“Moms, have you seen my blue sweater? You know, the one with the v-neck.”

Helen Belden smiled at the blonde tornado tearing through the bedroom, a swath of destruction in her wake.

“On the chair, dear. You set it aside last night so you wouldn't pack it.” The previous day had been a whirlwind of shopping, laundry, and planning. The packing had lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, and no one had enjoyed more than a few hours of sleep.

Trixie accepted the garment from her mother with a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Moms. I don't know what I'd do without you.” After an impulsive hug, she resumed throwing the last of her articles in a suitcase and began tidying the items she was leaving behind.

Helen took the old pair of fuzzy white bedroom slippers that always stayed at Crabapple Farm out of her hands. “Just leave this, honey. I'll take care of it.”

Trixie paused, then frowned. “But you have to pack, too, Moms.”

“Our flight doesn't leave until late this afternoon. I'll have plenty of time to run around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Her daughter sniffed. “As if! How do you stay so calm and organized? You never look as if you're in a hurry.”

“Oh, I don't mind the packing and cleaning at all. That's the easy part. The time it's best to stay out of my way is five minutes after we leave. Just ask your father!” she said in reply to Trixie's incredulous expression. “If I were a betting woman, I would lay odds that Peter has already asked Matthew to have one of Madeleine's relaxants handy for the take-off. It drives him crazy when I try to figure out what I've forgotten.”

Trixie picked her jaw up off the floor. “He slips you pills?”

“I didn't say they were for me,” Helen responded cheerfully. Trixie sank weakly to the bed. “Your father learned early on that it was easier to change his outlook than mine.”

A vision of Peter Belden sprawled in the luxurious Wheeler jet, listening to psychedelic folk music and staring dreamily into space, soon had Trixie in stitches.

“Moms!” she protested. “No! I'll never be able to--”

“Be able to do what, honey?” Peter Belden appeared in the doorway.

Trixie snorted violently in an attempt to stop laughing. “Nothing, Dad.” Lips twitching, she rifled through a pile of CDs on her desk until she found the one for which she was looking. “Here. Save it for...” she paused as fresh giggles erupted. “Save it for after take-off.” She gave him the disk and patted his hand before darting into the bathroom, where both parents could still hear her laughter.

“What was that about?” a mystified Peter inquired. “Or do I want to know?”

Helen mimicked her daughter and patted his hand. “You know what they say, Peter. Ignorance is bliss!” With a serene smile, she glided past him to check on the boys.

The household was almost finished with a filling pancake breakfast when they heard the honk of a car horn. Shovelling the last bite of pancake in his already full mouth, Mart scrambled to his feet. “They're here! Hurry up!”

Trixie was already in the porch scrambling into her jacket and boots. Brian and Dan were close behind, creating utter confusion as the four struggled with the winter gear and their luggage.

Leaving her laces untied and her jacket undone, Trixie pushed her way back to the entrance of the kitchen, where her parents stood. She enveloped them both in a fierce hug. “I hate to leave!”

Helen nodded, not trusting her voice. Peter gave her an extra squeeze, then a gentle push toward the door. “We'll see you soon,” he promised, his normally steady voice just a little shaky.

The chorus of goodbyes was quickly replaced by the excited greetings of their friends. Jim rushed to Trixie's side, eager to carry her luggage. He frowned in confusion when he saw that she held only an oversized shoulder bag, and then in irritation as he saw that Dan was loaded down by considerably more than his own suitcase.

“I'll take those,” he offered, but Dan was already at the vehicle. Jim fished for the keys to the top-of-the-line Cadillac Escalade and unlocked the back, grateful that the vehicle boasted plenty of storage space.

The girls watched in amusement as the guys jockeyed for the coveted front passenger seat. Brian was the victor, elbowing his way to the prize. Dan and Mart shrugged in resignation and took over the middle captain's seats.

Diana arched a brow. “I take it we're in the back, then.”

