These characters don't belong to me, they belong to CBS/Tristar pictures. I'm just borrowing them. On my profile page, you can find a link to a clip from the episode this is based on. It's a short clip (about five minutes). I think the fic also explains it pretty well, but it does so gradually.

Special thanks to peregrin anna for her wonderful beta.

"Or what?"

The words, low-pitched and deceptively calm, wound their way through her memory. Two little words that, on the surface, didn't seem to mean much, but actually told the whole truth. Hobson knew her; perhaps better than anyone else ever had. He knew that she didn't have it in her to shoot a man in the back. That she couldn't shoot him in the back.

Toni Brigatti tossed and turned in the uncomfortable hospital bed. An IV was taped into her arm to help flush out the overdose of the drug Arberthnot had injected into her. She hadn't wanted to stay in the hospital, but her police captain had insisted. What she really needed to do was to go see Hobson. See if he was really okay. See if there was hate in his eyes when he looked at her. Toni swallowed hard. What if there was? She couldn't blame him. He'd come to her for help and she had turned him away. Worst than that, she had threatened to shoot him.

Their brief history had been fiery and full of antagonism but every moment of it was seared into her memory. She had wanted to believe him so badly, but she couldn't get past the evidence. Years of being a detective had hammered home the importance of looking at the evidence and knowing that when compiling an over-whelming case, well, ninety-nine percent of the time, the suspect was guilty. And, there had been the lie detector test showing a propensity towards deception.

Toni sighed then got up to use the bathroom for about the tenth time in the last few hours. The IV was doing its job very well. She hoped that in a few hours, she'd get rid of the thing and go home. Other than being tired, she felt fine. Looking in the mirror, she grimaced at the circles under her eyes. Even though the drug had made her sleep, it couldn't erase the fatigue from the last three days. She knew if she felt this tired then Hobson must be utterly exhausted. He hadn't said much to her last night when he was waiting for Marissa to arrive at the train yard. He'd held onto his cup of coffee and quietly answered other officers' questions, sometimes, he'd glance her way. He hadn't been close enough for Brigatti to see his expression and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

When he'd finally approached the ambulance, she couldn't read his expression. Usually, every emotion the guy was feeling would flicker across his face. Even when Toni had felt he was trying to hide something, his eyes gave him away. Not this time though.

"Uh, Brigatti?"

Toni froze. A knot large enough to tie off a cruise liner formed in her gut. Ducking her head, she washed her hands and splashed her face with water. "Just a second!" Quickly, she grabbed a cup and swished some mouthwash around her mouth then dried her face and hands. She took a deep breath, grabbed the IV pole and faced her fate.

"Oh, hey, Hobson. I thought you were the doctor," Brigatti bluffed as she tried her best to muster all the dignity she could while dressed in a backless gown. Casually holding it closed, she climbed in bed, pulling the covers up. She needn't have been so worried about her modesty because Hobson was looking everywhere but at her.

His appearance had improved from last night. The stubble was gone, his dark hair combed, and he was wearing the familiar black leather jacket.

"Ah, no, sorry. I…I just wanted to see how you were doing." Gary fidgeted with some gloves. "I saw Armstrong. He…he said he was going home today. His leg's gonna be fine." His voice was slightly husky and he seemed to find something fascinating to look at near the end of the bed, his eyes only occasionally flickering up to meet hers.

Toni wondered if those were new gloves or if he'd gotten his own back from the police evidence locker. "Yeah, I heard. That's fantastic. Armstrong's a good guy." Toni hadn't intended to emphasize 'good' but somehow it came out that way.

Gary's eyes flew up to meet hers a brief questioning look flitting through them, then looking down, he nodded. "Uh huh." He shoved his hands in the pocket of his coat. "Well, I guess I should be going." He turned to leave.

"Oh." Brilliant, Toni, she cursed herself. You should be down on your knees begging his forgiveness, but instead you sit here tongue-tied and let him walk away. "Wait!"

Gary turned, his expression guarded. Brigatti noted a couple of faint bruises along his jaw line.

"If…if you're not too busy, I…I could use a ride home after the doctor discharges me." Brigatti couldn't believe she'd asked him that. She looked down at the blanket covering her lap, her fists balling up bunches of the snow white bedding. The guy had gone through hell the last few days and the last thing he would want to do was to sit around a hospital room and then play taxi. He probably hated her guts.

The silence in the room was broken only by the chatter of the some passing nurses before Gary finally replied, "I…I could do that."

"No, that's okay, you don't have to. I shouldn't have asked. I can just grab a cab or call one of the other detectives." Brigatti shrugged, clutching the mangled bedspread to her chest. "I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do today."

