"Calico! Will you quit doing that!" Miguel Ortiz looked up for the third time in half an hour to find the small, long haired tortoiseshell cat staring over his left shoulder as if at some awful monster. Automatically, Ortiz sneaked a look behind him to check there wasn't anything there, then swung back to the cat. Calico hunched further down on the end of the couch, wrapping her fluffy tail neatly around her paws, then gave him a silent miaow and a sorrowful look.

"What is it with you anyway, you daft animal? I fed you, didn't I? I gave you milk? What more do want?" Another silent miaow that made him feel as if he had offered to torture the creature. "Look, all I want to do is finish this circuit diagram for Minnie. Is that too much to ask?" Calico said nothing, merely blinking at him with sleepy slowness. With a scowl, Ortiz turned determinedly back to the computer.

He hadn't so much offered as been ordered to look after his brother's house while Tomas took his family off for the weekend in his small schooner. Miguel hadn't actually minded the idea. He wanted to work on his plans for his new WSKR and he always felt a bit unfair about monopolising the computer back at the apartment he shared with O'Neill. The computer tweeted at him announcing that it had finished saving his graphics file and was ready for the next stage. Fascinated by the sound, Calico sprang from the end of the couch to the desk and landed neatly with all four paws on the keyboard. A wild display of hieroglyphics appeared on the screen, the computer managed what sounded remarkably like a scream and did the electronic equivalent of fainting as it crashed.

"Calico!" With a muted scream of exasperation, Miguel grabbed the cat and hoisted her off the keyboard. It was way to late, of course, making him wish that computers weren't quite so fast and efficient at fulfilling the wrong commands. "You horrible cat! Now, see what you've done!" Calico rumbled a happy purr at him, contentedly limp in his hands and secure in the knowledge that the Cuban wouldn't dream of dropping her. "You don't care, do you? No? You're a menace that's what you are," Ortiz muttered as he lowered the cat to his lap and prodded a couple of computer keys. The computer squeaked miserably but started to reboot. Calico squirmed free of his restraining hand, making an experimental dab at the keyboard again. This time, Miguel caught her paw and stood up. Tucking the cat securely but comfortably under his arm, he headed for the kitchen. "All right, your Highness, I'll feed you. Again."

Setting the tortoiseshell on the floor, he rummaged in the cupboard for the half empty tin, spooned trout and sardine cat food into her dish and then set it down on the floor where Calico sat patiently waiting at his feet. She looked at the dish, looked at him and then crept forward to suspiciously sniff the contents. After a long moment, she looked up at him pitifully and miaowed as if he wanted to poison her. "Look, how am I supposed to know what you want? I don't speak cat," Miguel said helplessly. Calico answered with another, louder miaow, clearly convinced he hadn't understood because he was deaf. "Milk? Is that what you want?" Miguel dived into the refrigerator for the carton and filled a saucer for her. This she deigned to lap at and with a sigh of relief, Miguel headed back to the computer.

It had managed to reboot and he started sifting through the timed backup to reload his file. To his relief, it was still there and he loaded it and saved it to disk before Calico could return to wreck further havoc. As far as he was concerned cat sitting was even harder than baby sitting for Tomas' little girl Anne was.

A demonic howling him sprint back to the kitchen, convinced Calico had been crushed by the refrigerator. The cat however was sitting by the back door, yowling at him that she wanted to go out. "For crying out loud, you lazy moggie. What's wrong with the cat flap?" She looked at him and if he was an idiot and miaowed again. "Okay, okay, your Highness. Look, cat flap, see? All you have do is push...." Before he knew what he was doing, Miguel had dropped to his knees and was demonstrating how it worked to her. Calico rubbed against his arm and licked his fingers, but refused to go out even when he held the flap open. Feeling as much of an idiot as the cat seemed to think he was, Miguel surrendered and opened the door for her. She trotted daintily past him into the gloomy evening light, vanishing into the rain speckled tropical undergrowth. "Look, don't be long, okay? It's going to rain!" Miguel called after her. He hovered on the door step for a while, hoping she would immediately return and enjoying the cooler air. He loved Hawaii, but it took a while to adjust from the perfectly controlled environment on seaQuest, to the humid warmth of Oahu.

After five minutes, he gave up waiting and went back inside to make a coffee and have another go at the computer while had some peace and quiet.

The rain started after twenty minutes. Not a mere shower but a torrential tropical downpour that hammered on the roof and made the windows ripple with liquid reflections in the lightening. Miguel immediately rushed to the back door and stood there yelling for Calico to come in and competing to be heard with the booming thunder overhead. There was no sign of her and, convinced she had got herself trapped or was too terrified to move, he ventured out into the rain to search the undergrowth for her. It wasn't long before he was drenched to the skin and reluctantly squelched back indoors. He propped the cat flap open with a fork from the cutlery drawer and then went upstairs to change. He could imagine what Tomas would say when he returned to find the cat missing. Not to mention the tears from Anne over the loss of her beloved pet.

