Okay, I got this really crazy idea after looking over the ending chapter of Twelve Sharp. What if Scrog actually did shoot Stephanie and everything that's happened since then was part of her comatose dream? (That could explain for some of the wonkiness/contradictions/out of character-ness of some of the books after number 12…)

Disclaimer: The Plum universe belongs to JE.

Usually after the end of a long workday going to bed is a top priority, but everything changed that night. That's why instead of going up to seven, I was on my way down to the underground garage. I bumped into Tank when I unloaded the elevator.

"Going to the Hospital?" Tank asked, eyeing the book in my hand. A nod was my response. He nodded in return and clapped my shoulder, his silent way of showing me his support.

Since this has been my everyday routine for the past weeks I was able to drive to St. Francis on autopilot. I didn't even have to waste time looking for parking, zipping straight to a section I knew would have several vacant slots at this time. After I stashed my weapons in the hidden compartment under the driver's seat and grabbed the book, I angled out of the Turbo.

I've done this enough times that I was ready to go through the metal detector and security in a breeze, quickly heading to my destination. Visiting hours are over, but I have my ways and made an arrangement of sorts.

"Hello." Babe's nurse was finishing her round when I entered the room. The older woman gave me a friendly smile. I nodded and with another smile she left the room.

"Babe." My eyes focused on the woman before me, lying still and connected to various apparatus. Carefully, I took her hand in mine and landed a whisper soft kiss on her palm. I took a moment to track my eyes over her still form, taking in every detail. Unfortunately, my trained eye didn't see any difference in her appearance.

That night I entered her apartment with hands raised, offering myself up to save the two loves of my life: my daughter, Julie, and Babe. I knew it was very likely that Scrog was waiting, preparing a shot that would take me out clean. But just when I was sure the bullet was coming my way, Babe let out a sob. That strangled sound was enough to completely derail Scrog, making him switch targets at the last moment. The loud sound of a gunshot pierced the silent room, snapping me into action. Even before Babe's chair completely toppled over I had Scrog permanently neutralized. I remember moving towards Babe in a trance, knowing she'd been shot. The gunshot to the head left her in a coma and now the weeks are turning into months. Slowly, the passing of time is decreasing her chances of waking up.

I sighed, scooting the lone chair in the room closer to Babe's bed, and shook the negativity aside. As I sat down I turned to the page where I left off last night. I cleared my throat, gave Babe a little recap on the story and then continued.

After about an hour or so of reading I paused, needing a bathroom break. "I'll be right back." I said to her, putting the book aside to rise to my feet. But when I glanced up at her, I noticed a change: her eyes were open. "Babe!" The screeching of the chair as I pushed it aside didn't distract me. I locked gazes with her, feeling a clench in my chest at seeing that unique shade of blue again.