"No, no, it's no problem. Really, Brigatti." His voice was firm.

Toni looked up, meeting Gary's eyes. "Thanks."

Gary cleared his throat, breaking eye contact and looked down at his shoes before raising his gaze. "I'm the one who should be thanking you."

She searched Gary's eyes, amazed but not surprised to find nothing but sincerity. "You're something else, Hobson."

"Huh?"

Before she could answer, her doctor breezed into the room. "Ms. Brigatti, your labs all look g…" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Gary, recognition splashing across his face. "Uh, hello."

Toni saw Hobson stiffen slightly and clench his jaw. She felt regret that the guy was probably the leading news story of the day. She hadn't turned on the television yet, but his escape from the jail had been on all the networks the last few days. News briefs had interrupted scheduled programming whenever there was a reported Hobson sighting so no doubt the ending was also big news. She hoped they emphasized his innocence.

"Hello, Doctor," Gary replied, giving him a level look.

Toni was somewhat surprised at Gary's reaction, or rather; she'd expected his usual shy, bumbling response. "Um…Doctor Freeman, I'd like you to meet my…uh…meet Gary Hobson." Toni didn't know how to classify Hobson. Was he a friend? Or nemesis? Or…what?

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hobson. I'm Murray Freeman." The doctor extended his hand, his manner friendly, but the curiosity in his eyes couldn't be denied. "I saw you in the newspaper."

"Doctor Freeman." Gary shook hands, not replying to the doctor's remark about the news. He quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it back into his pocket. "I'll just…just step out into the hall until you're done." He turned and practically fled the room.

Leaning back against the wall, Gary closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt like a fool for fleeing the room, but what was there to say, after all? He had already been the subject of several whispered conversations just on his way through the hospital. Some people actually stopped what they were doing and openly stared at him. The attention was intensely uncomfortable for him. He wasn't one to seek attention anyway, but now, it unnerved him. The last two days he'd spent hiding or trying to blend in without attracting any notice at all. His life had depended upon it. Once those instincts were turned on, they were hard to turn off.

He could feel his palms becoming sweaty. With a sigh; he opened his eyes and glanced around. He pretended not to see the healthcare workers in the hall abruptly turn away from him, finding other things that suddenly needed their full attention. He wondered how long he was going to have to deal with the aftermath.

Gary pushed away from the wall and walked a short way down the hall before turning back and retracing his steps. He continued pacing, trying to stave off the fear still gnawing away at his belly. Even though he'd been beyond exhausted last night, sleep hadn't come easily.

Bits and pieces of the last couple of nights had randomly intruded upon his thoughts-- thoughts that had mostly been filled with Brigatti. One minute, he would flash onto the memory of her look of betrayal when she had told him the results of his lie detector test. The next, he would see her staggering in the train yard. Those memories would then be swept aside by the recollection of standing in spotless kitchen, the scent of orange cleaner lingering in the air, and Brigatti's gun aimed at his chest.

The door to the room opened, banging lightly against the wall. Gary jumped and half-ducked before he could stop himself. Dr. Freeman gave him a startled look, and said, "You can go back in now. Toni says you'll be giving her a ride home?"

Gary's gaze flickered over the doctor's shoulder, settling on Brigatti. She was perched on the side of her bed, her feet dangling a half-foot above the floor. Her toenails were painted a bright red. Who paints their toenails in the middle of winter? In Chicago?

"Uh yeah, that's… that's right," Gary answered distractedly. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand this woman. So tough most of the time, but with a definite softer side that she tried to keep hidden.

"Well, that's good. The nurse will be in shortly to discontinue the IV and then she's free to go."

Gary turned his attention back to the doctor, having forgotten about him for a few seconds. He nodded, giving the doctor a small smile. "Great."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Hobson. You take care now." Doctor Freeman headed towards the nurses' station.

"Thanks, Doc. You too."

"I'm not an invalid, Hobson!' Brigatti shrugged off Gary's hand as he helped her into the front seat of McGinty's van.

"Never thought ya were, Brigatti." Gary shook his head while shutting the door, then walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. "You gotta stop anywhere before I take you home?" Gary nodded towards the prescription clutched in her hand. "You probably should get that filled."

Brigatti looked down at the slip of paper and sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." She glanced at Gary. "You don't mind?"

"No, not at all." Gary pulled out of the hospital parking lot; glad that the paper hadn't had anything that needed his attention. He didn't know if he was up to it today. "Is that pharmacy over there okay?" He nodded towards an upcoming corner drugstore.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll just run in real quick."