Feeling like a complete and utter heel, Miguel raced back downstairs to get his raincoat and go out for a proper search. Struggling into it on his way through the lounge, he was met with a familiar howl. Calico was sitting in the middle of the lounge carpet, looking more like drowned rat than a cat and screaming at him for all she was worth. Cat and man stared at each other for a while, while Miguel teetered between relief and amusement and Calico sat and complained loudly and indignantly in fluent cat. "I'll bet you're swearing at me," Miguel said in amusement as he stripped off his coat and went to pick her up. "Really bad hair day, huh? You can't say I didn't tell you it was going to rain."

Calico glared at him and hooked her wet and muddy paws into his shirt. "Poor little, kitty," Miguel crooned as he carried her into the kitchen and fished a scruffy tea towel from the drawer that 'Vonne - Tomas' wife - had assured him was Calico's. Putting the cat on the floor he then knelt to dry her off, only to find that she spent more time climbing onto his knees and rubbing herself against him than on the towel.

"I don't remember cats being this much trouble when I was little," Miguel muttered as he spat her fur out of his mouth again. "They used to sit and purr or chase bits of string." Calico gave him a look over one shoulder as if to say chasing string was something only lower life forms did and that only a cat with no sense of dignity at all would do such a thing. She also decided to sit on the last dry corner of towel he was using and stay there, busily tongue washing her damp fur back into place. "Suit yourself, kitty." Ortiz told her cheerfully and went to lock the cat flap. This brought a howl of indignation from Calico. "Tough. You had your chance. You're stopping in now."

Leaving the cat to her own devices, Miguel went to throw his damp clothes in the dryer. The thunder continued to boom and rumble over head and what with that and the lightening throwing odd shadows into every unfamiliar corner, Miguel started to feel the tiniest bit unnerved. Returning to the lounge, he curled up on the couch, hoping he could shut out the mysterious creaks and groans of the house with a book. Normally he enjoyed a good storm. Back in the apartment, he would have opened the curtains and maybe the balcony windows and watched it display itself over the city. He might even have had a go at taking a few photographs or sketching the clouds. Here, he felt cornered. It was as if the storm was right on top of the house and about to blast it into non existence. The way Calico leaped at shadows or sat on the desk and stared suspiciously at nothing, didn't help.

"This is ridiculous!" Tossing aside his book, Miguel sat up and glared at the cat. "I'm warning you, you furry fiend, stop doing that!" Calico didn't even blink but continued to stare at something behind him as if it was the most horrible thing she had ever seen. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck starting to crawl, Ortiz very, very slowly started to run around, then twisted fast the rest of the way. There was nothing there but the shadows on the wall. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he demanded angrily of the cat who was now casually cleaning one paw and making loud chewing noises as she gnawed her claws.

Scowling, Miguel slid back down on the couch until he was more or less lying on his shoulders and folded his arms, glaring at the silent TV. After a while, Calico decided to pay a visit and hopped up to sit on him. Miguel yelped as she landed heavily on a particularly sensitive portion of his anatomy and promptly turfed her off again. Highly offended, she stalked to the end of the couch and sat and stared at their new invisible demonic visitor. Muttering darkly and grimly determined to ignore her, Ortiz turned the TV on. According to the TV listings, there was nothing but horror movies showing.

"That does it." Defeated, Miguel grabbed at the phone. If he was going to suffer, he would do it in company. There was no way he was going to sit and quake at every creak of the house.

"Hello?" A sleepy voice answered the phone when he dialled.

"What's the matter? Did I wake you?" Miguel asked sarcastically. "A little early for your bed time, isn't it, Tim?"

There was a short pause, then, "This is a recorded message, please leave a message after the tone."

"I know it's you," Miguel chuckled, relaxing a fraction. Don't you want to talk to me?"

"Not particularly. I thought I got rid of you for the evening."

"Oh ho, so you've got a wild orgy planned, have you?"

"No, I have not! I am planning on lying here with a bottle of cider, the cheeseboard and a good book. There's absolutely nothing on TV."

"I noticed." Miguel sprawled lazily on the couch, making Calico leap off with a miaow of complaint.

"What about the horror movie you wanted to watch?"

"I changed my mind."

"Ah, diddums get scared then?"

"Shut up! What book is it?"

O'Neill didn't answer the question immediately and Miguel could almost see him frowning suspiciously. "You're never interested in anything I read."

"That's because you read weird books."

"I do not! What are you up to?"

"Me? Nothing. Why? I was only wondering what you were up to."

"Why? You only saw me a couple of hours ago."

"I got bored."

"Bored? What about all that WSKR updating you were planning on doing?"

