A/N: I'm issuing a *warning* for this chapter as it contains several intense scenes that are the reason for the M rating. But don't despair. It won't stay that way for long.

Namaste,

~Sandy

28 Weeks Later

One More Chance

Chapter 11

The stack of envelopes sat on the table, silently embracing the bits and pieces of Kira's life she chose to share with the group that had become a surrogate family to her, to each other. They watched, they cried, they fought…they loved. And they did it together, just the way a family should.

Gathering them together, she stacked them inside the empty stationery box and replaced the top. Suddenly tired, the young woman pressed her palms flat on the table to help her stand. A wave of dizziness came over her and it became hard to breathe. Looking down, she noticed that her ankles were swollen below the legs of the khaki capris Lucy had given her. A week ago, they fit perfectly, but now they hung low on her boney hips. Pulling the drawstring tighter, she tied a bow and decided a nap would be nice.

Though it was only a few steps to the bed, to Kira it seemed much further. Reaching for the footboard, she misjudged the distance and missed, falling to the floor, knocking over the chair in a clatter of metal and leather. A moment later, the door hissed open.

"Kira? You okay?"

Patrick's voice seemed to come from far away. Pressing her hands into the floor, she lifted herself just a few inches until her strength gave out. And somewhere, in the distance and getting farther away with each second, she heard Patrick calling for Max and Sunny then nothing.

~~O~~

"It wasn't easy. We had to disconnect some of the machines we use for testing in order to set up the x-ray machine, but we got it. An MRI or catheterization would've been better, but we don't have the power." Doyle stared at the x-ray Max held up to the light from the window pointing out the pertinent areas. "See this area here?"

Nodding, Doyle tried to absorb everything Max was telling him. "That's the extras…"

"Extrinsic cardiomyopathy. It means that the primary pathology is outside the myocardium, the heart muscle, itself. The most common is ischemia or lack of oxygen to the heart muscle. In Kira's case, it's caused by the virus ravaging her organs and the drugs she's taking at the very high doses we have to give her so she can function…"

"A pincer movement."

Lowering his arm, Max set the x-ray aside, crossing his arms and frowning. "Not how I would've put it, but essentially, yes. The virus and the drugs are working in tandem to damage her organs, starting with her heart and brain. Kidney function is diminished by twenty percent, as is the liver and pancreas. If we can't figure something out soon, she won't make it to the end of the week."

From her place at Max's side, Sunny added, "What appeared to be a blessing in the beginning has been torture for Kira. We might as well break out medieval torture devices."

Max waved a hand, gesturing for Doyle to take a seat. Both men waited until Sunny was seated before dropping into chairs. Doyle flipped his around, straddling it, his arms folded on the back. "What's the plan?"

The medical professionals exchanged glances, Sunny taking up the baton. "Earlier today, she asked me to help her. Not in so many words, but I could see it in her eyes. She's ready for this to be over. She wants to die."

Max was careful not to stare at Doyle while he thought over the implications of all he'd been told and said, "I won't let her die alone. I'll help her."

"Sergeant." Taking a deep breath, Max held it for a moment then let it out. "Assisted suicide is illegal in the UK."

Doyle rolled the chair forward and back using his feet as a substitute for pacing. "The government is non-existent and even if it were, these aren't exactly textbook conditions." Max simply stared at the soldier until he gave in. "What can we do?"

One of the machines beeped. Sunny got up to answer the call, Max watching her go before answering. He already knew Doyle didn't want to hear what he had to say. "Make her comfortable. That's about it."

After a short period of intense thinking, Doyle got to his feet with a sense of purpose. "Then let's send her out with a bang."

~~O~~

Kira was beginning to think there was some sort of conspiracy going on. Her friends were always whispering, stopping when they saw her watching. This talking behind her back, so to speak, had been going on for days, and she felt it was time she knew what was going on. She'd ask pointed questions the next time Max or Sunny came for her daily blood-letting, which had gotten to the point where they were finding it difficult to locate a place that hadn't been used several times already. She didn't even want to think about the spinal tap.

