BEWITCHED, BOTHERED, AND BEWILDERED by Lee Kirkland Supple arms wrapped tightly around Sam's neck; a delicate scent surrounded him; soft hairbrushed against his cheek. The slight body pressed close to his was definitely female, andinvoluntarily, his arms tightened around her. When he felt her lift her head from his shoulder, Sam opened his eyes to find the youngwoman smiling beatifically, eyes still closed. "Catherine?" he whispered in astonishment. "Oh,boy!" Her eyes opened and she smiled. "I have to go now, Steven, or I'll be late for class." Sheleaned forward and kissed him. "I'll see you later, okay?" "What? Oh, yeah, sure," he agreed in bewilderment. She went out and he sprang up, going to the window to look out. The street outside wasnarrow, lined with older, four and five-story buildings. He judged the apartment to be on thethird floor. Looking down, he saw Catherine come out and wave down a passing cab. Hewatched until it disappeared around a corner. Turning, he surveyed his surroundings. The flat was tiny, a one room studio with a smallkitchen sectioned off in one corner and a bathroom partitioned off in another. "Rich kids," a voice behind him announced. "What?" Sam spun to face the voice. "Rich kids playing at being poor," Al repeated. "Al, did you see her? That's Catherine Chandler. Only I think she's younger. And shekissed me!" Al looked interested. "Really? Lemme check it out." He punched a few keys on hishand-held computer link and slapped the side of it when it didn't respond quickly enough. "Let's see," he mused, half to himself. "Your name is Steven Bass. It's January 23, 1983,and you're a law student at Columbia University." "But Catherine," Sam insisted. "What am I doing with Catherine?" Al punched more buttons. "Uh-oh." Al frowned and chewed on the end of his cigar. "Uh-oh? What? What's wrong?" Sam half-reached to grab Al's arm before rememberinghe wouldn't be able to touch him. Al cocked his head, as if a different angle might change what he was seeing. "You livetogether. And you're engaged to be married." "To Catherine?" Sam asked, incredulous. "But what about Vincent?" Al shrugged. "Ziggy won't be able to help us there," he reminded. "He has no record ofVincent's existence." "But what about Catherine? Doesn't she know..." "Maybe she doesn't know him yet," Al suggested. Sam thought. "No, you're right, she doesn't," he remembered. "It was in Vincent'sjournals... they meet in 1987. He finds her in Central Park, bleeding to death because her face hasbeen slashed." Al pushed a few more buttons. "Uh-oh, Sam." Sam wished that for once, Al would get to the point without all the buildup. "What?" "I checked with Ziggy. He says there's no record of Catherine being attacked in 1987. Hesays she's not with the D.A.'s office; she's not even a lawyer!" He punched buttons frantically. "She doesn't finish law school, Sam! She marries this guy Steven instead." "That's not possible, Al. We've just come from 1993; we saw her! She's married toVincent, she's the mother of his children. I saved her life once!" "I know, Sam, but Ziggy says that doesn't matter! If you don't keep her from marryingSteven, none of that will happen!" When excited, Al talked with his hands, and now he wasespecially agitated. Sam was glad there was no danger of being struck by an errant gesture. "You've got to stop her, Sam! She has to meet Vincent and marry him! If you don't, little Albertwill never be born!" "Al, there's more to this than your namesake!" Sam said, exasperated. "What does Ziggysay I'm here to do?" Al calmed a little and consulted the computer. "He agrees with me," he answered smugly. "He says there's a ninety-six percent chance that you're here to keep Catherine Chandler frommarrying Stephen Bass." "What happens if I don't?" Sam inquired. Al was intent on his handlink. "Ziggy says if she marries Steven, her whole life changes. She withdraws from her friends, even her father. And Sam..." Al looked up, hesitant. "Ziggy'slooking at her medical records..." Sam knew without Al telling him. "He hits her." Al nodded. "Yeah. Over the years, he's broken her arm, her jaw, her ribs... you have tostop it, Sam. You can't let that happen to her. Vincent would never forgive you." Vincent would never forgive you. Sam spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the smallapartment, trying to push the echo of Al's statement from his mind. What Vincent would orwould not forgive was immaterial now. Remembering his sister's abusive first marriage, Samknew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't do what was best for Catherine. The part he couldn't understand was why this was happening at all. As he'd said to Al,they'd already seen Catherine Chandler's future, and Steven Bass wasn't part of it. And all Alcould say in reply was, "Ziggy says that doesn't matter. Ziggy says this is the way