Fire and Ice

Wesv (Way-suh)

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, but boy, if I did! Not making or even hoping to make any money…This is old hat for everyone, right? Moving on…

Notes: This takes place a few months after the series ended and follows my story On the Rocks. Though it builds on a fact from that story, it does stand alone. You don't absolutely have to read On the Rocks to understand this one. In fact, just know that Van buys a house a few blocks off the beach in Venice at the end of On the Rocks, and you're caught up.

Thanks to my beta, prplerayne and Jy. You're wonderful! Love Ya! And thanks for the reviews!

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Part 2

"So what do you think?" Alan Foster asked his brother as they lounged by the family pool, sipping drinks.

"I think that Van Strummer is dangerous and unpredictable. Hayes, I like. But Strummer, we need to get him out of the way."

"Well, let's just make sure he lives, okay? Hayes may not take his death as well as those other lowlifes took their partners' demise." Alan shook his drink gently.

"Hey, you cooked up the drugs that took out that first one. What the hell was his name?" Gary asked.

"I forget. And I may have to own up to the first one, but the second, that was your bright idea. I told you they weren't cops. But no, couldn't believe me."

"Caution will keep us out of prison. Cops don't let someone shoot their partners. So our last friend passed his test. Think Hayes and Strummer will pass theirs?"

"I think they're at least friends. If we can just find a way to hold on to Strummer, Hayes won't double-cross us. That's what I think."

"That doesn't bother you? That doesn't even hint at cops to you? Most of the scum out there that we've been supplying doesn't give a damn about each other. When they do care, it sets off alarms in my head." Gary was up and pacing now.

"Gary, even lowlifes have friends occasionally. But if you're so worried, then we definitely need some insurance, and since Strummer is the loose cannon, let's tie him down."

"And if they are cops, we kill 'em both. Work for you?"

"Works for me." Alan downed the rest of his drink.

"Good, because I have the perfect plan for Strummer. In the meantime, let's find out just how good a friend Hayes is. Got some of that new stuff you've been working with?"

"Sure. Tomorrow, at the party? See how Hayes reacts?"

"Yeah."

"Should be fun." They grinned at each other.

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Deaq didn't stop putting drinks in front of Van until the man's words were so slurred he was not to be understood, which was probably a good thing considering that most of those words were about killing his father. He laid out Ray-Ray's untimely demise in several ways before the alcohol rendered him unintelligible. Deaq really hoped that nothing untoward happened to Raymond Ray because there would be a bar full of witnesses to point fingers at Van.

Finally, when Van declared his dad a "shrailer park crash chasin' frucking man-ho" and started sliding off the barstool, Deaq thanked the snickering bartender through laughter of his own and gathered up a compliant but very heavy Van and loaded him up in the Mercedes. By the time they made it to the car, he had vowed never to call Van skinny again. His partner was solid; that was for sure.

As he climbed into the driver's seat, he realized he had another problem. He contemplated trying to find Van's place in the dark. Venice was not his usual stomping grounds, and he'd only been there three times after all. Did he turn left or right after passing the fortuneteller's? Hell, he didn't even remember the name of the street. Truth was Aquarius had been to Van's more often than he had. He should probably feel guilty about that, but Van always managed to have Deaq working on some project in the house when he went over there.

Then there was yet another thing to consider. He didn't know where Van's keys were. In his pocket was the mostly likely place. So, dig around in a drunken Van's pants for his keys? No. Wander through Venice in the dead of the night hoping he could find Van's house. Nah-uh. He'd take Van home with him.

Besides, that way Deaq could help him through the hangover he would inevitably have. It was the least he could do, seeing as how he would have helped Van acquire said hangover. Van wasn't a big drinker normally. That time with the rodeo clowns-turned-bad guys was the only time Deaq had ever seen Van truly intoxicated. Deaq had even watched him nurse one drink for several hours, and of the two of them, it was generally Deaq who drank four beers to Van's two out of any six-pack. However, this was hardly a normal time. Deaq figured he deserved a good, sloppy drunk.

