Trixie sorted through the fridge and cupboards, muttering as she stacked ingredients on the counter. “Peppers—red, green, yellow ... Check. Red onion ... Check. Celery ... Check. Roma tomatoes ... Check. Tomato soup ... Check. White rice. Brown rice. Wild rice. Check, check, and check. Wow! Honey wasn't kidding when she said Mr. Wheeler had the chalet stocked with food!”

“What was that?” Dan asked as he nosed around the freezer.

“I said that Mr. Wheeler went all out on the groceries.”

“He sure did! I found chicken, shrimp, and...” Dan dangled meat wrapped in butcher's brown paper in front of Trixie's face.

“Not chorizo! I thought we'd be lucky to find bratwurst.”

“It's the real thing,” Dan assured her, and set the meat on the counter.

While Trixie washed the vegetables, Dan set the shrimp in cold water to thaw, and then filled two pots with water, placing them on the stove to heat. As he watched Trixie use the large, razor-sharp kitchen knife with unnecessary zeal, his uneasiness grew. After popping the chicken and chorizo into the boiling water and reducing the heat, Dan leaned against the counter.

“Want some help?” he asked, mostly because he knew her mind was wandering and she was in danger of chopping her fingers along with the yellow pepper.

“What?” She frowned. “No, I'm nearly done.” She looked at the stack of neatly chopped vegetables in surprise, almost as if she couldn't recall preparing them.

“Trix, did Juan...” Dan looked away. “Did Juan hurt you?”

“What? No! I mean, if anything, I hurt him. I'm sure he woke up with one heck of a headache after...”

The dark, hard glint in Dan's eyes receded, but didn't completely disappear. “Good. He had it coming.”

Trixie snorted and wiped down the cutting board. “Looks like he still does. Did you see his bevy of beautiful women?”

“He's travelling in style,” Dan agreed. “I wonder why he's here.”

Trixie scraped the vegetables into the electric frying pan, and faced Dan with a sober expression. “What did Grayson say this time?” she asked.

With a frown, Dan replied, “I'm afraid even our secure line may not be safe. Grayson wouldn't let me give him any specifics, and he warned us against talking to anyone in our unit. You know what that means.”

A cold knife twisted in Trixie's stomach. “Someone on our team has gone bad,” she stated glumly.

“Shoot!” Dan scrambled to rescue a pot which was boiling over. He sighed and checked the clock. “I think the chorizo is ready to be fried,” he said. Expertly slicing the sausages the long way, he placed them in a skillet and liberally applied various seasonings. “The chicken needs to boil for a while yet,” he reminded Trixie when she peeked into the pot.

“Right,” she agreed, replacing the lid. She looked at the containers of rice on the counter. “What do you say we be lazy and make instant rice later?”

Feeling the same sense of urgency, Dan nodded. “As soon as the meat is done, we'll go on the computer. If all goes well, we may still have time to make the wild rice.”

Ten minutes later the chicken, shrimp, and chorizo were well-seasoned and simmering together in the skillet on very low heat. Dan started up the open staircase, but paused when he realized Trixie was following him.

“I'll bring the laptop down to the living room,” he offered, in an attempt to avoid the appearance of impropriety. “You don't need to come up.”

Trixie shook her head and kept walking. “It's not the middle of the night, Dan. A little privacy is probably a good thing.”

Inside Dan and Mart's bedroom, Trixie snorted as she gingerly nudged a path through the carelessly strewn clothing that littered the floor. “Geez!” she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose at a pair of electric blue briefs hanging on the backrest of a chair. “And I thought I was sloppy!”

“You are sloppy,” Dan assured her as he powered on the laptop. “Mart just takes it to a whole new level.”

Trixie shuddered and sat down on the edge of one of the single beds. “If it's all the same to you, I'll use your bed, not Mart's.”

Dan nodded as he fiddled with the internet connection, and then turned to her in surprise. “How did you know which was mine?” he asked.

Trixie paused, looked at the identical twin beds, and shrugged. “I'm right, aren't I?”

Dan bent his dark head over the monitor to hide a grin. “Aren't you always?” he countered, ducking just in time to avoid the pillow she hurled at him. “Watch the equipment,” he warned, and neatly tossed the pillow back to her.

She caught it and held it to her chest as she lay on her back, her head at the foot of the bed. “Well?” she asked. “Are you in?”

Dan watched as the CIA's logo came up. “Here we go.” With swift, unerring fingers, he typed the name Juan Velasquez and waited for the file to open. Glancing back to Trixie, he noted that her head now hung off of the edge the bed, and asked, “What are you? Some kind of bat? One of these days I'm going to attach a rod in our living room so you can hang upside down while we work.”

