Over the Moon - 1. Chapter 1

Isaac Goldeneye sighed deeply as he pulled his rental car into the darkened grocery store parking lot. He pulled a hand over his face trying to wipe away the weariness. He got out and headed inside. It had been a long day in a strange town, and Roswell, New Mexico, seemed stranger than most. Isaac needed something to eat. In the deli area, he found some pre-packaged sushi, a few shrimp spring rolls, and a salad.

The pleasant girl at the checkout smiled at him. Girls often did, to his discomfort. "Dinner for one tonight?"

"Yeah. Didn't feel like cooking."

"In a hurry?"

"No, just visiting town. Staying in a motel."

"Looking for UFO's?" the girl grinned at him.

"Sorry. I do HazMat work. I clean up toxics and explosives. I'm working a contract for Amalgamated Drilling west of town."

"You are not. I can see right through you," she joked.

Isaac looked up, startled, and stared at her with pale amber eyes. He seriously hoped she didn’t mean it. He never liked to share his secrets.

All the humor drained out of the girl's face, stunned by the combination of his eyes and Native American features. "Sorry," she muttered, "I didn't mean anything by that."

Isaac tried to relax. "No problem. It's been a long day."

He paid, and carried the bag containing his supper out to the car. He wondered if he would be able to resist tearing into his purchases the moment he got in. Isaac was hungry – ravenous. The strain of the last few weeks – no, months – was telling on him.

A zephyr caressed the hair around his ears. Isaac paused. There was something on the wind; a sound. He turned his head in concentration, trying to hear over the traffic noise. There it was again, very faint, indistinct. Definitely not a sound of the mechanical world. Something different, something almost familiar. He just couldn’t quite place it. Isaac let out a long breath he hardly knew he was holding. His hunger overrode his curiosity.

Isaac got into his car and headed back to the motel.

He was constantly on the move, never in one place more than a couple of weeks. His job took him all over North America, and sometimes beyond, too. But he was fine with travel. In fact, there was something in his spirit that seemed to demand movement and change.

Isaac stirred restlessly as he drove. The deepest of his secrets gnawed at him. What if the girl really could see him for what he was?

He parked at the motel, and sprinted to his room on the second story, with a balcony overlooking the parking lot. He needed to eat. And he needed release.

Isaac gulped his sushi and spring rolls, washing them down with bottled water. The moon was rising, and he could feel it. Swiftly, Isaac shut off all the lights in his room, and opened the sliding door to the balcony. He parted the curtain, and then retreated into the darkened room, shedding clothes from his slim, wiry frame.

Finally, Isaac could feel the cool air on his body, the blessed relief, as he approached the open window again. He came to the edge of the balcony; he peered around for a moment before leaving. But this time, he flew.

 

Isaac never felt more free than when he was in his shifted form – he was a duck, a migratory deepwater diving duck – a true Goldeneye. The moonlit city spread out underneath him as he flew, his wings beating against the night air. He took in the lighted grid of the city, a tawny-orange map laid out before him. The airport lay to the south, ahead of him, and the project site where he'd been working was off to his left, in the west. For another few days, he would be neutralizing a cache of old explosives the Amalgamated Drilling people had discovered in storage.

Breathing deeply, Isaac changed course. He flew east, toward the rising moon.

Like so many shifters and were-creatures, Isaac found the moon a very difficult thing to resist. While he could avoid shifting during the full moon, the pull to change was very strong. Sometimes, it almost hurt to refuse the moon.

And why struggle with her at her fullest and best, when flight was so exhilarating? It was the way of his soul, of migration.

There were times when he'd had to fight the urge, though. He'd had a near round-the-clock contract at a Texas refinery, frantically containing a leaky pool full of unpleasant chemicals, until they could be properly pumped into safe storage. The moon had been up then, too, and Isaac had used every ounce of strength to stay on his task and ignore the silver disc swinging in the sky above him.

Of course, there were times when Isaac's shifted form could be useful in his work, too. Not that he would tell anyone about it. If he could find a discreet spot to strip and shift, his ability to fly over a dangerous site, his capacity to land, sniff around and observe at close range, outstripped even the more sophisticated drones some contractors used. And Isaac never needed a team for his observations – he could work alone.

