Saul wasn't in any rush on his way to the nearest bar. He neither cared if the bar's band had long since played their last note, nor if all the fancily dressed dames had slid off the bar stools and were tucked in their beds. He was going out to drink, and that was it. He was going to numb some of the memories of his wife. His wife whose name had continually been dragged through the mud since her death.
Now there would be accusations about her being a Nazi spy. If only he had shot that Cavil and his female accomplice. They must have coerced Ellen.
"Where you think you're going at this time of the night, Mr Saul?"
Saul stopped in his tracks. Elosha blocked his path. Jake sat faithfully at her feet. For a moment it amused him that Laura's old nanny was out walking Bill's dog. Then, all his mirth disappeared when he remembered her sharp tongue. He knew she was about to give him a lashing.
"Now, Miss Elosha, don't you go getting righteous."
The whites of her eyes shone in the moonlight. "Me, righteous?" she said dryly.
He rubbed his ear, as though feeling the familiar childhood tug of his mother dragging him home when he was out after dark. "Yeah, you," he grumbled.
"There's still plenty of drink at home," she pointed out.
Jake nudged Saul's leg as though trying to push him back to the mansion too.
The maid wouldn't understand that maybe he wanted to get away from his wife's smell wafting from her suitcase, away from the feminine furnishings of the vast house, away from the over the hill lovebirds and what he knew they were doing behind the heavy mahogany bedroom door.
"How 'bout a nice cup of tea?" suggested Elosha.
Saul turned back. "If you put a nip in 'er." He took her arm and tucked it in his, leading her and the dog up the hill toward the large mansion.
He found her laugh pleasant, low and throaty. He smiled down at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, her dark eyes knowing. He gave her a weak smile in return as they mounted the stairs.
Jake suddenly went still and alert, staring at the large front door.
"What's wrong, Jake?" asked Elosha, stopping and tugging on his leash.
Saul opened the door. He tossed over his shoulder: "Come on, you fleabag. I'll give you a bone-"
He saw a slight figure darting down the staircase, the glint of a pistol raising, heard the roar of a discharge-
The bullet thumped at the doorframe by his head. Vaguely, he was aware of Elosha screaming behind him and the dog barking frantically, but he only knew he had to protect them.
Yanking out his gun, he returned fire, emptying the weapon at the person running in the dark. The shooter stumbled and fell, tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs.
"The police, the police!" Elosha panted.
As though she'd conjured them with one of her spells, sure enough, there were Tyrol and Laird, with a uniformed officer bringing up the rear.
"What the hell are you doing!?" yelled Tyrol, grabbing the gun from Saul's slack hand.
Shaken out of his stupor, Tigh pulled free. "Someone was shooting at me! I shot 'im!"
They all rushed into the foyer. Elosha flipped on the switch for the chandelier, lighting up the vast space.
"Sharon!" cried Tyrol, scrambling up the bottom steps of the staircase to where his lover lay crumpled like a broken doll. He gathered her in his arms. Her half-closed eyes lit and opened, and she gasped his name.
"Hang on baby," Tyrol pleaded. "We'll get you to a hospital."
"I'm sorry...I did it...killed them..." She coughed and blood oozed slowly from the corner of her mouth.
He instantly denied her confession. "No!"
"For you...all for you," she rasped before her head dropped to one side, her large eyes still wide.
Suddenly Laura was at the landing above, the bodice of her dress glistening with a ghoulish deep crimson color. She leaned on the railing for support and tried to speak, but couldn't.
Elosha clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming.
"Help, please! Bill's been shot!" Laura managed to get out.
Saul's face went white and he stood rooted to the spot.
Billy, who had decided to ignore the police officers' command to stay in the car, pushed through the cluster of people in the entryway to get to the telephone.
"We need an ambulance!" he yelled into the mouthpiece but heard nothing but a busy signal. He rattled the receiver frantically. "Hello, hello!"
Cottle burst out of the door to the servants' quarters. "What the hell's going on here?" he barked around his dangling cigarette. "Who shooting this place up now!?"
"Please, doctor!" called out Laura. "Bill's hurt!"