Then again, an hour later, as Deaq held Van's hair back as his partner sat on Deaq's bathroom floor with his head nearly in the toilet, Deaq figured that neither he nor Van deserved this particular brand of hell-night. Then his cell phone rang. Swearing, he got up and ran for the chirping thing, hoping that Van wouldn't just collapse over into the toilet and drown before he could get back.

"Hello?"

"Deaq, my man, we were expecting to hear from Van tonight about the party tomorrow. What's up?"

Shit, the Fosters. He'd forgotten all about them. "Hey, Gary, man, Van's not feeling too great right now. As a matter of fact, he's staying here tonight. Um, the party is on. Hold on and I'll get you the address." He put the cell down and grabbed his cordless. He called Billie's number as he jogged back to the bathroom. "Oh, damn, Van." He walked over to his unconscious partner sprawled out on the floor in front of the bathtub. "Billie," he said as her voice came to his ear, "It's Deaq. Need that address for Van. And probably need you to get the place set up tomorrow, too."

He listened to only a moment of her complaints of trying to reach Van all night before he cut her off. "Billie, need it now. Foster's on my cell waiting." She rattled off the address, and he repeated it back to her to make sure he had it right then hung up. He sighed then left the bathroom again. He picked up his abandoned cell phone. "Okay, 3473 Overlook Drive." He made the appropriate polite comments and ended the call. Now, he had to get Van off the floor and into the spare room. Maybe Van didn't need to get sloppy drunk anymore.

Ten minutes later, Van was all tucked in with the bathroom trashcan right next to the bed just in case. He was probably out for the count though. Deaq turned off the overhead light and shuffled to his own bedroom. He got himself ready for bed and was almost asleep before he hit the pillows.

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This was not his house. Neither was it a hotel room. His pounding head tried to ascertain his whereabouts and came up with—well, nothing. It was nice, wherever it was. So that was good.

There was no one in the bed with him, and it looked as if there had not been at any point. Yep, pretty sure he slept alone. Another bright spot in an otherwise miserable morning thus far. An anonymous, drunken one-night stand would have been more than he wanted to face right now.

Van shoved the nice sheets and comforter off and sat up slowly. Okay, his pants were still on, though his shirt, socks and shoes were missing. So, strange but nice place, no bed partner, and still partially clothed. Deaq. He had to be at Deaq's.

His muddled brain dredged up a memory of drinking with Deaq. Drinking a lot as a matter of fact. He was then reminded of Deaq's bathroom. To be specific, he remembered that Deaq had a clean toilet; he'd gotten a close up view after all, just before he'd puked in it. He sighed. He was never going to live this down.

He stood up and waited for the tiny stars that exploded around his eyes to burn out before he moved. One foot in front of the other, he made his way to the door of the bedroom. Once out in the hall, he recognized that indeed his detective skills were intact to some extent. He was in Deaq's house. There was noise coming from where he knew the kitchen to be. He'd go there, he decided as he put one hand on the wall to steady himself. Soon, he stood in the doorway looking in at his partner as he dug around in the refrigerator.

"Hey," he said.

Deaq turned. "Hey yourself. Glad you're up. I was going to have to try and drag your ass out of bed soon."

"Like you dragged my ass into bed last night? You know, I'd never seen your guest room."

"How's your head?"

"Well, ever wonder what a popcorn popper feels like when the corn starts popping? I can tell you now if you'd like."

Deaq grimaced on his behalf. "You need fluids." He turned back to the fridge.

"As long as there's no reference to proof on the label, I'll drink it."

"Orange juice?" Deaq presented the half-gallon carton.

"Thanks. You want any?" Van took it from him. It was almost full.

"No, go ahead."

Van opened it up and started drinking straight from the carton.

"Hey, hey, not so fast. Leave some to take these aspirin with." Deaq grabbed his free hand and slapped an aspirin bottle in it.