With a giggle, Honey gave her a gentle push toward the vehicle. “It'll give us a chance to talk. And, we'll change seats at lunch, right guys?”

“Oh, sure, sure we will,” Mart agreed. He nudged Dan and continued in a stage whisper. “You and I will trade with Brian and Jim.”

“I heard that,” exclaimed Trixie, with an indignant sniff. “And personally, I think one of the girls should be the next driver.”

“I have no intention of driving this monster!” Diana stated firmly. “I barely drive, now that I live in the city. I'll leave it to someone else, thank you very much.”

Honey nodded. “I'm planning on enjoying this trip. I'd rather not drive, either. Besides, why would I want to drive when I can sit back, relax, and watch the men get totally lost and refuse to ask for directions?”

“True,” Trixie admitted. “That is always fun.” She smirked as four annoyed males glared at her. “But I am not spending the whole trip in the back seat. Understood?”

The men nodded, and the girls edged past them to get to their seats.

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?” Mart muttered to Dan.

Trixie “accidentally” bumped his head with her shoulder bag, smiling sweetly. “Then it's a good thing I 'possess' all the snacks Moms sent.”

Mart groaned in defeat. “She's got us, Dan. There's no arguing with home-made cookies.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “She had us from the minute we got in the vehicle. If you weren't her brother she would have turned her feminine wiles on us and charmed her way into whatever seat she wanted.”

“Feminine wiles? She has those?”

“Well, even if she doesn't, Honey and I could have had you in the back seat faster than you could eat a handful of the Nuts 'n Bolts we're holding ransom,” Diana informed him tartly.

Eyes twinkling, Dan turned to Mart. “Did you hear that? She wants to get you in the back seat! Not bad, man!”

He was promptly smacked upside the head by three indignant women.

“That is not what I meant!” Diana protested, face flaming.

Muttering to Honey about fighting fire with fire, Trixie withdrew an icing sugar donut. “Mmmmm.” She closed her eyes, as if the mere touch and smell of the donut were heaven. She increased the volume on her second moan of anticipation, capturing the full attention of all four males. Honey and Diana fought desperately not to giggle as their best friend slowly and deliberately licked the icing sugar, allowing it to coat her lips.

In the front seat, Jim was torn between watching the road and studying the suddenly captivating scene taking place in the back seat. Brian's eyes widened in horror as he watched his baby sister seduce a food product. Having seen Trixie perform several variations on this theme, Dan was somewhat inured, but found that it was harder, much harder, to keep his observations professional when they weren't at work. Like Jim, he found it nearly impossible to draw his attention away from her full, pouting, suggestive lips.

Ever so slowly, Trixie raked her tongue over her top lip, meticulously collecting each tiny crumb. There was complete silence as each person in the vehicle gaped. Trixie took a slow, deep breath, closed her eyes, and gave a tiny sigh as she prepared to take her first bite.

Mart, whose attention had been focused on the donut the entire time, snapped. “Okay! I give! You girls can sit anywhere you want. Just leave the donut alone!”

Brian agreed whole-heartedly. “I never, ever want to see you do that again!” He shuddered. “I won't be able to eat donuts for a year.”

Diana shook her head. “Dan wasn't kidding! You have the feminine wiles thing down pat, Trixie. Well done!”

“Thank you!” Trixie handed the donut to Mart, then dusted her hands. “You should see what I can do with a strawberry!”

There was a loud yelp from the front passenger seat. “Jim! Shoulder!”

They all felt the annoying shoulder safety grids and violent jerk to return to the proper lane. The girls snickered as Jim apologized with a red face. “Sorry, guys. I got distracted for a minute.”

“I bet,” Mart muttered, and eyed the back of Jim's head suspiciously. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Jimbo.”

