Sabrina didn't get a chance to speak to Ford until the party broke up and he smoothly cut in on Baldaran's offer to escort her home. "Sorry, Baldaran," he said, "but you have to let me make it up to her that I didn't escort her here."
Baldaran glanced at Sabrina, smiled, and wished them both good night. Ford and Sabrina said their own good-byes and followed a few minutes later. The quiet corridor seemed a relief after the drawing room, and neither of them spoke for a few minutes as they made their way down to the main doors of the Residence.
"I do have to apologize," Ford said when they were outside in the Queen's Garden. "I got involved in a project, and the time got away from me. It wasn't meant as a slight."
"I know," she smiled at him. "I'm afraid your sister took it as one, though."
Ford sighed. "Well, that's nothing new." He looked at her, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. "Was she deploring all my character flaws to you?"
"What makes you think that?"
His grin grew. "You looked over at me as if I were your own little pet project, and then you said something to her that made her purse up her lips. Let me guess. She tried to warn you to shun my company, and you announced your intention to reform me."
Sabrina couldn't resist a chuckle. "Not exactly. But isn't that what you meant when you asked me to be your defender to the family?"
"In a way, I suppose. But it won't do any good defending me to Kashmia!"
"I know. That's why I didn't." She smiled at his surprised expression. "After all, anyone could see it was a hopeless battle, when you were so late! Besides, she paid you a compliment, in a backhanded way."
"Did she?" Ford's eyebrows arched in astonishment.
"She warned me against your charm."
Ford laughed, as she'd intended him to. Sabrina grinned and continued, "I couldn't figure out why until she started telling me that you were the Realm's most eligible bachelor and had left a trail of broken hearts behind you."
Ford's grin vanished. "I was an arrogant idiot when I was younger, Sabrina. It's not something I'm proud of, or ever wish to repeat."
"We all go through the arrogant idiot phase," she told him. "I think your main problem must have been that you had to do it in front of an interplanetary audience."
He was silent until they reached her door, and he said, "Now I think I know why Father likes you so much."
"Why?" she asked, curious.
He shook his head and smiled. "Good night, Cousin. Is there anything you need?"
"Ford! You can't not tell me!" she protested.
He grinned. "Well, now that you've been told of my deplorable character and met all my superior siblings, I have to have some little bait to lure you into my company!"
"Ford!"
"I'll tell you someday, perhaps. But not tonight. Sleep well, Cousin."
"With that cryptic remark hovering over me? Not likely!" she flung at his retreating back.
——————————
Ford's remark kept Sabrina company as she got ready for bed, and she kept turning it over in her mind as she tried to go to sleep, until she realized it was a useless exercise. Then, tired despite herself, she dropped off, only to find that her subconscious had been preoccupied with very different matters. She dreamed that Tassan came to her, plunged his hand into her chest, and pulled out—nothing. There was simply an empty space where her heart should have been, and his eyes accused her of cheating him, for she held his own strongly beating heart in her hand.
She woke sweating and sobbing, and made herself lie still until she calmed down. Then she made herself think about the profit/loss margin of the floral business Justek had introduced her to earlier, and tried to remember the chemical composition of the new fertilizer they had determined was necessary for roses to grow in Praxatillus' soil, until she fell into another fitful doze.
The dream swept down on her with the ruthless clarity of memory—not with the narrow focus of conscious memory, but in the excruciating detail that the mind usually screens out. She could feel again the grit of the stone walls and dirt floor, hear the rock scraping against rock as the wall opened in front of her, and see every feature of the man standing in front of her. And this time, she felt her mind make a connection with an almost audible click. He sprung at her with wild eyes, the fury of madness glinting in them, as his hands closed around her throat and she struggled hopelessly against him, fighting the dizziness from lack of air and from the wound on her head where he had slammed her into the wall.
Sabrina woke with her own hand covering her throat as if to protect it, gasping and choking in panic that refused to be banished by the mere act of awakening. Terror sang through her veins, and she grabbed for the blaster in her nightstand and fled the room, stumbling in the darkness, until she found her study door open. With a little sob of relief, she slipped inside and closed it behind her, than ran to her comconsole. She stared at the scrolling directory, trembling so hard she could barely focus her eyes to read, and picked out a number.
It seemed to take hours for the call to go through, while she stood there clutching her blaster and staring wide-eyed at shadows the moonlight cast through the window. But finally Ford's face appeared on the screen, looking irritated. "Yes?" he snapped.
"Ford?" she managed to get out, her voice wavering.
His expression changed instantly. "Sabrina? What's the matter? What's happened?"
"I—I don't know," she said slowly, looking around again. "I—I must have been dreaming. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She cut the connection quickly, embarrassed. What an idiot, she thought. It was a dream. That's all.
