Out of Context By Lady Morgan A continuation of "Careful What You Wish For..." Disclaimers: American Gothic and its characters are property of Shaun Cassidy, CBS and possibly others. (It is the author's sincere regret that she cannot claim ownership of Lucas Buck, in any way.) Any additional characters or twisted plotlines in the context of this story are strictly the product of my own imagination, and therefore my own property. Please do not distribute, repost, or archive this story without permission of the author. The author may be contacted at LadyMorgan@prodigy.net. * * * * * * * * * * Part 1 Dazed from an abrupt re-entry into the realm of imagination, Lucas was groggy. Opening his eyes, he found himself facedown on something metallic--cold and hard. He raised his head, looking up: back on the bridge, exactly where he'd started. Back in Trinity. "Aw, hell," he muttered. Awkwardly, Lucas got to his feet. Another flash of lightning and the sky opened up; rain began to pound against his skin, his head pounding in rhythm. A quick glance to his left revealed his car, and just as quickly, the open door triggered his memory: the engine was dead. Radio lines would probably be fucked too, on account of the storm. It was a long walk back into town. In the next flash of lightning, he saw her face; the past few hours came rushing back, and he remembered, smiling in spite of himself. "Too bad you lost your nerve, darlin'...We'll have to try it again sometime..." He spoke these words out loud; he knew she would hear him. The resonant echoes of a transmigrant flash would carry his words straight into her brain. Just as clearly as he'd picked up on her thoughts, when she called his name in her head, and in her dreams--he knew she'd pick up his words. There was an unbreakable connection between them now. Almost there, he thought. So close. But almost isn't gonna make it. It ain't over yet, not by a long shot...I'm comin' for you, darlin'. Just gotta figure this out. Lucas walked over to the car and locked up; he didn't bother with the radio. The rain soaking him through to the skin was his only grip on the here and now. He walked slowly, thoughtfully, over the bridge, heading back to Trinity. Ben was lounging in the front office, half asleep at his desk. He'd sent Floyd home early since there didn't seem to be any reason for him to hang around. When the door swung open, Ben snapped to attention. Sheriff Buck entered the office without a word, dripping wet. His clothes were molded to his body, his hair a sleek dark helmet. Startled, Ben bit his lip to keep from laughing; there was nothing amusing in the sheriff's eyes. He slammed the door and immediately began to unbutton his vest. "Lucas, what happened?" Buck ignored the question but continued to undress. "Bring me a towel." Ben nearly tripped over his own feet running to the bathroom. "I don't know if there are any clean ones-" he said over his shoulder.. "Check the closet." Ben did, and found a large bathsize towel-- black, with the initials LB sewn into the corner. He hurried back to Lucas--stripped to the waist, he was working on the pants. Ben held out the towel and tried to look away, but Buck didn't seem to notice; his mind was elsewhere. Naked, Lucas wrapped the towel just above his groin and handed the shirt and pants to Ben. "Hang these up, would ya?" Ben started to say something, then thought the better of it and did as he was told. Lucas fingered the ruined suede vest and shook his head. "Looks like I'm gonna have to buy me a new vest," he growled, tossing it over the chair. Lucas wandered over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then walked barefoot into his office. As he slid into his chair Ben appeared in the doorway. "Radio dead?" Ben asked, somewhat unsettled by Lucas' offhand attitude. Lucas nodded slowly. "Car, too. It's still on the bridge," he said softly. As he sipped his coffee, his eyes were far away. "I'll call a truck," Ben offered. "Nah, let her stay until the storm blows over." Stunned, Ben nearly took a step back. He could see that Lucas had something on his mind, but he'd never seen him this distracted. "Lucas...you want to talk about-- anything?" The sheriff's gaze shifted to rest on Ben. After a moment, he settled back in his chair. His mouth softened into the semblance of a smile. "Ben, you remember a conversation we had awhile back, about transmigration?" Frowning, Ben searched his thoughts. "Ahh...no, can't say that I do..." "Well, that figures. It was a long time ago." "Transmigration.." Ben pondered. "That have anything to with the transmission?" Lucas didn't laugh. "It's the movement of souls from one plane of reality to the next." Ben's eyebrows skittered upward. "Ahhh..." Lucas continued, "I told you about the voices I was hearing, that some of them wanted me to do certain things...and one in particular wanted to pull me through space, into another plane. Any of that ring a bell?" Ben stared at his boss with more than a little fear in his eyes. Oh shit, if he loses it, I hate to think what'll happen to the rest of us... "Y-yeah, Lucas, I-I think I remember you saying