Woohoo, and yet another part in this LONG-ASSed story. Well... will we have an entry from the heart tomorrow? Who knows?

Love you, friends. And thanks for stickin with this even tho it's not my usual scintilating conversation. *winks*

Shrugging slightly, Marx looks to her as he guides the boat under Narrows Bridge, heading further North. His eyes are cold and hard, his voice carrying a heavy, bitter note.

"That was my house that blew. And there was no reason for it to. Something bad is going down and the last place you want to be is in the middle of it. I'm taking you back to the ship yard. It's best that you're not with me if whoever was behind that catches me."

Catherine turns her eyes to the dark waters as the boat carries them past Point Defiance. She works the problems over in her mind, her face remaining impassive. marx continues to pilot the custom craft his eyes never resting in their vigilant inspection of the Sound. One thought alone echoes through the ordered halls of his mind.

Where's Thomas?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf whimpers softly, licking Kyra's face. his tail thumps excitedly against the solid platform signalling his happiness at being free of the harness. She grins, laughing brightly at the attentions, as Kyra removes the rest of the coccoon and harness from her husky. Matthew watches her for a moment, nodding at his thought as he turns back to watch Michael's trek up the ladder.

She's a good choice for you, Mike. And she blows Joanna right out of the water.

As Michael pulls himself up onto the platform, Kyra slides back against the trunk of the tree, tugging Wolf with her to make room for the men. She takes the time to finally examine her position, gasping softly at the intricate design of the tree house.

The platform wraps a third of the way around the massive redwood, extending a full 12 feet out from the trunk. Another level, two feet above the first, wraps another third of the way around the mountainous tree. A third level, this one six feet above the first, completes the journey, overlapping the base platform. A large, padlocked footlocker rests against the trunk near the lip of the middle platform.

Kyra frowns slightly as she examines the footlocker, her back still against the trunk of the tree. She quickly shakes her head, turning toward Michael and Matthew. Soft laughter flutters from Kyra's throat as Michael picks his brother up in a hearty bear hug.

"Damn, Mattie. It's good to see you. how the hell are you?"

As Michael sets his brother back on the sturdy platform, Matthew crumples forward dopting an exagerated posture; that of an 80 year old man. "Demmit, Mike. Til a minute ago I was great... No my back's broke."

Kyra laughs brightly, her eyes sparkling with joy. Wolf jerks away from her, barking happily at Michael, then turning his canine attention to Matthew. Thehusky jumps back with a soft yelp, his tail low and ears laid back. He trembles slightly, sniffing at Matthew while a soft whimper describes the dog's confusion.

Michael turns a questioning glance to Kyra, then looks between Wolf and Matthew. Kyra shrugs, confusion in her eyes. Before she can speak, both Matthew and the dog freeze in place, as if listening to some new threat. Matthew swears softly, pointing to the upper platforms.

"C'mon. The helo is comin back. We gotta get up to the top level."

Matthew grabs Kyra's pack from its perch, moving with surprising speed to the next platform. He pauses, looking from Kyra to Michael, frowning as they remain in place. "Hurry!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the third time, George sets the handset back into its craddle, growling at the lack of response. "Where the hell is she?"

He pushes back from his desk, once again beginning to pace. His steps carry him back and forth, prowling like a caged tiger along the well-worn track before his window. George grumbles continually, epithets pummelling the broad expanse of glass. He punctuates each turn with an explosive slap as his closed fist meets his open palm.

Turning back to his desk, George releases a long, growling threat. "I swear, on the blood of my Nephew, if anything happens to her, I'll take it out of Thomas' hide!"

Further threats are cut off by the sharp ringing of the hpone on Stratfield's imense desk. He makes a lunge, grabbing the handset before the first ring stops.

"Kyra? Where the HELL have you been!?!" He barks the question into the mouth piece, growling audibly at the response.

"Uh... I'm sorry, sir, but this is Maggie." There is a long pause, then the timid voice continues. "Sir, there is a Sherrif Volkenwold here to see you. He says it is an urgent matter."