As the lights below thinned out, Isaac was bathed in silver from the moon. He could make out the emptiness of the Bitter Lake Wildlife Refuge ahead and to his left. If he wanted, he could land on the water there, and swim. The people camping there would be in their tents by now. Sheltered by the reeds, Isaac would be safe, riding the silver water. Unconsciously, he veered in that direction.

And on the evening air, he heard the noise from the parking lot again, much stronger this time.

A long, mournful call. It rose and grew, broke at the top of its range, and then diminished. The wild, haunting, melancholy song of cold northern lakes. It made him want to seek out the source, to fly away and never return to world he was born to.

Isaac blinked. No. It can't be. I'm imagining things. I'm in the wrong place and the wrong time of year, and it's late. I've been working too hard with toxic shit all week, that's it.

He nearly convinced himself to land on the gleaming lake before him, just for a moment. But not tonight. He didn't want to deal with any territorial disputes with other waterfowl he might encounter. Not tonight.

He had gotten used to being on his own. He'd never fit in, not as a child of the Turtle Clan of the Onondaga Nation, not as an earnest chemical engineering student, nor as a highly trained industry specialist, nor even as a shifter.

That was Isaac's other secret.

He preferred other men. His shifted form sometimes filled him with a strong urge to mate, to find the one who would answer his own call, but Isaac had never found him. He doubted he would.

The trouble with being a Goldeneye was that he was prey. He had no doubt that if there were others like himself out there, many would have become the victims of foxes, coyotes, or large predatory birds. As he flew, Isaac shuddered, remembering a close incident with a Lynx he'd had on assignment in northern Canada.

And even if there were survivors, the chances that anyone would be like him – that anyone would want him – would be preposterously slim.

Isaac had met a few other shifters in his varied life – all of them powerful, almost larger-than-life individuals – and predators. Those were the real shifters. There was a huge silver bear in Florida, an incredibly handsome and cocky wolf in Minnesota, and a sleek goshawk in Los Angeles, of all places. All way out of his league. And there was that mountain lioness in Colorado, who stalked him along the edge of a bone-chilling mountain lake until he had shifted to his avian form, preparing to fly. Only when Isaac heard her human gasp did he understood he'd been trailed by a fellow shifter. At least she'd apologized.

No, it was time to head back to the motel. He had work to do in the morning; he'd be nobody's prey that night.

 

The next morning came far too early.

"Morning, Isaac." Jake, the burly, red-bearded liaison from Amalgamated Drilling greeted him at the parking lot. "Sleep okay?"

He shrugged. "I guess." Jake was definitely not a shifter. He was way too chipper to have been dealing with the moon the previous night.

"Well, that's good. Plenty to get done before quittin' time. You ready for the next lot?"

Isaac sighed. "Suppose so."

It was going to be a long day.

They worked steadily as the sun rose in the sky. Jake spent most of his time confirming box and batch numbers from a printed list, and in filling up required forms for various state and federal agencies. Isaac did most of the heavy work, loading the materials into a large rented panel truck, which they drove out to the disposal area.

"You did a good job setting this up," Jake commented, nodding at the equipment Isaac had assembled.

"Took me a week," Isaac grunted, unloading a box.

The bigger man was trying to be pleasant. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't know how to build all this."

"It's an incinerator. The company ordered the parts and fuel, and I put it together. No big deal."

Isaac had constructed a well-shielded and contained field incinerator from materials Amalgamated had pre-ordered. Each lot had to be carefully loaded into the incinerator to ensure maximum combustion. The burn itself was pretty anticlimactic. Proper disposal meant no explosions. He and Jake made sure to wear breathing masks to guard their lungs.

The worst part was cleaning out the box after each burn.

"Ugh. That stuff reeks," Jake had coughed after seeing it work for the very first time. "Glad it's you doing the cleanup, and not me."

Isaac nodded grimly as he donned the heavy HazMat suit. "Gotta get all the ash and sticky stuff scraped out. Hand me a couple of cans, okay?" He had a supply of heavy metal cans to be filled with waste and sealed up. Amalgamated would hire a disposal company to carry the stuff away.

