Cassandra cuts photographs from the newspapers and pastes them into a scrapbook. They are never flattering, and most of them are the same anyway. They show an ugly man with a doughy face, and an expression veering from condescension to arrogance. It's Maybourne's likeness, but there is no sign of the quirky smile that can animate Harry's entire face, no trace of the wicked humour that loves to probe and to tease. She searches in vain for understanding in those eyes, but cuts the pictures out anyway and keeps the album in a drawer where no one will see it.

      At night, she sleeps fitfully. Sometimes, he's there and the dreams comfort her as they sit and talk with his arm resting lightly around her shoulders. Other times, her dreams scare her. She doesn't have the words to describe what she feels when he kisses her; it is too raw, too elemental to compare with anything she's known before.

      Is it love? And if it is, why does it hurt so much?


* * * * *

Kantele's dreams are confused, some nights they merge with O'Neill's, sometimes they are separate. He sees Sam through too many eyes. She is his daughter, his mother and his lover. In the end though, it is her presence beside him that gives him comfort. She does not yet fully know him, but Kantele knows her and he loves her.


* * * * *

Somewhere in the dark, a child cries. "I want Daddy."

      "Daddy's not here, Princess. He misses you too."

      "Daddy doesn't want me any more."

      "Yes, he does. Here, hold my hand and pretend."


* * * * *

      O'Neill dreams of a child chasing butterflies through a woodland glade. She laughs and giggles in the shafts of sunlight, but whenever he reaches out to touch her, she vanishes as though she was never really there.


* * * * *

      "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

      "You make me happy when skies are grey,

      "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you,

      "Please don't take my sunshine away."


There is a sequal Truth and Consequences.

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