Van nodded and popped the top off the bottle without ever lowering the orange juice carton. He stopped drinking long enough to toss four of the pills into his mouth and then lifted the carton again. A moment later, he put the empty carton on the counter.

"Take a shower," Deaq instructed. "We have a long day ahead of us."

"Um, did I do anything stupid last night?"

"Well, you called your dad a—and I'm translating from 'drunkese,' here—'trailer park trash chasing, fucking man-whore' and planned out about ten different ways to accomplish making Nancy Jo a widow in front of a bar full of people."

"Oh, shit. Would any of them work?"

"I'm assuming you mean could you get away with any of them without a prison term? Well, the arsenic doughnuts might have some potential. But seeing as how you left behind so many witnesses, you might want to wait a long while before trying it."

"Gotcha."

"Now, go. We're going to be late." Deaq shooed him out of the kitchen.

No real jokes about not being able to hold his liquor, Van thought as he gave his partner a sloppy salute and headed back down the hallway to the bathroom. Cool.

Long day, Deaq had said. What kind of long day? Oh geez, he had to throw a party tonight in a house he had yet to see. Great, just great.

In the meantime though, he needed to swing by home. He needed to get some clothes and feed his cat. Well, she was sort of his cat. He'd discovered her living in the laundry room of his house when he started working on it. She was a little gray thing with white paws, chin and chest. She also had white stripes on both her front legs. Van called them her racing stripes. She didn't seem to mind his presence, and Van figured they could just share the house. So they did. She came and went as she pleased, just like Van, and occasionally they were there together. He named her Abby because she listened to his problems, and while she didn't offer any advice, she did give a lot of comfort in exchange for a little food and a place out of the rain. Deaq would probably call him crazy if he knew Van was talking to a cat. Deaq hadn't even met Abby yet. With the exception of Aquarius, she made herself scarce when company came. Did Deaq even like cats, he wondered as he stepped into the bathroom. He'd have to remember to call Aquarius to take care of Abby.

The shower was wonderful, and the aspirin was apparently working. Van felt much better as he walked into the living room still towel-drying his hair. "Don't suppose you have a blowdryer?"

Deaq just stared at him like he'd just landed in a spaceship from Mars.

"Take that as a no." Van plopped down on the couch.

"Don't get comfortable. We have to get going. Billie set you up with a house, but we need to make it look lived in before tonight."

"Yeah. So, where do I live now?"

"Let's go see, partner."

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He'd learned two things as the day progressed. One, Deaq did not like cats, which Abby seemed to instinctively know, therefore making her determined to walk all over him. It was hilarious, really. The more he tried to get away, the more tenacious she became, until finally Deaq gave up and Abby curled up in his lap as Van packed up a few personal belongings and clothes to set the stage for the performance he would give for the Fosters later.

Two, people who lived in glass houses were stupid. 3473 Overlook Drive was a huge fishbowl of a house that made him feel as if he was on display. It made him nervous. The whole front of the house was glass. The whole back of the house was glass. Glass panels everywhere, every outside wall was made primarily of huge glass panels. He supposed it was great for surveillance purposes, but it was unnerving. At least the bedrooms were made private by vertical blinds running the length of the outside walls. Then Billie opened them.

"I'll have a team set up right over there." She pointed to a stand of trees across the road. "Anything goes wrong, we'll move in. Also, there are cameras and microphones in every room except the bathrooms. I'd prefer not to hear and see some things. Van, get your stuff put away, and we'll be set. Any questions?"

Van shook his head as Deaq answered, "We got this. Don't worry."

"Okay. That would be your groceries for tonight." She nodded toward the courtyard outside as a delivery truck pulled to a stop near the front door. "There's alcohol, but I don't have to tell you two to make it look good, but stay sober, do I?"

"Billie," Deaq said, irritation creeping into his voice, "we got this."

"Deaq, do not take them lightly."

