As Sean flew towards the brightly lit port he could faintly hear dogs barking and yelping in the distance. The sound projecting from his larynx was unheard by the human ear, yet agony for most animals. He was going to hear it from N'Gari when he got back. But he didn't care at that point for the dogs, he had more important, more personal things to worry about. Sean didn't know where Moira was staying, and after a few days of looking had only a slightly better idea. The island didn't have a police station or information center so he'd have to check the remaining bungalows.

He landed softly on the beach about a mile away from his own camp. He was barefoot and could feel that the sand was still warm from the sun's prolonged and unforgiving warmth.

As he walked to the heart of the main bungalow park he thought of Emma. *Was she okay out there alone, for a few days, after dark, defenseless? What if th' lass drowns, what if she can't call in, what if--hold on for a minute here, Sean, me boy!* he checked himself mentally, *Th' lass is definitely nae dumb! She figured that if I were tae leave that she would have t'get back herself!*

Right now he shouldn't be concerned with Emma, he couldn't afford to be. Moira was probably planning his demise as it was.

Sean walked up to the first bungalow and peered in through a open window, only to find a couple enjoying each other's company. He turned bright red as the woman sat up and screeched, then tried to smile. "Iffin ye'll be excusin' me, have a nice evening!" he said, turning and hurrying off.

Sean took a deep breath and moved on to the next bungalow, peering cautiously into a darkened room. As he was about to leave he heard a familiar tune coming from within the house.

"'Yo Shades of Green,' aye 'tis her!" Sean whispered to himself. It was his favorite song that he played when he was depressed or lonely.

Sean lifted the window and crawled through into darkness. He hummed the tune, quietly making his way through the house towards the source. As he turned a hallway he watched as a bottle rolled downstairs and smashed on the tile at the foot of the stair. The music stopped and Sean heard footsteps growing closer, followed by the sweet Scottish voice that he knew he loved. But this time the voice sounded . . . drunk.

"Hellooooo!!! Ies anyoone ther? {hi-cup} Helooooooo! {snort, snort bwaahahah!}"(1)

*Oh m' dear sweet laird! She's as drunk as an ant in a bottle!* Sean thought to himself. He approached the base of the stairs as she started running around and screaming in her room.

"Get oot! Ooh mah laird! A burglar!"(2) Moira ran into the hallway, bottle of bourbon in hand and a large nightgown dwarfing her already small frame. "Nae oone {hi-cup} steip closaer, laddie 'r sae 'elp me 'll bash ye're 'ead in A will!" (3)

Sean hesitated only a minute before starting to ascend the stairs slowly. "Moira, 'tis me, Sean," he said, trying to calm her.

"Dien't move 'r A'll punch yuir bloody fiace in, ye noo giud . . ."(4) Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she pulled the bottle back, holding it like a bat and ignoring the fact that it was about to tip out of her hands and she was about to topple off the stairs.

"Darlin', it's--" Sean was cut short by a battle cry as bourbon slammed across his face far harder then he thought it could, shattering against his jaw. He fell to the ground unconscious.

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Emma stood at the edge of the boat looking across the dark sky that matched the pitch black water.

Emma, both furious and jealous, observed the trashed motor for the umpteenth time in the past few days.

"Sigh." She rubbed her temples, silently cursing Sean for leaving her.

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, rarely even herself, but she was terrified out here all alone. Sharks, water, being alone, drifting.

But despite all, she encouraged herself to keep her dignity and allowed herself to roam the yacht as if nothing were wrong. Someone would stumble across her sometime.

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Sean felt a sore throbbing on the left side of his face. He could taste blood in his mouth, but felt it only on his cheek. At first he had no idea whatsoever as to where he was, until he heard a familiar voice in another room.

He sat up and squinted his eyes, looking about the room confusedly. He cradled his jaw in his palm as a voice from behind spoke.

"She sure did a number on you, pal!"

Sean turned to see a tall, skinny, mustache faced police officer looking at him from a distance.

"Name?" The officer stood looking at his clipboard, pen in hand.

Hesitating and looking at his wrists, Sean noticed handcuffs that he hadn't seen when he'd first awoke. "Sean Cassidy."

"That Irish, ain't it?"

Sean grit his teeth in irritation. "Aye."

"Well all right, Mr. Cassidy, Just what'd ya think you were doin' in the lady's house?"

"She's me girlfriend! Or, she was," he amended.

"Well, ain't that funny. She claims that she' don't even know you!"

Sean stared past the officer and into space, completely overwhelmed.

"Wanna try again, pilgrim?"

Sean was silent.

"All right boys, let's book him."

The two officers put their pistols in their holsters, grabbed Sean and began reading him his rights.

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Translations!

(1) Hello, do I have a visitor?

(2) Please leave! Oh my goodness, a robber!

(3) If you come too much closer I will be forced to hurt your head in self-defense, I will.

(4) Please don't move or else I will have to use my clenched hand to hurt your face, you not wonderful . . .

Ten days left . . .

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