Author's Note: Ok, so I deleted the old version of this and am rewriting it cause I really did not like it at all. The story line will be similar and have a few detours, but hopefully you guys will enjoy it. So any input or advice is welcomed. Reviews too!

1.

Diana.

Three days before Christmas.

It had been a very boring night. I mean really boring. Not only had we seen a total of four patients, three of them weren't even bleeding. Around ten Dante went to bed and the doctor on shift went down to OB to flirt with the nurses, while the other nurses went in the lounge and watched late night TV.

I planted my happy ass on a stretcher and worked on my contract.

In three months I'd be working in Israel. In a war zone babysitting some Congressman's wife. Oh joy. But there was a good chance there would be blood and gunplay, which meant Hazard Pay among other things.

So I flipped through the contract dotting my i's and crossing my t's when the secretary's voice came through the empty ER.

Well, kinda, there was a seven-year-old boy with broken arm sleeping three stretchers over.

"Diana…you got a minute? There's a couple women asking for you."

Kimberly, Amberly, or Tiffany, I could never remember her name. And had no desire to learn her name. In a week I'd be with my husband and extended family on base in North Carolina, far away from Georgia, be still my heart.

"What do they want?"

Her voice then came softer, "They said they need you. I think their Army wives too."

Well that did it. I balled up my twenty-four-page contract and put it in my back scrub pant pocket, then jogged out of the ER, towards her desk. Little Miss Teen America followed me, but not too closely. As if she were afraid she'd catch my bitchyness.

Sure enough out in the waiting room was Angela and a very round and pregnant Humera.

At the sight of me both women hopped up from the chairs and I motioned for them to follow me. I looked to Miss-Sweet-Thing, "I can handle this. Go back to painting your toe-nails."

Her eyes widened.

I really didn't care. I ushered my friends into the all but abandoned ER and Angela hissed out at me in a whisper that was pure panic, "We got in trouble."

God only knew.

I found a wheelie chair for Humera, who plopped right down on it and rested her olive hands upon her swollen belly. "What did you two do? Shop lift at the local Wal-Mart?"

Humera glowered at Angela.

Angela looked down at her feet.

I looked between the two of them, "Where's Steph?"

Humera's refined accent came out, "Hiding the body."

Again, I looked between the two of them. Humera was clearly pissed the hell off and at closer look she was disheveled. Her hair hung in strands around her face and there was a handprint on her wrist. Angela had a scratch mark on her face and a handprint on her neck. Her clothes looked dirty. "Body," was all I could manage.

Humera made a face.

Angela rolled her eyes, then gestured toward the ready to pop wife of Jeff Sanderson, "He was trying to kidnap her! What was I supposed to do, call 911? She's hardly a legal citizen."

"I am legal. I've dual citizenship here and in England. You over reacted."

"Next time I'll just let him kidnap you and take you home to be stoned then."

Oh perfect.

"Humera," I inquired.

We both looked to her whilst Angela hopped on the stretcher I had been seated upon mere minutes earlier. Humera glanced down at her nails that had blood and dirt beneath them.

I blew out a breath. Nothing was coming freely from her. She was terrified though, she was shaking and clinging to her unborn child as if her life depended on it. Angela fumed. I ran fingers through my ponytail, "Ok. How'd you do it?"

Matter-of-factly Angela replied, "Tire iron."

"Where is the tire iron?"

"Steph's getting rid of it."

I didn't dare ask if it was the tire iron Gordon had borrowed from Hoot. That would start a war in itself. I walked over to a cabinet and grabbed a plastic trash bag from beneath the boxes of rubber gloves. "Angela, go into the nurses lounge and into my locker, it's unlocked and there are clothes in there. Shower, toss everything you have on in there and your shoes, and bring the bag back." I pointed toward the open doorway, "Go. My locker has McKnight on it still."

Angela snatched the bag and off she went.

Thank God we weren't busy.

Once Angela had vanished I turned my gaze on Humera, "Is the baby ok?"

She nodded. Unable to take her hands off her stomach. She was clearly upset and I was now clearly an accomplice to whatever had happened. I was helping destroy evidence.

"Do you need an ultra-sound? Are you hurt in any way?"

She shook her head.

Getting her to open up was like getting Hoot into a dress. It wasn't happening. So I decided to go for bluntness. After a brief internal debate as to whether I wanted to know what had happened that night: I did.

"That man we saw at the airport. That was your brother, wasn't it?"

She did give me a nod.

"He's the one Angela killed?"

Again she gave me a nod.

"Dare I ask what happened?"

That perfect British accent sounded strained and she put her fingertips to her temple, "Let Angela tell you."