"I have a few things I could pick up too." Gary parked and exited the vehicle, holding Brigatti's door as she climbed out. She gave him a baleful look and shook her head but remained silent.

Gary's earlier experience at the hospital had somewhat prepared him for people's reaction when they caught sight of him, but Brigatti seemed shocked at the looks and whispers their presence incited. She looked shaken after one brazen woman approached her asking her how she was feeling. She gave Gary a stricken look before heading to the pharmacy counter.

Gary felt guilty. It was all his fault. He should have never gone to her home or faxed her. If he hadn't, she wouldn't have been sucked into the whole mess and almost gotten killed in the process. He plucked a large bottle of ibuprofen off a shelf and tossed it into the hand basket he had picked up. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter followed it in along with a couple of cans of soup and a half-gallon of milk. He caught the stares of a few other customers and defiantly stared back. They had the grace to look away after a few seconds and went about their shopping. Gary sighed, instantly regretting his childish behavior. How was he ever going to carry on with the paper if people recognized him everywhere he went? Seeing Brigatti coming back from the pharmacy, Gary caught her eye and inclined his head towards the checkout.

"Ya got everything?" he asked when she joined him in line.

"Yeah, I think so." She glanced around then spied the newspaper rack holding the Chicago Sun-Times. She started to walk over to it, then hesitated and looked back at Gary.

Seeing her pause and glance at him, Gary guessed the reason. "Go ahead. I already read it," he assured her, ignoring the blatantly nosy looks he was receiving from the young guy behind him in line.

"Must have sucked to be you the last few days," the guy stated, then chuckled as though he'd said something funny. "What's it like to be a fugitive?"

Gary shook his head and started to turn away, but Brigatti wasn't going to let the smart ass off so easily.

"Hey, idiot, you want to find out first hand? I'll even give you a ten-second head start!" Brigatti's dark eyes blazed up at the punk. Gary almost felt sorry for the guy. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that look.

The guy's mouth hung open for a stunned second, then he shrugged. "Whatever."

Brigatti arms were crossed, her mouth still set in a grim line a few minutes later when Gary pulled up in front of her house. "You want to come in? Have a cup of coffee?"

Gary hesitated, not sure if that was such a good idea, but couldn't bring himself to say no. "Sure. Sounds good."

"I can't believe that guy!" Brigatti fumed, still in full rant mode. "Fugitive…he'd be lucky to be a damn fugitive if I had anything to say about it." She opened the door, snatching her purse and prescription off the floor of the vehicle.

"Forget it, Brigatti. It's over," Gary said wearily and followed her to the front door.

Brigatti unlocked it and motioned him in ahead of her. "Forget it? Didn't he piss you off?"

Gary felt the muscles in his jaw clench but didn't answer.

She followed him in, tossing her keys and purse on the entryway table. "Come on, I'll start the coffee brewing." She turned the corner to the kitchen.

Gary trailed after her, the gnawing feeling in his stomach returning. The scent of orange cleaner was strong in here. He made a mental note to make sure McGinty's used a lemon or pine scented cleaner. Anything but orange. He sat at the table, his fingers drumming. He shouldn't have come in here. He couldn't help stealing glances at the back door. He remembered facing Brigatti two nights ago, and then turning to leave. He was surprised now to see that the door was only about four feet from where he'd been standing. It had felt like a mile. He had been sure that any second he would feel the slam of a bullet between his shoulder blades. He jumped when Brigatti loudly closed a cabinet.

"…the nerve of that guy. I just wanted to shoot him."

"What? Who?"

Brigatti slammed down the can opener. "Who? That bozo back at the store, that's who!"

Gary jumped up, the chair toppling and whirled towards Brigatti. 'What the hell did you want me to do, Brigatti? Should I have punched the guy's lights out? Beat him to a pulp? Slammed him against a wall? 'Cause I know I sure wanted to." His hands clenched as he backed her against the cupboard. "I wanted to so badly, I could almost feel the impact of my fist against his face. But then I'd be everything I fought so hard to prove that I wasn't now wouldn't I? I'd be that guy everyone thought I was!" Gary turned away running his hand through his hair. "I knew this was a bad idea. I gotta go." He pivoted for the front door.

"Hobson! Wait!"

Gary froze. The memory of playing this game before hit him with the impact of a sledgehammer. He turned slowly, half-expecting to see a gun aimed at him. He couldn't stop himself from darting a quick look at her right hand. Her gun hand.

His glance didn't go unnoticed by Brigatti. Her eyes opened wide and she too looked down at her hand then looked up, regret written all over her face. "I…I'm sorry, Hobson."