it is." It was unsatisfactory, but Sam couldn't argue with a computer, and the fact remained thathe was here, occupying a part of Catherine's life once more. It was nearly dark outside when he heard a key turn in the lock. Catherine came inweighed down with shopping bags and he moved quickly to lighten her load. "I stopped by the market," she said, surrendering a brown paper bag to him. "And Ibrought Chinese for dinner." She moved toward the kitchen. "Steven, why is it so dark in here? I thought you were going to spend the day studying." "I was... I mean, I am, but..." She sighed, cutting of his stumbling explanation. "But you got to looking out the window,or thinking, or..." "Yeah," he agreed sheepishly. "I guess so." She had her back to him, putting away the few groceries she'd brought home. He couldn'tsee her face, but the sharp way she moved told him she was annoyed. After a few moments, shespoke. "Steven, how are you ever going to get through law school if you don't study?" Sam suspected she was trying very hard not to be angry with him, and he was pondering areply when the telephone rang. "I'll get it," he said, thankful for the reprieve, and reached quickly for the kitchenextension. "Hello?" It was only as he lifted the receiver that it occurred to him this call might befor Steven, and he wouldn't have the slightest idea what to say. A man's brusque voice came over the line. "Hello, Steven, it's Charles Chandler. Is Cathythere?" Sam didn't have any idea who Charles Chandler was, though obviously he was supposedto know; equally obviously, the man was related to Catherine. He sounded older, so Sam guessedthat he was probably her father; Al had mentioned him. "Yes, sir," he answered guardedly. "Just a minute, I'll get her." He turned and held out the receiver. "Cath..." he stumbled over her name. Sam had neverheard her called by anything but her full name, but maybe that had come later. Her father used adiminutive; maybe Steven did, too. She didn't seem to find anything unusual in his hesitation, murmuring "thank you," as shetook the receiver from his hand. "Hi, Dad, what's up?" With his guess confirmed, Sam retreated to a far corner of the room to allow her someprivacy and give himself time to think. He suspected Al and Ziggy were right and that he washere to disrupt the relationship between Catherine and Steven. But he cared for Catherine, whoplainly cared for Steven; he wanted to let her down gently. Idly, he wondered if she had knownSteven in the other timeline, the one where she'd eventually met Vincent, and if so, what hadhappened. That line of thought, like most of the others he'd been pursuing all afternoon, wasfruitless and he pushed it aside. Behind him, Catherine hung up the phone and he turned to face her, coming to a swiftdecision as he did so. For once there was no rapidly approaching deadline hanging over his head;he would take it slow and easy, feeling out how things stood between Catherine and Stevenbefore choosing a course of action. She was already annoyed with him, so maybe he was on theright track. He hoped too soon, because she was smiling. "Dad's just making sure we remember we'resupposed to meet him for dinner tomorrow night," she said. Not knowing what to say, he nodded. It seemed to satisfy her and she turned to finishstowing the last of her shopping before bringing out plates and serving dinner from a series ofwhite cartons. After they ate, Sam retreated to the living-room portion of the small apartment and took abook from a stack on an end table, leafing through it absently. He stiffened when Catherine cameand curled up beside him. She began nuzzling his neck; he tried to ignore her, staring hard at the book. For amoment he thought it was working. She stopped what she was doing and he could feel herwatching him. Without Sam knowing quite how it happened, the book went flying to the floorand Catherine draped herself across his lap. He made a futile grab for the book, realizing too latethe compromising position he was putting himself into. Before he could pull back, her arms were around his neck. His resolve began to slip whenshe started kissing him. He knew he shouldn't respond, but he had always found her attractive,and she was soft, and warm, and maybe just one kiss wouldn't hurt... "Sam, if Vincent finds out you're messing around with his wife, he's going to rip your armsoff." Startled, Sam jerked his head up, meeting Al's disapproving gaze. "Vincent..." hemurmured, remembering. Catherine tried to draw his head back down and frowned when he resisted. "Who'sVincent?" she murmured against his throat. "I... he's... nobody... a case I was studying..." Sam fumbled, trying to extricate himselffrom her embrace. "Well, study him later," she answered. Her hand went to his shirt and began tugging onthe buttons and Sam knew he had to do something. "Catherine, please," he murmured, and slid sideways, removing her from his lap. Standing, he moved away hastily. "Steven, what's wrong?" She frowned up at him. "Nothing. Just..." He stammered, and ran a hand through his hair. "You'd better get out of here for a little while, Sam," Al advised. "Yeah. Right. Uh, listen, Cath, I'm going for a walk..." Avoiding her incredulous, hurtstare, he snatched up a jacket and hurried out. Al joined him on the sidewalk and they began towalk. "What am I going to do, Al? How am I going to convince her that I'm a jerk?" "Looks like you made a pretty good start," Al observed, puffing on his cigar. "She wasmad." "Yeah." Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster. "She was mad earlier,too, but she got over it pretty quickly. I think she really loves this guy." "Yeah, well, she'd better stop loving him, if she knows what's good for her." "Oh, that's smart, Al. Why don't I just tell her that, so I can leap on out of here?" Samwas almost shouting in his frustration. "Hey, hey, chill out," Al said, alarmed at his friend's vehemence. "I know it's not going tobe easy. But you've got to do this, Sam. This slimeball's no good for her." Sam already regretted his outburst. This would be a lot easier if he hadn't met Catherineon two previous leaps, and hadn't learned to care for her. He was emotionally involved now, andit affected his judgement. "I know, Al. I'll think of something." Subdued, and deep in thought, he walked for a while longer before turning back to the tinywalk-up apartment. A key found in his pocket unlocked the door and he eased it open quietly. The room beyond was dark and he could hear the rhythmic sound of someone breathing. As hiseyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw the couch pulled out into a bed; Catherine curled there, fastasleep. "Good, Sam," Al whispered, behind him, forgetting for the moment that Catherinecouldn't have heard him if he'd shouted. "She's asleep. Now you don't have to worry about herseducing you." Sam threw him a withering glance, which Al characteristically ignored. "Hey, Sam," he asked in a more normal voice. "Where are you going to sleep?" Sam hadn't considered the question until Al mentioned it, but now he looked around thesmall room. The only furniture was the couch, two end tables, a desk, a bookcase, and twostraight chairs. "Good question," he muttered. "How about the bathtub?" Al suggested helpfully. Sam glared. "There isn't one," he hissed. "Only a shower." He looked down. The carpet beneath his feet was clean but thin, and the padding beneathwas nearly non-existent. Sighing, he sneaked a pillow from the couch/bed and made himself ascomfortable as possible on the hard floor. "Goodnight, Sam," Al said, and vanished. Fatigue finally overcame discomfort, and Sam dozed, only to be awakened by someoneshaking him. "Steven? Steven?" It was still dark outside; the only illumination was from the streetlamps three floors below. Sam squinted at Catherine in the dim light. "Steven?" she asked again. "Come to bed." She tugged at his arm and he sat up groggily. "Cath? What... what time is it?" "Just past three," she answered. "What are you doing on the floor?" "Didn't want to wake you," he mumbled. To his consternation, she smiled and pressed her forehead against his. "Oh, Steven." Taking his hands, she pulled him up. There was no graceful way for Sam to avoid being led to thebed, and he allowed her to tuck him in. He did manage to divert her kiss to his cheek, and shegave him a curious half-frown before crawling in beside him. She curled, with the ease of longfamiliarity, against his back, and was almost immediately asleep again. Sam lay awake for a while,rigid with uncomfortable apprehension, but finally he slept, too. When he woke, sunlight was creeping in beneath the curtains and Catherine was nestledsnugly in his arms. As he tried to ease away from her, she opened sleepy green eyes and smiled athim. "Morning," she whispered, pressing close. "Did you sleep well, once you came to bed?" "Uh, morning," Sam answered, feeling awkward. "Yeah, I slept okay." "Weren't you feeling well last night? What were you doing down there?" She rose on oneelbow, leaning over him. "Uh, no, well, yeah, I felt a little... not too good, I guess," Sam stammered. "Poor baby," she murmured, and pressed her lips against his jaw. "Let me make you feelbetter." "Jeez, Sam, do you have to be doing this every time I come in?" Al sounded annoyed. Sam glared over Catherine's head and tried again to ease away from her. She looked athim, puzzled. "What's wrong?" "I... nothing. What time is it?" Off-balance, Sam said the first thing that popped into hismind. "What time...?" She gazed at him for a moment before rolling over to look at her bedsideclock. "Quarter of eight! Omigosh! We overslept!" Moving swiftly, she bounded out of bed andinto