Do you really want to know what happened while BAM was in Paris? How and when Bianca and Maggie became more than just friends? How does Bianca know Leslie? How Cecelia came into BAM's life ...and tore them apart?

Nightmares & Dreams

On the flight to Paris, they agree that the idea of Maggie living at the Cambias's hotel suite is unreasonable and overly-cautious. After all, they had lived together before. So they decide to live together when the arrive although...this arrangement, this time around, will be different and take on a whole new meaning; a meaning they can't quite define. One thing that Maggie does know is, until she sorts out her feelings - the constant and dreaded backdrop that always keeps the intimate side of their relationship at bay - she is certain that she will never sleep in Bianca's bedroom... Well, not most of the time anyway.

Tonight, on this night, after the first few months of living together, Maggie decides to sleep, yet another night alone, in the guest room.

Maggie comes home very late having spent the afternoon at the university library researching schools that offer French language classes, eating dinner in the quartier Faubourg St. Germain, then strolling, for what feels like hours, through an eclectic neighborhood of café terrasses and antique shops specializing in Moorish decor. As the sun sets, she mindfully keeps La Seine on her right so that she remembers which way is home. So when she arrives after dark, and sees that the foyer lamp is the only light left on in the apartment, Maggie does not want to disturb Bianca by crawling into bed with her. Bianca has probably fallen asleep early with Miranda. Disappointed, Maggie resigns to sleeping in the guest room.

...and when Maggie suddenly sits up in a cold sweat, panting in the darkness because she cannot escape Jonathon's scowl and his sweaty, dirty grasp - clawing at her arms, legs, ripping at her clothes, and pulling her hair - she realizes that she is no longer in Pine Valley. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, it slowly dawns on Maggie that the furniture in the room is different, the shadows cast on the wall are different, the smells around her are different, the mattress below her feels firmer and her sheets feel silkier. At least one of the windows in this room is actually a French door that opens onto a small wrought iron balcony - big enough for a single potted plant and one chair - and a fireplace gapes at her from across the room. It all comes into focus; she is in the guest room in the 19th century apartment that she shares with Bianca in Paris. Every since the move, the dreams only come when she sleeps in the guest room; Jonathon and her past never visit when she's in Bianca's bed.

Maggie places her palm on her chest to quell her rapidly beating heart. She wipes away the damp hairs that stick to her forehead. In the dark, she forages on the floor for the robe that she will wear over her camisole and boy shorts as she scurries down the frigid hall from the guest room to Bianca's bedroom on the other side of the apartment.

"There's no heat in my room," Maggie lies as she tosses her robe to the floor beside Bianca's bed.

"Mmm?" Bianca mumbles at the sound of rustling sheets and at the sensation of her bed depressing at one end. She is deep asleep. Bianca rolls over on her side unconsciously making room for another body. Maggie settles into her spot - on her side of the bed - away from Bianca, sinks her head into the down pillow, draws the sheets to her neck and immediately sails into a restful slumber, as if she never had a nightmare at all.

In Maggie's next dream she is suffused in a warm glow that extends from her head to her feet like she's comfortably wrapped in a cocoon or in a uterus fiercely resisting her impending birth especially if it means sacrificing this nurturing space. It's a warmth that makes her feel secure and still, yet restless and giddy. The glow keeps its form around her with every move that she makes never allowing an inch of her to be exposed to the coldness beyond.

Maggie slowly emerges from her sleepy haze into a veil of thick black hair. She is immobilized by a supple mass that obstructs movement to her legs and upper body. Maggie's fingers glide along exposed downy skin as she tries to figure out where she is and if she is still dreaming. A swell presses into her chest then recedes, then presses into her chest again and recedes. She is struck by how strongly Bianca's smell permeates this dream; she can almost taste her.

"Bianca...," she whispers to a far off place, to the other woman who Maggie still thinks is down the hall, in the other room.

Maggie's eyes blink wide open as she suddenly realizes where she is. Parts of her body slowly wake up to the benefits of their resting places: her head and face against Bianca's hair, her chest against Bianca's back, her knees in the crook of Bianca's and her arm draped across Bianca's bare arm. They are spooning. A small sheepish grin appears on Maggie's face as she recalls telling Bianca that she would only sleep on her side of the bed if they shared one together. But, of course, that wouldn't happen any time soon. Maggie does not dare move. She cherishes the heat of her friend's body against her own and mischievously delights in the furtive act of being this close to Bianca. Right now, Maggie doesn't care what this means all she knows is that it feels good, it feels peaceful, it feels heavenly, it feels naughty, it feels...

"Ooops," says Bianca who wakes up suddenly realizing the subconscious inspiration for the sensual dream she was having. Maggie quickly closes her eyes and feigns sleep. Disconcerted, Bianca scoots across the bed and draws the sheet around her barely clothed body to create a safe, platonic distance between her and Maggie. With her back still to Maggie, Bianca smiles, waits for the blush to subside from her cheeks and says, "Hey, sleepy head."

When she doesn't get a response, Bianca turns around to one of the most beautiful sights she has seen in a while. Through the slats in the closed wooden shutters, sunrays spread across their bed in light and dark stripes marking the beginning of a new day. The light reveals the brownish-red highlights in Maggie's hair, the glow of her skin and the perfect shape of her lips. Bianca smiles again and tenderly strokes away a loose strand of her dark hair that lingers on Maggie's fair face. At Bianca's touch, Maggie squirms, yawns and stretches back to life. She smiles at Bianca. Bianca smiles back.

"Good morning"

"Yes...it is."