When dawn comes, it finds Simone snuggled deep within Crank’s bearlike arms. Having finally fallen asleep, he reclines his head amongst Simone’s jet-black curls. Simone’s arm slides further around his waist and she breathes in deeply. A single word starts to roll off of her lips—Or rather, a name.

“Terren—” Simone whispers.

Coming to her senses and jolting awake, Simone halts the name of her soon to be ex-husband before it exits her mouth. Crank’s eyes slowly open. He moves partially away, and adjusts his gaze to meet Simone’s. A smile tugs at the corner of his faux-human lips.

“Did you say something?” Crank inquires.

His words are filled with such innocence that it nearly destroys Simone’s heart. She scrambles to think of a suitable white lie because she does not wish to hurt him.

“There's not a whole lot we can do here,” Simone says. “The weather has cleared up some, and we’re gonna have to get moving soon. Especially, if we want to reach that farming town you found. If we can find a grocery store, there should be canned goods or other shelf stable items. Of course, there’s no telling how good they’ll be after all these years…But, it’s a start. At least, we know there will be water."

Simone shifts in Crank’s arms and prepares to climb out of the bed. He stops her with a restraining arm. Simone follows his hand as he repositions her dress on her shoulder. Had she stood without adjusting her clothes, it might have put her in a very uncomfortable situation. He offers her another humanish smile, the corners of his disguise strained by the effort. Simone leans forward and kisses him. Their eyes meet and Simone mirrors his smile.

“You’re a true gentleman, Crank,” she says as he releases her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Simone feels for her shoes with her feet. Crank sits up behind her. He enfolds her in a tight embrace and places his braided head on her bare shoulder. Simone reaches up and cups his face with a warm hand. Crank’s voice is drowning in sadness as he whispers in her ear.

“Where does this lead us?” he says.

Simone closes both eyes and sighs with exasperation. She angles her head to stare at Crank. The closeness of his face nearly makes her eyes cross, and the hairs of his bearded disguise tickle her cheek.

“Is it foolish to say that I love you?” Crank asks, a weary expression altering his face. “Would that frighten you?”

“Nothing you could ever do would frighten me,” Simone says. Not quite sure if she means it. “I’m just very confused. I have been for a long time. And I can’t help but feel as if I’m floundering in the dark. Searching for anyone and anything to love…And to be loved by. Ha. I can just imagine what my ex would say. He’d declare me an unfit mother. I’d never see my girls again.”

Simone tilts her head inviting Crank to kiss her. He does kiss her. Softly, patiently and with understanding.

“I feel like this is all a dream,” Simone continues sadly. “I feel as if one day, I’ll wake up in a padded cell and you’ll be gone. I want to enjoy every moment of this dream. In case, it is a dream. I’ve lost so much lately. I’m not sure I really know how to love anymore.”

Crank’s golden brown eyes remain riveted to Simone’s moist hazel ones. He presses the lips of his human disguise against hers, trying desperately to melt away the pain he sees in her heart. The pain also leeching into his own.

“Whatever happens…Whatever you decide,” he says, caressing her face with one hand. “I’ll always be here for you. As long as you will have me.”

Simone’s face brightens with a smile and she returns his kiss. Lying down once more, she draws him atop her.

Crank repositions himself and temporarily withdraws. He stares down at Simone, whose eyes are now shut. Her breathing is accelerated and her chest rises up and down with the increased breaths. Crank places a hand at the side of her neck and gradually draws it downward, stopping at the material which makes up the bodice of her dress. He contemplates how far he should proceed. While he has never heard of a yautja and an ooman creating hybrid offspring; their shared history makes such an outcome a distant possibility. Is this a wise decision?

Crank's hesitancy causes Simone's eyes to flutter open. She gazes up at him with worry.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Crank? What's wrong?" Simone inquires.

When Crank does not respond, Simone angles her body, and props herself up on the palms of her hands. Crank follows her lead, continuing to study Simone with narrowed eyes. Simone's eyes move unsteadily as she tries to figure out what has gone awry.

"What are you thinking, Crank? Why are you looking at me like that? What do you see?" Simone insists.

Suddenly, every insecurity she has ever felt comes flooding back in. Is he having second thoughts? About her? Has she pushed things too quickly? Too far?