After sticking out her tongue at the upside down figure of her partner seated at the desk, Trixie teased, “Good idea. You can claim it as a work expense.” Watching the monitor out of the corner of her eye, she flipped over as the screen changed. She kicked her feet restlessly while Dan scrolled to the listings of his recent activities. Not content to wait for him to read the few paragraphs himself and summarize them, she left the bed to peek over his shoulder.

“Vacation?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “He's been vacationing all over the world since...”

“At least according to the agents keeping tabs on him,” Dan commented. “He hasn't contacted any of his old associates, or attempted to start up a business again since we shut him down.”

“Juan's been living in style,” Trixie observed, pointing to his recent locations. “France, Hawaii, Italy...”

“And a harem doesn't come cheap, either,” Dan said, referring to the beautiful women who had been glued to his side at the restaurant.

Trixie shuddered and turned away, trying to conceal her gut response from Dan's concerned gaze. “Well, what do you think?” she questioned when she could trust her voice. “Is it coincidence that we're at the same ski lodge?”

Dan's eyes didn't leave hers. “Would he really follow us? And, if he did, would he be following two CIA agents, or a rival business partner and a...” he paused, “professional companion?”

When Trixie shivered a second time, Dan moved to her side and placed a strong arm around her shoulders. “What is it, Trix? You can tell me.”

Trixie looked down at her hands. “It's silly.” With a sudden movement, she stood and began pacing the small room. “You know how I told you I was feeling, well, more emotional than normal?”

Dan nodded, remembering the night they had watched A Christmas Carol.

“Let's just say I'm emotional again, and leave it at that, okay?”

Dan raised his eyebrows and studied her silently.

With an embarrassed roll of her eyes, Trixie tried to clarify. “I don't know why, but everything is strangely intense. Things I thought I'd dealt with are suddenly ... not dealt with. And it's very inconvenient,” she concluded. “We don't have time for this sort of melodrama.”

She threw herself down on the bed beside Dan, this time with her head under the pillow. He absent-mindedly picked up her feet and began massaging them. There was silence as the two thought about the possible reasons for Juan Velasquez showing up at Pine Point.

At length, Dan released Trixie's feet. “I don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say that it's a coincidence.”

Trixie worried her bottom lip, then relaxed and nodded. “I agree. Probably our biggest concern will be avoiding him. If he sees us...” Trixie shook her head. “What are we going to tell him? You and I aren't supposed to know each other.”

Dan stood and stretched. “We'll think of something,” he assured her, and returned to the computer. “Now, let's see if we can't make some headway on that cross of yours.”

Trixie fingered the chain around her neck uneasily. “The sooner the better,” she agreed. Dan settled himself at the tiny desk while Trixie paced, kicking discarded clothing out of her path as she went.

“We need to find the common denominator for all those men,” she mused, speaking out loud. “We know they didn't all attend the same university. Did they work together? Live in the same town? Belong to a secret organization of conspiracy theorists?”

Dan chuckled at her last thought. “Give me some time, Little Miss Mile a Minute.” He leaned against the inadequate backrest of the chair and laced his fingers behind his head, his long-sleeved black tee-shirt contrasting with the light wood finish of the chair. “Unfortunately, the computer doesn't think as quickly as you do.”

Trixie laughed. “It has considerably more data to filter through,” she conceded.

Her frustration grew as she stared at the meagre information on the screen. “What do these people have in common?” she demanded, but there was no easy answer. She eyed the laptop with menacing glare, willing the machine to give her something to go on. “Good grief!” she exclaimed. “We don't even know where they worked!”

Dan frowned as a new possibility occurred to him. He accessed the CIA's database on the small but dangerous group, Mordem.

He let out a low whistle. “I guess they didn't want to advertise who signed their pay checks.”

“I thought Mordem was a terrorist organization. Why would they need so many scientists?” Trixie pondered.

“I'm more curious about why Saunders was involved in so many of the Mordem operations. Half of the operations were under the direction of completely separate departments.”

“How good is that I.D. Mark gave you?” Trixie asked, chewing her bottom lip.

“Latest technology,” Dan assured her. “It destroys all record of activity on it. Mark said it's the closest thing to being invisible he's found. No one can tell you're using it, and by the time you log out, it's like you were never there.”

Trixie took a deep breath. “I hope you're right. Otherwise, we're going to be in a lot of trouble for hacking into Director Saunders personal files.”