Cottle stopped and spared Sharon a concerned look as he made his way up the stairs.
Tyrol shook his head. "Go, Doctor. Go on."
Following a distraught Laura to Saul's bedroom, the doctor quickly assessed Bill's condition.
Elosha entered the room behind Laura, flinching at the sight that greeted her. The doctor was ripping open Mr Adams' shirt, causing the sapphire shirt stud to fly away unnoticed. Elosha could not tell where the bullets had even penetrated his chest with the amount of blood spreading across the wide torso. She decided Laura needed something to do other than watch her husband die.
"Come on out, Miss Laura. Let the doctor do his work. We'll go call an ambulance to get him to the hospital."
"No time!" Cottle announced. He looked up at Laura. "We'll get him downstairs and into one of those cars of yours, my girl."
Saul craned his head into the crammed room, riveted by the sight of his big, strong friend reduced to a slack body lying in a pool of blood. "I'll get a couple of these boys to help."
"I need him stabilized," said the doctor, looking around. "Something for a stretcher-"
"The door," said Saul grimly. He gripped the handle and kicked it viciously, splintering the door off its hinges.
Laura stifled a scream, shaking already.
"Get the hell up here and help me," Saul bellowed over the landing's railing at the police below.
Gently, he helped the doctor move Bill onto the door. Laird and Figurski came into the room and took one end of the door, while Saul and Billy lifted the other. Cottle pulled some clean undershirts from the bureau to hold over the wounds.
In a trance, Laura followed them down the stairs. Seeing them coming,Tyrol lifted his lover's lifeless body and moved her out the way.
Elosha forced Laura to stop and put a coat on before hurrying to the garage.
The men maneuvered Bill's slack body into the back of Laura's Rolls while she busied herself showing Figurski how to open the door to the garage.
Saul automatically jumped into the driver's seat.
"I'll drive!" Laura snapped.
"Miss Laura, you're in no shape-" Elosha started, but Laura waved her off.
"I'm his wife! I'll do it!"
She stared Saul down. He slowly got out of the seat, nodding wordlessly.
"Let's elevate his feet," said the doctor, propping Bill's feet on the door's armrest. He wedged himself onto the floorboards, sitting on the driveshaft's hump. He lifted Bill's wrist, checking his pulse.
Grim, he looked at Laura. "Let's get this wagon going."
"I can drive fast and safely," Laura vowed, her demeanor one of steely determination. "Elosha, please go with Mr Tigh in another car and meet us there."
Without asking, Billy joined the Adams' friends as Saul got behind the wheel of the trusty Hudson.
Less than two minutes later, Laura was speeding down the hill toward the hospital. Laird led the way in a squad car, its siren wailing to clear a path. The front grill of her much more powerful machine nearly touched his rear bumper, forcing him to drive as fast as he could push the old Ford.
She concentrated on not letting her gaze linger in the rear view mirror. "We'll make it," she promised her passengers.
~~AV~~
Laura rubbed her shaking arms, staring at the set of swinging doors that Bill disappeared through nearly a half an hour ago. He would come walking out at any moment, laughing at his joke...
Then she remembered Bill's body shielding hers, his familiar weight smothering her, then the unfamiliar sensation of warm liquid soaking her gown. His breathing, loud in her ear, shook and rattled.
Sharon fled the room and after a moment of terrible silence, Laura struggled free and scrambled to the door to lock it behind their attacker. She returned to her husband, turning him on his back. His once white shirtfront was red, his features rigid with pain, his eyes closed.
She called his name again and again, needing him to catch his breath and smile as though awaking from a nap.
Nothing.
"Bill, Bill..." She tried again. "I love you, Bill, you know that, don't you?"
She'd imagined this moment plenty of times before, when she finally summoned the courage to utter those words, but her fantasy became twisted in reality. She was shedding tears, for sure. She was gasping the words; they were torn from her heart agonizingly.
But they were said out of fear and terror that his life was seeping away before he could know how she felt. She was saying them more for her redemption than his adulation.
Even though she heard more gunfire, she knew she had to seek help for Bill. He was dying. She made her way to the door and out into the chaos their home had become.