"I'm not, but we got this. Go; get your team ready. We'll be ready."

Van just listened as he opened the closet and started hanging his clothes there. The part of his brain not on the conversation began to wonder if his father was still in town. He had Van's cell number, but there was no call. Not yet anyway. He was probably mad. Too bad. Van was a bit angry himself. So there. His new stepmother, no, he couldn't even go there. His father's new wife was two weeks shy of twenty and several miles shy of class. The bleach had obviously sunk in and done some damage to a few brain cells, too.

Why, oh why did his father have such horrible taste in women? And when exactly had Ray-Ray's standards been lowered? Van's mother was a pretty woman. Self-absorbed, shallow, and unfaithful, but beautiful. Gretchen was beautiful. Why didn't he stay with her? Van knew she was interested. But no, he went out and found Nancy Jo. Just like he'd found Phyllis when Van was thirteen, and his mother was cheating with Van's math teacher. Phyllis was a waitress in a truck stop with nicotine stains on her fingers and bad breath. And there was Sandy, the loud redhead he'd brought around after the divorce when Van was sixteen. She had been a treat. She was never quite covered up. Her entire wardrobe seemed to consist of a few handkerchiefs sown together. She was an aspiring actress. Van saw her again when he was twenty-two when a guy he went to the Academy with got married, and someone brought some video entertainment to the bachelor party. She realized her dream, apparently. He'd left that party early; he wasn't feeling well.

"Van!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "What?"

"I said, leave all blinds open if at all possible. Please, guys, try to keep things moderately under control. I know the Fosters are bringing drugs. That's the whole point, but don't let anybody get killed here. Got it?"

"Van, tell her we got this. I've already tried several times. She ain't listening to me."

"We got this," Van offered without sufficient conviction to satisfy Deaq as he glared at Van.

"Okay, I'm out of here." She left them standing in the bedroom, Van holding his orange shirt that Deaq hated, and Deaq shaking his head.

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There were people everywhere. Deaq waded through the crowd, marveling at the ease with which the Fosters had taken over the house. They had said that they were bringing women, but this was ridiculous. There had to be over fifty women here. Add the various and sundry male friends that they had invited to "Van's house" and there was definitely a party going on. Vice would have had a field day with all the drugs floating around, but this wasn't their bust and in comparison to the 20 pounds of meth the Fosters would be going down for in a few days, this was truly small potatoes. In the meantime, though, Deaq knew no one and trusted no one that surrounded him. To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement. He was wound tight.

It didn't help matters that he had not seen either of the Fosters in the last fifteen minutes at least. The last time he'd seen Gary the man was flipping steaks on the grill he and Alan had brought with them as a housewarming present for Van. Now, some other guy was there. Alan had been missing even before that. Come to think of it, where was Van? Damn it. He slipped out of the front door and pulled out his cell. He hit the speed dial to Billie.

"Yeah?"

"Where is everybody?" He didn't have to elaborate. She knew who he meant.

"Gary is upstairs in one of the bedrooms with the damn blinds closed, I might add. But the camera and microphones are working fine. Alan was on the back deck with Van a few minutes ago, but he's off the radar at the moment. I'm assuming that means he's in the bathroom. Van's still on the back deck. Okay, Alan's back on the radar. He's on his way upstairs. Hold on."

Deaq waited as she apparently determined what the man was up to.

"Deaq, he just interrupted Gary and told him he didn't want to miss the show. What show?"

"You're asking me? I don't know."

"They didn't arrange any special entertainment or anything? They didn't mention anything."

"No. I better get back in there. There's no telling what they're liable to do. Later." He hung up and went back into the house.

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Van leaned against the railing on the back deck and watched some guy he had never seen before flipping steaks on "his" new grill. The Fosters had brought it with them and insisted that Van take it as a housewarming gift or they would be hurt. He frowned. He did not like these guys. Alan had just walked away from him moments before, and Van could not have been happier that he was gone. Gary seemed more dangerous, but Alan gave him the creeps.