something about that, but--what's that got to do--" "It can be done, Ben. I was in the Other Place--just now, tonight. A woman pulled me into another dimension. Now I'm not saying it didn't make me feel a little off-kilter, being taken out of context like that. But before you could blink, I was enjoying the hell out of it..." His grin bloomed into one of savored pleasure. "I was tasting reality, Benji." "Reality...?" Ben hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Are you saying that this is not reality?" "Well, it's an approximation of another reality. Remember what happened that time you tried to drive out of town, and the further you went, the weaker you got? As if you were... fading away?" "Yeah." Ben set his jaw, not liking the memory. "That's 'cause Trinity is shaped by His imagination...and His imagination does not cross any boundaries into another town. But the others...they have their own ideas about us." "I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at," Ben said. "You just don't want to get it. But I know you hear the voices, too. Maybe they're not as strong in your head, but you hear 'em." Ben couldn't argue with him there. No matter how much he tried to ignore them, he did hear voices; sometimes he heard thoughts. The voice of the Big Man was dominant, no question about that, and everyone in Trinity heard him. He was, quite simply, the reason they existed. But as time went on, there came other voices...the thoughts of others who, like the Big Man, dreamt about them, wrote about them, enhancing the vitality of Trinity itself. And although the Big Man was still more or less in charge of the show, the flow of energy from the Other Place had affected a significant change on the residents--some more than others--making them stronger, brighter, somehow more alive. Still, this was the first time Ben could remember hearing anyone suggest that it was possible to actually cross the line, into the realm of True Substance. He started to wonder again about the sheriff's mental health. But looking at Lucas' serene expression as he watched out the window, Ben could not dismiss the fact that he had the look of a man who'd just returned from the perfect vacation and had not quite come to grips with the fact that it was over, and he was home. "You sure you're okay, Lucas?" Ben asked again. "Don't worry about me, Ben. I'll be a whole lot better when I figure out how to get back over there." "Over wh-" Ben started. "Never mind. I'm gonna head home, if you won't be needing me...Did you want a ride home?" Lucas shook his head. "Well...good night, then. You really ought to think about... getting some sleep." Buck didn't answer. Halfway out the door, Ben turned, worriedly. "Lucas-" he began. Lucas stared at him. "G'night, Ben." he said, with finality. Reluctantly, Ben shut the door. Back in her tiny New York City studio, Kristen Morgan was pacing furiously, chanting to herself out loud. "It's okay. It's okay it's okay...you're NOT crazy...It wasn't a dream. He was really here. It was a fluke..some kind of fluke of nature. You're NOT crazy..." She'd been going on like this for twenty minutes. When the Lucas apparition had disappeared, she'd run straight to the bathroom: no valium left, so she took some Tylenol P.M., three instead of two. God, she wanted a drink! Back in bed, she'd curled up into a tight ball, hoping against hope for sleep to come. If she could only sleep, she could put some distance between her and this thing. She would fight to erase it from her mind, pretend it had never happened... But after tossing futiley for half an hour, Kristen found that his smell was all over her; that wonderful, unmistakable smell of earth and--well, whatever kind of strange, exotic fruit it was. It couldn't have been mangoes, she thought. Mangoes don't grow in South Carolina, or North Carolina, or wherever the hell Trinity was supposed to be. No, this was more likely the proverbial forbidden fruit. The thought made her giggle out loud. If anyone has eaten from that tree, it's Lucas Buck. That's right, honey...the evil sheriff from a fictional town, born in the mind of Shaun Cassidy...well, he was just in your bed. And how do you account for that? She couldn't. Instead, she found herself in the shower, trying to scrub away his smell; his hands had been everywhere. She even washed her hair. Ivory soap, vanilla shower gel, herbal shampoo; the water was so hot it left her skin red and tingly. But when she got out and began to dry off, somehow--she knew the smell was still there. Even if she couldn't smell it, she knew it was there. I'll never get rid of it, she thought. Kristen smudged the steam from the mirror and glared at her traumatized face; her eyes were big and haunted and seemed to belong to someone else. She stuck out her tongue, then broke into a Shakespearean rhapsody: "Out, out damned spot! All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this body..." She began to laugh; it was a desperate sound--almost the laugh of a madwoman. Lucas MacBuck doth murder sleep. And I'm turning into Lady MacBuck. End of Part 1 * * * * * * * * Part 2 The