Time and Again

couch. She'd stripped him, dried him and tended his wounds before she'd fallen into a half doze in the big armchair by the fire. Periodically, she rose to check his pulse and pupils.
    He was in shock, and she'd decided he undoubtedly had a concussion, but the rest of his wounds were relatively minor. Some bruised ribs and a few nasty scratches. A very lucky man, she mused as she sipped her tea and studied him in the firelight. Most fools were. Who else but a fool would have been flying through the mountains in a storm like this?
    It was still raging outside the cabin. She set the cup aside to throw another log on the fire. The light grew, sending towering shadows throughout the room. A very attractive fool, she added with a smile as she arched her sore back. He was an inch or two over six feet, and well built. She considered it good luck for both of them that she was strong, accustomed to carrying heavy packs and equipment. Leaning against the mantle, she watched him.
    Definitely attractive, she thought again. He'd be even more so when his color returned. Though he was pale now, his face had good bone structure. Celtic, she thought, with those lean, high cheekbones and that full, sculpted mouth. It was a face that hadn't seen a razor for a day or two. That and the bandage on his forehead gave him a rakish, almost dangerous look. His eyes were blue, she remembered, a particularly dark, intense blue.
    Definitely Celtic origins, she thought again as she picked up her tea. His hair was black, coal black, and it waved slightly even when it was dry. He wore it too long to be military, she reflected, frowning as she remembered the clothes she'd taken off him. The black jumpsuit had a decidedly military look to it, and there had been some sort of insignia over the breast pocket. Perhaps he was in some elite section of the air force.
    She shrugged and settled into the chair. Then again, he'd worn old, scuffed high-top sneakers, as well.
    Sneakers, and a very expensive-looking watch-one with a half-dozen tiny dials. The only thing she'd been able to figure out on it after a brief look was that it wasn't keeping the right time. Apparently both the watch and its owner had been damaged in the crash.
    "I don't know about the watch," she told him over a yawn, "but I think you're going to be all right." With that she dozed off again.
    He woke once with a splitting headache and blurred vision. There was firelight, or a first-class simulation. He could smell the woodsmoke- and rain, he thought. He had a misty memory of having stumbled through the rain. The most he could concentrate on was the fact that he was alive. And warm.
    He remembered being cold and wet and disoriented, afraid at first that he had crashed into an ocean.
    There had been- someone. A woman. Low, quiet voice- soft, gentle hands- He tried to think, but the drumming in his head made the effort too painful.
    He saw her sitting in an old chair with a colorful blanket over her lap. A hallucination? Maybe, but it was certainly a pleasant one. Her hair was dark, and the firelight was glinting off it. It appeared to be chin-length and very full and was now tousled appealingly around her face. She was sleeping. He could see the quiet rise and fall of her breasts. In this light her skin seemed to glow gold. Her features were sharp, almost exotic, set off by a wide mouth that was soft and relaxed in sleep.
    As hallucinations went, you couldn't do much better.
    Closing his eyes again, he slept until sunrise.
    She was gone when he surfaced the second time. The fire was still crackling, and the dim light coming through the window was watery. The pain in his head hadn't dulled, but it was bearable. With cautious fingertips he probed the bandage on his forehead. He realized, he might have been unconscious for hours or for days. Even as he tried to struggle upright, he discovered that his body was weak and rubbery.
    So was his mind, obviously, he decided as he used what strength he had to take in his surroundings. The small, dimly lit room appeared to be fashioned out of stone and wood. He'd seen some carefully preserved relics that had been built of such primitive materials. His family had once taken a vacation west that had included tours of parks and monuments. He turned his head enough so that he could watch the flames eat at the logs. The heat was dry, and the scent was smoke. But it was hardly likely that he would have been given shelter and care in a museum or a historical