Joe sat at the counter of the diner, stirring his coffee absent-mindedly. Greg Hughes approached him, tossed a file folder on the counter and sat down.

"Coffee?" he said to the server, who poured him a cup. Hughes took up a sugar packet and dumped the contents into his cup and stirred vigorously.

"Morning?" Joe said, raising an eyebrow.

"Joe, you have no idea what kind of mess we've got."

"Okay. Start at the top. Blood?"

"Mostly Cathy's. ME estimates a unit, maybe more."

"What do you mean 'mostly Cathy's?'" Joe asked.

"There were traces of foreign DNA."

"Foreign?"

"Not Cathy's."

"Then whose?"

"Still working on that."

Joe took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay. Fingerprints."

"Tons. Cathy's, of course. The cleaning lady. We took a set off her before we let her go. Some of you." Hughes took a drink of coffee. "We also found some from this doctor, Peter Alcott."

"I know that name."

"You should. Did some digging. He's the executor of Cathy's estate. Her next of kin."

"Well, that makes sense. He probably was checking on the place."

"Yeah. It makes sense on the doorknobs and the phone. But, we also found his on that bottle of Narcan and the syringe."

"What?"

"And that isn't even the weirdest thing." Hughes took another drink of coffee.

"There's another set – from the door to the balcony, on the bed, closet doors, kitchen. Kind of all over."

"Whose are they?" Joe asked.

"Wrong question. Not whose. What's."

"What's?"

"Yeah, lab doesn't think they're human. Definitely don't match anyone in the system."

"Greg. Come on."

"I'm telling you what I know, Joe. Almost as soon as I know it." He indicated the file folder on the counter. "There's you 'unofficial' copy of the results."

"There's got to be more."

"I'm doing my best. But, Joe. I know my limitations."

"Limitations? This is Cathy Chandler!"

"Look, Joe. I know that and I'd do anything for her. But I've got to do it within my scope. I got to take whatever cases get tossed my way. We got lucky that I was up when this call came in." Greg paused and took a toothpick out of the container on the counter by his right hand. "You ever hear of the 210?"

"Special crimes? Yeah, why?"
"There's this woman, on it. Diana Bennett? You know her?"

Joe shook his head.

"Do you remember the Bessara case last month?"

"Yeah."
"She was the one who found Hernandez."

"I thought that was the Bureau."

Hughes chewed on the toothpick. "Nope. Bennett. She doesn't like the publicity." He tossed the toothpick on the counter. "Look, Joe. This isn't an ordinary case. It is a missing person, but now there's all this blood. It isn't a homicide, but it could be. There's a lot going on. You need to look at other alternatives. And Bennett. She gets to pick and choose."

"Why?"

"Cause she's good." Greg stood up and drained his coffee cup. "You get a hold of Bennett at the 210. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Greg." Joe picked up the folder and paid for his coffee. He left the diner. He had some favors to call in.

C&VC&VC&VC&V

Peter went to the hospital first thing in the morning. Chelsea had reported a quiet night for her patient. She had stirred around 1:00 in the morning, but drifted back off. Her vitals stayed steady and her fever was down. Peter decided to try to wake her up. He had Chelsea stay by the door and entered the room.

Catherine was lying on the bed, tucked under the blankets with monitor wires coming out from under them, attaching her to machines overhead. Her left arm was connected to an IV. Her hair had been brushed, but she still looked pale and disordered. Peter decided she didn't look like herself without her spark.

He crossed over to the bed and pulled out his stethoscope. He listened to her heart and her lungs and then pressed his hands over the lower abdomen. Her belly was still swollen, but firm. Since she had retained the placenta after the delivery of the child, her uterus couldn't contract and she was bleeding out, in addition to the deadly dose of morphine. She was lucky.

Satisfied with her physical condition, Peter sat in the chair by the bed and pushed her hair back.

"Cathy? Cathy, honey? It is time to wake up." He moved his hand to her shoulder and shook her a little. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes." He spoke in a firm, clear voice. He shook her again. "Cathy!"

At this last prodding, Catherine frowned and turned her head away from Peter. He reached for her chin and turned her back. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes now. Just open up and look at me. That's all I need."

Catherine's frown deepened through all of this and then she sighed. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and then closed again.

"Good, girl. Do it again. Look at me, young lady."

Catherine frowned again and opened her eyes. She looked up at Peter's face for a few brief seconds and then closed them again. "Peter?" she whispered.

"Yes, honey. It's me. How are you feeling?"

"Vincent?" she whispered again.

"Oh, I know you want to see him. I just need you go get a little stronger."

She sighed. "Vincent."

"Soon, sweetie, soon. I'll tell him you asked for him, okay?"

Her eyelids flickered open and then shut. "Kay."

"Okay, Cathy. You get your rest now. I'll check on you in a little while." Peter rose from the chair and prepared to leave the room and give his orders for the day to the nurse waiting outside the door. A soft voice called him back to her side.

"Peter, thanks."

"You're welcome, honey. I'm glad you're back."