“No hacking,” Dan said. “This I.D. has clearance for accessing any file it can find.”

They stared at each other, both reluctant to engage in job-threatening activities. Trixie fingered the heavy weight of gold around her neck. “Let's do it,” she said simply.

Dan nodded, and they began the unpleasant task of spying on their boss. They wandered through a maze of directories and sub-directories, looking for anything that would shed light on the investigation.

Dan paused, the cursor hovering over a new file. “That's an odd name,” he commented.

“Good Luck Charm.” Trixie frowned and began sliding the cross back and forth on the chain. “That sounds familiar. Where have we seen that recently?”

“Cereal commercial?” Dan joked, before clicking on the file.

They watched as a new sub-directory of files appeared. “Medical reports and journal entries. What is this?”

Dan clicked on the earliest dated journal entry.

Date: I gave the Good Luck Charm to the subject today, telling him that I've worn it for years, and it always brought me good luck. I don't know why I was nervous about it; he accepted everything I said without question. It's regrettable that I have to use him, but it's essential that I know how it operates in the field, and if it will actually be worth the trouble I've taken. It was a wrench to give it away. Even now, I can see it, and feel it. But this is the only way. I have to know if it works, and if it's safe.

Date: No noticeable changes in the subject. His success rate is unchanged. It could be my imagination, but I think the subject is avoiding me. It could be because of my recent promotion...

Date: Grayson's new team seems to be bonding well. Given the number of recent graduates in the unit, their success rate is surprisingly high. Subject appears to have formed a strong bond with the newest members, despite the age difference.

Date: Subject no longer wears the Good Luck Charm openly. I must find a way to track any changes; physical or behavioural. Perhaps it's time for a complete check up.

Trixie began pacing. “I have no idea what he's talking about. Do you?”

“No,” Dan answered in a glum voice. He continued to stare at the monitor, his dark eyes serious.

“What's bothering you?” Trixie probed, accurately gauging his mood.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep his concerns from her, Dan admitted, “I just don't like the death certificates. Why did all the scientists die?” Though neither of them voiced it, they couldn't help wondering if the crosses found on their persons at the time of their deaths were to blame.

The cold knot of apprehension returned, stronger than ever. Dan closed his eyes and raised a weary hand to rub his neck. Without thinking, Trixie began to knead the small knots of worry in his neck as she stared unseeing at the screen. Dan allowed her ministrations for a moment, and then reluctantly brushed aside her hand. Keeping his hand on hers, he protested, “You know I can't concentrate when you--”

“When I what?” Mart asked as he entered the room. He stopped short at the sight of his baby sister in a bedroom with Dan. Eyes narrowed, he asked, “What cooks? I thought you guys were making supper. But when you weren't in the kitchen, I assumed you'd gone out, or were resting. What's going on?”

Trixie gestured to the laptop Dan had hastily closed at the appearance of his roommate. “Research. Sensitive research,” she clarified in response to his piqued interest. “And aren't you supposed to wear a bell?”

Mart raised a sandy brow. “I thought that was only around you and Jim,” he said, as Dan looked up in surprise. “Are you saying you and Dan...”

Trixie glared at him. “I'm saying I'm used to having a little privacy.”

“Privacy?” Mart hooted. “Do I really need to bring up the time you and Di and Honey 'accidentally' forgot to knock before coming in my bedroom?”

“Hey!” Trixie protested. “That was all Honey and Di! Believe me, I have no interest in catching you unaware just to see what you wear to bed!” She shuddered. “I'm still traumatized, you know.”

“You're traumatized? Honey couldn't look me in the eye for months! And Di—”

“Stop right there,” Trixie commanded. “I do not need to know those kinds of details!”

“Come on, kids,” Dan interrupted with a teasing grin. “As much as I'd like to keep listening to you bicker, you're going to give me nightmares about sharing a room with you, dude. Can we talk about something else? Are the others with you?”

Mart shook his head. “Honey and Di wanted to check out the shopping, and Brian and Jim were looking into some reflective strips to put on our clothes if we want to do a midnight ski run. I decided to check on the food.”

“Typical,” Trixie muttered, but Dan was leading them out of the room.

“Time to start the rice,” he reminded her. “Looks like we'll have time for the wild rice, after all.”

Mart's attention was immediately captured. “Rice? Want me to add my signature blend of mouth-watering spices?”

“Don't you mean mouth-burning?” Trixie countered. “No, thanks. I think you'll find tonight's supper will be plenty spicy without your help.”

