University Hospital, later that afternoon

A long while later -- or perhaps it had only been a few minutes, Kimberly couldn't tell -- an out-of-breath Jeannie burst through the door of the isolated hospital room. "Mama?"

Kim rushed to embrace her daughter, and they clung to each other crying. Then Kim pulled away and gently brushed the hair back from Jeannie's tear-stained face.

Jeannie glanced over at her brother for the first time. "Oh, my God. Andrew." She walked to him and touched his hand.

Kim put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, then took a breath and gave Jeannie an update on his condition, leaving out the part about the outcome being uncertain.

Jeannie removed her coat, trying to compose herself. She turned back to her mother. "Mama, I didn't come alone," she said after a long pause.

"Oh? Did Peachy come with you? I thought the doctor said she couldn't travel."

"It's not Peachy, Ma." Jeannie squeezed her mother's hand. "I'll be right back."

Kim was too tired to play guessing games. She moved to Andrew's bedside and leaned down to kiss his cheek, then straightened, watching him intently and running a soothing hand over his wavy black hair. The door swung open, and she could feel someone's eyes on her, but she couldn't look away. "Jeannie. Who…?"

Then she turned and her heart stopped. Standing before her in a grey woollen coat, his dark hair disheveled, his brown eyes tinged with red from lack of sleep, stood Andrew's father. Shane? She blinked, unable to utter a word.

He looked and looked at her, drinking in her flowing blond hair, her iridescent skin, the calm, clear green eyes he could get lost in for hours. She was more beautiful than his memories and dreams could ever make her. Standing in her presence, he felt he had finally come home. He cleared his throat softly. "Kayla told me he's stable." He rubbed a hand over his nose and mouth and sniffled, then lifted his head to look at her. "Kim…"

Her breath returned in a rush of feeling and suddenly she wanted to be as far away from this man as possible. She brushed past him and ran out of the room, nearly knocking Jeannie over.

"Dad?"

"Jeannie, stay with Andrew." He turned to follow Kimberly through the hallway, only to be headed off by a silver-haired man in a fit of pique.

"I don't think she wants you here, Captain Donovan," Kimberly's father burst out.

Shane set his jaw. "Shawn..."

"Matter of fact, none of us do." Shawn's Irish brogue thickened in his anger. "You are no longer a part of this family. I suggest you leave this place right now!"

A dark-haired man in his late forties rushed over from the nurses station and stepped hurriedly between the two, "Now, Pop. Just hold on a second there."

"Bo, get out of my way!" Shawn pushed against his son's muscular frame. "This man abandoned Kimmie and my grandkids. He has no right bein' here!"

"Shawn!" the diminutive blonde by his side interjected. "Please calm down. This is not the time."

"Caroline, it's all right," Shane cut in. He held up his hands and stepped back from Shawn. "The last thing I want to do is cause anyone any more…" He swallowed hard. "I just want to know they're all right. That's all I've ever cared about."

Bo managed to subdue his father, who was still quite strong for his age, then turned to Shane. "Maybe you should go in and see Andrew."

How strange, Shane thought. In a complete role reversal, here he was tearing after Kimberly without a thought to the consequences, with Bo as the calm, level-headed one.

Shawn strained against Bo's hold on him. "I don't want him anywhere near that boy!"

"Pop…Pop! Listen, I know it's hard, but he is Andrew's father." Bo nodded to Shane, who cast him a grateful look and returned to the hospital room.

Jeannie turned as her father entered, met his even stare and, despite the years without him, guessed what he was thinking. With a maturity beyond her years, she stood and quietly left the room.

Shane removed his coat and laid it on a nearby chair. He held a clenched fist to his mouth as he stood over his son. So, this is what it's like when your worst nightmares come true. This was no random event; he knew that for certain. He couldn't understand it, though. Why now? He had been so careful. What had triggered this? Was he in Salem? His mind raced with the questions of a seasoned investigator; then he stopped himself. He could work all that out later. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, reaching out to touch Andrew's arm. "Oh, dear God," he whispered. "Andrew?" Images of his son being born, playing in the park as a boy…pictures of a tall, vibrant young man kicking a ball on a playing field all flashed into his mind. "Son, I'm here." He said the words, but they sounded hollow to him. His eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He clutched Andrew's limp hand. "I did everything I could. I never wanted it to come to this. I tried…" His voice caught. "I tried so hard. I let you down. I let all of you down. I'm so sorry." He buried his head near Andrew's shoulder, the tears now flowing freely.