The girls only laughed harder at Jim's discomfort. “All right,” he admitted. “Trixie distracted me.” He caught her eye in the rear-view mirror. “And if I didn't think it would get me beaten up, I would suggest you bring the food and sit in front with me.” He winked, causing Trixie to flush and duck her head as she pretended to look through the food. The others couldn't help laughing at how Jim had effectively turned the tables on her, even though Brian and Dan made mental notes to keep Trixie out of the front, and Mart resolved to keep the food away from his sister.

When Diana finally stopped laughing, she turned to Trixie with twinkling eyes. “You have to teach me how to do that,” she insisted.

Trixie snorted. “Diana Lynch, you have never needed lessons in the flirting department and you know it. Men have always been putty in your hands.”

A shadow passed over Diana's face so fleetingly that Trixie wasn't sure of what she had seen. “Well, it never hurts to be prepared,” she quipped, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder.

“Have you been dating Boy Scouts again?” Honey asked innocently.

“You two are just awful!” Di reprimanded, but joined in her friends' laughter. Trixie laughed as easily as the others, but couldn't stop thinking about the look on her friend's face. There's something there, she thought. Something going on underneath the surface.

A lively game of “the word that never ends” put an end to her speculation, and before she knew it, it was time to stop for lunch. Trixie giggled as Honey darted past them and hurried into the restaurant in search of the restroom. Stretching her sore arms and legs, Trixie commented, “I vote for Brian and Mart to be in the back seat next.”

Diana nodded. “Sounds good to me! But who would the third person be? As much as I'd like to punish all the guys, they do all have broad shoulders. Do you think three of them would fit?”

Trixie shrugged. “Not my problem!”

Dan surprised them both by coming from behind and placing at arm around each of them. “Ladies, ladies. Problem solved. I will graciously volunteer to sit in the middle, if you'll join me in the backseat.”

Mart frowned as Diana giggled and looked up at Dan through lowered lashes. “We'll work something out,” he interjected, and stepped between Di and Dan.

Dan shrugged, and kept his arm around Trixie. “Don't say I didn't offer.”

“Don't say I did,” Jim joked, but his eyes were even greener than usual.

All tension was forgotten as they headed into the restaurant and sorted themselves out at a large booth. Sandwiched between Jim and Honey, Trixie was reminded of their many outings to Wimpy's diner.

“I think this is why we usually sat at the counter,” Honey commented, as if she could read Trixie's mind. On the other side of the booth, Mart moved even closer to the aisle to make more room Di and Dan.

“No,” Mart disagreed, “We sat at the counter because Mike served us faster than the waitresses. At least, that was my reason.”

“I'm sure it was,” Trixie remarked dryly. “What I want to know is how I ended up in the middle, yet again.”

“Well, you're not alone.” Honey smiled. “I'm in the middle too, aren't I?” She gestured to Brian on her other side.

“And somehow, I don't think any of these guys are a lot smaller than they were in high school.”

“Hello? We are sitting right here, girls. You don't have to talk about us in the third person,” Jim pointed out.

“Oh, but it's so much fun to ignore you,” Trixie teased.

“Well, in that case...” Jim stopped trying to take up the least space possible and bumped shoulders with Trixie, even as he relaxed his legs a little on both sides. “Still ignoring me?” he asked, as Trixie was pushed further against Honey.

Trixie's eyes narrowed, but she was saved the trouble of a witty retort when the waitress arrived with the menus. After enjoying a delicious meal, she found herself staring at the vehicle in chagrined wonder. “How, exactly, did this happen?” she demanded.

Jim shook his head. “I told Brian he could drive, and he asked Honey to navigate. As for the middle...”

Trixie, Dan, and Jim peeked in at Di and Mart, who had both cracked open books and were sitting silently in the middle captain seats. Knowing the seating arrangement was a dream come true for Mart, Trixie gave in.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I will sit in the back. I will sit in the back with you two oversized giants. I will even sit in the middle of the back, between you two oversized giants. But there is definitely going to be some payback.”

Dan rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “When you're involved, Friday, payback is sweet.”

“So, Bobby learned from you, did he?” Jim questioned.