Mart shrugged. “Suit yourself. Ten bucks says I still add chilli peppers at the table.”

“You're on,” Trixie agreed, and stuck out her hand to shake Mart's.

“What is it with you and bets, Mart?” Dan asked, shaking his head at the vision of what he knew would turn into a memorable meal.

“Hey! My average is at one hundred per cent this trip! I'm just looking to keep up the string of good luck. An easy way to keep up the string of good luck.”

Trixie ignored the barb. “That's right!” She snapped her fingers. “You and Dan won a bet with Jim and Brian to get the room with beds instead of bunks. You really are on a roll,” she said, in an attempt to catch Mart off-guard. “I'm impressed. What was the bet?” she questioned.

Dan put both hands on her shoulders and steered her to the kitchen. “Rice, Trixie. We need to make the rice.”

“Oh, no, you don't. You know I'm going to find out, right?”

Dan shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Now, do you want help fixing Mart's portion, or not?”

Trixie's eyes lit up. “Dan, you are the master.” She laughed at the slightly panicked expression on Mart's face. “Okay. We'll finish making supper. But this discussion is not over,” she warned.

The three proceeded to the kitchen, Mart attempting to supervise the supper preparations. Jim and Brian returned, triumphantly carrying shopping bags containing reflective strips. Struggling with bulky parcels and bags, Honey and Di were the last to enter the chalet.

“Mmm! What is that heavenly aroma?” Honey removed her shoes and placed her packages on the coffee table before doffing her coat.

“That, my friend, is the smell of victory,” Trixie grinned, with a wink in Mart's direction.

Diana's eyes were full of mirth as she handed two boxes and several bags to Mart. “That doesn't sound good,” she teased. “What sort of trouble have you landed in this time?”

Mart sputtered indignantly, even as he carefully set down Diana's packages and helped remove her coat. “No trouble. At least, not for me. Trixie, however, is about to be ten dollars poorer. I hope she can afford it better now than she could in high school.”

“Hardy-har-har,” Trixie retorted. “Just for that, I think we should make the wager a little more interesting. If you can't add chilli peppers to your meal, and eat all of it, you have to tell me about the bet you and Dan won with Brian and Jim.”

“Deal!” Mart responded quickly, while Brian and Jim sputtered.

“You can't do that!” Brian protested.

“What about the Guy's Code of Honour?” Jim pleaded. “Have you no loyalty? No shame?”

“Nope.” Mart grinned. “You'd both sell me out, and enjoy doing it.”

Brian and Jim exchanged rueful looks. “I know I would,” Brian admitted.

Jim shrugged. “I guess you can't be honourable all the time. But, Mart, you better not lose this bet.”

Mart slid into place at the large oak table. “It's in the bag,” he promised.

When Trixie placed Mart's specially prepared plate in front of him, he approached it with the confidence of a man who adds spices first, and asks questions later. With a flourish, he shook a generous quantity of hot chilli powder on the fragrant combination of vegetables, meat, and rice. After a polite nod to the cooks, he loaded his fork with chorizo, rice, and peppers, checking to make sure that the fork was indeed holding every ounce of which it was capable. As six pairs of eyes observed, he popped the food into his mouth.

A single bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Swallowing as much as he could without chewing, he managed to choke, “Good. It's good.”

He drained a glass of milk and used a napkin to mop his perspiring brow. As he hesitated before loading his fork a second time, Trixie asked, “Well? Is it hot enough for you?”

Mart gulped, swallowing the last of the meat. “Just about,” he admitted.

“Good, then.” Trixie smiled, certain of her victory. “You just keep eating, Mart. And save room for seconds—we made plenty!”

Mart winced, but bravely loaded his fork. “Aren't the rest of you eating?” he asked, conscious of the scrutiny of the others.

Diana eyed her plate uncertainly. “Trixie, I like spicy food as much as the next person, but...”

Trixie giggled. “Don't worry, Di. Mart's plate was a custom order. Yours should be fine.”

Everyone took tentative bites, then looked up in surprise. “Wow!” Brian said. “This is really good, Trix! When did you learn to cook?”

“About when I decided I couldn't afford to eat out all the time,” Trixie said wryly.

Jim swallowed, and caught her eye. With a crooked grin meant just for her, he remarked, “I could get used to this kind of cooking.”

Face flushed, Trixie focused her attention on her food, pleasantly disconcerted by Jim's praise.

Twenty minutes later, Mart was surrounded by an almost full plate of very spicy jambalaya, several glasses of milk, and six pairs of attentive eyes. He raised his fork, and then lowered it.