sun rose in Trinity the same way it always did; the streets were bright and clear after last night's storm. Lucas watched the sky from his office, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. It's all illusion, he thought. Everything looks the same as yesterday, but after last night... nothing could be. He glanced at the clock; 6:25. With surprising grace, he got to his feet and went to put on his still-damp clothes. Floyd would be arriving shortly, and Lucas was in no mood for his sickening cheerfulness. Sleep was the only thing that would do him any good...but he'd forgotten about the car. Damn...maybe he'd just wait for Floyd to come in so he could get a ride home. Lucas had spent the night replaying every detail of the migration in his head. He'd been on the bridge, when it happened... He got out of the car and started walking...it was as if some kind of force was pulling him forward. Standing close to the edge, Lucas closed his eyes to block out everything but the voice. Slowly, he let himself drift into a trance, listening to the woman call to him. He didn't know who she was, or where she was...but she knew him. She was dreaming of him; he could feel the relentless desire sparking through her as surely as if he'd been inside her body. The air around him fairly vibrated with electricity; the storm was on it's way. When the first wave of sheet lightning surged through the sky, Lucas felt a sudden sharp tug on his body, and for an instant he thought he was falling. He opened his eyes and found himself standing up straight, in the middle of a subway platform; a train was pulling into the station. For a few seconds, he was disoriented, but when the door slid open he got on...and he saw her. That was when he knew; he knew she was the woman who'd called him, and that she'd carried him into the realm of True Substance. And he knew her name. Of course, she'd been as surprised to see him as he was to be there. Surprised and terrified, because few things are as frightening as having a dream come true. But there was no question that she wanted him, too...wanted him the way a junkie wants a fix, the way an alcoholic wants a drink. Some part of her was riddled with a mad craving for him, as if he were a drug she'd never even tried, but knew instinctively she had to have.. But in the end, her fear had held her desire in check, and she'd sent him back. And he knew she was sorry. Lucas laughed to himself, thinking "I'm like a birthday gift that she really wanted but just had to refuse, 'cause she thought I was too expensive. But she'll have another chance... I've figured out the secret ingredient. And next time I show up, she won't want to let me go." Floyd entered the office noisily, shattering his focus. "'Morning, Sheriff," he said. " Would you like some coffee?" "No, but I would like a ride home." Floyd looked confused. "Oh...okay. You been here all night? You look exhausted-" "I am. Let's cut the chit chat and get moving." "Anything you say, Sheriff." Jingling his keys, Floyd led the way to his car. Now that Lucas had it all figured it out, he'd be able to sleep. He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted involved going back THERE, to the realm of True Substance. In that place, he would be truly free, no longer constrained by the limits of the Big Man's ideas. Then he would truly experience Free Will...and from then on, the possibilities would be endless. He drifted off to sleep, thinking about the light from a million candles. A thousand points of light. Where had he heard that before? A single ant had almost no power on it's own, but joined with a thousand sisters and brothers, they could move a mountain. The same principle applied to Lucas' theory of approaching the realm of substance. The thoughts of a single mind generated a limited amount of power; but a combination of many minds all focused on bringing the same idea into reality...well, that was the basis of human evolution. This was how he'd become so alive, Lucas knew; he was stronger and more vibrant than anyone else in Trinity--except maybe his son; and it was all because of the Others...the ones like Kristen Morgan who believed in him, who called him into existence by the power of their will. And with the magical power of electricity, a door between the worlds had been ripped open. In that moment, he had been able to slip through. The only problem to deal with then, was how to stay there... Any form of life-energy from the imaginary realm must be unstable in the world of reality, Lucas figured. That's why she sent me back so easily....but that won't happen again. And once I get back, I'll pull Caleb through with me. No one else. Just my son and me, on a new plane of reality...what a team we'll make. It was just a matter of time, now. Of course, she was still aching for him on the Other Side. He could feel it; he heard her dreams. She would call him back to her. And the next time it happened, he would be ready. Three days passed. Four, five, almost a week. In Trinity, Lucas bided his time, his thoughts focused upon the woman who was his ticket into the Other Place. A better place, he