Elosha brought her back to the sharp black and white world of the hospital. "Miss Laura," she said, "I'm going to call the house and have that silly downstairs maid Bridgette bring you a change of clothes. She needs to leave Young Jaffee for a while or he'll get ideas."
"Yes," replied Laura, but Elosha could tell she really wasn't listening.
"How about your blue Harris tweed suit? With a pink blouse? Mr Bill loves you in that."
"Yes."
Elosha gently pushed Laura down to the bench beside a silent Saul Tigh. "And your camelhair overcoat. This one's stained too."
Laura could only nod.
"She's cold, Mr Saul," Elosha said again.
He looked up at her, his gaze just as glazed as Laura's. Elosha tipped her head at Laura.
"Oh, yeah," he said. Stiffly, he put his arm around Laura's shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned on him, cradled her cheek with her hand on his chest.
"Shall I have Bridgette bring you a change of clothes too, or will you be going home soon?" Elosha asked Saul.
"I'm not goin' anywhere." He looked down at his blood-stained evening clothes. "Yeah, could ya? Just some dungarees and a sweater is fine."
"Of course." She bustled to the pay phone, grateful for something to do.
~~AV~~
Laura knew the exact date of the last time she'd been in a church. The memories from that day were still vivid: three coffins lined up before the altar; distant relatives dressed in their best clothes delivering a series of meaningless platitudes; and her deciding that God couldn't exist.
She had vowed never to turn to Him again. He showed her no mercy by taking her remaining family away all at once; hadn't her mother been enough? She couldn't rely on Him again. She'd decided then and there she would have to find the strength within herself to take on whatever difficulties life was going to throw her way. Yet here she was; standing in the doorway of the hospital's chapel.
Bill had finally come out of his surgery and she'd been allowed to see him. He lay on the hospital bed, his beautiful dark skin replaced by a sickly yellow pallor.
"Can I touch him?" she'd asked Doctor Cottle.
The doctor adjusted Bill's I.V. drip. "He won't break, Mrs Adams."
She grasped Bill's hand. His skin was cold. She hadn't realized how much she'd become accustomed to his warmth.
After leaning down and kissing his knuckles, she'd asked, "What now?"
"Those shots rattled around in his chest mercifully missing his heart and lungs. But I had to take out his spleen. There's nothing more we can do now. Except wait."
His bad news delivered, Cottle shrugged. "For now, prayer couldn't hurt," he had suggested.
And she would. She'd do anything if she thought it would bring back Bill.
Crossing the aisle to the side altar, she chose a plain white votive candle and slipped coins into the donation box. She lit the wick off one of the dozens of flickering others-so much pain in the world. Placing her candle among the wall of light, she felt strength beginning to course through her veins.
Now Bill needed some of that strength.
She dropped to her knees on the prayer kneeler and fumbled for a proper prayer.
"William Adams will live," she demanded, despite the shaking in her voice.
Gasping to hold back tears, Laura pressed her hand to her forehead. If she were to reconnect with her faith, she as going to have to accept she couldn't direct events like a dinner party.
Under control, she tried again. "Please," she whispered.
~~AV~~
"Jaffee's up and about. I'm hoping he'll be able to drive us home when you're allowed to leave the hospital. That way, you and I can have a snuggle in the back seat."
Laura arranged some bright flowers in a vase as she prattled on to Bill.
"Emily sends her love. She's keeping the office going in my absence. And don't worry about Jake, darling. He's being spoiled rotten by everyone in the household. You'll have to walk him four times a day to get him back in shape when you get home."
Once the flowers were settled to her liking on a shelf, she fussed with the blanket and sheets that were tucked around Bill's body.
"Saul is camped out in the waiting room. He'll pop in again soon and bring me some lunch. I'll still be here, dear, if you feel like it's a good time to wake up."
A knock on the door interrupted her plea. She did little to hide her impatience when she saw the identity of the caller.
"Richard, I've already given my statement to Officer Laird."
"I know." He looked over her shoulder at the still prone figure of Bill Adams. "He hasn't come to yet?"
"No."