“Trixie,” he pleaded, “what did you put in here?”

With a toss of her golden curls, Trixie replied, “Oh, a little of this, a little of that...”

“Well, whatever it is, I'm not sure it's fit for human consumption.”

Trixie shrugged. “We only used regular spices, right Dan?”

Dan nodded. “That's right.” He tilted his head and said, “Although, I don't think we added quite enough chipotle Tabasco sauce. We only had the one bottle,” he explained.

Mart winced.

“Tell us about the bet, and I'll get you a fresh plate,” Trixie offered, trying not to smirk.

“Oh, no, you don't!” Jim exclaimed.

“You've barely even tasted it! Suck it up!” Brian ordered his younger brother.

Mart closed his eyes, raised the fork, and ignored the stinging of his eyes. In a low voice, he reminded himself, “Spices do not control me; I control them. I am at one with the spices.” With a final burst of courage, he placed the fork in his mouth. His eyes flew open as the well-seasoned vegetables, meat, and rice connected with his taste buds, and his face turned a deep shade of purple. Spewing the contents of his mouth into a napkin, he cried, “I give! I give! I'll tell you anything you want to know!”

Trixie and Dan cheered. “That was way too easy,” Trixie commented, while Dan nodded sadly at the picture of one of his closest friends downing a glass of milk, rivulets pouring down his chin, soaking his shirt and making a mess of the table.

“It's painful to see a grown man reduced to such dire straits.”

“Oh! Dire Straits!” Trixie said. “Did we bring one of their disks along?”

Dan grinned. “Focus, Trixie. You just won a bet. Aren't you going to collect?”

Trixie rubbed her hands together. “Spill it, Mart!” she commanded.

“Wait!” Brian protested before Mart could make good on his promise. “He only has to tell you, not everyone. Wasn't that the deal?”

Honey and Di sighed, but Trixie merely winked, assuring them that she would share the information as soon as she could. With heavy feet and a full glass of water, Mart followed Trixie to the entertainment room and reluctantly disclosed the nature of the wager. Trixie's initial wide-eyed surprise gave way to helpless giggles as she sneaked furtive glances at Brian and Jim.

When they returned to the kitchen, Mart didn't waste any time filling a fresh plate with jambalaya. He studiously ignored the irritated glances of the betrayed Bob Whites, the curious expressions of the uninformed Bob-Whites, and the amusement of his co-winner. Trixie, however, was impossible to ignore. Although she wasn't laughing openly, she couldn't stop her lips from twitching whenever she glanced in Brian or Jim's direction.

Finally, when Trixie's inability to keep a straight face made it impossible for her to eat, Di burst out, “Trixie! Enough! You have to tell us!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Trixie held up a hand to stop Jim's and Brian's sputters of protests. “All I'm saying is, I know who to invite to slumber parties from now on!”

Honey and Di stared blankly. “What are you talking about?” Honey asked.

“Nothing!” Jim exclaimed, his face red.

“Nothing?” Trixie questioned, a devilish gleam in her eye. “That's not what I heard!”

Jim's eyes widened, even as Brian coughed self-consciously and took a sip of water. “Isn't it about time to check out the hot tub?” Brian asked.

Honey and Di agreed enthusiastically and carried their dishes to the sink. “We really should wash the dishes first, shouldn't we?” Honey asked, with a longing glance in the direction of the hot tub.

Dan shook his head. “We can put the plates in the dishwasher now and wash the pots and pans later. It won't hurt them to soak.”

“Right.” Jim stacked the remaining plates and carried them to the counter. “You girls go on up to change. We'll meet you at the hot tub.”

“Come on, Trix, aren’t you going to get changed?” Honey caught her friend by the elbow and hurried her to their room, along with Diana.

Trixie smiled half-heartedly as they found their suits and began changing. Making a quick decision, she carried her suit to the attached bath, leaving Honey and Diana to stare after her curiously. She emerged a few minutes later in an attractive midnight blue two-piece tankini and striped sarong. She smiled brightly at her friends. “Ready?”

Di applied an extra dab of lip-gloss while Honey checked her reflection in the mirror.

“Towels?” Di questioned.

Trixie darted back to the bathroom and returned with a stack of fluffy white towels.

Honey’s eyes sparkled. “Hot tub!” she squealed.

Di giggled excitedly and Trixie started to get into the spirit. It would feel good to relax in the hot water…As they left through the sliding glass back-door of the chalet, she let her mind drift, alive to the possibilities of the night.

