Julia passed Greg’s car as she walked up to his house. The charming home was yellow with white trim, and a few rose bushes stood in the small front yard. It didn’t seem to suit him at all; the place just felt too happy to be the home of such a gloomy person. But then, she didn’t actually know him.

She sighed. She shouldn’t even be here, but Tom had wanted her to get the Anderson proposal. Greg had been missing for two weeks, and they really needed it. Tom should have just told someone else to do it a week ago, but no, here she was knocking on Greg’s door.

She could have sworn the door had been completely closed, but now it slowly swung open.

She frowned. “Hello? Greg?” she called as she took one step inside, looking around. The clean, spacious living room was furnished as if it belonged to a woman, not a man. “Greg? It’s Julia, from work.”

On the other side of the room, next to an open door that led into a kitchen, there was an answering machine that caught her attention. Its black display was flashing the number twenty-three in red. Strange, she thought. Either he was quite popular, or the messages had been adding up; she guessed the latter.

She took a few more steps, walking past a large TV on her right, and stopped by a shelf that was filled with DVDs. Looking them over, she noticed they were alphabetized and smiled at that. She raised a brow at a couple of the titles, though. Aside from fantasy adventure movies, there were some classics like Gone with the Wind and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. He also had the BBC miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. All movies that she loved, but she didn’t think they were movies a man would own, or even like.

She had thought Greg was single, but now she was starting to suspect otherwise. Or maybe he lived with his mother. She glanced around again―it was definitely mom kind of decor. There was even a floral wing-back chair next to the table with the phone.

Suddenly, she heard something in another part of the house and remembered with a jolt that she wasn’t supposed to be in here. “Greg?” she called. The noise had come from her left, down a hallway where there were four doors, all open except for one.

She glanced in each of the rooms. There was a bedroom, an office, a bathroom and―behind the closed door―another bedroom, but there was nothing in it except for two end tables and a large cardboard box sitting on the bare mattress of a queen-size bed. Dust covered everything, including the box, as if nothing in this room had been touched for a very long time.

She gently closed the door again and headed into the very organized office. Once inside, she glanced around at the bookshelves that took up most of two walls. The guys at work hadn’t been lying; Greg was seriously into fantasy and role-playing games. She went over to his desk. In front of his computer monitor sat his keys and a cordless phone―further proof that he should be home.

To one side of his desk, a small picture in a shiny silver frame caught her attention. She picked it up and stared at a younger version of Greg. He had the same brown hair and eyes, and the same strong face, though it was soft and kind too. He was smiling in the picture, something she had never seen him do in person. She couldn’t help smiling too. He looked so happy, like maybe he had been laughing just before the picture was taken―even though it was in a hospital room.

His arm was around a woman in her late forties, who was in the bed, propped up in a sitting position. She was very slender and pale, with long, brown hair and a gentle face. Her eyes and smile were filled with love for him, just as his were for her.

Julia blinked back tears. It was obvious the woman was his mother; Greg looked a lot like her. Julia didn’t know what it was like to have a caring mother. She imagined it must be nice to be looked at in such a loving way by anyone.

She wondered then if the dusty room had belonged to the woman. Had she not made it out of that hospital? Julia sighed as she set the picture back down and shook away the sad thought.

Remembering then that she was supposed to be getting the proposal, she sat on the chair and started looking through the desk drawers. She was pleased at how tidy they were. She picked up a transparent package of green marble dice. They weren’t just normal dice; they were everything from a little triangular one to a big ball that looked like it had a hundred sides. What in the world would someone use these for? she wondered. After a moment, she shrugged and put them away.

There was no proposal here. She closed the last drawer, and it was enough to move the mouse in the keyboard tray, causing the screen came to life. It was black with one word in the middle―Play. It seemed odd that it said nothing else. It didn’t even have an X in the corner to close the program.

She looked at the shelves, to the game boxes there. She had never tried any of those kinds of games. Pulling out the keyboard tray, she touched the mouse and hovered over the word, making it light up with a red glow. She bit her lip as she glanced quickly out the doorway, into the living room, and then clicked.

It felt like the world had gone fuzzy, not just visually, but physically. The small hairs all over her body stood on end, and every inch of her body felt like it was tingling with electricity. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to ward off whatever was happening. In her dizziness she must have moved, because she was suddenly off the chair and landing hard on the cold floor.

When the feelings finally receded, she took a deep breath and blinked a few times. The room slowly came back into focus, and she gasped―it was the wrong room.