George settles himself slightly, bringing the memory of the rotund officer to the forefront of his mind. Nodding to Maggie's repeated question, Stratfield grumbles his reply.

"Yes. Send him up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra pulls herself to her feet, calling wolf to follow her. Keeping close to the trunk of the tree, she climbs easily to the second platform. Kyra gives only a cursory glance to the various trunks and foolockers scattered across the ten-foot-wide platform. She notices, with no little irritation, that there is no railing for this level either.

Michael follows her, speaking softly. "I'll be alright, Kyra. I won't let anything hurt you." As a mental note, Michael whispers within his own mind. Ever

Matthew smiles to himself at his brother's words, already on the third level. His own voice reaches out from the opposite side of the tree. "We've got two minutes, guys. ONce up here, keep low."

Michael moves to the edge of the upper platform, waiting to assist Kyra. She pauses a moment, looking from Wolf to the four-foot jump. She pats the padded floor, speaking softly. "Up!"

With a simple springing leap, the large dog lands lightly. He turns quickly, backing just a little as he watches his mistress. Kyra frowns slightly as the thumping whir of chopper blades brushes against her ears.

Michael, still waiting for Kyra, finally places his hands at her waist, giving her a slight lift as she hops up and back onto the third tier. She turns her eyes to Michael, meeting his gaze. For a breathless moment, Kyra freezes in place, unable to move. A thrill of tingling apprehension, pleasant in its warmth, races through her body. Michael begins to move his upper body forward, Kyra slowly mirroring the hint of dancing intimacy.

Matthew's voice reaches through the haze of tender, budding desire. "I hate to break up this Kodak moment, but Michael... Get your ass up here and clamp down the canope. They're almost on top of us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marx guides his Stingray into the slip, just south of Naval Submarine Base at Bangor, powering down and rocking comfortably as the boat settles a little lower into the water. He turns to the back of the boat, motioning for Catherine. As she makes her way back, Marx extends his hand, assisting her in disembarking. With a faint frown, her voice reaches out to him, a slight less steady than her previous timbre.

"Why here? Why not Bremerton?"

Marx turns from the small dock, pausing half a moment before returning to the wheel of is craft. "Because, Lieutenant, Whoever set off my place probably knew you were there. Thus, we could be met in Bremerton. I can't take that chance."

Marx folds his arms over his chest, his stature that of a brick wall. A slight growl of irritation pulses briefly from the Lieutenant's throat. As if giving up, Catherine turns, making her way along the unstable ramp up to a seemingly less stable pier. Before getting too far, she turns, extracting a small card from her left hip pocket. She extends the card between two fingers, waiting until Marx takes it from her.

"If you need anything, call that number." Again she turns to leave, pausing once she reaches the pier. "Stay alive, Colonel."

Marx nods once, briefly, pocketting the cel number as the engine purrs to life. Without another glance, he pulls away from the slip, once again guiding his boat with deft hands.

Catherine stands on the pier, watching as Marx slips into the near dark. She grumbles to herself, turning to make her way across the dilapidated pier and to dry land. As she attains solid ground, Lieutenant Stevens turns her thoughts inward. A faint sigh of relief washing over her as a swollen moon peeks from behind angry clouds.

You're gonna catch hell for this, Caitty. You know it. You'll be lucky if you don't get written up.

Back into the open Sound, Marx relaxes his rigid stance just a little. His eyes continue their diligent search for hazzards while Marx turns inward.

I'm sorry, Becca. You told me that I'd never grow old..... that my work would kill me. A soft sigh slips from his throat, barely getting past the lump that seems to swell. You got out before it got bad, Darlin. I hope you're livin well. I hope you're happy an' that you've got a husband who really cares for you. Better than I ever could. Marx frowns once again, guiding the large Stingray further up the Sound. His last thought echoes through the empty night, spoken in a hoarse whisper.

"I'll always love you, Becca. Always."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~