thought. He spent little time with Caleb, avoiding Selena and Gail as much as possible. It was all the better to let his body remain preoccupied with Miss Morgan. For Kristen, New York time seemed to drag so slowly as to be almost painful. Every hour was like a week; she couldn't stop thinking of him, and it was driving her absolutely insane. "Abso-fucking-lutely insane," she murmured. "That'll be me, if I don't watch out." Kristen was a wreck. She'd only been able to sleep four hours a night, at most; the part of her brain that was wary of weakening kept waking her up. She didn't want to dream, above all; each dream nibbled away at the thin thread of her sanity a little more. Everything, it seemed, reminded her of Lucas: colors, smells...there was no escape. When she cut a cantaloupe for breakfast, it made her think of mangoes, and the way he smelled. Choosing her clothes for the day, she couldn't help picking out a long white shirt, and the only vest she owned, a red silk one. She wore that with her brown suede blazer; it looked like something Lucas would wear. The thought made her smile, but then she was suddenly afraid. I'm actually haunted, she thought, giggling at the absurdity. I'm haunted by an apparition...not even the ghost of a real person. Or maybe I've actually gone over the deep end, and don't even know it. Does a person know when they've flipped out? Worrying about this was only part of what kept her awake at night. But as much as it might have made things easier, she didn't really believe she was crazy; everything that had happened had simply been too real. Afraid to tell anyone about it, lest they try to have her committed, she'd decided to write about it instead. In the mind of a writer, anything can be made to seem rational, she thought. Emotional devastation makes for great fiction. She could feel him with her, somehow inside her, as she sat at her computer, typing. Seven days had passed since her first "confrontation" with Lucas Buck, and although she wasn't sure she understood (she was sure she didn't) what was happening, she knew damn well that he was real, that he was alive, in another place...and that he was watching her. She also knew, instinctively, that he was aware of her thoughts. This made her ultra-sensitive to other people with whom she came in contact; she was paranoid of every thought of him, even as she was thinking it. With a saddened sense of inevitability, Kristen had started to drink again. It seemed the only way to shut down her own obsessive thoughts; she wanted to be numb, and it worked...for awhile. Even drunk, when she looked in the mirror, she saw him standing right beside her. How badly she wanted him to disappear, and to grab her... She reached out to grasp at empty air. She felt as if she'd become a puppet, her body and brain responding to the touch of a man who wasn't even in the room. She was constantly aroused, walking around in an ongoing fever-dream. And nothing she did could purge her longing for him. No other person, imaginary or real, could intercept her fantasies and free her from this ponderous burden of desire that infiltrated her limbs...body and mind. And soul. He told me I was the one who brought him here, she thought. Which means I could do it again...And I probably will, whether I mean to or not. But if he comes back, will I be as strong as I was last time? She knew the answer to that question, and it scared the shit out of her. But that didn't mean she didn't want him back. If she was scared of losing her soul the first time, now she was more scared of never feeling his touch again. You've started a fire, Lucas. And you're the only one who can put it out. Draining the last sip from her wine glass, Kristen sank into the welcoming arms of sleep. Maybe, just maybe, I won't dream of him tonight, she thought, drifting off. Lucas pulled her closer, and lunged forward, deeper inside. His hands gripping her hips were iron, as he lifted her up to him; she thought he had pierced her womb and was reaching through her stomach, trying to drive into her heart. Still she wanted to draw him in further, get him all in...The press of his skin, the salty sweetness of his kiss was edging her out of herself. He was taking over her, becoming part of her; he had her body, was taking her mind...soon he'd have her soul. Suddenly frightened, she tried to push him out; had to push him out. "Out, get out of me, out of my head out of my soul, get OOOOUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!" She was screaming in her sleep. In the morning, Kristen woke to a resolution. It was no longer a question of if he would come back, but when. She knew that now, and she no longer wanted to fight him. "So be it. If you're going to come back, then do it, don't torture me this way!" She spoke to him out loud, as if he were in the room; for all she knew, he was. "You were wrong about one thing, Lucas. You do have a soul....how could you not? It's the part of you that's with me every minute. If you come to me now, I won't resist... But come soon, before I fly off for good over the cuckoo's nest." In Trinity, Lucas had