Opening her book, she started reading to pass the time. It was way past lunch time and no one had been to see her aside from the guards. Ellis and Charlie came on just after sunrise and had been acting strange all morning.

Her eyes drifted closed and just as she was falling asleep, excited voices jerked her awake again. Going to the window, Kira peered out and witnessed an odd sight. Lucy, Ione and Jamie were talking with Max and Sunny. The small group went into the room across the hall and shut the door. A few minutes later, the three women came out wearing hazmat suits and carrying bags. To her surprise, Ellis opened the door and let them in.

"What are you lot on about?"

Ione cleared the table top and together, the women pulled a variety of familiar items out and arranged them according to some master plan of theirs. With a big grin, Jamie made a ta-dah gesture. "We're gettin' ya ready for the big bash tonight."

"Bash?" Kira heard how dumbfounded her voice sounded. It matched her mind-set at the moment.

"Party, do, soirée, fête."

Ione, just gone nineteen, practically danced with anticipation. "Hair, make-up, nails, clothes. We got it all, baby!"

Not knowing what to say, Kira settled for, "Okay."

Dragging the largest of the bags to her, Jamie dug around until she found what she wanted. "We brought several dresses for ya to choose from, but this is my favorite." The musician held up a bright purple dress. It had a pleated skirt with a leather yoke and cap sleeves. "Brilliant, ain't it?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was a going away party. Kira appreciated their efforts while at the same time wanting to tell them not to bother, but it seemed important for everyone else that she enjoy her last few days on Earth… "It is, but I have one. And it's abso-flippin'-lutely smashing!"

Dragging her duffle bag from the closet, she reached inside and lifted out an all leather dress in a style similar to the purple one but in black. It had a fitted bodice and flared skirt that ended four inches above her knees. "I need shoes."

"Got it covered, love." Pawing through another bag, Ione handed Kira a shoe box, and when she opened it, a gasp came out before she could stop it. The shoes were amazing! The four-inch black heels had ostrich feathers around the ankle strap and were adorned with white stones that were meant to look like diamonds.

"They're brilliant! They don't match m' dress though."

Lucy finished setting up what she needed for doing Kira's nails. "Who ****ing cares? This is gonna be so epic we'll be talkin' about for weeks."

Rather than debate, Kira gave in gracefully, letting her friends do what they wanted. She knew her time was short, and didn't want to spend it pushing others away or feeling sorry for herself.

~~O~~

Sunset was a distant memory and the party had been in full swing for over an hour with dancing, games, music, food and non-alcoholic drinks. However, Patrick, though having a good time, still felt out of sorts. It was this whole lot, their attitude. Their lives had come down to squatting in whatever abandoned building they could find. Cooking over a fire instead of a stove, scrounging clothes, medical supplies, and all the other basic necessities of life. All the while keeping watch for others who would take what little they had for themselves.

He hadn't been as good a friend as he could've been and that made him feel unworthy to be part of this group. He hadn't taken the time to really get to know anyone. Didn't invite personal talk about more than sports or where their next meal might come from.

Sipping a cup of punch-it would've tasted better with a bit of rum, but Doyle said no-he studied his mates from a corner of the room. Everyone at one time or another had taken a turn with Kira so she could feel a part of the group again. And it worked. He saw her throw her head back, laughing at something Doyle said. At Max's insistence, even the one person who didn't have to wore protective clothing.

The fast paced music stopped, someone dimmed the lights, and everyone paired up to dance. Not as romantic couples. At least not all of them. Doyle came out to pair up with Flo, Waverly nodded shyly when Alfie asked her to dance, the young man keeping a respectable distance between them when Doyle tapped him on the shoulder. Pip laughed in the arms of Danny while Clover coaxed a sullen Billy out onto the floor. In some cases, two women danced together. She giggled when Collin jokingly asked tall, lanky Gordon to dance, the two men hamming it up outrageously.