By midafternoon, Isaac felt like he was going to bake like a potato in foil under the hot New Mexico sun.

By six thirty, he was exhausted. Isaac swore vaguely as he dragged himself to the parking lot. He had disposed of eight separate lots of explosives and other materials, working steadily through the day. He'd almost flogged poor Jake to get the scheduled work completed. It wouldn't do to fall behind. And the redhead hadn't done much of the heavy lifting at all.

"I'm headed home, man. You good for supper?" Jake was nice enough. Not his type – he'd decided that much earlier – but nice.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"See you tomorrow, then." Jake climbed into his pickup truck and pulled out.

Isaac opened the door to his bright red economy-level rental sedan and just sat. He looked dumbly at the asphalt between his feet. The breeze stirred. And on the wind, there carried again the faint strain of that lingering call he'd heard the night before.

He lifted his head again, listening. Isaac sat motionless and alert for many minutes. The sound wasn't repeated. He'd been hearing things.

Eventually, Isaac shook himself into motion. There was plenty more disposal ahead of them. He needed a shower. Badly. Then he'd see about something to eat. He was so tired, there wouldn't be any flying tonight.

In the end, Isaac decided what he really need was a drink. Not a healthy choice, but it would keep him from shifting and flying until he dropped out of the sky. That had happened once before.

There was a bar across the divided highway from his motel, a place selling overpriced food and something to get a guy buzzed. A sign at the door proclaimed that there would be live music. He almost turned around.

But the urge to obliterate the pull of the moon and the pain in his spirit proved too great.

Isaac made his way to the bar. The place wasn't crowded; it was a weekday, after all. Someone over in the corner was messing about with a microphone.

"What can I get for ya?" the perky twenty something behind the bar asked. The phrase World's Okayest Bartender adorned the bright blue tee that strained over her ample breasts.

"Double JD. Please." Isaac was not feeling very talkative.

Twenty dollars later, he felt a little better. A comfortable numbness was coming on. Isaac turned to have a look at the guitarist settling onto a high stool in front of the mic. Black pants, black and white checked shirt rolled up at the sleeves, long jet black hair barely tamed in a ponytail.

"Test, one, two; test, one two," the man's raspy voice muttered into the amplifier.

Isaac felt a twitch in his heart, as if it had tripped over itself.

The singer settled his guitar into place, and let his fingers make a couple of experimental strums. He began to play; just a simple tune in a minor key, perhaps, but skillfully done.

Isaac's breath came a little more quickly.

And then the singer lifted his head, closed his eyes, and sang.

Isaac rose from the barstool and stood, transfixed.

The singer's voice rose in melody, and words of melancholy seemed to weep all over the room, like a fine mist.

Isaac felt an almost magnetic pull on his whole being; as strong as the song of the moon, as steady as the beating of his own heart.

"…I can't find you in the sunset, I can't find you in the cloud,

And I've looked for you in places that I know I'm not allowed…"

 

Isaac couldn't tear his gaze away from that face, paler than his own, expressing in song the loneliness he'd known deep down for so long, it felt like forever. It was a beautiful face; a face that knew pain and hurt. A face he wanted to touch and heal. Isaac felt a tingling at his toes and fingertips. He almost failed to realize when the song ended. And as the patter of polite applause washed across the bar, the singer opened deep, dark eyes and turned his head to look directly at Isaac.

Those eyes could see right through him.

The man was striking. Square shoulders, long, slender neck; even the bones exposed at the collar were perfect. Isaac started to tremble.

This was not good. Isaac knew from unhappy experience, he was about to shift, quite involuntarily. It happened sometimes in moments when he was emotionally overwrought, or physically threatened. His first shift had come when he was being chased by a couple of middle school bullies. Luckily, they hadn't seen him, but the sudden experience, the complete loss of control, had terrified him.

Isaac had to get out of the bar, and fast – before those eyes could pierce his defenses; before that voice could touch his soul again.

He dashed out of the bar, barreling into a couple at the door. He barely registered an angry "Hey! What the hell…" as he ran across the parking lot and fled across the highway to his motel. Isaac barely got the door to his room shut before his fingers began to splay of their own accord, and his feet started to flatten out.