With a snort, Trixie disagreed. “I wish. Bobby is still the master of saccharine-sweet revenge. I have a feeling there are going to be repercussions from the little incident Christmas Eve.”

“What?” Jim finished buckling his seatbelt and turned to Trixie in surprise. “Is he still mad at me? He seemed okay on Christmas day...”

“No, no, not you!” Trixie fumbled, trying to find the piece to click the seatbelt. “On the way home, I wasn't paying enough attention, and Bobby surprised me from behind. I didn't realize it was him, so...”

“So he ended up flat on his back in the snow, didn't he?” Dan took the lap belt from Trixie and smoothly clicked it in place.

“Yup,” Trixie grinned. “Although, he did seem pretty happy when I offered to teach him how to do it.”

Jim frowned, certain that he had heard part of the conversation wrong. “Wait a minute. You took down Bobby?”

Trixie nodded.

“But, he's like, eight inches taller than you!”

She nodded again.

“And fifty pounds heavier!”

“Well, I don't know about fifty, but...”

Jim stared at her, trying to reconcile the petite, curvy blonde beside him with apparent Olympic-level strength.

“It's best to stay on her good side,” Dan informed Jim with a cheerful grin.

“I can see that.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as if I'm some sort of Rambo. I'm not.”

“Um, Trixie, weren't those Franco's exact words?”

“Yes, but be to be fair, he was in a lot of pain.”

“Who's Franco?” Jim asked, then stopped himself. “I guess you can't really answer that, can you?”

Trixie and Dan looked at each other a moment.

“My fault,” Dan apologized. “I know better than to bring up cases, but...”

“But it's nice to be able to talk about our work, for once. To someone not in the business,” Trixie concluded. “It's not a good idea, though. It puts us all in a bad position.”

Dan nodded. “We promised no shop talk, anyway.”

After a short silence, Jim asked, “So, how about that Notre Dame team? Think they'll win a bowl game this year?”

The conversation soon picked up momentum, with Mart and Brian joining in. Trixie took advantage of the opportunity to try to find a more comfortable position, but found that there simply wasn't room for the three sets of shoulders. It's bad enough guys can't sit with their legs together, she reflected. Why do they need such broad shoulders? In a burst of inspiration, Trixie shrugged out of her thick winter jacket and tossed it over the backrest to lie on top of the carefully packed luggage. Without the extra padding, she found that she could almost rest against the back seat instead of Jim and Dan's shoulders. Almost.

“Trix, it's pointless,” Diana interrupted Trixie's squirming. “The three of us girls barely fit. There's no way you're going to find enough room in between those two oafs.”

Trixie winked. “Oh, but I have a plan.”

Diana marked her place in the book and peeked around her seat. “A plan? I like the sound of that!”

Watching Jim out of the corner of her eye, Trixie elaborated. “The other day I was doing some reading on,” she coughed, “interrogation techniques. For no reason, of course.”

“Of course,” Diana agreed.

“It gave a brief history of techniques used over the years. You've heard of the rack, right?”

Diana shuddered. “Of course.” She frowned. “You don't have a rack, do you?”

“No. I won't need one. I think if we use the reverse idea, we'll get the job done.”

“We're going to make them shorter?”

“No, just narrower.” Trixie threw herself back, forcing Jim and Dan to make room. She then proceeded to lean heavily against Jim, ramming him against the side of the vehicle.

“Hey!” he protested, but she continued to apply pressure.

“What do you think, Di? Does he look any narrower yet?”

Giggling at Jim's waning patience, Diana shook her head. “No, but he does look more frustrated. And does he usually have a throbbing vein in his forehead?”

From the front seat, Brian called, “Play nice, kids!”

Jim took advantage of the distraction to break Trixie's hold on him. Hands firmly on her shoulders, he lifted her far enough away to regain his original spot on the bench, plus a little more. As Trixie sputtered in outrage, he drew her back against his chest, his hands never leaving her shoulders. Trixie continued to struggle, but Jim refused to relinquish the upper hand.