"Almost finished."

"And sleeping?"

"With all this rain? Besides, Calico jumps every time the house creaks."

There was a long thoughtful pause as Tim read between the lines of that comment. "Mig, if you want me to come over why don't you say so?"

Miguel coloured faintly. "Well, it wouldn't be very macho, would it?" he mumbled.

"Since when did you ever care about that?" O'Neill snorted. "What if I said I'm busy?"

"Tim!" Ortiz protested. "I thought it'd be different, that's all."

"Different," Tim said dryly. "For me to come out when it's raining, to spend an evening with you when we share an apartment anyway. This is obviously some new definition of the word."

"It's a different venue," Miguel pointed out. "You want to come or not? Tomas left some beer and I'll make popcorn."

Tim chuckled. "You've talked me into it. I'll pick up a couple of pizzas on the way over."

"Great. Get me a Cuban Special, will you?"

"Do I have to? They give me funny looks."

"Pretty please? I'll buy."

"Okay, okay. But next time, you go."

* * *

By the time O'Neill arrived an hour later, Miguel was getting nervous again. He jumped nearly as high as the cat did when the doorbell rang, then he galloped to the front door to answer it. "Tim? Is that you?"

"No, it's the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Come on, who else are you expecting?" Tim answered sardonically. "Hurry up, it's wetter than Lake Ontario out here."

Grinning, Ortiz whipped the door open and fell on the pizza boxes O'Neill was carrying. "Great! Come on in! You can sleep in the spare room and I'll take the sofa bed." Assuming Tim would follow him in, Miguel trotted back down the corridor to the lounge and lifted the lid on the top box and sniffed appreciatively. "Banana and chocolate sweet pizza, my favourite. Did they say anything?" There was no answer. Miguel paused and turned in a small circle. "Tim? Where'd you go?" There was a pounding noise from the front door. "Oh hell!" Realising what had happened, the Cuban dumped the boxes on the coffee table and sprinted back to open the door again.

"Very funny," O'Neill growled at him. "At least a delivery boy gets paid before you shut the door in his face."

"I'm sorry. It's got a new spring catch on it. I forgot."

"Oh sure."

"No. It has. Look honest." Miguel released the door and it swung shut firmly. Tim yelped, then leaned on the doorbell until Ortiz hastily snatched the door open again.

"You missed my fingers again."

"Well, move a bit faster," Miguel retorted. "You coming in or not?"

"You're a sadist, you are," O'Neill muttered as he leaned on the door to keep it open and grabbed his rucksack in the other. He made his way inside, dripping and starting to shiver.

"I think I'd better forget the beer and make you something hot," Miguel decided with a flicker of concern. "Coffee or hot chocolate?"

"Which do you think?"

"Ooh, that's a hard question," Miguel laughed and patted his squelching friend on the shoulder. "I'll stick the pizza in the microwave. You know where the towels are?"

"Yeah, sure." Tim had been to Tomas' house often enough to know his way around.

"Need any dry clothes?"

"What? You think I came out in all this rain without something to change into? I'm not that stupid. You go make the hot chocolate and I'll be right back." O'Neill headed for the stairs and Miguel trotted off to the kitchen, noting that Calico had darted upstairs after the comtech.

Tim returned as Miguel poured the hot chocolate and followed the Cuban's direction to dump his wet clothes in the dryer. This was done with Calico winding affectionately around his ankles. How O'Neill managed to refrain from tripping over her was beyond Ortiz. Once the dryer was rumbling to itself Tim bent down and picked the cat up, petting her under her furry chin in a way that made her flop back limply over his arm with a look of glazed pleasure in her golden eyes.

"You know, that technique would probably work on women for you as well," Ortiz teased as he fished the marshmallows out.

Tim blushed faintly and headed for the lounge, cradling the purring cat against him. "Why can't we have one of these?" he asked plaintively as he sank into an armchair and let Calico drape her fluffy body across his legs.

"Because, much as I'd love one, we're never there to feed it," Miguel pointed out steadily.

"She's wonderfully soothing," Tim sighed, half hypnotised by Calico's loving gaze.

Ortiz chuckled. He loved cats too and his family had always had them since he was little. But they didn't have the soporific effect on him that they did on O'Neill. Miguel had long suspected that something in Tim's empathic talent responded to cats on a purely feline level. Certainly Calico adored him. "You can record her purring," he teased. "Right now, she's probably wondering when you're going to produce the sardines."

"Sardines? What sardines?" Tim blurted. Calico sat up and miaowed hopefully, recognising the word.

"Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't brought her a tin. You always do. 'Vonne says you spoil her."

"I don't know what's you're talking about," Tim muttered, hiding behind Calico's fluffy tail as she stood on his knees and glared at Ortiz.