the bathroom. Heaving a sigh of relief, he looked upward and whispered a fervent "thank you" beforesinking back against his pillow. "Sam, you've got to learn to keep your hands to yourself," Al admonished severely. "My hands!" Sam expostulated. "What about her hands? They're all over me!" "Oh, yeah?" Al shot an interested glance toward the closed bathroom door. "Too bad I'ma hologram. She could put her hands..." "Al..." Sam's voice held a low warning. "Okay, okay." Al waved his cigar in surrender. "I only came to tell you that Ziggy saysthat it's now ninety-nine point three percent sure that you're here to keep Catherine from marryingthis Steven guy." "Does he have any suggestions on how I should do that?" Sam inquired, trying not tosound impatient. "No, but I talked to Dr. Beeks. She thinks if you just sort of do what you've been doing,and sort of distance yourself..." "I can't distance myself much further without leaving, Al, and so far, it's not working!" "Yeah, I know. Well, keep trying. Meanwhile, Ziggy's digging through all his psychologyprograms, looking for answers." "You guys are a lot of help," Sam answered, exasperated, and climbed out of bed. As it happened, Steven and Catherine had classes together, which made it hard to followAl's advice. "Steven, are you sure you aren't coming down with something?" Catherine asked at lunch,touching the back of her hand to his cheek. He flinched away, shaking his head. "No, I don't think so." The last thing he needed wasfor her to decide that his behavior was only temporary, brought on by illness. That wouldn't solveanything, and she'd still end up marrying Steven. "Just a little headache." She leaned toward him. "I'm sorry. Can I get you some aspirin or something?" Affected by her proximity, he pushed his chair back abruptly. "I don't want anything... Ijust need some space!" He was aware of her wounded stare as he walked away, but made himself keep going. Heheard the characteristic sliding sound of the gateway Al used in the Imaging Chamber as Al fellinto step beside him. "What happened, Sam?" Al asked, glancing back to where Catherine still sat. "Is she madat you?" Sam shook his head sadly. "I don't think so, Al. She's just hurt, and worried about me. This isn't working." "It has to!" Al insisted. "Vincent..." "Look, Al, I don't want to hear any more about Vincent, okay?" Sam rounded on hisfriend in frustration. "I've got to figure out some way to separate Catherine and Steven for hersake, not anybody else's." "Okay, Sam, okay! Keep your shirt on!" Al said placatingly. "I'm just trying to help!" Somehow, Sam made it through the rest of the afternoon. Catherine caught up with himoutside Steven's last class, smiling at him uncertainly. "Ready to go home?" she inquired. Her expression was vulnerable and Sam couldn't bring himself to rebuff her. "Okay," heagreed quietly, and followed her to the street, where she hailed a cab. Taking his cue from her, hewas silent on the long drive to the SoHo apartment she shared with Steven. Inside, she reminded him of their plans to dine with her father, and he rummaged throughSteven's half of the small closet, pulling out a dress shirt and tie. He was just wondering if heshould make a strategic retreat to the bathroom to change and allow Catherine some privacy to dothe same when she spoke. "Is this okay?" She held a dressy, mustard-colored blouse under her chin for hisinspection. Behind him, Al offered his two cents. "No, Sam, tell her no! She should never wear thatcolor! It makes her skin sallow and washes out her eyes..." Sam resisted the urge to give Al an incredulous stare; where did he get off giving fashionadvice? But he had a point -- Catherine had looked much prettier in the blue sweater she'd beenwearing earlier. "Steven!" She was growing impatient. "Is it okay?" "Uh, no, Cath. I don't like that color on you. It doesn't look good." He reached past her,pulling an emerald silk blouse from her closet. "Here, wear this..." His voice drifted away as herecognized indignation flaring in her eyes. "That's it," he murmured aloud. "What's it?" Catherine and Al asked, simultaneously. Catherine's voice had an edge thatSam welcomed. "Nothing," he told her. "I'm talking to myself." Turning, he tucked his chin into his chestand whispered, "Al!" "Right here, Sam," Al answered. "What's it?" "She doesn't like being told what to do," Sam whispered. "That's the key." Al looked doubtful. "I don't know, Sam. I always say the man should wear the pants inany relationship!" "Yeah, and none of your relationships last very long, either," Sam pointed out dryly. "Yeah, well..." Al busied himself pushing buttons on his com-link. "Ziggy says it mightwork. Then again, it might not." "What does Dr. Beeks say?" "I don't know. Gushi!" Sam winced as Al shouted in his ear. "Find Dr. Beeks!" As Samwatched, he stepped back through