But her body refused to obey her command to return to bed. The primal terror she had felt still possessed her, and when she heard a distant noise outside, she dropped to the floor, crawled into the small hole under her desk where her chair normally stood, and pulled herself into a ball, her blaster pointed at the opening. Safe. I'm safe. I'm here in my own apartment and I'm safe. I have the gun, nothing can get me.
You had a gun on Stanos, too, another part of her mind whispered.
This isn't Stanos. I'm here and I'm safe if I just don't make any noise so he can't find me. I can hide until he goes away. The thoughts scurried through her mind as if they, too, were seeking a hiding place. Sabrina shivered, hugging herself with one arm as the other kept the blaster pointed firmly ahead.
The sound of her main door opening made her cringe, and she caught her breath as footsteps sounded in the hall, then in her bedroom.
"Sabrina!" Ford's voice called. "Sabrina, are you in here? Are you all right?"
Sabrina wanted to call out to him, but she knew that if her voice could lead Ford to her, it could also lead what she was afraid of. She listened helplessly, desperately, as he searched through her dressing room, the library, the sitting room, and at last the study. He paused on the threshold, then came over to the comconsole, tapping a finger on it thoughtfully. She could see his boots in front of her, and her breath caught in her throat with the desire and terror of calling out to him.
He must have heard it. He bent down and peered into the gloom beneath the desk, springing back a little instinctively when he saw the blaster pointed in his direction. "Sabrina!" he said. "It's me. It's all right."
Sabrina tried to speak, and couldn't. She did move the gun slightly, though, so it was pointing over his shoulder instead of at him. Ford frowned, peering at her closely in the dim light. "Sabrina, what happened? What's the matter? You said it was a dream?"
"I remm—remembered." She had to push the words past her shaking jaw. "The man. Wants to k-kill m-me."
"Sabrina, I promise you, there's no one in this room but you and me," Ford told her. "You're safe here."
"I know," she gasped out.
"Then why the gun?" He was being careful not to move, she noticed.
"I keep—keep seeing him. In my mind. I can't—I don't know—" She broke off. "Help me, Ford!"
"There's nothing to be frightened of," he told her. "I'm going to help you. Now first, move over a little and make room for me, all right? I'm coming in there with you."
"Why?" she breathed, taken aback.
"Well, for one thing, I much prefer to be on your end of the blaster," he said.
This made perfect sense to Sabrina. She wriggled sideways, pressing against one side of her hiding place, keeping the blaster aimed outward. Ford slid in beside her; it was a very tight fit. He held out his hand, palm up. "Give me the blaster?" he suggested. "My hands aren't shaking as badly as yours. I've got a better chance of hitting him."
"You're m-making fun of m-me," she accused, but she gave him the weapon.
"No," he said, "just being practical. If you aren't too sure where your memories end and reality begins, why should I assume that I know? I plan to take this fellow quite seriously until we determine he really is just in your head."
Oddly enough, that made Sabrina indignant. "Of course he is! I told you he was!"
"Yes, but then you continued to hold me at gunpoint, so forgive me if I remain skeptical," Ford replied, keeping the gun aimed outward as she had done. He slid his other arm around her shoulders, and she shifted her weight to lean against him, still shaking. "It's all right," he told her. "I'm a crack shot, you know. Nobody's going to get you while I'm here."
"Don't patronize me," she muttered into his shoulder.
He gave a barely audible chuckle and squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to, I promise. Better?"
The shaking was slowing, had nearly stopped. Sabrina took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. This is obviously something you couldn't help." He was silent for a moment. "What would you have done if I hadn't come up here? Stayed here all night, curled up under this desk?"
"Probably," she admitted. "I hope I'd've come to my senses eventually, though." She sighed. "I wanted to remember...but now that I have, I wish I hadn't."
"You remember who it was? You recognized him?" Ford asked. She could hear the eagerness he was trying to disguise beneath his concern.
"I did, in my dream. But now...." She gave a deep, long shudder. "I can't think about it."
"Then don't try," he advised. "There's no need, not right now. When you're calmed down and feeling safe again, then we can try to get that information."
"I'm all right," she murmured.
"Good. Then can we get up?" Ford asked. "I'm developing a permanent hunch. And my arm hurts."
She nodded, and they carefully crawled out from under the desk. Ford set the blaster down on the comconsole and helped Sabrina to her feet. "I don't suppose," he said, "there's any chance of you getting any more sleep tonight."
"No." She shook her head violently.
"Then get dressed," he said. "I'm going to make a call, and then we'll go see what we can do about this."
"What—what do you mean?" She frowned at him.
"I mean, we need to get this memory out where you can take a good look at it. Then you can stop being afraid of it," he said. "I can't do that for you. But I know someone who might be able to."
"A doctor?"
"No. An old friend of mine." He smiled reassuringly at her.
"It's the middle of the night!"
"Oh, he doesn't sleep much. I'll just give him a call, and I'm sure he'll be happy to see us. Just go get dressed. Warmly."
Sabrina cast one dubious glance over her shoulder and went to get dressed.