"One of these days, she's going to refuse to let you in until you hand them over," Ortiz chuckled as he sat down and sipped his hot chocolate. Calico turned in a small circle and flopped down again, pinning O'Neill to the armchair. "Did you or didn't you?"

"It's only a small tin," Tim admitted reluctantly. "And she's always so pleased."

"Of course, she is. You're the only person who actually buys her a whole tin of real sardines all for her. No-one else I know brings a present for the cat."

"Liar. You brought her a catnip mouse. I saw you."

"That's different. That was a distraction," Miguel muttered, hastily getting up. "The pizza will be hot again by now. Did they say anything about my Cuban Special?"

"Only asked when you were going to have the baby."

"What baby?" Startled, Ortiz turned to look at him.

"The only other customer who ever orders it is a woman having strange cravings."

"I do not have strange cravings!"

"Explain that to the pizza place," Tim said smugly, idly caressing Calico's ears. "What are we going to do now anyway?"

"How about murder?"

"I've never played murder. Don't you need more than two?" Tim asked innocently.

"No. Only me and the victim," Miguel growled and stomped off into the kitchen, doing his best to ignore O'Neill's laughter.

An hour later, Miguel was sprawled across the couch with a tin of beer carefully balanced on his chest while he nibbled on a last slice of pizza. Calico was lying up on the floor, happily stoned out of her little furry mind on the catnip mouse she was sucking and plump with sardines. O'Neill had managed to curl his long frame comfortably into the armchair and was watching wide eyed as Dracula sank his teeth into the neck of his latest victim in the TV film they were watching.

"How come they never fall out of their dresses when he does that?" Miguel muttered curiously. "I mean, every one of those actresses is practically overflowing her neckline."

"That's very sexist."

"No, it's frustration," Ortiz laughed.

"You're over heating."

"Too darn right," Miguel muttered. "That blond reminds me of Tanya."

"Tanya? That surfer girl on the beach?"

"Yeah. I have definitely got to win that competition tomorrow to stand a chance with her. You want to come?"

"And watch you gaze after her longingly again? Why don't you simply ask her out, Mig?"

"Advice from 'faint if she talks to you', O'Neill?"

"I'm not that bad," Tim argued, flushing. "Why don't you ask her out?"

Ortiz moved his beer to the coffee table and rolled over onto his side. "You've seen her. She hangs out with Bud. How am I supposed to compete with someone who looks like Adonis?"

Tim frowned. He knew how Ortiz planned on competing with Bud: by entering the surfing competition. "I don't see that he looks like Adonis."

"She thinks he does. So do most of the girls on the beach. None of them ever talk to me."

Tim looked ceiling-wards. He had been on beaches with Ortiz. All the Cuban had to do was strip off and laze around in the sand for five minutes to attract more females than he knew what to do with. He did fine with those. The trouble was, every once in a while he would get a romantic obsession with some gorgeous, unobtainable young woman, which would then be followed by a series of wildly fanciful schemes in an attempt to get her to notice him. If she did eventually notice him, she invariably failed to live up to his idealistic expectations. Ortiz always insisted it was the thrill of the chase that made it worthwhile. "Then how do you know what they say about him?" he asked reasonably.

"I overheard them talking."

"Looks aren't everything, you know. And your looks are fine. Tanya's got no taste."

"Get real! Tim, I have got to win that competition. Will you come to the beach with me tomorrow and watch me practice?"

"Is that all I have to do?" O'Neill asked warily. He had only ever been on a surfboard a couple of times and both attempts had nearly ended in disaster. Next to Ortiz who had innate balance and the grace to go with it, Tim always felt like an ugly duckling.

"Yeah!" Miguel nodded vigorously. "And if you're really lucky, I'll buy you dinner afterwards."

* * *

The following morning, O'Neill's slumber was disturbed by a distinctly fishy smell. He opened his eyes reluctantly, whimpering as the light crept in and focused blearily on the bedraggled object resting on the pillow next to him. Calico miaowed at him proudly. "Hello fish breath. What is it?" The tortoiseshell chirruped and nudged the object closer with one paw. "Oh, how nice, you've killed something," Tim groaned as he struggled up and reached over the cat for his glasses. "Oh yeuch..." The object resolved into a fish-head of unknown origin. "I take it you caught it yourself?" he said dryly as Calico kneaded his stomach with all three hundred paws. "Far be it from you to go scavenging. What do you say you take it downstairs and give it to Miguel? I'm sure he'd really appreciate it." Lifting the cat, he deposited her next to the offering and watched her pick it up and leap off the bed. She trotted off quite happily while Tim stripped the pillow slip off and deposited it on the floor, before taking off his glasses and lying down to curl up in the warm spot again. It was way too early to get up. Why it was barely thinking about getting light outside! Far off in the muffled clouds of sleep, he heard Ortiz' disgusted yell as Calico dropped her fish-head proudly at his feet.