been pacing his bedroom floor, fighting the urge to howl. He'd woken suddenly, in intense pain; his head felt like a grapefruit being stomped by a bunch of Hell's Angels. No medication would deliver him from this; it was coming from her. Then, in the space of a heartbeat...it stopped. He stood frozen for a minute, absorbing the peace..and he smiled. She stopped fighting me. Lucas waited, listening for the delicate pattern of her thoughts to enter his mind...he heard her calling. It was time. I'm on my way, darlin'. All you have to do is let me in. Less than fifteen minutes later, he'd thrown on clean clothes and raced to the bridge. He'd walked the whole way, and anticipation, along with the heat and humidity of the morning only made The Rage inside him burn hotter. Even as he aligned himself along the bridge railing and prepared for meditation, Lucas was aware of the missing element... Still, he would try. The intensity of the fire in his belly was almost enough to generate electricity all by itself. Almost. Determination running through him, Lucas sank to his knees. He shut his eyes, giving himself to the pull of inward energy, letting it coil up tightly inside him; then beginning to loosen, to expand. Sure enough, after several minutes, the sky began to darken; the clouds rolling in grew heavy with the threat of rain. Now the wind was picking up; the air swirling directly around Lucas in a whirlpool seemed to glimmer; he was in the eye of a rising storm. The smell of rain surrounded him, he could taste it. With the first crash of thunder, Lucas opened his eyes, wanting to see the flash; as sheet lightning illuminated everything, for an instant, he braced himself...but it passed, and he remained where he was.. He waited for the next flash, and the next...but nothing happened. He knew then that it was pointless. Unless there was an electrical impulse from the other side, at the same time, he wasn't going anywhere. Lucas glanced at his watch, thinking quickly. Suddenly it occurred to him: night in Trinity was parallel to night in New York, which meant it was morning there now. Which also meant Kristen might be getting ready to go to work...on the subway. He might finally have a chance; it was in this same way that he'd made the first migration. I may end up falling into a crowd of edgy New Yorkers during rush hour, he thought, but if that's the way it has to happen...well, so be it. He closed his eyes again and slipped back into alpha. On this particular morning, Kristen had finally accepted her powerlessness in the shadow of Lucas Buck. She felt drained, completely devoid of any hope of controlling the situation, or her life. Her desperation had gone way beyond hoping to prove to herself that she wasn't crazy, that she hadn't imagined the whole thing. Now she opened herself to the fact that she couldn't imagine living without seeing him again. If she could be with him for even a little while, for one more kiss...she wanted to hear his voice, to look straight into his eyes, his beautiful, unknowable eyes while he made love to her. She didn't know what she'd have to sacrifice for this one gift, and she no longer cared. There was no room for justifications, for excuses... there was only this aching, bottomless need. Without even bothering to call in sick, she went straight to the kitchen. For the first time in her life, Kristen did something she'd never dreamt of doing in the past. She passed right by her beloved coffee and reached for the bottle of vodka in her freezer. A nice, cold, mind-numbing potion is exactly what the doctor ordered, she told herself. Something that will let me sleep through the entire day... And if Lucas happens to show up, he'll just have to kiss me awake... like Sleeping Beauty. Out came the ingredients for a morning eye-closer: freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh lime juice...half a cup of strawberries, a few chunks of mango (her favorite fruit) and lastly, a generous measure of vodka. The secret ingredient, she chuckled. Everything went straight into the blender, the dial turned to high. End of Part 2 * * * * * * * * Part 3 At that very moment, Lucas was standing in the vortex where sound, light and thought converge; the crossroads between the realm of the imagined and the dimension of substance; the bridge between the worlds. The air around him crackled; he felt the drawing, magnetic pull of the current that was joining his world with hers. There was no way he could have known that the power of this electrical surge was far greater than at the moment of his first migration; but even if he had known how dangerous it was, he probably would have risked it anyway. The sheer force of his inner Rage magnified the power of the lightning above him triplefold; the current ripped through his body, simultaneously infusing him with life and overloading his nervous system to the point of devastation. Out of the corner of her eye, Kristen saw something collapse on the kitchen floor, inches from her feet. She reached over to silence the infernal noise of the blender, and looked down. "Omigod!!" For a moment she couldn't