The Baptist Campus Ministry was bustling that day. Smells of homecooked food, sold at a dollar per meal, had managed to entice 300 hundred students at Xavier University. Sam Guthrie read over the lunch sign-in sheet with a satisfied grin. It was his job as vice-president of fellowship to make sure that the lunches on Wednesday and Thursday went off without a hitch.

Once Sam saw that everything was under control, a minor miracle given the potentially explosive combination of midterms, way too much stress, and the availability of Frisbees, he dropped his dollar in the bucket. Picking up his tray, he located his roommates, James Proudstar and Doug Ramsey, already sitting at a table. "Great turn-out," he beamed.

"Yeah—I almost got Kitty here," Doug joked with Sam. His girlfriend, Kitty Pryde, was the last person who would show up at a BCM. She didn't think much about her Jewishness, but the few times she had shown up, somebody had tried to convert her.

Sam smiled. "At least you two showed up." Jimmy, who had been listening to the newest from Jars of Clay, turned back towards the conversation.

"I always try to show up---" He patted his stomach and joked, "I'm a growing boy." The football player was a head taller than the lanky Southerner, and would often offer to help clean up in exchange for leftovers.

Sam laughed as a freshman walked up and got Jimmy's autograph. It wasn't an entirely uncommon event—it had happened to him a couple of times when he was on the baseball team. But that was before his father had been diagnosed with Black Lung disease. The reminder that life was fragile had forced Sam to rearrange his life. He didn't begrudge Jimmy his talent which, truth be told, was greater than his own, but Sam couldn't see pinning his hopes on something that most likely wouldn't work out. Instead, he had focused his attention on developing a career in the military.

A gentle voice asked, "Mind if we sit here?" after the awestruck freshman left. Sam turned around to see a petite redhead standing behind him. Her friend, a blonde woman with striking purple eyes, was standing on the other side of the table, waiting for Sam to give his answer.

"Sure," he said, looking at the purple-eyed woman's face, trying to put his finger on what it was about her that struck him as different. Finally, he realized that her pupils were odd shaped, giving her the appearance of having cat's eyes.

The woman smiled as she shook hands with the people at the table, "Sharon Smith... but most people call me Cat's Eye," she said as she caught his glance. "It's natural," she reassured him.

Jimmy turned around and looked her square in the face. "Very pretty," he offered. "The eyes—and you." He added, afraid that he might have put his foot in his mouth.

Sharon nodded. "I'm a fresh-woman here. Pre-Vet."

Doug started asking her about her classes, giving pointers on a couple of professors. The advantage of a college of three thousand was that everybody knew just about every professor. Sam turned to the silent woman on his left and waited for her to finish her prayer before introducing himself.

"Rahne Sinclair," she said as she shook his hand. The warm, skin-to-skin contact caused a spark of electricity to dance down his spine. She has such amazing eyes, his first thought was, his eyes looking deeply into hers. The touch and gaze lingered for a moment before he broke it.

"What's your major?" he asked, tuning out the noise around him.

"A donnea know yet," she answered, her Scottish heritage revealed in her voice. "Either Creative Writing or Early Childhood Education or Pre-Med like ma Mom."

"Maybe you can write books for kids fixin' ta go inta the hospital," Sam joked with her. "I'm Political and Military Science with a minor in Psychology." Rahne looked interested so he continued, "I'm in the ROTC and will be commissioned as an Army officer so I'm hoping I can figure out why I'm nuts enough to join." Rahne laughed and smiled at him. Something in his heart started to melt with that smile. "Who are your favorite writers?" he asked, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

She rattled off a list of them, revealing a love of older novels, and ending with "Peter David, Madeline L'Engle, and C. S. Lewis."

Sam was interested in that. "Madeline L'Engle and C. S. Lewis? I'm a science fiction fiend... Did you know that C. S. Lewis and Tolkien were friends in real life and Tolkien led C. S. Lewis to Christ?"

"That explains why their work seems so similar!" Rahne smiled. "Ye a fan of Ray Bradbury?" Sam nodded, his enthusiasm growing by the minute as they started talking about their favorite books.

Across the table, Jimmy and Doug shared a knowing grin. Sharon looked at the two of the quizzically. "What just happened?" she asked.

"Sammy boy is going to fall harder than a ton of bricks," Doug predicted as he watched the two wall themselves into another world.

Jimmy turned towards Sharon. "Sam doesn't fall for women—he doesn't have time for them. It's overdue."

With a protective look, she asked him. "Doesn't have time?" She watched the two talk with a guarded expression on her face.

Jimmy reached over and slid Sam's Daytimer out of the pile of books in front of the man. Opening it, he pointed to that week. "He's got his job, church, school, studying, BCM, ROTC, and is in the Army Reserve." Sharon looked over the list and laughed as she pointed to the notes to shower and use the bathroom. Jimmy nodded. "If a woman can break into his life, it'll take a miracle."

The intense look Sharon shot the couple deepened as she looked at Rahne, laughing and smiling for a change. "She needs one—not to be one," she whispered with a wary frown.

"What?" Doug asked, not making sense of the remark.

Sharon tried to pass it off with a breezy wave of her hand. "Rahne and I share the basement in her parents' house... we're roommates and I just—just know things about her that she wouldn't want others to know."