It seemed like only a couple of minutes later before he was being shaken awake again. This time though, he could smell coffee and pried his eyes open again. "What?" he growled.

"Tim, mi amigo, old friend, buddy." Ortiz chirped cheerfully.

Somewhere in the sleep befuddled depths of Tim's mind, alarm bells rang. "Whatever it is, no."

"Aw, come on, you don't know what I want yet."

"I don't care, the last time you started a conversation that way I ended up going on a double date with you and that female Russian weight lifter."

"I thought you liked her. You were really nice to her."

"That's because I was scared she'd rip both my arms off. Go away."

"But I brought you some coffee."

"Leave it and go." Tim ducked back under the duvet and closed his eyes firmly. "Bad as the cat," he muttered. There was a heavy, long suffering sigh and the clink of a plate and mug. There was also a discreet whiff of cinnamon coffee and bacon. "Mig?"

"Yes, Tim?" Ortiz said innocently.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"I don't know,. What is it you think it is?"

Tim pushed the duvet down, glared at him and then peered at the bedside cabinet. Grinning, Ortiz handed him a plate with a hot bacon and freshly buttered roll on it. "There's more downstairs. And waffles with maple syrup," he coaxed.

"I loathe you," Tim muttered. "You and your cat. Do you know what time it is?"

"Time to be up and around to catch the best waves. You promised," Ortiz informed him and galloped off before Tim could do more than think about formulating some verbal abuse to hurl at him.

Ortiz could hardly wait for O'Neill to get up. By the time the American staggered into a kitchen, he had finished preparing the waffles and simply put the plate and a mug of fresh coffee in front of his friend, then galloped off to fish the clothes from the dryer. he followed that with all the little tasks he could think of, anything to fill in twenty minutes while O'Neill ate. He knew if there was one thing guaranteed to put the comtech in a bad mood it was being rushed when he first got up. when the twenty minutes were up, Ortiz went and stuck his head warily around the swing door of the kitchen. Tim was sitting back, sipping from his lazily cradled coffee mug and indulging in a staring match with Calico. After a moment the tortoiseshell turned her head away and Tim laughed.

"I win," he chuckled.

Miguel relaxed and eased inside to collect up the breakfast dishes and stack them in the sink. "Aren't you going to wash them?" Tim asked amiably.

"Nope. They can wait 'til we get back."

"It'll be easier if you wash them now, before they dry out."

Ortiz glared at him. The Cuban loathed washing up, which was why one of the first purchases for their apartment had been a dishwasher. "Are you ready yet?" he demanded, ignoring the question.

"No. I haven't finished my coffee," Tim said easily, smiling at Calico who blinked happily back at him. "She's hungry by the way."

"No, she isn't. I offered to feed her all ready and she ignored me."

"She's hungry now."

"Hah!" Not believing a word of it, Ortiz got the cat food out and filled her bowl. To his disgust, Calico dived at it as if she was starving, not even bothering to give it her usual disdainful once over.

"See? I told you she was starving."

"Sheesh, you speak cat as well?" Ortiz shook his head. "Come on, finish you coffee. I don't want to miss those waves."

* * *

The rain had left the sky a new minted blue, with the high fine weather clouds freshly washed and white. Shivering in his hooded sweatshirt jacket against the early morning chill, Tim peered suspiciously out at the blue grey breakers as they tumbled onto the beach. They looked enormous to him, although Ortiz was rubbing his hands together in glee.

"You're not serious about going out there, are you?" Tim asked him anxiously.

Miguel glanced down the beach to check the flags flapping on the lifeguard hut. "They've got the surfers flag up, so it's cool to go out and practice until the competition starts."

"It looks dangerous to me."

"Tim, I've surfed higher. Don't fret. I'll take it easy until I get the feel of the waves."

"No...what do they call it...hotdogging?"

"If I'm going to win that competition, I have to look good. I need to check out a few moves."

"Well, nothing risky," O'Neill said grimly. "I don't care how good you think you are, you can still get hurt. You've never entered a competition before. It can't be that important to win."

"I told you, I'm only doing it to impress Tanya."

"Has she said that's what it takes? Seems to me, she isn't worth impressing if it is."

Miguel frowned. His pride had got him into this position when he listened to Bud boasting and had determined to cut him down to size. But his pride wouldn't let him back out now. "Look, I told Bud I was going to do this. Okay, maybe I won't get the girl or win, but I'm darn sure I can beat him. I'm not going to let him get away with laughing at me."

Tim sighed. He supposed he was lucky that Ortiz' competitive mode had taken over instead of his aggressive one when he and Bud clashed, but he suspected that was less because he wanted to out surf the beach bully than because he thought fighting in front of Tanya would put her right off him. "Okay, okay. But be careful."

