Author's notes:

Wrote this on my PDA. Was just lying there, and was bored. (That may explain why this chapter is so b-o-r-i-n-g.) Seriously, sometimes I seem to write myself into a corner. Like my complaints about the J.J.Abrams' plotting on Lost and Alias, that those shows seem like he's making things up as he goes along, I would have the same feeling about Sian if I were reading it.

But that's because I am making things up as I go along.

My previous stories have too small a cast of characters. Antag, protag, MacGuffin. May supporting characters for the antag and protag, the deputy and Igor, so to speak.

In Sian, I'm trying to open it up here and there. It's hard to write while consciously addressing a known shortcoming in my repertoire. Either it comes out in too obvious a fashion, or I worry about it too much that the writing becomes un-fun.

Well, this story has to be fun for me to keep this pace. So, I'm doing it, looking for places to leave plot threads, reading back and looking for dangling threads, and trying to crowbar character in while keeping it believable.

(Those of you just joining here, start with Callan and Sian 1)



He shook his head, his eyes landing on her crossed legs as well. "You sure this wasn't a dream?"

"'Vander! You saw my apartment! The TV was on the ground! There was glass and those damned roses all over the place."

"Maybe you sleptwalked... Nah. That doesn't explain the flowers." He raised his gaze just in time to meet her eyes. Quickly, he looked away. "You know, any other guy would have thought you were making this all up to get him jealous. If he were your ex- that is."

"I know, I know. But give me some credit, at least -- I mean, would I try to hurt you like this?"

"No, that's not your style, hun. If--"

She grimaced at the sobriquet. "Would I come up with something as hokey as this?"

"It does sound like something out of a movie, Si. A really bad movie."

Sian looked down at her crossed legs dangling over the edge of Evander's bed and nodded.

He abided the pause for a long while. "To be honest, I'm having a hard time believing it. I mean, how'd he keep from crashing his car, while you... you know? For that matter, how can you even walk?"

"I wonder about that part too. How he kept the car under control, that is. As for walking, let's just say it's interesting."

"Yeah, I bet!"

Sian snapped her head up, ready to lay into him for the snipe, but his smile utterly disarmed her. "Damn you and that grin. One of these days--"

"--it won't be enough to save me. Yeah, yeah, but 'til then..." He grinned wider.

"Oh, stop it!" She launched a pillow his way.

Suddenly distracted, epiphany in his eyes, he let the it land square against him. His smile dimmed, revealing contemplation. "Maybe there was something funky with the flowers, or the water. You know, maybe a hallucinogen or something."

"And this?" She pointed at her throbbing cheek.

"I dunno. Maybe you fell while you were high, and worked it into the trip somehow?" He shrugged, and his brows knitted hopefully.

She nodded. "That could explain it. Maybe that first guy at Harry's, Cal... Oh crap, I don't know his last name. I think I remember his room number at the Aberdeen, though. That's a start." She inhaled, sighed, dropped her head in her hands.

Evander squirmed quietly fidgeted in the ensuing pause, the silence broken when Sian reached over and fished out her cell phone from her bag. "I have his cell phone number too!" she said brightly. "Huh? Oh, and a bunch of missed calls, too." She punched a few buttons, then her face cloued over. "All of them from him." She sighed and resumed moping. "It still doesn't make sense. I mean, why me?"

"You mean aside from the fact that you're gorgeous?"

"Oh, stop it. That's not helping." She made ready to hurl the other pillow.

"So what would?"

"You. Holding me." The pillow fell back on the bed. She looked at him, face soft with hope.

"That's a very bad idea, Si." He shook his head, slowly, once.

"Why?" Her voice grew tight.

"Because I have this one last chance, and I ain't gonna blow it." As he spoke, he stood and shrugged on his jacket.

"Where are you going?"

From his coat pocket, Evander fished out her set of keys. "To take a look at one of those flowers."

"And do what with it?"

"I'll stop by the drugstore and pick up one of those home test kits for drugs, I guess."

"Hey!" Her face lit up. "Does Chaz still work in the University Lab?"

"No, but I bet he still knows people there." He turned to place his hand on the door. "Well, you coming?"

She looked around his room. "I'm zonked. Whether it was a dream or not, it still wiped me out."

"What if that old bat sees me unlocking the door?"

"Mrs. Weatherspoon? Just tell her you were taking out the trash or something."

"No, not the door to your place, the front door. She'd have a cow--"

"--and then report me to the manager. Yeah, she must think those front door keys are made of gold or something." She peeled herself off the bed. "All right, I'm moving. I'm moving."

The ride back to her apartment left Sian staring at the skyline in the midday sun. "What's on your mind, Si?"

Her eyes never leaving the Aberdeen, Sian replied, "What if, I mean, just, what if it wasn't some sort of drug trip?"

Evander stayed silent the rest of the drive, his thought's struggle evident on his expession. Finally, he broke the silence. "We're here, Si."

"You go on up, 'Vander. Like I said, I'm flat."

"Why'd you come this way, then?"

"In case you ran into Mrs. Weatherspoon, and I don't see her. If you want, I can let you in and walk you through the lobby, but I don't feel like going back up there."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Dammit, no. No, 'Vander. It's because I'm scared, all right? Trip or rape, I don't want to go back there. I know, I know. 'You gotta face your fears, stare'em--'"

"Nah, you rest then, hun."

She sighed. "I ain't 'hun' no more, 'Vander. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it," he said with a frown. "I'll be right back, 'kay?"

In reply, Sian ratcheted the seat back and closed her eyes.

He closed his car door, and his footsteps faded through her open window. She nearly or just barely dozed off, when a low, familiar voice said, "We need to talk, Sian."