“What?” she asked, blushing, when she realized that Honey and Di were both watching her and seemed to expect an answer.

Honey smirked. “I said, aren’t you glad the boys got over that phase where they always had to do something stupid around water? You know, dunking us in the lake, throwing snowballs at us at Mead’s Mountain--”

“Kind of like this?” Mart’s voice greeted them as they stepped onto the deck, and they were bombarded with a barrage of snowballs. The girls shrieked as the cold sticky snow connected with their exposed skin. Trixie groaned as she tried to take refuge behind a deck chair. “Can’t you guys come up with anything new?”

Jim grinned at her from the other side of the chair. “Why mess with perfection?” he asked as he held a snowball menacingly.

Trixie raised her eyebrows and decided to fight fire with fire. Shoving the chair solidly into Jim’s crouched form, she was across the deck before he knew what hit him. Sizing up the situation as she ran, she located their assailants' stockpile. She called to Honey and Di, who somehow managed to join her while she pelted the guys with their own snowballs.

Honey collapsed behind the small shelter of the edge of the deck and tried to ignore the sting of cold snow on bare skin. “My word, they must have been busy! Look at all the snowballs!”

Diana grinned wickedly and began depleting the stock. “Oh, I’m sorry! Did that hurt?” she asked in amusement when a snowball caught Dan on the cheek.

With a wild cry, Dan led the charge to reclaim the guys' base of operations. The girls fought them off until the last of the snowballs had been thrown, and they were out of breath from laughing at the males’ antics. Thoroughly disgruntled by the fact that the girls had turned the tables on them and used their own snowballs against them, the males lost no time in taking the offensive.

“Arggg!” Trixie tried to move away and regroup, but Jim caught her arm. Similarly, Diana and Honey had also been captured.

Mart grinned at Diana. “Well, fair lady, do you admit defeat?”

“Oh, Mart,” she sighed, “You’re such a nice young man. It’s a pity I have to...” she paused and fluttered her eyelashes.

Entranced, Mart asked, “Have to what?”

She grinned wickedly. “This.” Without warning, she threw her weight against him, and Mart found himself face first in a snow bank. He came up sputtering while the others laughed.

“That’ll teach you to mess with us,” Honey giggled. “Now, can we call a truce and get in the hot tub? It’s cold out here!” The excitement of the battle over, they began to shiver as they stood in the cold air.

For the first time, Brian noticed Honey’s attractive yellow bikini. He smiled and grasped her hand firmly. “The hot tub sounds wonderful,” he agreed.

“Well, save me a seat,” Honey laughed and pointed him toward the bubbling water while she rescued the towels that had been unceremoniously discarded at the time of attack.

Trixie cautiously removed her sarong and entered the hot tub as quickly as she could, not giving anyone the opportunity to admire her toned and muscular body. “The water’s great, everyone. Come on in!”

They all joined her, each remarking on the wonderful warmth. Jim was the last to enter, and dropped down beside Trixie, his eyes gleaming with appreciation at the picture she made in her bathing suit. He asked conversationally, “Remember when you said we never try anything new?”

Trixie nodded and raised an eyebrow.

Jim winked and called loudly, “Commence Operation Elmo!”

The boys immediately turned to the females next to them and began tickling. The girls tried to retaliate, but found themselves overpowered by the sheer weight advantage of the guys.

Honey giggled as Brian tickled her half-heartedly. “Are you just using this as an excuse to touch me?” she asked.

Brian’s eyes twinkled. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all!” Honey pressed closer and whispered in his ear, “I’m pretty sure I have a ticklish spot right over here…”

Meanwhile, Diana was taking a different approach to Mart’s attentions. “Nice try, Belden,” she muttered as she elbowed his ribs. “Haven’t you learned your lesson?”

“Di!” Mart gasped, “It was just a prank! Lighten up!” He rubbed his side, stunned by the strength behind her assault.

“Lighten up?” Diana’s eyes flashed merrily, secure in her victory. “I can do that.” She turned the tables on him, shoving him against the seat and using her delicate, slender fingers to tickle him ferociously while he alternated between gasping for air and clutching his aching side.

Dan relaxed against the side of the hot tub, content to watch the others. It didn't take long to ascertain that Honey and Di surely knew how to handle the Belden boys. He watched Trixie and Jim attentively, not because he wanted to see Jim’s hands on her, but because he knew he might be needed.

“Jim!” Trixie was pressed against the edge of the hot tub, held in place by Jim’s strong legs as he tickled her sides.