"No problem," Miguel chuckled, relaxing as he realised Tim wasn't going to argue with him on this one. "You sit on the beach and have a good time. Have an ice cream."

"Maybe when it gets warmer," O'Neill conceded, digging his hand further into the pockets of his shorts and wishing he had put his jeans on instead. He watched Ortiz tuck his board under his arm and jog down the beach to the water's edge, looking as sleek as a seal in his blue and black scuba gear.

* * *

Three hours later and the beach was ablaze with sunshine, that turned the white sand golden. Leggy girls in minute bikini's and all over tans were everywhere, flirting and fluttering among the males of the species like exotic butterflies.

Tim had shed his sweatshirt and changed his glasses for sunglasses the better to see how Ortiz was getting on out in the brilliant sapphire water, although every now and then his eyes would stray to a particularly lovely example of petite Oriental femininity in a lifeguard costume.

Tanya was there in a bikini that left little to the imagination, but next to the brunette Tim thought she looked almost overblown. Not that it seemed to have any effect on the rest of the male audience who inhaled in a body and gawped every time she breathed too hard in excitement at some trick Bud got up to in the surf.

The competition was well under way and Tim thought Miguel was doing pretty well. He and Bud seemed to be about neck and neck in the points stakes. A ruffle of sand next to him made him glance round and get tongue tied as he realised the lifeguard was standing next to him.

"Hi," she said brightly.

"Um, hi." Tim floundered, stunned to find the brunette speaking to him.

"You don't surf?" she asked, blushing faintly.

"Me? No." She had green eyes, Tim noticed distractedly.

"Don't say much either, do you?"

"Um, yes? I mean, I do, when I know what I'm talking about, which isn't often...." O'Neill ground to a halt.

"I don't normally talk to strangers," the lifeguard observed, her blush creeping steadily onwards.

"Oh," Tim looked round in confusion, focusing on Ortiz as he swerved expertly into a pipeline out in the waves. "Um, you're talking to me," he noticed finally.

"Er, yes," she muttered. The two of them fell silent again. The brunette looked off towards the lifeguard stand, where a the trim red head on the ramp gave her a thumbs up gesture that O'Neill totally missed. "Um, do you come here often?"

"No." Tim realised that was a bit short and pushed on desperately. "Um, I'm at sea usually."

"At sea?"

"I'm in the U.E.O.. See?" He tapped his seaQuest T shirt.

"Oh, I see." Another awkward silence, then they both looked at each other at the same moment and flushed in embarrassment.

"I'm Tim O'Neill."

"Jade Hsu Tai."

"Jade? That's pretty. It suits you," Tim said the first thing that came into his head and was delighted when she smiled.

"I noticed you here a couple of days ago with your friend."

"Oh," O'Neill felt a flicker of disappointment.

Jade licked her lips and shot another look back at the lifeguard hut. The red head had both hands clasped together and raised in triumph. "My friend has been teasing me that I didn't have the courage to come over here and ask you out," she blurted abruptly. "So, here I am. Will you?"

Tim blinked at her. "Huh?"

Swallowing hard, she pushed on. "Come out with me," she said with decreasing confidence. "I know, you're probably busy."

"That's my line," Tim said weakly.

"Which one?"

"When I ask someone out, I usually assume they're going to be busy," he halted uncomfortably.

"I'm not. Are you?"

"No," Tim admitted. "Um, the Paradise Cafe is nice."

"I've never been there."

"Would you like to go?"

"Yes."

Tim smiled in pleasure, but before he could say anything he felt a flare of panic come down the link and snapped his eyes back out to sea in time to see Ortiz' surfboard hurtle straight up out of the waves like rocket on take off. "NO! Hang on, Mig! I'm coming!" O'Neill was off and running, oblivious to Jade's yell for him to come back. He hit the water in a running dive, cutting cleanly under the incoming wave and swimming out past it. The water frothed and churned around him, a nightmare maelstrom in which there was no hope of finding a downed surfer unless you knew the currents and fatal rips. Tim didn't, but then he had an advantage that no lifeguard he knew of had. He had a link to Ortiz that was stretched as taut as any lifeline and he was not about to let go of it.

Time seemed to stand still as he kicked to the surface for a gasp of air, then dove to avoid the next wave. The link yanked at him, pulling him down and sideways and he swam towards the pinpoint of warmth at its end before being forced up to breathe again.

"Tim!" he could hear the lifeguard yelling at him as he surfaced. "Not that way! Here! The current...." The rest of her words were lost in the surge of surf as he dived again, slicing downwards through the blue green water, clinging to the fragile spark that was Miguel's mind. There, ahead of him in the blue shadows of the ocean, tumbled and pinned against the silver sand of the sea bed. Ignoring the demands of his own body for air, O'Neill surged forward, stretching. For a second it seemed as if the ever hungry sea would snatch his friend away from him and he cried out in silent protest and lunged again. This time his fingers connected with cool skin and he dragged Ortiz against his chest, frantically kicking upwards for the blue sky above.

