to make love to her. Wordlessly I stand, bringing her with me, then taking her by the hand, I lead her into the house and to the bedroom, my need growing with every step until it's all I can think about. I am in her arms again, her lips are on mine and she begins to undress me. All rational thought has fled.

I've decided to take the next two days off. I contacted the UEO and they were less-than-happy about it, but I don't care. I really don't… What are they going to do, court-martial me? I doubt it… Replace me on the project? I'd like to see them try… Would I care if they did? If you'd asked me that a week ago I would have, very much, but I know now what's truly important… at least to me.

I've also solved the mystery of the missing hour. It's so obvious now I can think clearly… I was calculating the forty-eight hours in terms of my life – not hers. I had started counting from the moment she told me and not from the moment she was exposed. It's a reflection of our own selfishness, I suppose, that we measure everything in relation to ourselves and not others.

I sense rather than see, her come up behind me. She slides her hands over my bare shoulders and down my chest, the pleasure so intense I can hardly stand it. I feel her warm breath in my ear as she whispers, "Come back to bed, I want you."

~ I want you too, Baby. You have no idea how much… ~ Just a touch can do that to me now, it's an incredible feeling and one I never want to lose.

Two days… Forty-eight hours in which, a day will seem like an hour, an hour will seem like a minute, a minute like a second and each second is a precious gift.