Isaac tried to calm himself, even as the change overtook him. Nobody could see. He'd be hopelessly tangled in his own clothing, but he'd be safe. Safe from eyes that knew, and voices that both exhilarated and frightened.

 

Isaac could barely function the next morning. Physically and emotionally spent from his unexpected shift, he collapsed into bed. But Isaac didn't sleep well. His dreams featured a beautiful, tortured face, black eyes that knew everything, and a voice that echoed down the hallways of his mind.

"Jeez, Isaac, you okay today?" Jake asked for the umpteenth time. Once again, Isaac had misread an ID code on the side of a box.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well last night."

"You said that yesterday," the big man joked.

Isaac shrugged and grunted something unintelligible. He felt like snapping something sarcastic back, but he didn't have the energy. Besides, half his mind was distracted by the vision of man in a checked shirt.

Doggedly, he forced himself to plow through the job, all through the afternoon. Twice, he cursed himself as he re-stacked a set of boxes for burning. Otherwise the whole thing would have turned into a mass of toxic goo.

"Jeezus, I gotta find you some sleeping pills, man," Jake laughed. "You're having a seriously rough day." I

Isaac almost agreed.

That night, he grabbed a salad and fries at a Wendy's and went to sleep as soon as the sun went down. He managed six hours of sleep before he woke up, bolt upright, at the ragged edge of a dream. Somewhere in the back of his head a distinctive, almost manic and inhuman laughter reverberated. No, it wasn't laughter. It was a bird call, a sound of remote pine forests and secluded lakes. Even with the lurid light around the edges of the motel room curtains, Isaac knew the full moon was out there, singing its song to him, trying to tell him something vitally important.

Isaac rose and walked to the balcony. The moon stared down at the sleeping city, on his car in the parking lot; it peered in at him standing there at the window.

He slid the heavy pane open, and felt a gentle breeze. Let go, let go, let go, let go, it seemed to whisper.

Isaac felt the familiar twinges in his extremities. The muscles behind his knees contracted.

No. I'm not going to let it happen. Not now. He had three more lots to finish and then takedown to complete in the morning. And it all had to be done safely, by the book.

Isaac slammed the window shut and savagely swept the curtains closed again. He stomped back to the bed. But he didn't sleep much until dawn officially put an end to his torment.

At least he was early to the work site. He'd already tallied all the boxes and made preparations for dismantling the burn equipment by the time Jake rolled into the lot.

"Shit, Isaac, you're early today. And my wife made us extra coffee, too." The man complained as he extracted a large thermos from behind the driver's seat.

"You sayin' I don't need it?"

"Obviously not as much as yesterday," Jake laughed.

Isaac forced a grin, and they pushed on with their work. They were able to stop for coffee at ten, but even with their break, the end of the job was in view by three in the afternoon.

Jake stood by as he watched Isaac disassemble the field incinerator. "Shit, you work fast, even in that funky suit of yours," he shouted. The red bearded man was careful to keep his distance.

Isaac nodded emphatically, but did not try to voice a reply. Jake wouldn't be able to hear it, anyway. Once the remains of the burner structure were piled in a nice, flat package, a disposal truck would come for them, and that would be that. Until the next time Amalgamated Drilling had some dirty leftovers to burn.

But even the hot southern sun and the nasty cleanup work failed to dull Isaac's growing ebullience. The job would soon be over, and his deeply unsettling visit to this town would be finished. His company would settle up for the contract, and by next week, he'd have a windfall to spend.

Actually, Isaac would probably save his money – there was a road bike in his future, and he saved his pennies. He wanted to pay cash for it.

Jake and Isaac were close to celebrating when everything was completed fifteen minutes shy of five o'clock.

"You want to go out for a cold one?" Jake asked.

Every other time the man had asked, Isaac turned him down. But for some reason, he relented this time. "Sure, why not?"

Jake grinned. "Get in your car, Hazard Man, and follow me."

Isaac followed the old dusty pickup to a bar not far from the Amalgamated parking lot. The place seemed like it catered to a workingman's crowd. It wasn't seedy, but it wasn't fancy, either. A couple of pool tables spread themselves out to one side, and a dart board hung in the far corner.