Gary nodded. He knew she was apologizing for more than the comments she had made a few seconds ago. "Yeah, well, you had your job to do."

He looked away, the feeling of betrayal he'd felt two nights ago resurfacing. He had trusted her; had come to her when he was exhausted, scared and just needed some time to rest and think. She'd done more than just turn him away. She had threatened his freedom. Worse, she'd threatened his life.

"I'm glad you're okay, Brigatti. Good-bye." Gary left, pausing outside for a moment and took a deep breath. The gnawing in his stomach had eased, but had been replaced by a feeling of emptiness. Jamming his hands in his coat pockets, he headed for his car.

At McGinty's, Gary entered through the back door, successfully eluding the throng of reporters hanging around the front entrance. He and Marissa had decided to close the bar for the day in hopes of avoiding a circus atmosphere. In a day or two, some new story would take the spotlight off Gary. At least, he hoped so.

He hung the keys to the van on a hook by the door. Even though they were closed, a few of the employees had come in to help do stock and to straighten up the mess left by the police when they had executed their search warrant. The bar area had been relatively unscathed, but the office was a mess. Files had been pulled, drawers opened, and papers scattered.

Two hours later, Gary had the office in decent shape, but realized he'd need a new lock on his desk . Why had the cops felt they needed to break the lock? The key was right there in the mug of pencils and pens. You'd think that as thorough as they had been with the files, they would have figured that out. He only locked the drawer because it contained the petty cash and an extra set of keys to the van. He slammed it shut.

Upstairs in the loft was more of the same, only worse. Gary's dresser and closet had been trashed. His were clothes left in disarray; socks and underwear hanging out of the top drawer. Gary shoved them back in, embarrassed that someone had gone through his personal belongings. He'd been too tired last night to barely give any of it a glance and this morning, he'd needed to see Brigatti.

Swearing, Gary crossed to his closet. The door hung open and his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. The top shelf was bare, its former contents scattered amongst the clothing. He crouched down and gathered up his high school yearbooks, and a couple of dusty trophies from his years on the football team then replaced them on the shelf. He stooped to pick up the scattered baseball cards he had spent his childhood collecting. Snatching a Bob Feller card that now sported a big crease down the middle, he tossed it into the box with the rest. It had been his dream that one day, he would pass the cards onto a son. He snorted. Like that would ever happen now. Gary shoved the box into the back corner.

"Gary?" Marissa's voice floated up the steps.

"Up here, Marissa!"

Gary quickly cleared a path in the room, throwing the couch cushions back in place and stacking the magazines on the coffee table.

"I see you were in the office," Marissa said, as she carefully made her way into the room, her cane sweeping in front of her as she navigated through the disarray.

"Yeah." Gary cleared his throat. "Watch yourself. This place is a mess."

"I'm sorry, Gary. I tried to stop them but…" Marissa's voice wavered

"There was nothing you could do, Marissa." Gary quickly crossed to her and gave her a warm hug. "You did the best you could, ya know? You were there for me when I needed you and I knew I could count on that." Gary stepped back, but his hand lingered on Marissa's shoulder. "Did I ever thank you?"

Marissa smiled. "I don't know but that hug was a pretty good start."

Gary chuckled. "I've got some soup and peanut butter and jelly. Wanna have some lunch?"

"Sure, but first, I'll help you get things straightened up."

"Sounds like a deal."

An hour later, the loft was presentable again. Marissa had folded Gary's shirts and jeans and replaced them in the dresser while Gary had picked up the contents of a junk drawer that had been dumped on the floor. When he was done, most of the contents had been tossed. He moved to the bookshelves and started replacing books that had been swept onto the floor. The last book he to replace was "Lost Chicago". He hesitated for second, wondering if Lucius Snow had ever had an experience like he had had.

Marissa made the sandwiches while Gary poured the drinks and heated the soup. The scent of peanut butter and chicken noodle soup filled the loft, the smell comforting and familiar. After lunch, Gary flopped onto the sofa, laying his head against the armrest, one leg on the couch, the other foot flat on the floor.

Marissa crossed over and settled in the chair. "Are you okay, Gary?"

Gary sighed. "Yeah, I think so. How about you?"

Marissa's voice hardened. "I was so angry at everybody, Gary. I couldn't understand how anyone could think that you…you murdered Scanlon. I mean, anyone who knows you would know that you could never do something like that."

Gary cocked his head backwards, smiling. "You're a good friend, ya know that, Marissa?" He closed his eyes, trying to forget the last few days. He just wanted the feeling of contentment he felt right now to never end. He was safe and warm in his loft, his belly was full and the paper had given him the day off. He yawned, feeling his limbs growing heavy.