Suddenly, a flame shot up from the grill causing the operator to jump back and several of the girl gaggle around him to giggle. But it wasn't funny. The guy was on fire. No…no, he wasn't. Wait, yes, he was. Van shook his head, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the action just made him dizzy, and the flames just seemed to spread. Now the deck was on fire too, and some of the girls too. But they were still laughing. Why were they laughing? Didn't they realize? Van opened his mouth to warn them; he tried to move to help them, but his voice would not work, and his legs seemed to weigh too much. Why wasn't anybody doing anything?

Where was Deaq? Deaq would put out the fire. Or maybe the fire had gotten him already. He looked around for his partner. He tried to call to him, but the result was barely a whisper. Van could feel the heat from the fire now, and his heart was racing in his chest. He had to get out of there.

But where was there? Where the hell was he? God, where was Abby? He couldn't let the little cat burn to death! This wasn't his house, though. Was it? This wasn't right. Nothing was right. Everything was wrong. The place was wrong; the people were wrong. The fire was spreading. All the wrong people in this wrong place were going to die. He had to move. He had to get away. He didn't want to die with them. He didn't even know them. They were still laughing.

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Alan was coming down the stairs as Deaq reentered the house. He grinned as he approached and threw one arm over Deaq's shoulders.

"You know something? That partner of yours is one fine looking man. Shhh, don't tell Gary I said so. He doesn't like to be reminded that I swing both ways, if you know what I mean."

Deaq was astonished, not to mention worried. "I—um, okay."

Alan laughed a little. "You would prefer not to be reminded either, huh? Oh well." The guy was just a little drunk and a little more high.

"I don't think Van would like to find out at all," Deaq told him.

"Not open-minded, huh? Figures. I knew that though, I suppose. Then again, with a little help, he might be more open-minded than you think. Why don't we go see?"

Gary was coming down the stairs now, still buttoning his fly. A disheveled blonde came down behind him and kissed him once more before melting into the crowd. "Hayes! How's it going? Seen your partner lately? I hear he's having a great time."

Panic swept through Deaq, and he threw off Alan's arm and took off for the back deck. The brothers were laughing behind him as they followed. His phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. He knew without looking it was Billie. "Yeah," he said, not slowing down.

"Something's wrong with Van."

"Yeah, gotta go." He hung up. He didn't know if Billie would call in the raid now or let him handle it. One way or another, he had to get to his partner. The brothers were still behind him as he stepped out onto the deck just in time to see Van stumble. He rushed forward to catch him then lowered him into a lounge chair. "Van?"

His partner's eyes were glazed over. He muttered something that Deaq couldn't make out; his words were so slurred.

Alan Foster sat down on the edge of the chair and ran his fingers through Van's hair. "He's much more pleasant this way, don't you think? Let's have some fun with him."

Deaq slapped the man's hand away. "What did you give him?"

"A little something I've been working on in the lab. A cocktail of sorts, but mostly, just good ol' vitamin K with a little DMT to kick it up faster and brighter."

"Jesus," Deaq whispered. "Van, stay with me."

"Deaq, man, he ain't with you. He's tripping in K-land." Gary laughed, and Deaq saw red.

He spun on the man. "Get out."

"Hey, Deaq, we were just trying to help him relax. He's wound up so tight. You know, those personal issues he's got going on. We wanted to him help him forget for a little while. That's all. He'll see some pretty colors and feel no pain, man. Chill out."

"No, get out. Get out now." He was probably blowing the case to hell and back, but he didn't care. The bastards had drugged his partner. "All of you!

Get out! Party's over!" The cavalry wasn't coming apparently, which was probably for the best. He'd have to be rounded up with the rest, and he had no intention of leaving Van alone. Not even for a minute. "Get your asses out and take your friends with you," he instructed the Fosters. He pulled out his phone once again and started to call 911, but Gary Foster grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing, man?"