He remembered.....

Bud's malicious leer across the waves at him as he released his surfboard.

The sudden thump of pain in his ribs and the shock of gulping down sea water instead of air.

The dizzying sensation of being churned over and over in the waves, battered against the sandpaper bed of the sea.

The terrifying, bottomless terror of knowing he was drowning.

And the darkness.....

"Miguel, please, come on." Tim's anxious voice was the most welcome sound he had ever heard, Ortiz realised distantly as he gurgled his way back to consciousness. The next thing he knew he was violently retching up sea water and someone was turning him over and holding him with a warm arm around his shoulders. "I know, amigo, I know," Tim crooned into his ear and his warm ad pushed Miguel's wet hair out of his face. "I thought I'd lost you, buddy."

Miguel moaned helplessly and turned into O'Neill's arms, shuddering against him in shock and a wave of fear. Someone wrapped a blanket around the pair of them.

"Can you tell us what happened, son?" a kind voice asked. Blinking water out of his eyes, Ortiz peered groggily at the grey haired stocky figure crouched next to him on the sand. There were two lifeguards standing behind him, both fetchingly wet. One was a pretty Oriental girl, the other the most gorgeous red head Ortiz had ever seen. And she was smiling at him.

"Since your libido seems to be running, I guess you're fine," Tim murmured dryly in Spanish into his ear as the empathic link thrummed with happy hormonal interest. "Answer the question, amigo."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Ortiz felt a sudden surge of anger and glared around him, searching the faces for the one he wanted to kill. "It was Bud. He aimed his surfboard right at me."

"I thought so," the grey haired man muttered, rising to his feet. "That's the last time that bastard pulls a stunt like this. Next time he might kill someone. Come on, let me through here. Ladies, break this up." Motioning to the two lifeguards, he started to push his way through the crowd.

Embarrassed at being the centre of attention, Miguel squirmed, pushing O'Neill back. "Let go of me, Tim. I'm fine now."

"I'll let go when the link tells me to," O'Neill retorted in Spanish. "Right now, it's acting more like roller coaster than anything else."

Ortiz snorted and pulled free. "I'm fine, I tell you! I'm going to kill..." He started to his feet and then fell back, his head reeling and his ribs and stomach protesting. He could hardly breath until Tim hastily propped him up again.

"But I want to kill Bud!"

"Sure you do. But it'll have to wait," Tim replied blandly.

"I feel sick."

"I know."

"I really feel sick!" Miguel wailed. O'Neill only tightened his arms in response and for some reason, the offer of comfort and support helped. Ortiz slumped against his friend and sighed, ignoring his nausea. "I wasn't hot-dogging."

"I know," Tim crooned. "Why don't you rest five minutes, then I'll get you to hospital."

"Huh? What for?" Muzzily, Miguel opened his eyes.

"Why do you think I'm going to take you to hospital? You nearly drowned and I am not taking any chances."

"That's ridiculous! I'm fine." Ortiz sat up, more slowly this time and peered around him. The crowd had broken up around him and gone down to the observation platform where a lot of yelling and shouting was going on. Tanya was standing next to blond haired Bud, joining him in shouting at the grey haired man. Miguel wrinkled his nose. "Boy, she screeches," he muttered.

"What's this? A sudden loss of interest?" Tim teased.

"Like you said, if she's interested in a cretin like Bud then she's got no taste." He slid a look over his shoulder at Tim. "Give me a hand getting up, will you? I want to go home."

"Our place or Tomas'?"

"Oh hell, Tomas' I guess."

"Okay. Second call." Tim gave him a stern look. "Don't argue."

"You should listen to Tim," a soft feminine voice interrupted as Jade joined O'Neill in helping Ortiz up.

"Tim?" Miguel blinked. "You two know each other."

"We've met," Jade said with a smile. "We were discussing having dinner at the Paradise Cafe."

"Um, maybe another day?" Tim suggested. "I don't want to leave him on his own. Could I call you?"

"Sure. If you call the rescue office."

"Hey, wait a minute. You're not passing up on a date because of me!" Miguel yelped.

"Oh shut up." Tim retorted, smiling into Jade's eyes.

"You should get checked over," the lifeguard warned. "You were very lucky,. I don't know how Tim found you. You weren't where Jazz and I were looking."

Miguel blinked and glanced sideways at the comtech. "You saved me?"

"Yeah. You have some objection to that?" Tim bristled.

"Yeah. You're not a lifeguard. You could have drowned too!"

"You definitely would have," Tim retorted. "I knew where to find you. What's the matter? Aren't I good enough to save your life?"