He took in Laura's appearance, the dark circles under her eyes, her lank hair hastily pulled back from her pale face which had creased overnight with wrinkles.
"People shooting off guns usually end up with stray bullets in uncomfortable places."
"Excuse me?" Laura grasped the door and blocked her ex-lover's entry to the room.
"Just quoting your husband, dear. When your family is involved with mobsters, and you have friends of questionable backgrounds, this kind of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. "
"You're blaming Bill for Sharon's actions?" She gasped at his audacity. Grabbing his arm, she yanked him out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.
Then she laid into the district attorney. "If you hadn't been so eager to focus all your energy on Saul Tigh, and then Bill, you mightn't have bungled the entire case and arrested the real offenders before innocent people were shot! You wouldn't have Cavil and Biers in custody if it wasn't for Bill. And the Nazis would be using that codebreaker machine to spy on America and her allies."
Richard paled at her tirade. He reached for her, as though to offer support. She remained unmoved.
"You need to go home to rest. The hospital can call you if there's any change," he murmured.
Surprised at his suddenly subdued tone, she shook her head.
"I'll be staying here. When Bill wakes up I'd like to be the first thing he sees."
"Laura, he was shot at close range. You need to face the fact he may never recover."
Tears gathered behind her eyes, but she was determined not to shed them in front of this man.
"Trust me, Richard, if that becomes the case, I won't be rushing back to warm up your cold bed."
Richard sighed. "Look, Laura, I never-"
She cut off his reply and demanded to know: "Have you dropped all charges against Saul Tigh?"
"Yes. We've accepted that Sharon Vu was responsible for Ellen Tigh's death."
"And Cavil and Biers? When will their trial begin? I'd like to attend."
"I'm not sure." He passed a hand over his face, an old habit she knew was a sign of frustration. "Don't worry, I'm also eager."
Contrary to her social pages image, Laura was well aware of current events in Europe. "Yes. If Hitler and his Brown Shirts actions are any indication of their plans, these people must be stopped."
Richard nervously licked his lips.
Laura felt suddenly tired and impatient. Her nerves were shredded. "I've always known your origins, Richard."
"How?"
She shrugged. "I think Myrtle had her eye on you from the start. She thought hearing that you were a Jew would drive me off the field."
"Why would she interfere? When we were an item, Myrtle was just the quiet spinster daughter of the senior partner at my firm-"
Laura raised her eyebrows. "I suppose it did make a difference," she said slowly. "I couldn't spend my life with a man who wasn't comfortable with who he is-"
He sneered. "Trust me, Laura. Dealing with antisemitism is more than just being comfortable with yourself."
She sank to the bench along the wall. "I know it wouldn't have been easy. Your career probably would have stalled," she admitted. "But you would have had your dignity."
He sat beside her. "And you too?"
She smiled back. "No. There was certainly more to my decision than your duplicity."
He could only give a bittersweet laugh. "Never change, Laura Roslin."
"But I have. It's Laura Adams." She stood. "And I better get back to him."
"I hope he wakes up soon, Laura," he called after her.
Pausing in the doorway, she gave him a stronger smile. "Thank you."
~~AV~~
Tyrol and Laird chased the FBI agents leading Cavil and Deanna down the stairs of the police station.
"What the hell's going on!?" yelled Tyrol, but he was ignored by the men in black suits.
They led the silent and blank-eyed foreign spies to a dark-colored delivery van. The nondescript vehicle revealed nothing with its exterior markings.
One of the agents used a large key to unlock and open out its back doors. The police officers caught a glimpse of two cages with thick steel bars. Another agent sat in between the cages with a shotgun.
Tyrol tried again. He stood before the agent who'd first walked in on him questioning Cavil.
"Where are you taking them?" he asked as the two prisoners were ushered into the cages and chained by their wrists and ankles to the opposing far sides of their cells.
The FBI agents slammed the door shut on the truck and nodded to one another before climbing into the cab of the truck.
Its engine started, covering both policemen with dark toxic fumes. "Son of a-" Laird swore, waving the exhaust from his face.
Without a backward glance by the agents behind the wheel or in the passenger seat, the truck pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the swirling fog.