"Well, hey, Jake, good to see you." The bartender seemed to know the Amalgamated worker.

"Good seein' you too, Len."

"How's Beth?" Isaac had gleaned Jake was married earlier in the week, but never learned his wife's name.

"Fine, fine. Say, maybe you could pour us a couple of Buds?"

Isaac suppressed a grimace. Jake was buying.

"No problem. You all set down, I'll bring 'em over."

"So, how long you stayin' in Roswell?" Jake inquired.

"I have a flight out tomorrow morning. Layover in Dallas, home by suppertime."

Their beers arrived.

"And where's home again?"

Isaac didn't like that question. He knew he had no true answer. "Corporate is in New Jersey. Union." Isaac didn’t mention that he spent maybe twenty-eight days total in any given year actually living in New Jersey.

"Ever thought of gettin' out of the east?"

"You offering me a job, Jake?"

"No, but you're damn good. Better than I am at all this compliance and disposal shit. Me, I'd rather be out on the road, in the field, drilling. Good times out there with a drill crew."

"What would your wife say to that?"

Jake snorted, then smiled. "Not much you'd want to hear." The redhead tilted his glass back and drank. "Money is good for drilling crew, and Beth wants a bigger place. Got another one comin' in six months."

Isaac shifted uncomfortably. Jake was mated. Whatever Jake might recall from his days as part of a crew, the pull of his love would keep him home. Isaac despaired of ever knowing that.

"You up for some pool?" Isaac tried to change the subject.

It turned out to be a good idea. They played a couple of games, and drank another two or three beers. Isaac grew more relaxed.

As Isaac lined up a possible winning shot, Jake straightened up, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Gotta take a call."

Isaac waited, watching a grin grow over Jake's face. Jake nodded and waved at Isaac to go ahead and take his shot. The man knew it pretty much over. Sure enough, Isaac sank the eight ball easily.

"What do you say to going out with us for supper? Beth doesn't want to cook, and her mother can watch the kids."

Isaac didn't hesitate too long to make a decision. Jake had tried really hard to be friendly and helpful – better than a lot of the liaison people he was used to dealing with. "Sure, why not? It can be my treat. You guys pick the place," Isaac replied, feeling mellow. Jake really was a good guy.

"Tell you what. You and I both need a shower. I'll pick you up at your hotel in about an hour. Sound good?"

"Great. Let's get going."

On the way back to the motel, Isaac reflected that it would be good to have a nice, relaxing dinner with pleasant, normal people. He'd had enough of Roswell, New Mexico, and the strange goings on. The weird sounds he'd heard on the wind, and the seriously disturbing encounter in the bar troubled him. This would be good.

And it turned out to be very good. At least for a while.

Beth was a round, blond, pleasant woman, chatty enough to keep conversation going at dinner without being overbearing. Isaac could see why Jake loved her. She had the ability to draw a person out, to make a person feel comfortable. They ate well, and Isaac actually enjoyed himself, telling a few of his better stories of life growing up on an eastern reservation. He did have one or two.

By the time Beth and Jake dropped him off at the motel, Isaac was feeling relatively happy and content. He waved as they pulled away. Isaac glanced across the highway, and experienced a kind of tightening in his gut.

That singer was there. No. Not happening. Isaac debated with himself.

The seriously hot singer with the magnetic baritone was just over the highway. Hell, no. Just not going to do that.

He had to see him just once more. He could just slip in and out. Just for a second. Are you crazy? Did you forget what happened the last time? Isaac's mind yelled at him even as his feet were taking him across four lanes of pavement.

As Isaac pulled open the bar door, half his mind was at war with the other. What the hell are you doing here? Get out and go to bed. He could do this. He could keep control this time. He just couldn’t explain why he had to be there to himself – but he did.

The man he sought wasn't there. At least, the space where the singer had been previously was unoccupied.

Isaac's simultaneous disappointment and relief hit him like a blow. He started to make his way to the bar through the crowd. He needed a drink.

Isaac never got it.

Just as he raised his hand to signal the bartender, Isaac heard a voice – that voice – speak into the microphone. "Hey, thanks for letting me take a break, everyone." A bright chord sounded from the guitar.