Standing shakily on his own two legs, Miguel could feel his knees trembling. "Ah, Tim." he protested. "You know what I mean."

"I know," Tim grinned and indulgently put an arm around his waist to support him.

"You ratted!" Bud was bearing down on them, Tanya scurrying along behind him. Miguel stared at her face twisted with outrage and wondered why he had ever thought her so desirable.

"You creep," she screamed.

"No-one ratted, you fink," Jade interrupted hotly. "You've been warned enough times on this beach and you still persist in foolish stunts. Are you really such an idiot that you thought you could, get away with it in competition?"

Bud stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "You bitch!" he screamed and lunged, diving past the woman at Ortiz. Releasing Ortiz. Tim took a smooth step forward and pivoted on one leg. Bud ran straight into a flickering powerful sidekick and dropped wheezing into the sand.

"You bruised him, I bruised you," O'Neill growled, his normally even temper flaring nova like. "Fair's fair." He turned back to retrieve his sagging friend. "Okay, Mig?"

"Uh, yeah," Ortiz stared at him in awe. It never ceased to amaze him how Tim could flick his fury on and off so easily. His tended to boil and seethe. A little warm bit of pride and gratitude he had Tim for his best friend started to chase away the pain of bruises and nausea.

"Ooh, very nice. I wish I'd done that," the red haired lifeguard commented as she trotted up to join them. She was carrying a surfboard. "I'm almost jealous, Jade."

"Only almost?"

"I have my sights set on another lust object," the red head replied, giving Ortiz a wicked grin.

"Keep it that way, Tim's mine," Jade gave O'Neill a delighted smile. "This is Jazz."

"Miguel Ortiz." Tim introduced his stunned friend. "Excuse him, he's bit groggy."

"So I see. Look, I got your surfboard back for you. It's a bit battered I'm afraid. But I think it'll fix up okay."

"Oh good." Right then Miguel wouldn't have cared if he never saw it or a beach again. His manners - and his libido - managed to surface though. "Tim, about your date with Jade. How about the four of us go to the Paradise Cafe tomorrow night?"

Jazz brightened up. "Including me?" she chirped eagerly.

"Definitely," Miguel grinned. "I'd say tonight but..." He touched his abused midriff regretfully.

"Speaking of which, I'd better get you home," Tim decided, taking Ortiz firmly in hand before he started getting any more ideas.

* * *

"Oh good, you're awake."

"The phone woke me," Miguel replied, blinking sleepily up at his friend."

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't quick enough. Still I'd have had to wake you up for dinner. Here, it's hot." Tim offered Miguel a tray of spaghetti bolognese that Ortiz struggled painfully into a sitting position to take. He was lying on the sofa bed in the lounge of Tomas' house where O'Neill had decided to confine him. "Are you sure you don't want the bed in the spare room?"

"No, this is fine. I can watch TV from here." Miguel settled back into the pillow Tim plumped for him and grinned. He was suffering purely from bruises now and was capable of appreciating O'Neill's pampering. He was quite content to even let Tim do the cooking, as long as he confined it to pasta and followed a recipe. Calico shifted as she lay on his feet, opened one eye to glare at him and then settled down again,, purring loudly. She had abandoned Tim as soon as she realised Miguel was hurt, lavishing the her attention on him. Miguel, who had spent all afternoon, sleeping had appreciated her company. There was something wonderfully comforting about having a purring cat tucked into your side.

"Ah, you're feeling better then." Tim said in relief as he settled into the armchair and stretched his legs out.

"Uh huh."

"Pleased you met Jazz?"

"Oh yeah," Miguel grinned at that bit of good fortune.

"What about Tanya?"

"Who?" Miguel asked deliberately.

"That's what I thought." Chuckling, Tim settled down to eat his spaghetti.

"Tim? The phone?" Ortiz prompted as he sipped his hot chocolate. He was always pleased Tim knew exactly how to pamper him, he noted, eyeing the slice of frozen chocolate gateaux the comtech had stopped off to buy on their way back. "Who was it?"

"Oh, no-one very interesting."

"Tim," Miguel prompted, his curiosity making him impatient.

"It was Jade." They had exchanged numbers at the car while Miguel was settling in and Jazz was putting the surfboard on the roof rack.

"What did she want?"

"Oh nothing. She wants us to drop by the rescue office before dinner tomorrow."

"Oh. So we can pick them up?"

"Something like that."

"Tim, I am going to throw something at you in a minute!" Miguel screamed.

Tim glanced up and gave him a grin. "It won't be a surprise if I tell you now. So don't go upsetting yourself."

"O'Neill!"

Tim smirked, taking great pleasure in watching the stunned look of pride and joy as he told him what Jade had wanted. "We do have to pick up something, Mig. Your surfing trophy, amigo. You won second prize!"