Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own anyone/anything (including locations) from Secret Window, and or Secret Window, Secret Garden. Are we clear? We're clear. Excellent...

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Mort rolled over trying to block the blinding sunlight with his arm a little bit, but was too groggy to do it effectively. Then he sat up straight and stared out the window.

He fumbled for his glasses, brushing everything else off of his coffee table in his search. When his hands finally closed around their thick frames, he stumbled to his feet, slipping his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

It was snowing.

Because that's such a fucking phenomenon, hmm?

No, he meant that it was snowing in August. Blizzard type snowing. He shuffled towards the window, not taking his eyes from the falling snow, and pressed his hands against the icecold panes of glass. There was already at least four feet of snow on the ground.

He glanced at his left wrist, seeking the time. Then he remembered where his watch was. He spun immediately, and glanced at the little egg timer sized clock on his mantle. 9:27. It had snowed four feet in ten hours. How was that possible?

You're such a moron. It's a freaking blizzard. That means it snows a lot in a short time.

"Shut up." Mort said absentmindedly, running one hand through his hair, still wondering about the snow. It wasn't like Tashmore Lake to have such unpredictable weather.

"Pardon me?" He heard a female voice say, and wheeled towards the kitchen, the direction of the voice. He was just in time to see Ivy stick her head around the corner of the doorframe.

"Augh!" Mort yelped, and stepped back. Too bad he forgot that he was standing right beside the couch. Too bad that when he stepped back, he had enough momentum to trip backwards right over the couch.

Ivy came rushing over, and peered over the couch at him, he with his feet up on the couch, and his head lying on the floor. He had narrowly missed the coffee table.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a bit of a chuckle in her tone. She obviously knew that he was fine, but thought it polite to ask anyhow.

"I'm fine." Mort snapped as he sat up. "What are you doing here?" He angled himself to his feet, and stared at her. "I really don't remember inviting you in."

"Hostile of you." Ivy smiled, and her dark eyes crinkled at the edges. "You didn't. You wouldn't answer your phone when I called to see if you were okay, so I came over. You should really think about locking your door."

Okay, this one you can kill now. Ramble on brave babblers!

"Why did you want to know if I was okay?" Mort asked, tugging on his shirt a little, trying to straighten it out, if only for the sake that he had a pretty girl in his living room.

"You made me leave quite suddenly last night, and I thought we were getting along splendidly. You seemed... distraught." She said cheerfully. "But you seem okay now."

"Okay? Okay?" He said, and pushed one hand through his hair, and glanced at his feet. "Distraught. Okay. Yes, I was distraught. Now, uh. Could you leave?"

She stared at him in silence for a moment. "It's snowing."

She's quick. Do her.

"Yeah, I know." Mort shrugged. "I saw."

"I'm not driving in a blizzard." She said. "I may be dumb, but I'm not that stupid." She pushed her hair away from her face, scowling at him. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

"Alright then." Mort shrugged, realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere in this argument. "But uh... stay downstairs."

Ivy frowned, and shifted her weight to one foot. "Whatever." She answered, and promptly sauntered back into the kitchen. Mort watched her go with a bad sense of foreboding. Something bad was probably going to happen now that she was here, but he didn't know what. But he did know that he couldn't stay downstairs with her.

He headed up the stairs. Maybe he'd actually get a little bit written today. Likely not, but he could try, at least.

I've got a suggestion. Why don't let her bone you, and see what happens from there?

"Jesus Christ, you're a pervert." Mort said outloud as he sat down in his rolling office chair, and automatically looked over at the seat that Chico used to sleep in. God, his life had gone to hell so quickly. And he wanted his fucking watch.

Mort heard a noise from the ground floor, and peered over the railing to see Ivy settling onto the couch with some toast and a book. And then... a rage came over him, one that made him want to run down the stairs and strangle the bitch to death,, cut her up, see her blood, and feel her die...

Then it was gone, and he was left breathlessly staring at the girl wondering where the hell it had come from. That wasn't like him. It wasn't even like Shooter, for God's sake! Shooter was always calm about wanting to kill someone.

Oh, so now you're crazier than we originally thought. This is just great.Perfect. So no sex, just a whole lot of blood. Really, I think this sexual deprivation. Violence towards abstinence. You should take that under advisement.

"Thanks, I will." Mort muttered, and sat down heavily. What was happening now? This wasn't him, and it wasn't Shooter, so who was it?

How do you know it's not you? You've never wanted to kill someone. You know, when you weren't Shooter. So maybe it is you, and this is how you feel when you want to kill someone.

Mort blinked. He hadn't thought of that. Well actually, he had, but it wasn't that he had, although- "Yeah, enough." He muttered. So. Maybe it was him. But why would he want to kill Ivy. She was a nice girl. She'd done nothing but good for him so far.

"Mort?" She said from the top of stairs. He hadn't even noticed her there.

Speak of the devil.

"Ivy?" He said, spinning his chair to face her. Maybe if he stopped doing things like telling her leave and whatnot, he would quit wanting to kill her.

"I'm uh, sorry for showing up here this morning. I didn't think you'd be mad." She said sheepishly. "I was a bit worried when you wouldn't answer your phone, and I didn't think it through."

Well that certainly did it. Honestly, how could he be pissed off when there was a really hot girl than came to his house of her own free will, and then had the deceny to apologize for showing up uninvited.

You dickweed. I've been telling you that. You never listen to me.

"Well," Mort said, and shifted a bit in his chair. "Maybe I should apologize for being such a jerk. It was nice of you to be worried. I'm just a little stressed lately."

"What's there to be stressed about?" Ivy asked, and went to sit down on Chico's seat. Apparently everything had been forgiven.

"Deadline." Mort lied. Hell no, he wasn't about to tell her about Shooter. "I should have this here book done pretty soon, but I'm a little bit behind." He laughed nervously, and pushed his unruly blonde hair from his eyes.

She smiled at him. "I know how that is. But without deadlines, we'd probably never get anything done, right?"

He laughed. "True. I'm lazy."

Stop laughing. Can't have a good time with a pretty girl. Have to be serious. You are just so dumb.

Mort ignored himself, Shooter, the "kill-her" feeling, and everything else but the girl in front of her. Oh God please let him get through this without any more blood on his hands...

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Thank you so much, my lovely reviewers! Since I love you so much, you get dirty cups from Johnny Depp's house! Although I didn't steal them, I did... acquire them... Mwhahahah... just like that Jack Sparrow jacket that I... "found". evil grin

Sunkist3208: Thanks gal, very much, I love you! :D Not only do you always always review, you're always so bouncy too!!! (I swear, I really do swear that I will finish reading your story! I really do. Hold me up on that promise!)

Michelle: Love you babe! :-P Jessi told me the same thing... and hurry up with that chapter for our story....

Dawnie-7: Thanks for the review..ï