Peter turned from the bedside as Catherine drifted back to sleep. He left Chelsea in the room and then went down the hall to the nurse's station. He was writing in Catherine's chart, still marked, "Jane Doe" when two police officers came by.

"Morning," one flashed his badge to the charge nurse. "I'm officer Downey and this officer Sparks. We heard you had a 'Jane Doe' admitted yesterday?"

Peter turned sideways so that his face could not be seen by the officers. He continued to write furiously, hoping to get his orders entered without having to answer too many questions.

Margie, the charge nurse had been around awhile and she knew Dr. Alcott from when he was a resident. She never looked over at him. She merely raised her gaze above her reading glasses and pulled a pen out of her stiff beehive hair-do. "None of my patients are to be disturbed at this time. What is this all about?" She looked back down and marked off an item on the list in front of her.

"We are just checking something out. A bunch of blood was found on a bed in an apartment by the park. We are looking at 'Jane Doe's' to see if she could be who the blood belongs to."

"None of my patients can be disturbed at this time. If anyone has information that may help you, I'll be sure to call. May I have your card?"
"Nurse, do you have any 'Jane Doe's' or not?" Sparks was young, he didn't like being sent on a wild goose chase and he knew he wasn't getting a straight answer out of Margie.

"I will thank you to lower your voice. This is a hospital. Now, unless you are an admitting physician to this hospital or have a warrant," she lowered her gaze at the two officers. "You will not be laying a hand on any of my charts or disturbing any of my patients."

Downey put his hand on Sparks' arm. "Easy, Sparks. We'll go check the next place and come back. Thanks, ma'am." The two policemen turned and walked down the hallway towards the elevators. Downey appeared to be lecturing Sparks under his breath.

"Wow, Margie. Remind me never to get on your bad side," Peter said, handing her the chart with his orders. She tucked her pen back into her beehive and pushed up her glasses a little.

"You never will, Dr. Alcott. But you might want to re-admit your patient," she said, not looking at him, but scanning the chart for new orders. She began to enter them into the computer on her desk.

"Thanks, Margie," Peter said. "I'm keeping Chelsea on private duty for the rest of today and will probably be bringing in someone else for tonight. Can you spell her for a little while so she can get something to eat?"

"Of course, doctor. I'll attend to it personally."

"You are a peach, Margie. Thanks again," Peter said over his shoulder, heading towards admitting.

C&VC&VC&VC&V

Father walked into Vincent's chamber that morning and found his son still in bed, sleeping. He sighed and looked at him. His son. He looked so peaceful and content while asleep. For so long, Vincent had been so worried, so frightened, so angry with himself. No one Below was finding any peace. And, now just as Vincent had finally fallen into a much-needed slumber, Father had to awaken him. "Well, who said life was fair," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Vincent?"

Vincent awoke in an instant and sat up. He looked around quickly and saw Father. "What is it?"

"I received a note from Peter this morning. He gives an update on Catherine's condition. I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible."

"Catherine?"

"Yes."

"Then, it wasn't a dream. It was real?"

"Yes."

Vincent blinked quickly a few times, then swung his legs out of the bed. "Tell me."

Father unfolded the note and as he didn't have his glasses, held it out at arm's length to read it aloud.

"'Jacob, Catherine had a good, peaceful night. Her fever is lower and her uterus is contracting down quite nicely. She woke up briefly this morning. She recognized me and asked after Vincent. Some police officers came by, asking after any 'Jane Doe's' admitted yesterday. Margie (remember her from residency?) held them off and I've readmitted Catherine under the name 'Caroline Wells.' If I can get her to wake up enough to eat something and if her H&H stays stable, I may be able to transfer her tonight or tomorrow morning. Please prepare as we discussed. I'll send more news when I have it. Peter."

"What does this mean? What is an H&H? What about her uterus?"

"Vincent, after a woman gives birth and expels the placenta, the uterus contracts in on itself, sealing off all the blood vessels. If that does not happen appropriately, the torn blood vessels continue to bleed. There are several reasons why this can happen, but with Catherine, because she slipped into a coma before she could deliver the afterbirth, her uterus couldn't contract down. Peter took her to surgery and removed the placenta. He had to give her six units of blood. He is monitoring her Hemoglobin and Hematocrit to see if she needs more."

"I see."

"She is also on antibiotics, to fight infection. A retained placenta can be a nasty thing."

"Does it seem that there are any effects from the morphine?"

"She is quite sleepy, but she recognized Peter and remembered you. With time, I'm sure she will be fine."

"And the police?"

"It shouldn't surprise you that they are looking for the source of all that blood. Peter had admitted her as a 'Jane Doe.' He had to change her name."

"Good. Then, it seems that all is going as well as it could."

"Yes. Come, get dressed. We can talk more at breakfast." Father patted Vincent's shoulder and left his chamber. Vincent rose from the bed and began to prepare for the day. Then, he felt it again, that buzzing, beating heart he had heard the night he had found Catherine. It seemed to quicken, intensify and then it went quiet and still. What did it mean? He had much to discuss with Father and he hurried with his dressing.