The white walls, the beige carpet and the nice, sturdy oak furniture were now weathered plank walls and flooring, and old, rickety furnishings. It was like one of those cabins for rent in the woods, where everything needed was in one room. She stood, on shaky legs, and looked around the dimly lit space; the only light was the late evening sun, which was coming in through the one small window behind her.

In one corner of the room was a strange stove that looked like it was made out of cast iron. Wood counters stood on either side of that; one of them had a sink in it that had a pump-like faucet, and the other held a cutting board and knife. A round table with two chairs were nearby, and a stand-alone cupboard next to that in the right corner.

On the other side of the room was a twin-size bed with a very simple nightstand beside it. In the middle of the room, at her feet, was a large bearskin rug, lying before a stone fireplace. It was unlit, which was unfortunate, since the place was freezing and all she was wearing was a thin pair of black slacks and a white, short-sleeve top.

The door behind her suddenly opened and a man stepped inside. He closed the door after him, and then stared at her. “Who are you?” His tone calm, almost nonchalant, though curious.

“Um…” Her voice was barely audible, so she cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m…wait.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Greg?”

He was bigger and stronger-looking, and his general appearance was more rugged, but it was undoubtedly him. He was wearing a plain brown t-shirt, rough leather pants, boots, and a deerskin jacket. It seemed a strange combination of modern dress and old-fashioned woodsman. When her gaze fell onto the dead rabbit in his hand, she stepped back, wrinkling her nose.

Greg cocked his head to one side as he studied her. “I know you from somewhere.” He looked her over. “You’re from Earth… I used to work with you.” He huffed a short laugh then. “So it worked for you. Why you?”

“I came to get the Anderson proposal and… the door was open… I just thought―”

“You’d mess with my computer?” His tone lighted, sounding mildly amused now.

“Yeah, well…” She took a deep, unsteady breath and started looking around again. “What happened? Where am I?”

He went to the counter, set the rabbit down on the cutting board, and lit a lantern that hung above the table. “Take a seat. I’ll get a fire going.”

“I don’t want a fire. I want to know where I am,” she demanded quietly.

“You’re in Jaida Grove,” he answered calmly. He walked over to a hook by the door and hung up his jacket, then his belt―which held a sheathed dagger―like a cop might hang up his gun at the end of the day. “In a world called Kelstone,” he added, moving to the fireplace.

She frowned at him. “What?”

He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Once the fire was going, he turned to her. “Come sit down,” he said, nodding to the rug. “You’re freezing.”

Realizing just how cold she really was, she went without hesitation. “How did I get here?” she asked, sitting cross-legged and putting her hands out toward the fire. She watched Greg until he returned to the counter and started skinning the rabbit. Nauseated by the sight of the dead animal, she looked back at the fire and focused on the flames.

“I don’t know how you got here,” he told her. “I don’t know why it’s taken so long for someone to come, either. I thought… I hoped it’d be Gabe… but no, it’s you.” His disappointment was obvious.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He shrugged. “Just doesn’t make sense. If other people can get here the same way I did… why didn’t he come?” He seemed to be talking more to himself than her. “He would have clicked, so it means he just hasn’t been there.” He glanced at her as if she might have the answer, but then sighed. “You’d think my best friend would come check on me if I went missing. I mean… I’ve been gone a year.”

“A year?” she said, confused. She glanced over at him, then shuddered and quickly looked away again when she saw the bloody rabbit. “It’s been two weeks since you disappeared.”

He stopped and turned to stare at her. “Two weeks?” he asked in astonishment.

She nodded. “Well, twelve days to be exact.”

“I’ve been here for a year.” He thought for a moment. “Well… I guess that makes sense.” He was talking to himself again. “If this is some video game gone real, then I suppose it would have accelerated time.”

“Video game?”

He nodded and went back to his task. “Yeah, that’s the only thing I can think of it being. Though, trust me, this place is very real. But a year ago… or two weeks on Earth, I came home from work and found a CD on my doorstep. When I popped it in it just said ‘play’. I clicked it, and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“A video game?” she repeated. “How’s that possible?”

He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

She stared at the fire for a long time, trying to grasp what was happening, but it was just giving her a headache. She sighed. “Why is it so cold here?”

He wiped his hands, crossed the room to the bed, took off the top blanket, and wrapped it around her. “It’s April.”

“It’s October.”

He went back to the counter, where he started cutting up potatoes and adding them to a pot on the stove. “It’s April 14th, 1283.”

“1283?” she repeated. “Like medieval times or something?”