“Fine!” she exclaimed, and collapsed against him heavily, deliberately digging her shoulder blades into his chest. “If that's the way you want it...”

Jim's quiet voice tickled her ear. “Oh, that's definitely the way I want it,” he assured her, his hands still on her arms.

Trixie's eyes widened at the implication. I wish Jim and I had been able to get together yesterday, like we planned. We really need to figure out what's going on between us, because this is more than a little awkward.

With a shake of his head, Mart sought to take his mind off the disturbing sight of Jim putting the moves on Trixie, and the even more disturbing sight of Trixie allowing it. “Food, anyone? Drinks?”

As he distributed the requests, Mart questioned, “Trixie? Jim? What can I get for you?”

Trixie shook her head in the negative, but Jim looked up hopefully. With a devilish twinkle in his eyes and an innocent smile, he stated, “Fruit. I think strawberries would hit the spot. Don't you agree, Trix?”

Trixie closed her eyes and prayed that her face wasn't as red as she suspected. Rolling his eyes, Mart rifled through the cooler and tossed food to the back seat.

“Bread and water? Are you trying to tell me something?” Jim questioned.

“Crackers, Jim. And flavoured water. You'll live.”

After a few sips of water, Trixie reached across Dan and set the drink in a cup holder. Teasing her, Dan asked, “What? If it's not Cherry Coke, it's not good enough for you?”

“That's Cheery Coke to you,” she corrected.

“It does improve your mood noticeably,” Dan conceded. “For which I'm grateful.”

“And coffee doesn't put a smile on your face?” Trixie punctuated her question with a saucy smirk and an accusing poke to his ribs.

“But I'm not dependent on it.”

Trixie snorted. “Oh, sure. Don't forget, I've seen you in the morning, staggering around the kitchen trying to make coffee with your eyes closed. And don't think you're fooling anyone. I know you take it in the bathroom with you.”

“Ew!” Diana cried, wrinkling her nose. “Dan, that's just gross! Haven't you heard of E.coli?”

Dan shook his head. “It's not quite as bad as it sounds. It was only once, and I drank it while I was shaving.”

“Oh, sure, you did.” Mart winked. “Good cover story, Dan. I'll have to remember that one.”

“See?” Dan nudged Trixie. “I'm not the only one.”

“I don't think you want to start using Mart as your guide for food etiquette. I really don't,” Trixie warned. “If you're not careful, you'll end up putting gravy on vegetables, and ketchup on salad.”

“The ketchup was an accident, and you know it.” Mart protested. “I thought it was the Russian salad dressing!”

“Did it stop you from eating it?” When Mart failed to respond, Trixie concluded, “I rest my case.”

As if to prove her point, she settled back against Jim's chest with a satisfied smirk and closed her eyes. And because he wasn't nearly as confident as he pretended, Jim hesitantly placed an arm around her. When Trixie's silence continued, Jim turned to Dan in surprise.

“Is she actually asleep?” he questioned.

Dan dropped his gaze to Trixie's closed eyes and slightly open mouth. Noting her deep, even breathing, he replied, “It looks like it. To tell the truth, I'm surprised she lasted this long. Unless we're working a case, she's pretty much incapable of staying awake in a moving vehicle for any length of time.”

“Really?” Jim frowned. “That doesn't sound like her at all.” He cautiously smoothed away the blonde strands that persisted in floating up to tickle his nose. “I always thought she was too curious to sleep. She needed to know everything that was going on.”

Shrugging, Dan explained. “It's probably more of a self-defence mechanism than anything else. When we're on a case, sleep can be hard to come by. Her body makes up for it by sleeping when it can.”

Jim nodded. “It makes sense, I suppose. I've just never seen her this quiet before.”

“It won't last long,” Dan assured him. “When she wakes up, she'll be her spunky self again.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jim looked down at the peaceful face and wild curls spread on his chest. “I kind of like her this way.”