breathe; she wasn't sure if he was dead or alive. Kristen fell to her knees to touch him, and found his pulse: it was weak, but it was there. Exhaling her relief, she looked skyward, thanking the heavens; then she lay her head on Lucas' chest and listened to his heartbeat. A few minutes later, he began to stir; he finally opened his eyes. Overcome with joy, Kristen didn't know what to do first; she wanted to hug him, to dance around the room with him. "You came back to me, Lucas! I knew you would..." she whispered, and realized she was crying. He didn't move, but the smile that played on his lips gave her a rush of hope that he was okay. "You sure didn't make it easy," he murmured in his delicious, gravely voice. "Oh, Lucas!" She couldn't stop kissing him. "Here, let me help you up...Can you walk to that chair over there?" Lucas stared at her with those eyes, and she lost track of where she was for a minute. Kristen was so happy he was with her; she didn't realize he was dying. But the look on his face told her he was far more seriously hurt than she realized. Gently he reached over and took her hand, kissed her fingers. "Almost made it, love..." he closed his eyes, still holding her hand. She was suddenly scared; he was slipping away right in front of her. "Never mind...don't try to walk," she blurted. "I'll call an ambulance." "No... Just sit with me a little longer, okay?" he said. His voice was tired, fading. Her tears started up again, but they weren't tears of joy. "You can't," she cried. "You can't, don't leave me! I've waited--I've waited so long to have you back..." "It's all right," he said. "I'll always be with you." "What can I do...can't I do something?" "Yes." "Tell me..." " Let me in," he said. "Just let me in." She stared into his eyes, her face hot with tears. Then she kissed Lucas Buck for the last time. * * * Later that day, Kristen walked through the doors of Bumble Publishing. She was wearing Lucas' red shirt and black vest, with a long black skirt of her own. Linda, the receptionist, nearly leapt out of her chair when she saw her. "My goodness! Kristen, we've been trying to call you all morning. Is everything okay?" Linda asked, her voice heavy with concern. Kristen smiled at her, her eyes glittering. "Oh, yes... never felt better in my life. I had a bit of a...family emergency. Everything's fine, though." Linda looked her over carefully, wondering....something about the woman was definitely different. It wasn't just the clothes...no, there was something else, the way she carried herself, with a certain air of coolness, a confidence she didn't have before. Her eyes had a slightly unnerving gleam...Linda sniffed delicately. She's wearing perfume, too... smells expensive. There must be a new boyfriend in the picture, Linda thought. "Aha...well, anyway, we're glad to have you back, " Linda said dutifully. "You can still catch part of that meeting, Mr. Sutcliffe's office." "Thanks, darlin. You're a peach." Kristen's grin reminded Linda of something she'd read in one of her intrigue novels; it was the smile of a thief who'd just cleaned out an entire bank all by himself. "Well, well....we've been wondering about you," Sutcliffe began when Kristen walked into his office." "Are you all better?" Dan Randall was solicitious as always. "You were starting to scare us. We thought one of us might have to drop by and look in on you." Kristen tilted her head, eyeing him like some exotic animal surveying her human prey. "Oh, I'm doing very well, now," she said. "In all honesty, I wasn't really sick. Actually, I just got married." Sutcliffe and Randall gaped; it was the first they'd heard of a new man in her life. "No kidding! Just this weekend?" Sutcliffe asked, trying to temper his shock. "No, today. This morning," Kristen continued brightly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in any of this. "It was a spur of the moment kind of decision." Randall and Sutcliffe exchanged glances. "Yes, it certainly sounds that way," Randall managed, covering his confusion with a laugh. There was a long moment of silence. He was staring at her left hand; both men had noticed she wasn't wearing a ring. "We didn't even have time to exchange rings, " she explained. "It was very informal. But I've always felt the most important thing about marriage is the mingling of souls... " Silence. "Well.. this certainly is a surprise, " Sutcliffe began, awaiting further explanation.. All he got was another of those big grins. "I suppose congratulations are in order." "Yes, by all means," Randall chimed in. "We'll have to take you out for lunch to celebrate." Kristen nodded graciously. "That would be very nice." "Just out of curiosity," Sutcliffe said cautiously, "is it anyone we know?" "Oh, no...I'm sure you don't know him. He's from...out of town," she finished. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. You have no idea... Randall smiled indulgently. "So, Kristen, are you keeping your maiden name? What should we call you now?" Kristen stared at him for a moment. "Call me Mrs. Kristen Buck," she said coolly. "That's Buck, with a 'B'." LUCAS BUCK LIVES!! THE END