"I'm calling an ambulance."

"Deaq, dude, you get doctors involved, then they get the police involved."

Deaq was going to punch the son of a bitch if he didn't get the hell out. "Well, I guess I'll have to deal with that, won't I? Thanks to you."

"He'll be fine," Alan Foster spoke up. He reached out to touch Van again.

"Touch him again, and I'll kill you where you stand."

Alan looked to his brother then pulled back from Van. "Maybe it would be better if we go now, Gary. Deaq is a little upset."

"Yeah. We'll round everybody up and get them out of here for you, Deaq. And tomorrow, when things look a little clearer, and Van's back from his trip, all rested and healthy, you call us. We still have business to attend to, right?"

"Oh, we have business all right. The nature of that business depends on Van."

Gary Foster smiled at him and walked away. Alan followed him. Deaq turned his attention back to Van and the phone in his hand. Before he could get his 911call through, however, the phone rang. Billie.

"Yeah."

"How is he?"

"Out of it."

"I called an ambulance already."

"Thanks."

"People are leaving. When they're gone, I'll be there."

"Yeah." Deaq ended the call and just sat there with his partner. He should have known, damn it. He should have figured the Fosters were planning something. Gary Foster didn't like Van. Alan Foster might like him too much. That thought made Deaq a little queasy.

Van was mumbling, but Deaq couldn't make out any real words. He kept blinking his unfocused eyes then turning his head as though trying not to see whatever it was that he was seeing. Deaq knew that what Alan Foster referred to as vitamin K was ketamine, but he didn't remember what DMT was. Ketamine was an anesthetic that caused hallucinations; that was bad enough.

Billie arrived just as Deaq began to hear the sirens. "Oh, Van," Billie sighed as she sat down on the edge of the chair that Alan Foster had been perched on.

"What the hell is DMT? I can't remember."

"Hallucinogenic, short-acting but powerful. The ketamine is what's keeping him down. I have no idea what combining the two can do to someone."

"Shit."

"Think this is what happened to Cecil's and Maxie's boys?"

"Or something similar? I would put money on it. Evidently, these little bastards like to play with people."

"I told you not to underestimate them, Deaq."

"Could you save the 'I told you so's' please?"

Medics rushed in and Deaq found himself shoved off to one side. If Van did not come out of this whole, somebody was going to pay.

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The nurse was running toward them. That could not be a good sign. "The doctor needs you." She didn't wait for a response. She didn't need to; Deaq was already on his feet, with Billie close behind. They crashed through the ER doors, and she waved them over to an exam room. Her waving was not needed, however. As soon as they hit those swinging doors, they could hear Van screaming.

"Dear God," Billie gasped. They had Van in restraints, but he was still fighting.

"Talk to him; see if you can get through to him," the doctor instructed over Van's incoherent ranting.

Deaq moved to Van's bedside. He took his partner's thrashing head in his hands and tried to make Van focus on his face. "V, come on now, listen to me, whatever it is, it's not real. You hear me, Van? It's not real." He turned to the doctor. "What the hell is this? He's burning up."

"The blood tests aren't back, but you said it was a drug cocktail, right?"

"Yeah."

"Para-methoxyamphetamine is a hallucinogen that raises body temperature. It's similar to ecstasy. Possibly part of the cocktail. We're in for a long night, folks."

Van was still struggling under Deaq's hands. Deaq could make out only two words: burning and fire. Did Van think he was burning? Was it fire he was seeing in his drug-induced visions? "Oh Jesus, Van, I'm sorry."

Five hours later, the room was quiet. Van had slipped into a restless sleep just an hour before. Deaq leaned back on the wall behind him. He had given Billie the only chair and thus had ended up on the cold tile floor. He was bone tired. He never had gotten through Van's hallucinations to calm his partner, and his doctor couldn't give him anything to end them either, not with all the other drugs running through his system. His situation was precarious enough already. Van had finally just succumbed to exhaustion.