the gate and closed it. "Steven, are you all right?" Catherine stood behind him, watching warily. "I'm fine!" Sam burst out. "Okay? Stop asking!" Hurt, she retreated a step. "I'm sorry. I just..." Sam bit down on his instinctive apology. "You'd better hurry and get dressed," he saidinstead. "We'll be late." Turning his back, he changed quickly; when he looked at Catherine again, it was to findthat she had ignored the blouse he'd chosen, exchanging the mustard blouse for one in bright pinkand was just finishing doing up the buttons. Her glance held just a hint of defiance before shelooked away. Sam turned his head so she couldn't see his smile; he had undeniably hit a nerve and itencouraged him despite Al's doubts. He just needed to keep pushing. A cab took them to a quiet restaurant where Catherine's father waited. After hugging hisdaughter, he greeted Sam with cool cordiality, and Sam couldn't help thinking that CharlesChandler didn't quite approve of his daughter's fiance. Good, he thought as the maitre d' led them to a table. A hidden ally. His first opportunity to be overbearing came quickly. "A rum and Coke, please." She smiled at her father. "It's been a long day," she explained. Sam picked up the cue. "Should you, Cath?" he inquired solicitously. "Maybe just somewine would be better." It worked. She shot him an irritated look, which he returned with one of innocence. When the waiter came to take their order, she asked for a steak, and Sam intervenedagain. "Are you sure?" he asked, careful to sound concerned. "You had a hamburger for lunch,and too much red meat isn't good for you." Fleetingly, it occurred to him to wonder if they wereworried about cholesterol back in the early eighties, but it really didn't matter, because she wasalready bristling. "I like steak," she answered through clenched teeth. During dinner, the talk turned to Charles Chandler's corporate law firm. "You know, youroffice will be waiting when you graduate," he told his daughter fondly. "I know, Dad," she replied. "You've been telling me that since I was fifteen." Lookingdown, she poked at the baked potato, swimming in sour cream and butter. "I was thinking Imight like to take some time off after graduation." Her father momentarily looked taken aback, and Sam leaped in. "Is that such a good idea,Cath? I mean, your dad's counting on you to help him out..." If looks could kill, Sam would be a dead man, and Charles hurried to fill the breach. "That's all right, Steven. If Cathy thinks she needs some time off, we can get along without her alittle longer." He gave her an indulgent smile before turning back to Sam. "How about you, Steven? Have you given any more thought to joining us?" This was unexpected and Sam wallowed uncertainly. "Uh, no, sir," he stammered. "Iguess not." Remembering Catherine's earlier comments about Steven's not getting through lawschool if he didn't study, he added, "I'm just thinking about making it to graduation right now." Charles nodded, and the conversation turned to other things. When the dessert cart camearound, Catherine fixed Sam with a fierce stare, daring him to challenge her, and he subsidedwithout saying anything. He didn't want her to kill Steven, just not marry him. Al showed up during the frigid cab ride home. "Hey, Sam, how's it going?" Sam slid his eyes sideways, indicating Catherine, who sat rigidly on her own side of theseat, and gave a tiny shrug. "Oho," Al observed, bending for a better look at her face. "Way to go, Sam, what did youdo to her?" Sam shrugged again. To anyone but Al, it would be evident he couldn't speak. "I've got to stick around for this," Al went on, oblivious. "There might be bloodshed." He seemed intrigued, rather than alarmed, at the idea. He was waiting in the apartment when Sam and Catherine got there and wasn'tdisappointed. The door was scarcely closed behind them when Catherine rounded on Sam. "Don't you ever do that to me again," she snapped angrily. "Not in front of my father." Not in front of her father. Did that mean that it was okay to criticize her in private? Samwondered. "I'm sorry, Cath," he began, trying not to sound too contrite. "I just want what's bestfor you. You know that." She was not to be placated. "Don't patronize me! The only one who knows what's bestfor me is me!" she retorted. Whirling, she stalked into the bathroom, and slammed the door. "Boy, I don't know what you did to her, Sam, but it's sure working!" Al said admiringly. "I haven't seen a woman that mad since my fourth wife..." He paused, counting on his fingers. "Yeah, fourth wife caught me out with this dynamite redhead..." "Never mind that, Al," Sam said. "Is it enough? Did I change it?" Recalled from his memories, Al poked at his handlink. "Hmmm. Ziggy says not yet. Buthe's run your course of action through all his psychology programs and thinks you're on the righttrack. Keep it up, Sam." "Okay." Catherine emerged from the bathroom dressed for bed and went wordlessly to the couchand began to pull it out for sleeping. When Sam moved to assist, she accepted his help in icysilence, and when the bed was folded out, she crawled in and closed her eyes. "Well," Al said, grinning, "at least you can sleep safely tonight, Sam." Looking at Catherine, curled rigidly on her own side of the bed, Sam had to agree. Ifnothing else, at least he could get a good night's sleep. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, pondering briefly over one of the worst parts aboutleaping -- using someone else's toothbrush. It didn't matter that the toothbrush belonged to theperson Sam was simulating; to him, it was still someone else's. Once ready for bed, he went back into the other room, where Catherine appeared to beasleep. He felt her stiffen when he eased into bed beside her, and knew she was only pretending. He sighed, wishing there was an easier way to do this. The portal to the Imaging Chamber scraped open beside him, and Al stepped throughalready talking. "Listen, Sam, Dr. Beeks thinks she has this figured out. It doesn't make much sense tome, but she says that you should make a move on her, now!" Incredulous, Sam pushed himself up on an elbow. "What?" he hissed. "I know, I know, but Dr. Beeks swears it will work! Something about making it apparentthat Steven is only concerned with meeting his own needs, not Catherine's." Al shrugged hisignorance. "I don't get it, Sam, but maybe you ought to try it." Rolling over, Sam looked at Catherine's tense shoulders and considered. It did have acertain kind of logic. Hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand up and down Catherine's barearm. "Cath?" he whispered, trying to sound amorous. "What?" Either his message wasn't coming through, or she wasn't interested. "Dr. Beeks says don't apologize for anything you did earlier, Sam," Al coached. Sam moved closer and dared to kiss her shoulder. "Come on, Cath," he coaxed, hopingthis wouldn't backfire. "Let's make up." "Steven, take your hands off me," she said frigidly, shrugging away from his touch. "Keep after her, Sam!" Al encouraged. Sam replaced his hand. "Come on, Cath..." "Tell her you know she wants it," Al shouted. "You know you want..." Sam repeated without thought. She didn't give him time to finish, as her temper snapped and she rolled to face him. "No. I said no! Damn it, Steven, I am sick and tired of everything having to be your way! I am..." She was clearly furious, punctuating each word with a sharp jab to his chest. In thebackground, Sam could hear Al exulting. "You did it, Sam! You fixed it! You saved littleAlbert!" Sam barely had time to wonder what Steven would think about the tirade Catherine wasdelivering with enthusiasm when he leaped... THE END ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ About the Author Lee Kirkland is a pseudonym for Sue Hernandez and Becky Bain. Sue and Becky met at a SUPPORTERS OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (Denver-based group) meeting in December of 1988 and began writing together shortly after that. Altogether, Lee has written four B&B 'zines (WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS, Vols. 1-4), three B&B/Quantum Leap crossovers (QUANTUM BEAST Vols. 1-3), and several short stories. Writing alone, Becky has written three 'zines, ETERNITY, ETERNITY 2: I Shall Emerge, ETERNITY 3: Collected Dreams, and some short stories. In addition, working with Beth Druhan, she helped produce (and has a story in) a B&B 'zine called THE HAT ON THE BENCH IN CENTRAL PARK, in which each of five writers wrote a story using that image. Lee's 'zines are all now out of print. All will eventually be available via Father's Online Library. Lee's short stories, The Catnip Caper and Sleeping Beauty, are available via Father's Online Library. Her story Absolution appeared in the TUNNELCON II con 'zine; Vincent, I Don't Think We're in Verona Anymore, appeared in MacWombat Press' OLD SOULS. Becky's individual work can be ordered as follows: ETERNITY and ETERNITY 2 are now out of print. ETERNITY 3 is $17 USA, $19 FC or CAN, $24 Europe. THE HAT ON THE BENCH IN CENTRAL PARK is $14 USA, $16 FC or CAN, $20 Europe. Order from: Becky Bain, 16845 Hightree Drive, Elbert CO 80106, or Email email@example.com for further information. Becky's short stories have appeared in WITHIN THE CRYSTAL ROSE Vols. 5 (Star Light, Star Bright, under the pseudonym Anna Gerard), 6 (Riches, also under Anna Gerard), 7 (Little Boy Lost), and 8 (The Choice) all available from Mountain Rose Press, MacWombat Press' BEST MIRRORS (Not Ever), in the GREAT EXPECTATIONS con 'zine (Fairy Time), the TUNNELCON III con 'zine (Green Eyed), the REFLECTIONS con 'zine (Forsaken), and THE HAT ON THE BENCH IN CENTRAL PARK (The Lucky Cap).