Hiding the roll of his eyes behind a book, Dan turned back to his reading and was soon engrossed in the latest advancements in the field of home-made explosives. The vehicle grew quiet as Mart, Di and Dan read. In the front seat, Honey and Brian spoke occasionally, content in each other's company. As Trixie shifted to lay her cheek on Jim's chest, he closed his eyes and rested.

Lightly dozing, Trixie thought she was aware of the vague shapes and shadows of the passengers in the SUV. A soft smile crossed her face as she focused on the shifting shapes of her friends. Comfort and peace washed over her as she turned her thoughts to the firm chest she lay against. Suspended in the foggy world between slumber and consciousness, she breathed deeply and freely. Gradually, though, the euphoric sensations were replaced with prickles of foreboding. She stirred uneasily, trying unsuccessfully to wake. The interior of the vehicle darkened as a mist rolled through, and instead of the vague shapes of her friends, all she could see were darker patches within the grey mist.

And the mist seemed to be more than just vapour. With growing horror, Trixie shivered as a wisp drifted closer, and curled around her throat. She could feel a malevolent power drawing nearer, choking the life out of her. She raised her hand to her neck and fumbled to grasp the something ... the nothing that was causing her breath to catch.

Without warning, the dream that had consisted mostly of drab colour, burst into a cacophony of sound. Unfamiliar thoughts crowded into her mind, shocking and confusing her. As they came crashing around her, one on top of the other, Trixie couldn't distinguish the individual ideas. There were simply too many voices. As the volume and frequency of the foreign thoughts increased, Trixie grew desperate. With an effort that sapped her strength, she pushed back; tried to remove herself from the ringing nightmare of sound.

To her horror, she found that she couldn't move. Her arms were trapped, held to her side by a force with unwavering strength. The more she struggled, the more firmly she was held in place. As could only happen to Trixie in a dream, panic set in, and she flailed in desperation, with no thought to the injuries she would likely be inflicting on herself.

She awakened suddenly, new voices ringing in her ears. Staring around the vehicle in confusion, she tried to reconcile the grey images from her dream with her closest friends. As she stopped struggling, the voices calmed, and Trixie realized she was now hearing the familiar voices of her friends, not the horrifying thoughts that had echoed in her mind.

Chest heaving, Trixie realized that even those voices had stopped. Not one person in the vehicle spoke as they stared at her in wide-eyed surprise. Searching their faces, she saw shock in most eyes, and tears on Honey's cheeks. With a start, she realized that Brian was no longer in the driver's seat, but was between Mart and Diana's seats, cautiously taking her pulse. She forced herself to regulate her breathing, and flicked Brian's hand away in irritation.

“I'm fine, Brian.”

Brian's bedside manner appeared. “Of course you are. I think the rest of us would feel better, though, if we knew you weren't having some sort of stroke.”

She rolled her eyes, but thrust her wrist in his direction. “Why are we on the shoulder?” she asked, watching the traffic speed past.

Brian focused on Trixie's pulse and watched her carefully controlled breathing. Ignoring her question, he checked her eyes and noted with satisfaction that they appeared alert and focused.

It was Mart who responded. “It seemed like the prudent course of action to reduce our forward momentum while ascertaining the well-being of the passengers.”

Trixie glared at him. “I told you. I'm fine.” Beside Mart, Diana shifted positions. For the first time, Trixie noticed how pale she was. Remembering Honey's tear-streaked face, Trixie frowned. “What's going on here? I had a bad dream. No big deal, right?”

“Right,” Brian responded wryly. “Try telling that to Jim's nose.”

Trixie whirled to find Jim backed into the corner of the SUV, pinching the bridge of his nose with a fist full of bloody tissues. She stared in horror at the blood dripping freely over his upper lip and trickling down his chin.

“Jim!” she exclaimed. “What...how did...” She looked around the vehicle in confusion.