“In some ways. But this isn’t Earth, it’s a completely different world. The technology here is pretty old; there’s no electricity, cars, phones, things like that. There’s running water, thankfully, though not hot―no showers either, just baths. Bathroom’s in there.” He nodded to a door to the left of the fireplace. “But society here is modern-feeling, similar to how it was on Earth. But it’s a little more free here, more equal. And people are more friendly, more… neighborly.”

She just nodded, and they went quiet for a while as he finished the stew he was making. Finally, he handed her a bowl and sat on the rug near her with his own instead of sitting at the table.

“Thanks,” she murmured. She took a few bites, then shook her head. “Okay… I’m seriously waiting for you to reveal the hidden cameras and tell me this is one of those stupid TV shows.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s all real.”

“Right.” She sighed. “So how do I get home?”

He sighed too. “I don’t know that there is a way back. If there is, I think it’d be too dangerous to try.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if this is a video game gone real, you might have to beat it to go back. That’s how it’d work in a game.”

She frowned at him for a long moment. “How would you do that?”

He shrugged. “Work your way up to some final bad guy and defeat him.”

“What?”

“Have you ever played any RPG?”

“What?” she repeated.

“Any kind of fantasy role-playing game?”

She gave a short laugh. “Do I look like a freak?” She was instantly mortified that she had said it. She looked down, flushing, and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Well, in those kinds of games―the kind this would be―you fight your way through monsters, traps, puzzles, things like that, until you make it up to some person or thing that usually wants to take over the world or destroy it. You kill them and win.”

She gaped at him. “Monsters?”

“Yeah, I saw a goblin last month. Nasty things.”

“A goblin?”

“I’m starting to feel like there’s an echo in here,” he told her.

“Sorry, but… I’m having a bit of difficulty swallowing all of this.”

“I know,” he said understandingly. “Took me a while too. I’ll take you to town tomorrow―visuals help. There are a couple half-orcs there; they look a bit monstrous, but they’re nice enough.”

“Half-orcs?”

“They don’t look like the orcs I’ve seen in any of the movies.”

She blinked, looking clueless.

“Haven’t seen any fantasy movies at all, have you?”

“Not really my thing,” she told him.

“Oh, this’ll be fun,” he said sarcastically.

“Sorry I’m not some fantasy gaming weirdo,” she shot back testily.

He shook his head, but let it go. “I’ll show you a half-orc when we see one.”

She ate the last bit of her stew, then stared down at the bowl. “So… does that mean you won’t mind me staying here tonight?”

“Where else are you going to go?” he asked. “You have no Kelstone money and you know nothing of this world. Of course you’re staying here.”

She nodded. “Thanks. Well, on that note, I’m tired. Do you have an extra pillow?” she asked as she lay down on the rug.

He took her bowl and spoon and went to the sink. “No, and if you stay there you’ll freeze when the fire dies down. All the bedding I have is on the bed. So it looks like we’ll just have to share tonight.”

She laughed uncomfortably, her stomach now fluttering. Taking a deep breath, she stood and returned the blanket to the bed. “Oh, thanks for dinner.”

“No problem,” he said easily. “By the way, sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

“Not surprising,” she mumbled as she slipped her shoes off and hurriedly got under the covers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, drying his hands on a small towel.

“I just get that a lot,” she said dismissively. “My name’s Julia.”

“I’ll remember it this time,” he promised.

She just shrugged.

“Oh, my name isn’t Greg here, it’s Falcon.”

“Falcon?” She couldn’t help snickering. “Seriously?”

He rolled his eyes as he walked over and took off his boots. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she said, still laughing softly.

He went into the bathroom for a couple of minutes. When he came out, she rolled over on her side, toward the wall and away from him, before he got in behind her.

Several minutes later, she was still shivering. The bed was really only made for one person, which meant that she was almost pressed against the icy, non-insulated wall. Suddenly, he put his arms around her and pulled her against him, holding her close in his strong embrace.

“W―what are you doing?” she asked, her breathing becoming shallow and her stomach fluttering again.

“Keeping you warm. Unless you like being cold,” he said, his lips close enough to her ear that she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She hesitated, feeling awkward in the arms of someone who was basically a stranger. But then she sighed. “No, warm is good.”

Though it was an odd situation, she had to admit that it was nice in his arms. It had been so long since she had slept next to someone, since she had been held by anyone. It felt good. She decided to let herself enjoy it, it didn’t really matter who it was holding her.

Slowly she relaxed, listening to the soothing sounds of his even breathing and the fire crackling and eventually fell asleep.