As the door to the room creaked open, Nick stood tense, his muscles taut with battle readiness. During Desert Storm, he had had many moments like this, when the blood surged from the heart, shooting through every vein, merging with the adrenaline that pushed down the fear, feeding the desire to kill, to survive. Every sense was awakened, sharpened, amplified. He held the bar tightly, ready, always ready.

The smell of perfume preceded her footfalls on the concrete. He almost dropped the bar in relief and surprise as she emerged like an angel from the darkness of the room, a darkness not totally dispelled by the torches on the walls. He peeked for a moment at the man in the next cell. He was asleep.

To him, her steps were achingly slow. Each passing second in her approach was torture. He wished her standing near him then and now, close enough that he could see that small, nearly indetectable speck in the retina of her left eye that he had noticed that very first day he had met her at the Legacy. He needed to feel the heat emanating from her, smell the underlying vanilla of her skin that was never obscured by any perfumes, but mixed into their essence, creating a delicate scent.

The shift flowed around her form, and he realized as she came closer that she was naked beneath. At that moment, after hours - no days - of uncertainty, of fear, of hunger, of being lonely for her, all he wished was to be buried deep inside her, wrapped in her warmth, to be so completely merged with her that he did not have to think of the pain, of the reality of what had to be done.

Then she was standing before his cell, as she had been earlier that morning. She nervously pulled the shift together, as she noticed his penetrating stare that seemed to literally drink her in. She stood silently, her questions stymied in the tension of the moment.

"You came back," he whispered, conscious of the sleeping man in the next cell.

His voice released her from the state of suspension she stood in. Only then, with the catalyst of his statement, did she admit to herself that her rescuing him was not totally an unselfish impulse. That the nagging curiosity, her unsettling need to know who she was had pulled her back to him. "You called me Alex. Why?"

He had only moments to convince her to trust him, to make her remember, or at least, make her believe. "I don't expect you to understand. I know this is probably confusing...but your name is Alex, and you don't belong here."

Even as he said this, she nodded to herself. "I've had this feeling ever since they found me, and I couldn't get it out of my head, no matter how much I tried."

"Alex, do you remember anything of before?"

Although she had been speaking in low tones, as much aware of the other prisoner as Nick was, she now lowered her voice to a whisper even as she lowered her eyes. She could not watch his reaction.

"I saw you many times...in my dreams. We were...together. Are we....?" She could not finish her question, but she did look up then, and caught his eyes.

"Yes. We're lovers...and friends." He stopped, as though unsure whether to go on. When he spoke again, there was a catch in his voice. "Alex, I...I love you. And I know there's no reason for you to believe me, but you don't belong here. You belong in my world, with me...not here...with him."

She shook her head confused. "Where is this world I belong to if not here and how do I get back?" Those were the questions she felt safe with; she did not know how to accept the revelation about his feelings. It was too sudden.

As she stood there waiting for his answer, Nick realized that the moment had come, and he was still not sure what he was going to do. "If you get me out of here, we both can go home, right here, right now." His voice was dispassionate, the heat of his earlier declaration gone with the onset of the cold calculation of what he had to do next. The first thing to do was to get out of the cage, and get his hands untied. And then he could release her as well as himself.

"Do you have the key to this?" he nodded at the cage door. She did a mental jerk; she had been so avid to get here without being caught that she had forgotten to get the key from the guard outside. She shook her head. "No. Wait a minute."

The minute it took for her to go back outside the outer door and rifle the keys from the still-slumbering guard seemed an interminable eternity to both of them, but soon she was back. After trying the first key which did not work, she slid in the second on a string of keys; this one turned the tumblers, and she pulled the door open.

"Now untie me," he said as he turned around. She saw the bar in his hand but said nothing. Her eyes then took in the raw scabbing skin that was just now in its nascent stages of healing after Nick's attempt to break free.

"You're hurt" she said as she used deft fingers and worked the tight knot loose. Soon his bound hands were free, and he gingerly worked the leather noose from around his neck.

"It doesn't matter; we need to get out of here...."

He stopped as her fingers reached out to touch the grooved cut around his throat. The touch brought pain, but stirred dormant emotions as well. It seemed a lifetime since he had felt her touch. He saw the compassion in her eyes and was suddenly overwhelmed. His free hand reached out to touch her face, and his fingers traced a familiar path along her jawline. She did not stop him.

"Alex," he groaned as he pulled her to him, no longer able to bear the small distance that separated them. His lips eagerly found her own.

Her initial resistance lasted only a few seconds. Strangely, she felt an answering need as his arm went around her, and she rested against him, quite unashamed of the fact that he could feel all of her through the light, opened shift. She no longer cared. It was as though she had already found her way home.

Nick finally broke the kiss and let both arms rest around her in a clinch that was vicelike in its desperation. He never wanted to let her go. But then cold reality began to seep back into his awareness. They didn't have much time.

He had no weapon but the bar in his hand, but that would be too brutal. He couldn't do that to her. The only other weapon then were his hands. He kept a grip on her knowing she would struggle and let his lips close over hers again, knowing she would call out. This time his actions were calculated...and sad. He dropped the bar, keeping one arm around her, moving his right hand slowly, slowly up to her neck, ready to squeeze the life from her.

At that moment, two things happened. The sound of the metal hitting the floor awakened the slumbering man in the other cell, and Nick heard a gasp of surprise.

And at the same time, a guard was already coming through the opened door that she had neglected to shut. A passing sentry whose duty it was to walk the quiet halls of the palace and to protect those within the many chambers, had happened on the sleeping guard. When the man would not awaken despite heavy shaking and upon seeing the open door, which should have been locked, he had stepped inside to investigate. His movements had been with stealth as he had not known what to anticipate. He heard the gasping sound of one of the prisoners. And even in the dim light of the room, he saw the man and woman embracing each other before they pulled apart suddenly. But it was too late for them.

He called out and they turned. His heart fell as he recognized the woman, for he knew that when he told Moctezuma of the transactions of this night, there would be sorrow in the castle tomorrow.