Halfway through the song, Danny exchanged partners with Doyle so their leader could dance with his girl. Shaking his head, Patrick wondered what lurked inside Pip and Doyle that kept them from just getting down to it without all this fannying about. Just because Patrick stayed to himself didn't mean others had to.

In her isolation room, Kira swayed side to side, her eyes closed, totally involved in the music. Setting his cup aside, Patrick climbed into one of the hazmat suits, zipped up the front and dropped the hood into place, his bulky upper body barely contained by the material. Good thing it had a little give. He knocked, but Kira still jumped when he stepped into the room.

"Oh! You gave me a start."

"Sorry. Came to see if you'd like to dance."

She looked down at herself in the clingy leather dress and those ridiculous shoes, her dark hair up and off her face showing off her vaguely Asian features. "Why not? If nothin' else, we'll be the most unusual lookin' pair on the floor."

"No worries." He was much taller than Kira with her head just reaching his chin as he placed his hands on her waist and hers holding onto his shoulders. Bit by bit, he drew her closer until they were touching all along the front. Not intimately, but more like very close friends than just mates. Kira's arms went around his neck and her head onto his shoulder. She stumbled once, and he tightened his grip to keep her from falling until she regained her balance.

When the song ended, she looked up at him and smiled her appreciation. He didn't let go though as the next song came on. This one had recently made its way over from America. A duet by country artists Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton. The lyrics were poignant and emotionally moving. And utterly apt for Kira's situation though Patrick didn't say so.

Kira yawned, laughing at the end. "Sorry. It's not the company. Really. I'm just a wee bit knackered."

"Maybe I should go and let you rest." He made to move away, but she gripped the material of the suit to keep him in place.

"Don't. Not yet." Kira touched the faceplate of his hood and smiled fondly. "Thanks for this, Patrick."

So much pain and so much darkness
In this world we stumble through.
All these questions I can't answer,
And so much work to doBut when I get where I'm goin'
And I see my maker's face,
I'll stand forever in the light,
Of his amazing Grace.Yeah when I get where I'm goin'
There'll be only happy tears.
I will love and have no fear.

She dropped her head back to his shoulder, humming along with the song. He felt it where her cheek touched his collarbone. As the final verse came on, the humming stopped, her arms relaxed, falling first to his shoulders then off to slide down his firm biceps. Her feet stopped moving, and all that kept her upright was his arms around her waist. Still, he didn't stop until the music came to an end.

There was light applause out in the hall with no one noticing as he picked Kira up and carried her to the bed. He folded her hands over her stomach, the bangle bracelets jangling as they clinked together. He straightened her dress, brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and quietly left the room, not needing to check for a pulse to know that she had finally gone to be with her maker.

~~O~~

A week after Kira's death, Max and Sunny had learned all they could from the autopsy she insisted they perform. Then, at her request, she was cremated wearing the black leather dress and incredible shoes she'd worn at the party. When her body had been consumed by the fire, a group of volunteers buried her ashes under a tree in the park.

That morning, Sunny found the stack of letters Kira had written and passed them out after the funeral. The recipients carried the envelopes with them when they returned to base, each lost in their own thoughts.

~~O~~

Oscar's pet project finally came to fruition. The engineer found a HAM radio and spent as many hours as he physically could to get it working. Somehow, he still functioned the next day. The sleepless nights had been worth it when they made contact with someone who said he lived in Cork, Ireland. As luck would have it, the infected had been prevented from reaching the Emerald Isle, giving their group just what they needed to galvanize them into action: Hope.

Doyle decided to wait for the rain to stop before setting sail, and wanted to do something special to celebrate so he gathered a mixed group of men and women together out in the field adjacent to their base. Tossing a rugby ball from hand to hand, he addressed his "volunteers."

"Who here has played football before? American football?" Hands that had been in the air dropped to their sides while they worked out what he was on about. "Today, you're gonna learn to play football the way it was meant to be played. Normally, each team consists of eleven players with the ultimate goal of scoring more touchdowns than the other team, but we're going with six. Now you got your offense and your defense…"

Once he'd finished with the basic rules of the game, he positioned both teams with his as defense. They didn't have a tee so he called the start of the game by drop-kicking the ball to the other side.