"It's me...Isn't it? I've done something?" Simone continues, her heart sinking. "You said that your mask allows you to see in infrared. You never told me how you see things any other time. Or what you see. How do I know that what you and I are seeing is the same thing? What do I look like to you?"

Crank becomes overwhelmed with guilt. He lightly touches Simone's cheek with a calming hand.

"There was once a time, when all yautja saw only in infrared," Crank says in a soft authoritative voice. "But our elders wished for us to have every advantage which our hunt prey possess. Therefore, some yautja were bred to see many colors of the spectrum. Now, there are many yautja who no longer see in infrared. We continue to wear our masks in solidarity with our ancestors of the past. They are our beginning and our end. We owe our future to them. I cannot see as they once did. I see as you do, Simone."

Simone has once again slid into a depressive state. Crank's words sound hollow to her ears. She imagines, he is simply trying to placate her fears.

"I don't believe you," she challenges him with a quivering voice.

"I have no reason to deceive you, Simone," Crank persists.

He reaches up, with his other hand, to place it upon Simone's other cheek. However, she instinctively flinches away from his touch. Giving her a moment to collect herself, Crank lovingly places his hand on her cheek. Tilting her face so that she is looking straight into his eyes, Crank tries one more time to convince her of what he already knows.

"Your skin is like the color of my eyes," he says reassuringly. "And your lips...The day I met you...Your lips were like the color of the saloon's swinging doors. Now, they are the color of fresh sloso fruit."

Truth suddenly dawns on Simone and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"Lipstick," Simone says.

Crank's head tilts in usual yautja fashion and his brow creases deeply. His mind searches for any reference to that term from all of his ooman studies.

"Lipstick?" he repeats with uncertainty.

"Yes," Simone continues. "I was wearing lipstick the day we met. My lips...They would have appeared red. Like the saloon doors. But, I haven't worn any lipstick in nearly two days. Now, my lips would look pink."

Simone issues a short laugh and her eyes drop away from Crank's face.

"You can see me," she mutters. "The real me."

Crank offers Simone a wide grin. He lifts her chin, encouraging her to maintain eye contact. Simone's eyes are moist with the coming of tears. Crank lightly kisses her forehead.

"Yes," Crank agrees. "I can see you."

With an exaggerated sigh, Simone drops heavily back down onto the worn mattress. She opens her arms, and Crank lowers himself enough that she can wrap them around his neck.

"What's a sloso fruit?" Simone asks with genuine interest.

It is Crank's turn to laugh.

-

-

Simone draws the thin blanket snuggly around her body and heads for the bathroom. Crank has fallen asleep, his mouth partially open and a soft trill escaping his faux-human lips.

Inside the bathroom, Simone quietly closes the door and crosses to the sink. She turns the knob and brackish water comes from the spout. Making a disgusted face, Simone turns the knob back to the off position. She drops the blanket from around her shoulders and stares at her body in the mirror. Had they really made love? Was any of this for real? It had felt very real.

Simone touches a tender spot on her neck, where Crank’s tooth accidentally broke through the disguise and pierced her skin. He had apologized profusely, even promising to go away forever. For her part, she had kissed his worries away. Reassured him that mistakes did, and might always happen. Then, they had continued their lovemaking. And it had been glorious.

With a light chuckle, Simone bunches her hair up at the top of her head with both hands. She turns from side to side, admiring her reflection. She is surprised when the bathroom door opens and Crank stands at the entryway. Releasing her hair and spinning to face him, Simone holds her arms out wide. Crank is before her in only four or five strides. He takes her into his arms and kisses her deeply. Simone melts into his embrace.

“I love you, Crank,” Simone whispers, almost disbelieving that she has been so bold as to utter those words. Crank repeats her sentiment, with slightly more passion.

“I love you too, Simone,” he says in his smothered yautja voice. “And I will do whatever is necessary to protect you.”

Simone pulls away and stares intensely into his eyes. She chastises him with the ferocity of a mother warning a child not to play with matches.

“Don’t ever make a promise like that!” she hisses. “We do what we can…What we must. But sometimes, there is nothing we can do. Make promises like that…And the universe will find a way to make you keep that promise. Even to your own detriment.”

“I don’t care,” Crank counters. A smile slowly curls his lips. “But I thought you didn’t believe in universal laws?”

Simone eases closer, her eyes fixing on his lips, wishing it were truly his mouth and not that of the disguise.

“I do now,” she whispers breathily.