The silence felt heavy and oppressive as they silently rode to Joselyn's house. Glancing over, she studied River's face as he drove, both hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Once Detective Jameson had arrived with a crime scene team, River had shut down her out. The Frost Giant was back.

Joselyn tried so hard to be brave but the weight of this situation was crippling her. It was the program all over. Once again, her life was not her own. As before, she had to keep one eye trained behind her at all times and every action she took must be scrutinized and evaluated. Drawing a breath, she let it out carefully, willing her heart to slow from its frantic drumming in her chest. Douglas Beecher McClane was stalking her. She knew he was supposed to be deceased. She knew Maddox, Detective Jameson and everyone in the free world thought he was dead but she knew better. The person causing all this anxiety was not some random stalker copy cat. She knew it was ludicrous to believe he was still alive but she couldn't shake the feeling. Something inside her told her it was him.

"You're not crazy."

She looked over at him. "What?"

"I said you aren't crazy. I know you feel like everyone thinks you are but you aren't."

She gave out a choked laugh. "Yeah sure."

He reached over and clasped her hand in his. Gently, he squeezed it. "I mean it. You have been through a lot. Douglas McClane took your security, your freedom, and your confidence. For three years, his actions ruled yours. Now, this guy comes along and does the exact same again. It's the same actions, the same feelings, the same inability to do what you want. It's natural for you to feel this way. Being scared isn't being crazy. In this situation, it's being smart." He pulled up to the gate and stopped. Entering his code, he drove through, waving to Sam at the gate and pulled into her driveway. Once the truck was parked, he continued. "Joselyn, I swear to you. No matter who this man is, McClane, or a copy cat or some sick fu... creep who gets his jollies trying to scare you, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Do you hear what I'm saying? Nothing is going to happen to you. If one good thing came out of tonight, Bull is now opening a full case for you that he can actively work. He is smart, wily and has instincts off the chart. He's going to figure out who is doing this to you. Until he does, I'll be right here, watching your six, keeping you safe. You have two SEALs working to take care of this for you, Okay?"

She nodded but wouldn't meet his gaze. Sure, a part of her knew it was impossible for her stalker to be McClane but it was a small part. This terror felt the same. It felt like those three years hiding in safe houses, looking over her shoulder and waiting for the moment he would finally get to her. It was insane, absurd. She had seen the report and the pictures of the man stretched out and face up on the cemetery lawn. He had the same chin and lips and the same hair, although drenched in blood. Except for the bullet holes on his forehead and cheek which destroyed his face on one side, it was the same. There was no question it was Douglas McClane. He. Was. Dead. If she knew it, why couldn't she trust herself?

"Come on, I think it's time to break into that bottle of red sitting in your fridge." River got out of the truck, scanned the area before going to her side. Opening the door, he helped her out of the truck and ushered her toward the door in front of him. Shielding her from the open, they went inside, disarmed the alarm and locked it behind.

"Stay here," he murmured as he pulled his weapon and quickly made a sweep of the house. It was obvious nobody had entered since the alarm had not sounded but she was glad he was checking anyway. It made her feel... safer.

Several minutes passed before he returned to the entryway. "All clear." He led her into the den and seated her in front of the fireplace. Within minutes, he had a nice fire going. He pulled an afghan from the sofa and placed around her shoulders. "I'll get you a glass of wine."

She watched him leave and felt something in her twist. He was so protective and strong. It wasn't fair she couldn't be strong as well. She thought she had possessed a decent grip on things. Up until the moment she discovered the latest gift, she was sure she could handle anything. She hated what she had become; a weak, uncertain, frightened version of herself. Now she felt like a piece of dandelion fluff caught in a windstorm. Her stalker, McClane or copycat, had proven could get to her when he was ready. Instantly, she understood hopelessness. Before, while still in WitSec, she hadn't received any gifts or creepy poems and though frightened she understood she was safe. Now, knowing he could reach out and pluck her like the rose he called her, terrified her. She tasted salt and realized the tears threatening to fall had finally made their way down her face. She heard River return and quickly wiped her cheeks with the corner of the cover. He handed her a glass half full of the deep red wine. She smiled but couldn't meet his eyes.

He muttered a curse and she didn't even chastise him. Did she trust River to keep her safe? She wasn't sure. She didn't trust anyone right now. Taking a sip of the vintage, she frowned. It tasted like ashes in her mouth. Placing the glass on the table, she pulled herself to her feet. "I'm going to go to bed," she mumbled before walking woodenly to the stairs. Tomorrow she would get herself together but for tonight, all she wanted was to sleep.

No, that's not exactly true. What she really wanted was to feel River's arms around her and to hear his whispered assurances saying she wouldn't come to harm. She knew he was Special Forces. She knew it was wrong to feel this way about him. She knew nothing would ever come of her romantic notions concerning him. Yes, she knew all of this but it her heart wasn't listening. Right now, she needed his strength, his care. She needed him but it was not to be. He made it very clear every chance he could.

Changing into her pajamas, Joselyn slid into bed. Curling on her side, she closed her eyes but instead of the dark, she saw Douglas McClane's face as he screamed at her in the courtroom. She shuddered and bit her lip to keep a sob from erupting. Her heart raced in her chest and sweat poured down her back. Fighting to maintain control, she chastised herself. She didn't want River to see her fall apart. She heard him climb the stairs and stop outside her door. Holding her breath, she waited until he entered his room. Then and only then, would she allow the tears to fall.

She closed her eyes and pulled her favorite comforter up over her head. Staring into the blackness, the words with is revolting gift flickered through her mind over and over. When sleep finally claimed her, it was only after her pillow was thoroughly soaked and exhaustion forced her into the arms of her nightmares.