Isaac turned and stared.

Same guy. Same checked shirt. Still compelling. Still gorgeous.

Isaac's heart rate started to spike. His fingers twitched.

The singer scanned the room, as if searching; he played another chord uncertainly, but did not start a song. And then the man's intense gaze locked on to Isaac's. The singer's eyes widened.

What does this man know?

Isaac wanted to flee. He wanted to walk up to the singer and take his hand. He wanted to hide and his voice wanted to sing out in tune to the mysterious singer. Isaac felt his heart filling with need, with want. His ears started ringing, and a sudden weight constricted his chest. Isaac felt as if the moon were trying to cram itself into the room. He sensed the sudden burning, prickling feeling in his hands.

No, no, no…not here, not now…not when he can see…

But Isaac was powerless to stop the transformation. There – right there at the bar – he changed. Arms and fingers feathered out, legs shortened, and his torso rescaled and reconfigured itself.

Isaac vainly hoped that everyone's attention would be on the singer, and he'd be able to calm himself, somehow escape notice. A woman's scream shattered that notion right away.

"That man, that man, he just disappeared!"

"What the hell?"

"He was standing there, and then he just melted away!"

The sounds of commotion began to spread. Isaac struggled to escape his clothing. When this happened before, he had made his way out of his shirt collar. He tried to ignore the shouts around him.

"Holy shit! What the hell is that crawling around down there?"

"Where are the cops?"

"Everybody stand back! I've got a gun! If it's an alien, I'll shoot the sucker!"

Isaac cursed, and emerged from his clothes.

CRACK! The report of a pistol at close range was followed by more screaming. The bar was descending into chaos.

Isaac launched himself into the air as best he could. Get to the door. There would be a fucking stampede, and maybe he could get out with everyone else. He flapped around the room in a circuit, looking frantically for the exit.

"What the hell is that duck doing in here?" He heard a voice bellow over the tumult.

Shit. They saw me! This was a fucking disaster.

And there was no way Isaac could calm himself enough to change back now. Even if he did, how would he explain his nakedness?

CRACK! CRACK! Someone was still trying to shoot him. Someone else was going to get hurt. More screams as people hit the floor.

There. There was the door - still open – he sped for the exit.

"Hey! Close the damn door!" To his horror, Isaac saw the door begin to swing shut.

Isaac corkscrewed in flight, tucked his wings and managed to slip out through the opening before he was trapped inside the pandemonium that was the bar.

Immediately, heart racing, Isaac ascended into the darkness, leaving the light of the city far below. On instinct, he headed east toward that damned moon which must have been the cause of his fucking stupidity.

Why, why, why did I have to go back to that damn bar?

Onward, he flew, faster and faster, away and away, with they saw me echoing in his brain. Eventually he managed to calm himself a little. He tried to face the magnitude of the calamity. Could anyone identify him? Nobody knew him, not really. Not even the singer, who seemed to be able to look into the depths of his soul.

Except that his wallet was there, in the pile of clothing he'd left behind at the bar.

Well, fuck.

And then there was the little problem of changing back. Even if he shifted to his human, he'd have to steal some clothes. And then he'd need to get back to the motel to claim his stuff. And how would he catch his flight without his ID?

And they saw me.

Collecting himself, Isaac headed toward the one place where he was fairly certain of being safe for the time being. He'd figure out what to do once he got there. He pointed himself toward the Bitter Lake Wildlife Refuge. The water shimmered in the moonlight as the big lake opened up to his view.

Isaac had been flying on sheer adrenalin. He landed in the water, none too gracefully. He was exhausted. Isaac made his way toward a sheltered spot on the reedy shoreline, and settled himself. He was safe enough for the moment. He dozed.

Isaac did not sleep through the night.

He was awakened by the same long, wailing cry he'd heard since he'd been hearing for the past week. Only this time, it was quite close at hand. There was no mistaking it – it was no figment of a fevered imagination. That call – almost like a wolf's howl, yet distinctly avian – rose again: melancholy, yearning, uncanny.