"Deaq, should we try to get in touch with Ray-Ray?" Billie asked, breaking the long silence in the room.

"Oh shit, I guess so. Do you have a number?"

"No. You?"

"No."

"Great. I'll start looking. I can't even put out an APB on the son of a bitch. We want him here, not in lockup." She dragged herself from the chair. "Call me if anything changes."

"I will."

"Now you can have the chair," she half-smiled at him before leaving him with his unconscious partner.

Deaq groaned as he struggled up from the floor to nearly fling himself into the hard plastic chair. "God, Van. Billie was right. I underestimated them." He leaned back and let his head drop to his chest. "What a fucked up night."

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Ray-Ray blew into Van's room less than an hour later. Billie came in behind him.

"What the hell happened?" Ray demanded.

Deaq stood up to face his partner's father. "Look, Ray-Ray, I'm sorry. We were separated at the party, and they managed to drug him. I don't even know how."

"Who?"

"No, not goin' there, man. You aren't going after them. We are going to take them down, Ray-Ray. Let us do it."

The man turned away from Deaq then and went to Van's bedside. "Damn," Deaq heard him whisper.

"The doctor says he'll be okay. He may have some flashbacks, and it may take a couple of days before he feels completely normal." Deaq explained.

"Shit. I knew he'd get hurt. I knew when he became a cop, he'd get hurt."

"Like he would've been safe if he'd followed in your footsteps and became a counterfeiter? Yeah, I can see how that would have been better. Prison would really agree with Van, I'm sure." Billie stepped forward as she spoke.

Deaq had never seen Ray-Ray really angry. The old man seemed to always be so cool under pressure, but now he was mad. He spun on Billie, and Deaq moved quickly to intervene. "Don't tell me what's good for my son!"

"Okay! Let's chill out," Deaq said.

"Oh, no, Deaq, let the 'Father of the Year' speak. Let's hear about how much he's done for his son. Let's hear about how the wonderful time they spent together every other Saturday from ten to two. Did he even see you THAT much when you weren't in prison? And where's the new step mom? She can weigh in on this, too, as long as we don't use big words. Oh, she's probably watching Jerry Springer. It's probably her episode after all. 'Bleach Blonde Bimbos with Big Boobs Bare All,' is that the right one? Or 'My One Brain Cell Died of Loneliness So I Had to Marry An Idiot?' Yeah, that's got to be the one."

"Billie, stop."

"Who the hell do you think you are? My life is none of your damn business!"

"Your son's life is my business. He's my responsibility."

"And you've done so well tonight, huh, Sweetheart?"

Deaq was now in the crossfire and was prepared for the punch that was surely coming. But it never did. Instead, their attention was turned back to the reason they were all there when Van stirred on the bed and started muttering again.

Ray-Ray's anger disappeared, and he shifted into father mode. He stroked Van's hair and softly shushed him, assuring him that everything was okay. Deaq watched in wonder. This was as odd as the anger. He couldn't help but remember that Van had told him that Ray-Ray was gone for quite a bit of his life. Van said that father-son moments were few and far between, most of them happening when Ray-Ray decided to train Van as a counterfeiter when he was a teenager. Of course, then his father went back to prison and Van decided to become a cop effectively ending what little contact they had had until they asked for his help on the Salgado case. Van had always figured that his father put him last in his life, but all Deaq saw now was a caring father. He wondered if Van had ever seen this Ray-Ray.

A disgusted noise from Billie caught his attention. He motioned for her to chill. She threw up her hands and stormed out of the room. He followed her out.

"Billie."

"What? Surely you're not buying that? Please, he's making a good show of it right now, but when Van's okay, he'll be right back to the same selfish son of a bitch he's apparently always been. Van should just—"

"Write him off. I know you said that before, but you know that's not going to happen."

"Well, a girl can dream. I'm going for coffee. If I stay in there, I'll end up losing my dinner."

TBC