The field was muddy from all the rain and it wasn't long until everyone was covered in gray goo. Both teams were fairly evenly matched in enthusiasm if not skill. By the third "quarter" the rain started again, but they continued to play until they were too tired to go on, the mud covering them so thick, the only way you could tell one from the other was by their size and voice.

Danny and Patrick double-timed Doyle, tackling him to the ground with both teams joining in the fray. Panting from exertion and the press of eleven bodies on top of him, Doyle made the shape of a T with his hands. "Time out. I think that's enough for today."

The others climbed off him, Danny giving him a hand up with a wink and a grin. Wearily, they trudged to the front door only to be stopped by Ruby, her lined face pinched in annoyance. "You all look absolutely beastly! You'll not be trackin' that into our home. Go on down to the shore and rinse the mud away. Then I'll think on if you'll be gettin' in or not. Away with the lot of you."

Shrugging sheepishly, Doyle headed down to the beach, the others trudging behind him. Taking off his T-shirt, pants, shoes and socks, he walked out into the water until he could dunk himself completely under. He rubbed his head and swirled his clothes through the water until he'd gotten as much of the mud out as possible then returned to shore to sit on the sea wall until everyone had finished then followed Lucy as she led the way back.

The next day their HAM pal gave them a weather forecast stating the rain would stop in the next thirty-six hours. Doyle tentatively planned for them to shove off for Ireland the following morning, depending on updates.

Once the rain stopped, with Doyle directing and Pip assisting, four of the Hummers were loaded onto the ship. One M1025 and three M1097s were all that would be needed to get them from the landing point to the combined CDC and NATO run research center they now knew was not in Dublin but in Kinvarra, a small town outside of Galway. Seating would be a little crowded, but only for a couple of hours, if they took the most direct route and there were no detours or stops along the way.

Hands on his hips, Doyle watched the vehicles being tied to the deck as Pip came up beside him. "We have enough life vests for everyone?"

"Yeah." He heard a smirk in her voice. An indication that she was about to say something he'd find absolutely charming. "And if there's an emergency, Rose can be used as a flotation device."

Doyle coughed to cover a laugh when the aforementioned Rose came within earshot. No one mentioned the fact that she obviously had implants. Lowering his voice, he whispered out the side of his mouth, "I volunteer to take one for the team."

Balling up her fist, Pip popped him in the shoulder. "What time we headin' out?"

Gesturing for her to go ahead, he came up alongside. "After breakfast. Everything needs to be packed tonight. Food and people go aboard last. Make sure Doc brings lots of Dramamine."

"Dramamine?"

"Seasickness pills. Just in case."

Pip reached into her back pocket, handing him the notebook he'd given her the night Jill died. "You should have this back."

Taking the notebook, he opened it to a page marked with a sticky note. "You read it?"

"I did. Made a few notes o' my own." They walked in silence for a few steps, then, "That's why ya gave it over, right?"

A nod and shrug was the only answer he would give. Some of what he'd written had taken the form of journal entries. What could he say?

How could you read my private thoughts?

Wouldn't fly in the face of all they'd been through over the last few weeks. The very core of his soul had been squeezed and kneaded and worked over until it felt flat and shapeless. Slanting a look at his companion, he waged they all felt the same.

All but Gracie. To her, each day was filled with new and wondrous things to delight the senses. And he was there with her, experiencing everything for the first time again.

Another thing he saw was Pip being a part of their lives in the future, but did she want it? If not now, later? How much later? What if she only wanted him for a few nights of physical comfort? Or not even that? Would she treat him the way he'd treated women in the past? A night or two of fun then off on another mission.

Pip snapped her fingers in front of his nose bringing him back to now at the speed of sound. And yes, he didn't miss the pun his mind supplied. "What?"

"Where'd you go?"