Isaac wanted to respond, to say, Here I am, let me soothe your ache, ease your deepest fears. Let me be the one you need. But of course, that was nonsense. The singer wanted a mate; he was probably trying to locate a lost female in the darkness. He was safe where he was, and maybe that was enough. He waited until silence fell again.

But now Isaac was awake. He paddled out onto the lake, and looked about. Toward the end of the lake, there were campsites, he knew. He'd seen them. Perhaps he could find some clothes to steal there.

It didn't take long to make his way down to the camping area.

There, right by the shoreline, Isaac spied a tent. More importantly, there was a clothesline strung out there between a couple of poles. A clothesline with what looked like sweatpants and a shirt on it. In the moonlight, he paddled to the shore.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac closed his eyes and willed himself into his human form. He stood, feeling again the sand and stones under his feet as he picked his way over toward his target. Isaac reached for the sweatpants.

"Those are a little big for you, but they might fit." A voice spoke behind him.

Isaac froze.

"You can have them if you want them."

Slowly, Isaac turned. There, in the light of the moon, stood the singer; the guitarist from the bar with eyes that saw everything; the owner of the magical voice that refused to let him alone. And he was naked. Beautifully, breathtakingly naked.

"You came," the singer said, simply.

"Who are you? How do you know me?" Isaac demanded, his voice shaking.

"My name's Adam," the singer laughed softly, "and I think you'reIsaac. Am I right?" He advanced a step.

Isaac reeled. "How the hell do you know that?"

"It was a good guess. I got your wallet when I picked up your clothes at the bar. Just about everyone cleared out of that place in a hurry. I have your stuff in my tent."

Adam took another couple of steps closer. He was taller than Isaac, and his hair was loose. Isaac noticed Adam's skin was wet, like his own. His eyebrows rose.

"How did you know I would be here?" he whispered.

"I didn't. But I've been calling for you off and on all night." Adam stepped closer still.

"You've been…calling…me?"

Adam smiled widely, a smile to light up the darkness more brightly than the moon herself could ever do. "I've felt it for a week now. Did you hear me?"

Isaac could only nod. It hadn't been hallucinations. Adam's smile – hell all of Adam – was irresistible. "I didn't…I didn't know what was happening. I thought I was hearing things."

"And yet I knew you were out there, somewhere close. When you showed up at the bar the other night, you surprised the hell out of me. I felt it, here." Adam placed his hand on his heart. "When you came back tonight, I knew it had to be you."

Isaac took a step towards Adam, closing the distance. "Can I touch you? Just be sure you're real?" Isaac reached out a finger and traced it down Adam's chest.

Adam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

Isaac spread out his hand, and felt the beating of Adam's heart. It was thumping as fast as his own. "You…you're like me?"

"I think so. God, I hope so." Adam breathed. "Can I kiss you?"

Isaac wanted nothing else. He tilted his head up and Adam's lips met his; tentatively brushing them for an instant, then pressing harder. Isaac's hand snaked up behind Adam's head, his tongue boldly demanding entrance. Adam's arms were around him, pulling them together, and he felt Adam's arousal hard and hot against his belly; Isaac felt as if he were falling, falling out of the sky, deliriously out of control.

As he frantically kissed Adam, Isaac knew that this man, this soul, was his once chance, his one hope. But was this really meant for him? Isaac broke the kiss.

"Wait, wait. I…we…I'm not…" Isaac wasn't very coherent.

"What's the matter?" Adam searched his eyes.

"You don’t know me."

"You're right. And you don't know me, either. But I hope you want to know me better."

Isaac couldn't help blushing. His body agreed, even if his rational mind still argued.

Adam went on. "I don’t know what you're feeling, but if you're anything like me, I think you've wanted this your whole life."

Isaac thought about all those nights he felt the call of the moon, heard the song of his soul. How many times had he despaired in his flight? "I've got work, a job, a…"

"Is any of it as important as this?"

Nothing in Isaac's life had ever felt this important. "I have a flight in the morning."

"I have a tent right now."

"Will you sing for me?"

"Whenever you want. Whenever we're apart."

Isaac pulled Adam close, into a warm, delicious embrace. "This is crazy."

"Of course it is," Adam chuckled. "I'm a loon."