“It’s no use fighting,” he laughed. “I still know all your ticklish spots.”

Thoroughly enjoying his victory, he allowed his hands to drift lower and began tickling her thighs. Trixie became more serious in her attempts to break free.

“That’s enough, Jim.” She tried to limit the panic in her voice and concentrate on deflecting him. She had loosened one of her own arms and was delivering a strong shove to his midsection when he discovered them. She knew the minute he felt them, felt the difference in her skin. His body stiffened.

“Trixie?” he asked in confusion, a bewildered look on his face.

She knew she should laugh, cause a distraction, flirt, anything. Instead, all she could see were his scars, the look on his face the first time she had touched them. Her voice gone, she looked at him helplessly while he tentatively ran his fingers over her upper thigh.

“Trixie?” he asked again, louder and more insistently. When she didn’t answer, he tore his eyes away from her. “Brian. Brian! Come here. Trixie has…” he paused and searched her eyes again. “My God, Trixie. What are those?”

Everyone in the hot tub fell silent as Brian pushed through them to his sister. Dan watched helplessly as everyone stared at Trixie. To cause a distraction now would only make matters worse. These weren’t the international criminals or mindless civil servants that they generally dealt with. Jim wasn’t going to forget or ignore what he had discovered. Dan moved closer to Trixie and tried to silently support her.

Snapping out of her paralysis, Trixie tried to jerk away from Jim, but he held her firmly. Her tortured eyes met Dan’s as Brian gently touched her leg, and then raised it to the surface.

“Brian, we’ll talk about it later.” Dan placed a hand on Brian's arm and attempted to pull him away, but Brian stood his ground.

He stared at Trixie’s leg, then at her face in horror. “Trixie! What the Hell! Those look like,” he paused, and Jim finished the sentence for him.

“Cigarette burns.” Jim grabbed her arm roughly, eyes blazing. “Who did this to you?” he demanded.

Trixie knew she should make light of the burns, distract them somehow. Instead, she felt her panic build, and turned to the only one who could help her. “Dan?” she whispered, pleading with him to get her out of the situation. Her brothers and Jim whipped to face him, still bristling with outrage.

“What do you know about this?” Mart’s voice was deathly cold. He looked his best friend in the eye. “How could you let this happen to her?”

Dan's shoulders slumped, and, in Trixie's eyes, he aged ten years. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Dan!” Trixie exclaimed, “it wasn't your fault.” She took a deep breath and sank back into the water, tugging on Dan's arm so that he would join her. She waited to speak until the others sat down.

“It was a work-related injury,” she finally said. “Dan had nothing to do with it, except leading the extraction team that got me out.” She smiled at him gratefully. “It could have been much, much worse.” She shuddered and subconsciously moved closer to Dan, who put a protective arm around her.

“It’s over,” he spoke quietly in her ear, his face serious. “It’s all in the past. Don’t go back.”

Trixie nodded and moved still closer to him, invisibly gripping his leg under the water. She looked up at the others. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“But, Trixie,” Brian cut in, “those are pretty serious burns. And painful. Did you have proper medical care?”

Jim interrupted, anger roughening his voice. “Who did this to you?” he demanded for the second time. “I may not be CIA, but I have contacts. I can make him pay. Tell me who did this to you.”

Trixie smiled strangely. “He’s already been taken care of, Jim. You don’t have to worry.”

“Leave it alone, guys,” Dan warned, watching the expression on Trixie’s face.

“Leave it alone?” Mart's normally placid blue eyes were wide with shock and horror. “My sister has been burned, her body degraded. I can’t even imagine how much it hurt, how she must have felt watching her own skin burn--”

“Mart!” Dan raised his voice angrily. “Enough! Leave it alone!”

But it was too late. Trixie was lost in the past, in the warehouse. The smell of burned flesh, the screams of agony in her ears. She saw the tip of the cigarette, the burning embers glowing red and staring at her like the displaced eye of a demon. She heard cries that were not her own, smelled the burning flesh of another. The cruel chuckle, the gleam of victory in her captor’s eye.

With a choked cry, Trixie bolted from the hot tub, stumbling and slipping across the deck in her haste. Dan immediately rose while the others sat, stunned. He was halfway to the chalet when he turned to face them.

“I swear, if the nightmares come back, I will make you pay.” His eyes were very black, very hard as he stared down the male Bob-Whites. “I told you to leave it alone. Now, you will. I don’t want to see anyone in the house for the next half-hour.”

