Chapter Two

Jenny showed up the next morning around nine, starting her rant the second she saw Ryan was awake. She wasn't as loud as she normally was, mostly for the sake of the rest of the building, but she was just as forceful. She started with a dialogue almost exactly like the one he had thought up the night before, then she went on to describe how worried she had been when Mike had called, how hopeless he had looked when she had seen him the day before. After about five minutes, she came down from her emotional high and, with moist eyes, she came to his side and hugged him.

When she stepped back, she glanced over at Claire through Ryan's requested gap and smiled. "I knew this would happen," she said quietly.

He looked at her. "You knew my ex girlfriend would take a knife to me?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I didn't mean this," she waved her hands around to gesture to the hospital room. "I mean this; you two falling back together. Let's face it: who else can put up with you without a family obligation?"

Ryan smiled and glanced at Claire out of the corner of his eye. She was still unconscious and he couldn't help but feel that tug of guilt in his stomach for putting her there. "Yeah, you're right. As usual."

"And don't you forget that," Jenny said, lowering herself into the same chair Mike had sat in the night before.

There was a friendly silence that fell over the room for several minutes before Jenny decided to fill it. She sighed and looked up at him, her eyes accusing. "Stop thinking so loud. She might hear you worrying about her."

Ryan looked over at her, saw that gray glare looking past even his best mask to the scattered mind behind it. She had always been able to read him, even when they were kids, and although he had seen her rarely over the past few years, she hadn't lost that ability. "You know, I'm the one who suggested bringing her back to my place."

Jenny sighed and shook her head. "Don't start playing the blame game, Ryan. You couldn't have seen this coming."

"Yes, I could have," he argued. "I killed him, Jen; I killed Joe. I should have expected at least one of them to come after me."

"But your apartment should've been safe enough with the protection detail. How were you supposed to know your neighbor was a part of his cult?"

"Like I said, I shouldn't have put it past him. He's thrown crap less likely than this at me, but I somehow overlooked begin stalked in my own apartment." He sucked in a breath and winced from the pain in his side then stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself down. "I thought she was gone," he said quietly. "There was a moment when I looked at her and thought she was dead."

"But she wasn't," Jenny replied gently. She pulled the chair closer to the bed and put her hand over his, forcing him to look at her. "Don't start to think you're bad luck again, Ryan. Remember, you saved her. You're the hero today."

He felt like arguing but he didn't have the strength to put up a good fight. So he contented himself with a nod and tried not to show how much the conversation was draining him, but Jenny saw it all the same. "You should get some rest. Your cute partner told me not to keep you up."

Ryan stared at her, raising an eyebrow at her reference. "Mike?"

She laughed at his reaction playfully and tapped his shoulder with her fist. "Oh, it was just a passing comment. Don't start thinking about it."

He smirked and turned his head, not stupid enough to turn over fully. "Fine, go on then. Get back to New York."

He heard Jenny laugh as she starting to walk out but the sound of her steps hesitated at the door. "Ryan," she said and he turned his head to see her staring at him with a sad smile. "I'm glad I still have my big brother."

Ryan couldn't help but smile back at her. "You know I wouldn't leave you like that."

She nodded and looked away, as if trying to hide her expression from him. "Yeah, I know. I'll see you later." And with that she left.

…

.

…

About hundred miles away, a young woman sat on a bench looking out over the coast of Maine. She hadn't wanted to come back to the East Coast, but she didn't have a choice. No matter how many memories haunted her here, she had to carry out her plan. And the only person who could help her was here.

She heard footsteps coming from her left and she turned her head just enough to see the figure approaching. She was tall and slim, wearing a heavy coat and scarf over her fluffy blonde curls and a pair of sunglasses on her head. Her eyes gave her a sort of cat-like appearance and somehow, the woman knew this was the person she was waiting for.

The new comer didn't look at her as she sat at the other end of the bench but rather stared at waves lapping against the beach several yards off. "Emma?" she asked under her breath before glancing at the other woman from the corner of her eye.

"Yes," Emma said quietly. "Molly?"

The woman turned to face her, putting out her right hand with cold smile gracing her full pink lips. "At your service."