Shrugging, Doyle played it off. "Picturing Mom's face when she sees Gracie for the first time."

A few more steps of silence, then Pip clasped her hands behind her back as though imitating him. "I'm sure she'll love her. Your whole family will."

"It's just that I resigned myself to not having kids a long time ago and suddenly…" Again, he looked over at Pip. Now her hands were in her pockets, the weight of them drawing the waistband of her pants down so that her navel played peek-a-boo with the hem of her shirt. She either didn't know she was doing it or didn't care that he was looking. To distract himself from what his mind told him lay above and below that small wedge of skin, he asked, "What about your family?"

The half-smile that accompanied their friendly banter melted away. "Dead," she stated dully.

"I'm sorry. Wanna talk about it? 'Cause I can recommend someone."

"Oh?"

Her tone said she knew he was attempting to restore their previous effortless easygoing camaraderie, relieved when she let him have his way. "Ruby."

"Anyone else?"

"Hmm…Lucy, Jasper, Flo. Danny, but not Collin. He'll pretend to listen and all the while he's thinking about dinner or tinkering with some piece of equipment." Snorting, Pip almost smiled, but not quite. "But if that's all you need, come to me. I can pretend to listen as well as the next guy."

This time she did smile. "Just might take you up on it."

Some of the stiffness came out of her posture as they reached the end of the pier and stepped off the curb. The hand closest to Doyle came out of her pocket to brush at her too long bangs, and without thinking, he took that hand in his, weaving their fingers together. Pip's hand felt tiny and delicate in his, almost as if he could crush the bones with just the slightest pressure. He already knew her to be tougher than that, or she wouldn't have made it this long and their people wouldn't have accepted her as his second.

At first she seemed self-conscious at his touch, obviously not wanting to be seen as their leader's girlfriend, concerned that it would undermine both their authority. He wouldn't let go though, and in time, she relaxed, comforted by his touch.

Doyle released Pip when they reached the front door, held it for her then followed her in. The first thing he heard was Gracie crying at the top of her lungs. With an apologetic smile, he jogged down the hall to the room designated at the dining room. The moment she saw him, Gracie shut up and reached for him. Refusing to give into her demands, he seated himself next to Waverly and talked to Gracie as she ate. Though strong-willed, the baby sensed that he was no longer the pushover he'd been at the beginning, and that was the lesson.

He guessed separation anxiety stemming from their ordeal following the attack in which five-six, he reminded himself-had died. As long as he stayed consistent in how he handled her, they'd get along just fine. As for Pip, he was certain of only one thing. That he liked her as more than just a friend, but whether it was love, lust, infatuation or even just physical attraction, he'd figure out later.

~~O~~

Anticipation – noun

a : a prior action that takes into account or forestalls a later action;

b : the act of looking forward; especially : pleasurable expectation.

Pip had a pleasurable expectation for their journey to Ireland and what awaited them there. David McNeil, their HAM radio friend assured them that life was more or less normal on the Emerald Isle. The loss of England, Scotland, France, Belgium and The Netherlands, as well as the evacuation of Luxemburg and the area of Germany bordering those countries dealt a tremendous blow to the world economy. Virtually no country on Earth remained unaffected by the rage virus in one way or another, though leaders everywhere assured their people that they would recover even if it took as long as a decade.

Not the best news, but also not the worst. No, that was reserved for the rumors that the CDC still hadn't found or created a cure for the horrible disease. She was, to a certain extent, buoyed by the fact that Doyle had a natural immunity and might possibly be the salvation of the human race. Tucked away in the recesses of her memory, Pip found a tidbit of information almost forgotten. The virus only crossed over from primate to primate. Other species had shown to be immune to its effects and were not carriers. If the reverse were true, it could've spelled the end to life on Earth. Their planet could have become devoid of animal life of any kind.