He wheeled decisively and threw open the sliding glass door, shaking with rage. The anger melted into concern as soon as he saw Trixie sitting on the floor of the living room in a dripping bathing suit, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked back and forth. Dan dropped to the floor and held her still, not caring that he, too, was soaking wet.

“I was there again,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I was there, and I could hear her, and see him, and smell--” her voice broke, and the tears came faster.

“It’s okay,” he repeated over and over, and waited for the tears to subside.

He smiled gently when Trixie drew back a few inches and wiped at her nose. “Sorry, Dan,” she said contritely. “I didn't mean to get you all yucky.”

Dan drew her eyes up to meet his. Shrugging, he commented, “A shower will take care of that easily enough. In fact,” he eyed her sternly, “you’re going to take a shower and get right into bed.” He shook his head at her panicked expression. “You’ll be fine. I’m giving you a mild sedative to help you sleep. It’ll give you a few hours of rest, and you’ll be good as new in the morning.”

Recognizing the wisdom of the advice, Trixie allowed herself to be herded upstairs to the living quarters.

Outside, in the hot tub, the remaining Bob-Whites sat in shocked silence. Staring at the chalet, Jim made a decision. “I don’t care what he says—I'm checking on her.”

Both Brian and Honey stopped him and forced him to sit down. Brian sighed. “I want to see her, too, but Dan’s probably right. I’m sure she doesn’t want to see us at the moment. We’ll give her some time to calm down, and then see what we can do to help.”

Jim glared at him while Diana moved to stand directly in front of him. “You heard what he said. It sounds like Trixie had a horrible experience, and still suffers from nightmares,” she said. “Do any of you have experience helping someone through something like that?” They all looked away. Jim's face took on a greenish hue as he contemplated the possible causes for her nightmares.

“I didn’t think so,” Diana continued. “It looks as if Dan has helped Trixie before. He was the one she asked for help when you all ganged up on her. Let's give him the half-hour he asked for. It’s the least we can do.”

Reluctantly, the Bob Whites sat back and tried to forget the look of pain and desperation on Trixie’s face. When the thirty minutes had elapsed, they slowly walked to the chalet, uncertain of what to expect.

Dan met them at the door, stared at Brian, Jim and Mart with cold eyes. “She’s in bed.” He waited a second before adding, “My bed.” He paused just long enough to enjoy the infuriated daggers of anger in Jim’s eyes. “Her choice,” he continued. “She didn’t want Honey and Di to feel they would be disturbing her when they come to bed. Somehow, she didn’t have the same concern for Mart.” He tossed a pile of clothes at Trixie's almost-twin. “Unless she wakes up and wants to go to her own room before we all go to bed, Mart, you’re on the couch tonight.”

“And where will you be if she doesn’t wake up?” Brian asked quietly, somewhat taken aback by Dan’s take-charge attitude.

“In my room with her.”

“What?” Jim’s anger sparked. “And in which bed do you plan to sleep?”

Dan remembered the last nightmare Trixie had experienced before they came to Sleepyside and eyed him coolly. “Wherever Trixie wants me.”

He turned to go back in the house, but stopped with his hand on the door. “I’m sorry you’re finding things out this way. I know it can’t be easy, not for any of us. And I know that you’re only trying to look out for Trixie, but you’re going to have to trust me. And her. She told you she didn’t want to talk about it. I wish you had let it go.”

They all heard the emotion behind his words. Diana approached him and placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Dan.” He turned to her in surprise. “We all have our secrets. From now on, we’ll trust you and Trixie to tell us what you can. Deal?” She turned to the rest of the Bob-Whites, her expression telling them in no uncertain terms that she expected their full co-operation.

“Deal,” they chorused reluctantly, even Jim.

Dan nodded. “I can tell you a little about what happened, but not much. All I can really say is that she and another operative were in what turned out to be a very volatile situation. When their cover was blown, they were captured and tortured. The flashbacks and nightmares Trixie had ... has,” he amended reluctantly, “are not from her own torture, but from witnessing what they did to the other operative. And they’re why I moved in with her two years ago. In that operation, our team lost an operative, and Trixie lost her roommate.”

Dan leaned against the wall, exhausted just from talking about the ordeal. “She handled it well. It took some time, and a lot of tough nights, but Trixie bounced back. Seeing all of you again has lowered her guard. I think by allowing herself to be close to you, it reminds her of how close she was to Maria. And it makes her vulnerable.” Dan's shoulders sagged. “I just wish it weren't so hard for her to remember.”

In silence, the group trooped through the door, each realizing that there were certain facts they didn’t want to know, but needed to hear.