* * *

He couldn't sleep.

Lying on the bed down the hall from Joselyn, River stared at the red glowing numbers of the clock on the table. When the digital numbers read 4:30, he threw the cover off. He might as well get up. There wasn't going to be any more sleep tonight.

Rising swiftly, he grabbed a tee-shirt out of the drawer and tugged it on along with a ratty pair of shorts. Sliding his feet into his gym shoes, he checked his SIG and strapped it into an underarm holster. Sliding a small knife into a sheath strapped to his ankle, he stood and stretched. Quickly he swept the house again before exiting the front door. Putting in the code, he slipped out and waited for the faint acceptance of the rearming chime. Turning his face toward the second floor of darkened windows, he felt a clench in his belly. He hated to leave her, even for a few minutes but he had to do this. Normally, he used the treadmill in Joselyn's little basement home gym to get his daily five-mile run. Today, it wouldn't be enough. He needed to check the neighborhood. He convinced himself it was being diligent but he knew it was because of the way she had melted last night. He had to do something and he needed to clear his head.

Doing a couple of stretches to loosen his muscles, he jogged to the road, turned left and out into the neighborhood. With a chin lift, he acknowledged Sam in the guardhouse as he passed. The guard waved then went back to watching something on a small laptop. River frowned. He knew it was allowed by Joselyn's HOA but he didn't like it. He much rather the guards pays closer attention even if they were mostly nonessential.

Immediately, his thoughts turned toward Joselyn. She was beautiful, feisty and so strong. Until last night, he would have thought nothing could shake her but now he knew better. He couldn't get the haunted look in her eyes out of his mind. One minute she had been happy, laughing and joking with him at dinner and the next, it was all she could do to not fall to pieces. He hated seeing her that way. She had an undeniable spark which made him sometimes wonder if she truly needed him. Not that he didn't think she was in danger. No, the toxicology report on those strawberries assured him she did need help. The events last night solidified it. However, until they found her new gift, she seemed so unshakeable. The note and honey left on his truck had shattered her. He grimaced as he recalled the blood draining from her face and her body trembling as he held her against him. Last night hadn't only scared her, it had terrified her.

Rounding a corner, he disappeared into the next cul-de-sac, following the road. The neighborhood was quiet. She had chosen well in making a home here. With a few tweaks, he had made sure she was as secure as she could be. Pushing himself to go a bit faster, he noted absently how this area was not as well lit as Joselyns. He looked up to see the street lamp out. Glancing down quickly, he didn't see any glass littering the roadside so it was probably a few days old. He made a mental note to let Sam know when he returned to the main gate.

Returning his thoughts to her, he began to mentally categorize what he knew about her stalker. Other than an obvious fascination with both Joselyn and the 'The Gardener', they didn't have much to go on. Maybe he should contact her former handler in WitSec to get his spin on things. He nodded to himself. Yeah, that would be a great place to start.

Reaching the final road leading to the smaller, unmanned, secondary gate, he continued down and around. The first night here, he had run this same route, familiarizing himself with her neighborhood. The houses in this section were the newest and backed up against a high, stone privacy wall. A park spread out beyond it. Cutting across the yard of an empty house for sale, he reached the wall and pushed himself to the top. The wall itself was about a foot wide and had tall metal poles topped with lights. Looking over the edge, he noted someone would have to have a ladder to breach this barrier as the ground dropped away a good twelve feet to the manicured playground below. He glanced up the length of the wall and noticed a gate atop a set of gently curving rock steps with a digital pad for residents to use if they wanted to escape into the area. He nodded. The gate, like the other two, had bars too close together to let anything other than a small animal through. Satisfied all was as it should be, he jumped lightly from the wall and retraced his steps back.

By the time he saw the guard house again, a fine sweat covered his body. Stopping to tell Sam about the lamp, he retreated to Joselyn's house. A sense of relief washed over him as he stepped onto her drive. The run had only been about two miles but he didn't feel like leaving her again. He had needed to check the neighborhood to ensure himself everything was okay. Now he would complete his exercise on the treadmill in her house.

Letting himself in, he reset the code. Quickly, he checked all the rooms, doors and windows. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Stopping at his room, he removed the knife and sheath but kept the SIG with him. Hesitating briefly at the doorway of Joselyn's room, he watched her sleep for a few minutes. He frowned as she tossed and turned, making little sounds of distress. Maybe he should wake her? He took a step into her room then stopped. He recalled too well how she felt in his arms last night - tiny, afraid, trembling. The haunting fear in her eyes tore a hole in his gut. He was in deep and he knew it. He wanted her. There he said it. He wanted her with everything in his soul. It was too easy to imagine holding her, comforting her, being with her. She would make him happy, just by letting him be a part of her world. However, there were so many reasons why he couldn't and the biggest one was crystal clear. She was his client. He shook his head and retreated from her room.

His client.

Making his way to the basement, he set the machine and stepped on. Gradually he increased the tempo until it was at a fast run. He ran as hard as he could, punishing his body for thinking about her like that. He had no right to her. He was here to watch over her and to keep some schmuck from getting his hands on her. There could be nothing more. Once she was safe, she would go back to her life and he would try to find where he fit into his own world, post SEALs. After fifteen minutes running at such a grueling pace, he hopped off. Gasping hard, he sucked in oxygen as fast as his aching lungs allowed. Snatching a towel, he wiped the sweat from his drenched face and threw it against the wall with a curse. Bending over, he braced his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. He couldn't run away from the truth. He had tried to distance himself but he was tired of fighting it.

Joselyn was his to protect.

His to care for.

His.