Unable to sleep, Pip padded out to the dining room in her stocking feet. She was just pouring a glass of tepid water when the tread of bare feet on the carpeting alerted her to the presence of another. Holding the glass in her left hand, the right caressed the butt of the Browning. Intellectually, she knew that it could only be one of their own, and she had a hunch who it would be, her innate caution driving her instinct for self-preservation. Her thumb located the safety then pulled away when Doyle entered the room just behind a small pool of light.

He wasn't startled when she held out a second glass of water which he accepted gratefully, saluting her with it before downing the entire contents at once.

"Can't sleep?"

One shoulder came up then down. "Gracie has to take medicine for an earache every four hours." Yawning, he turned his head making his neck crack. "Those guys wore me out yesterday."

"It was your idea."

The burden of command weighed on him and it showed. His sheepish grin turned up the corners of his mouth taking years off his appearance. "True."

Whatever she thought they'd talk about, this hadn't been it. Setting their glasses on the counter, Pip said, "I should get back to bed. We've a long trip tomorrow."

"I'll walk you."

At the door to her room, Pip turned to thank him, and suddenly he was too close for comfort. Not touching, just too close, and the look on his face said he knew the effect he was having on her and took pleasure in it, just as she did. A lock of hair touched her cheek and he reached up to tuck it behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin a moment too long. Or not long enough. She couldn't be certain at this point.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips, hoping the movement was subtle. Not subtle enough by the way the blue of his irises darkened and his breath caught in his chest. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head as she tilted hers back, accepting his invitation. Their lips had barely touched when Gracie's cry frozen them in that position for a moment in time. Doyle backed up a step, breaking the spell. Shrugging an apology, he rushed to his room, the soothing murmur of his voice immediately halting the unhappy sound then the door closed, shutting the rest of the world out. Sighing, Pip lay down on her bed and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time.

~~O~~

Their trip down along the English Channel and across the Celtic Sea was uneventful-for the most part. A storm came up their first night at sea making several people seasick, though nothing major. Ruby and Lukas made broth and tea for those poor souls until the rocking stopped.

Late on the afternoon of the second day, they saw land. Once the initial fear of infection had passed, they were brought into port by the employees of the ferry landing at Cork, Ireland. Their vehicles were hoisted from the deck of the barge while the survivors were being fed and treated like visiting royalty. The mayor came out to greet them, generally making a fuss which Doyle bore with the patience of a sniper waiting for the perfect moment to take out a target.

They were given accommodations at a local inn for the night. The next day, Doyle and Pip took their leave and they were on the road by 1000 local time headed for Galway.

In Galway, they were given a less effusive greeting when they asked for directions to the research center. The information was given, grudgingly, telling Doyle that NATO and the CDC hadn't made friends of the residents.

They took the road out of town with Doyle at the wheel of the M1025 instead of his usual place in the turret. The compound would be heavily guarded and he chose not to provoke the men and women assigned to protect it. He rolled to a stop a hundred yards from the front gate and got out, Pip, Max and Sunny backing him up.

A trio of soldiers, with the Irish Army to go by their uniforms, approached them, one out in front of the others. He did all the talking. "Get back in yer vehicles and return to town."

Standing with his feet shoulder width apart, Doyle said, "Can't do that. We have business with the CO."

"Apparently you didn't understand, Yank. Go back the way ya came. There's nothing here for ya."

"And I'm telling you we aren't leaving until we speak to whoever's in charge."

Flashing a snarl of disdain, the Corporal said, "No. Now move along. We don't give tours to civilians, so feck off."

Almost at the end of this tether, Doyle, taken aback by the man's attitude, played his trump card. "I am a Sergeant in the U.S. Army, Corporal. You don't tell me no. I tell you no. Now get the ****ing CO. Not your Company Sergeant and not your ****ing Lieutenant. I want the top dog, so you and your Privates," he made the rank sound like an insult as he got up in the Corporal's face, "get on the horn and get him or her on the line while I'm still in a mood to be nice."

TBC

A/N: "When I Get Where I'm Goin'" was written by George Teren and Rivers Rutherford. In 2005, it was recorded and released by American country music artist Brad Paisley in a duet with Dolly Parton.