Just as she was about to change the subject to something else, a student helper carrying a tray of silverware tripped. The resulting crash was enough to make the gathering turn toward the highly embarrassed student.

At their table, Rahne nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound. Sam put his hand protectively on hers. "It's nothing..." he tried to reassure her. Rahne looked distinctly uncomfortable, although she didn't try to remove her hand from his.

Sharon caught her eye and made a show of checking her watch. "We've got class in ten minutes," the blonde made a point of mentioning. "Want to get an early start?"

Rahne nodded as she got up, not seeing the hurt look on Sam's face.

**

Back at the apartment, Sam started to rummage through his stuff, looking for his all-important Palm Pilot. "Ah know Ah had it before class," he muttered as he poured out the contents of his backpack.

Doug surreptitiously slipped the Palm to Kitty, who slid it into her purse. Sam was more than driven when it came to school, and it was fun to watch the show when he found something off balance. "Did it ever occur to you to throw the Palm away?" she asked him.

Sam looked up from the assorted things with a 'huh?' look on his face. "No," he answered bluntly.

Standing up, Kitty strolled to the fridge and pulled herself out a coke. Tossing thirty-five cents into the drink fund, she opened it. She was around so much, she had actually kicked in rent money twice in the past year, even though she and her roommates, Dani, Illyana, Tabitha, and X'ian and her siblings, all shared a two story house down the road. Then, she turned to Sam and informed him, "You don't have to do so much." It was ironic advice coming from her.

"Yes Ah do." ROTC, the Reserves, and his academic scholarships paid for his college expenses. His part-time job working with at-risk kids- which he loved—allowed him to be the natural big brother he was, and send a little home. His parents had taught him to be active in his church. Plus, the activities masked his feelings of being out of place in such a well-to-do environment and his homesickness. "So do you have it?" he asked her as he continued to look for the missing computer.

Kitty sighed and watched as Doug carefully slid it under a cushion of their trash-picked sofa. "No," she answered him, wishing she could get through to Sam. In the three years they had known each other, she had tried repeatedly to get him to relax. It seemed like a losing battle.

Doug picked up the cushion when Sam turned around and tossed him the daytimer. "We've got to work on Warlock," he said as he opened the door to his room. Warlock was the computer that he had built from scratch when he was sixteen, and he and Kitty spent hours upgrading it and perfecting it.

"Is that what you call it now?" Jimmy asked with a grin. Kitty and Doug tended to have what his older brother would have called a rabbit habit. Kitty answered him by lifting her middle finger. "Promise?" he asked, eyebrows lifted in a Grocho Marks imitation.

"In your dreams!" Kitty shot back as she closed the door.

A slightly wistful expression crossed his face as he looked at the closed door. Jimmy had met Kitty before Doug had, and in fact had introduced them, and always had a little bit of a crush on her. Sam gave his friend a small smile. "She was kinky?" he asked Jimmy, trying to lift the mood.

"Kitty? Kinky?" Jimmy laughed as he regained control of his feelings. "That could only happen in my dreams."

"So didja get that Cat's Eye girl's phone number?" Sam asked with all the subtleness of a sledgehammer as he eyed the telephone.

"Who do you think I am—Berto?" Jimmy asked, deciding to extend the torture.

"No.... but I've got to get my vicarious kicks from somewhere." Sam hadn't dated since he came to the school, as far as Jimmy knew. Sam had decided that he'd never date a woman he couldn't see himself married to, and given the sheer business of his life, he didn't meet women like that too often. "So, did you?"

Jimmy grinned. "Did you hear what happened to Berto and Tabitha?"

Sam shook his head, impatiently. "What?" he asked, curiosity winning the battle.

"He gave her the usual diamond tennis bracelet kiss off and she let him have it in the kisser." Berto was a rich, brilliant, arrogant soccer star who tried to live the lifestyle of a billionaire playboy. He never spent a Friday or Saturday night alone, usually having two—or three-- different dates for the two nights. The women that went out with him had no complaints while they were dating them, mainly because the women were the type that knew how to play the game. In exchange for (from what rumor had it) unbelievably good sex, they would live the highlife, wear the best clothes, eat at the best places, and be seen by the best people. However, when Berto tired of them, as he had of Tabitha, it was over.

Sam shrugged. Berto was an okay person, he supposed. They were friends but not close ones. And Tabitha had been warned going into the relationship what would happen. She had made the mistake of falling in love with him. "Think he has Sharon's phone number?" Sam asked, dragging the conversation back to what he wanted to know.

"Rahne got to you that good?" Jimmy asked with a grin.

"She's..." Sam's voice trailed off as he tried to find the words for her, "special," he finished. "Reminds me of Li'l Bit in a way," he thought aloud. There was an air of fragility, a feeling of deep hurt that they shared. "Or Daffy," he continued, thinking of his favorite dog back home. Daffy had been beaten within an inch of her life before Sam had rescued her from her abusive owner. It had taken months to tame the animal.

"Do me a favor," Jimmy said as he held up a leather jacket. "When we return Rahne's jacket, don't compare her to a dog."

"How didja get it?" the lanky man asked as he looked at the name inside, just to make sure that it was hers.

"She bolted off and forgot it," Jimmy explained. Sam sent a prayer up to the angel in charge of forgetfulness.