"What do you mean you never wanted it to come to this?"

Startled, Shane sat up. "Kim."

She inched closer, her arms crossed in front of her. "What do you mean, Shane?"

He stood, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes. "I don't think we should go into this now."

"Why not?" Her voice grew steadily louder. She was still in shock that he was really here at their son's bedside – and crying unabashedly, it seemed -- but she couldn't deal with all the emotions rushing at her just now. Right now she had her son to think of, and she was mad as hell. "When exactly is the right time for you to tell me how you nearly got my son killed?"

Her powers of deductive reasoning were just as keen, if not keener, than most of the agents he knew. Shane took her aside and whispered, "Maybe we should discuss this outside, hmm?"

She glared at him, and with a quick look at Andrew, she whipped round and strode out of the room.

She pushed through the lounge door as he followed. "Well? I'm waiting." She whirled around to face him, tapping one foot.

"Kim, would you please just try to calm down?"

Her mouth dropped open incredulously.

"Okay, okay," he conceded, "Under the circumstances, you have every right to be upset. But you need to understand that there are certain things I cannot tell you. It's not safe—"

"You have got to be kidding me! After what just happened, you expect me to fall for that line? Not safe?! Was it safe for Andrew, huh?" She moved toward him, her fists clenched, her eyes flashing. "Did you know this was going to happen? Did you?!" She rushed him, her fists pounding against his chest. "Did you know?!"

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms up till she was forced to look at him. Her breathing ragged, her heart racing, she met his intense gaze, and for a long moment, neither could speak. "No, Kim. I didn't know," he said finally. "I would give anything to have prevented this. You have to believe me," he pleaded, his eyes still searching hers.

She took a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?" she whimpered, struggling against his hold on her.

He shook his head and released her. With a deep sigh, he stepped toward the window, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She continued, "We were doing just fine without you." She kept her back turned so he couldn't read the truth in her eyes. "And now, after all this time, the years of not knowing, of thinking you were…" She still couldn't bring herself to say the word. "You just show up here! I don't know what to think." She was so tired.

"I know." He sighed. "My being here is completely ludicrous, even to me." He turned and walked to her. "I should have left well enough alone." He placed his hands hesitantly on her shoulders. "I guess I found I could no longer do that."

She shrugged out of his grip.

Chastened, he thrust his hands in his pockets. "I suppose if our daughter hadn't taken it upon herself to break into the Manor, I wouldn't be here at all."

She turned. Her mind jumped from Jeannie "breaking into" Donovan Manor, to his stating matter-of-factly that if she hadn't, he wouldn't have come, even though their son's life hung in the balance. Perhaps she had spent too many years with a spy, but she ignored her first impulse to slug him and began her search for answers. "Does this have anything to do with what happened in Prague?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her, but remained stoically silent.

She raised her voice. "I've told you everything I found out there, but you never told me a thing!"

"We are not going to rehash this again, are we?" he replied, exasperated.

"Isn't it time you finally told me?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then lowered his eyes.

She stomped her foot. "Come on, Shane Donovan! Out with it! I'm tired of the games and half-truths. At least, just tell me if it's all connected. Does your disappearance, your suddenly turning up here alive…" Alive – the word echoed in her head, but she tried to remain focused. "Does any of it have to do with this attack on Andrew?"

After a brief silence, weighing just exactly how much he could tell her, she presumed, he replied contritely, "I think so, yes. I haven't been able to work it all out yet, but whoever was after me then knows I'm alive now and is trying to make good on threats made years ago."

"How many years ago?"

His eyes met hers. "Too many." Their eyes remained locked together and they carried on a silent conversation. "Listen, I know you're not going to like it, but I can't tell you any more," he said. "At least, not yet. Please, Kim…" he touched her arm. "I have no right to ask this, but you have to trust me."

She yanked her arm away. "Trust you?" She moved away. "You appear out of nowhere without any explanation. Our son could die because of this mess, and you won't even tell me why! Trust you?! I don't even know you." She turned and left the room.