Jim tried to catch her eye, but was hindered by his need to keep his head tilted forward. “Trixie.” He waited until he was fairly certain he had her attention. “I'm fine. When I realized you were having a nightmare I tried to hold you still.” He started to shake his head, but stopped as he felt the flow of blood threaten to return. “It turns out you didn't want to be held.”

Trixie remembered the horror of the seemingly innocuous tendrils of mist reaching for her. “No, I didn't want to be held,” she repeated after a moment's thought. She shook her head, hoping to rid herself of the dream. “Jim, I am so sorry. I can't believe I hit you.”

Jim dismissed her apology with a wave of the hand that held a box of tissue. “It's okay, Trix.” He awkwardly attempted to pat her arm, but missed and ended up patting the seat above her shoulder. “No real harm done,” he assured her.

Mart snorted. “Thanks to Dan. If he hadn't stepped in, Jim probably wouldn't have a face left.”

Trixie turned to find Dan sitting quietly. To the casual observer, he appeared calm, but Trixie could see the tension in his carefully controlled posture.

“Dan?” She watched him swallow and deliberately release his tension before meeting her eyes.

He shrugged. “I just talked to you until you calmed down.” At Trixie's raised eyebrow, he continued. “And caught your hands before you could claw Jim's eyes out.”

Trixie was still more shocked than embarrassed. Although Dan would never question her publicly, she could feel him trying to read her eyes.

“That must have been some nightmare. What was it about?” Mart asked, even as Diana nudged him in an attempt to halt the potentially upsetting question.

“I don't remember,” Trixie lied, and smiled weakly. “I am sorry, though. It looks like I've created quite the scene.”

Sniffling, Honey made her way to the back seat to give Trixie a hug. “You had us worried. Are you sure you're okay?”

Trixie nodded against her friend's shoulder, and Honey turned her attention to her big brother. “And what about you?” she questioned, handing him a clean tissue as she removed the bloody ones.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You're acting like I have a concussion. I'm fine! I've had worse injuries, you know.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Brian nodded. “Like when Mart spiked the volleyball into your face. Or when you hit your head on the ceiling going up the stairs at Mr. Maypenny's. Or the time--”

“Right.” Jim interrupted. “I've been hurt worse before, and I'll probably be hurt worse again. It's no big deal.”

“If you don't mind, though, I'd feel better if you rode in front with me. It's probably a good idea for you to be able to see out the front wind shield,” Brian recommended.

Jim hesitated, looking at Trixie, but she nodded to the front. “I'm fine, Jim. Go.”

He continued to hesitate until Honey shooed him forward. “Listen to your doctor, Jim. I'll stay here with Trixie,” she promised.

After the passengers found their seats, Trixie leaned back and marvelled at how much bigger the back seat seemed with Honey in Jim's spot. Taking advantage of the extra room, Trixie leaned back and tried to relax. As her mind calmed, she became aware of various aches and pains. She stretched her neck, hoping to soothe the crick that was limiting movement. A sharp tension headache was uncomfortable, but she knew from experience that it wouldn't last long. She stretched each muscle of her body slowly, thoroughly, noting the discomfort in her hands. I must have hit him pretty hard, she reflected grimly, and turned her hands over to inspect them. Just as she suspected, the knuckles of her right hand were red and swollen. Then why does my left hand hurt just as much? She frowned and took a second look at her hand. The knuckles were untouched, with no visible marks or bruises, but the discomfort continued. With a growing sense of dread, she slowly turned her hand palm up.

The imprint of a cross stared back at her, causing her stomach to clench. A deep shudder shook her, and she hastily rolled her hands into fists despite the pain. Beside her, Dan draped an arm around her shoulders in what appeared to be a loose hold, but actually provided a great deal of warmth and support. Trixie looked up to meet his dark eyes, and knew that he had seen or guessed most of what she was feeling. Chewing her bottom lip, she wordlessly accepted the bottle of water he passed her, and hoped that they would be able to make sense of the mess in which they had landed.