Chapter 20

Beyond the Pale

True strength lies in submission, which permits one to dedicate his life,

Through devotion, to something beyond himself…

~ Henry Miller

Location: Donovan Manor

Knowing, she had little chance of remembering this, Shane allowed the hypnotic effect of the twinkling white lights reflecting against the brightly painted multi-colored glass ornaments of the Christmas tree to toy with his thoughts. The smell of her perfume and steady rhythm of Kimberly's beating heart against Shane's chest induced just the touch of ambiance for the spy's nostalgic mood.

"You love me?"

The sound of her voice, so weak and plaintive pierced through the silence startling the spy. He hadn't planned on justifying his impulses. In fact, her condition freed him in some respects to express what the confines of her engagement to another man wouldn't allow. Struggling for words, Shane abandoned all pretenses when he lifted her chin and gazed into her cerulean translucent eyes that displayed a mixture of awe and doubt.

"My dear Kimberly, despite my best efforts otherwise..." He replied amorously. And exhaling laboriously as his eyes darted around them, "Darling, forgive me. It's something I should have told you then..."

"Oh, god! You know me better than anybody in the whole world." She admitted bitter-sweetly. Tears decorated her melancholy green eyes.

He remained calm, in control, but his heart ached to be honest with her. Instead, ever the competent spy, he chose pragmatism.

"Well, it's like you said: we've been through a lot together." Emotion leaked out from his measured tone.

Biting her lip, she acknowledged honestly, "Yeah…I did say that, huh." Smiling faintly as the pains of loss trampled in, "I guess that's what makes it hard to say good-bye?"

Even in the final act, the two danced around the moment, clinging to their emotional chains of solitude. "I don't know how to do that?" She confessed. Despite the pronouncements of bliss with Philip, she knew that she couldn't do it even if he told her how. Shane's eyes fluttered around them searching for something, anything profound to say…other than the one thing that needed to be said. There was a brief second of uncertainty; a tinge of regret…Perhaps, one of them would bend?

"We'll get it quick and out of the way…" She suggested hastily.

The moment was lost.

"I'll get the cases…"He offered in defeat.

"One, two, three. Here we go." Theatrically, she assumed the lead. ~ October, 1992

Had he confessed, Kimberly knew in her heart that she'd have taken him back with open arms. With her head spinning from the fever and her mind drifting in and out of the present, Kimberly couldn't decipher if these heartfelt declarations were cruel trickery from her heart or answers to long ago prayers? His deep vulnerable eyes searched hers for that connection and Kimberly yielded to their power.

"Oh." She replied softly clearly affected by his confession.

Her head falling back into him once more, she slipped back into a semi-unconscious state…

Lavinia Peach strolled down the massive grand staircase of the manor; a cheerful grin plastered all over her face.

"Oh, I do believe those precious ones drifted to sleep before their heads hit the pillow!" She exclaimed reveling in the joys of grandparenthood.

The sound of her voice was music to Shane's ears.

"Peachy! Quickly, I need your help!" He instructed frantically as she approached the bottom step and could see into the family room.

The visual almost ripped her heart out.

"Oh, dear!" Peachy cried when she surveyed the scene.

With the blanket securely wrapped around her, Kimberly lay limp in his arms. Shane stroked her hair soothingly while he talked.

"There's a thermometer in the powder room down the front hall…" He motioned with a swift nod over his left shoulder, but kept his steady gaze on Kimberly.

"Darling, I need you to help me."

Responding to his voice, her eyes fluttered open briefly. They appeared a glassy blue-green as she nodded weakly clinging to his words.

"Ah, there you are." He cajoled cradling her face in his right hand. Shane's thumb delicately stroked her right cheek.

"I just want to sleep…" Kimberly mumbled feebly.

"I know, love. But first, I'm having a doctor come check you out." He replied with a calm, steady smile that masked his concern. If she continued talking, Shane felt assured that the fever wasn't spiking too dangerously high. Besides, he desperately craved to hear her ramblings once again since it seemed that a feverish state was the only time Kimberly's true feelings about him rose to the surface and broke free from their self-induced prison.

Peachy returned and passed Shane the thermometer, which he then slipped between Kimberly's lips. Obediently, she complied leaning her head against his left shoulder for support. Peachy hovered close waiting for her next assignment. For the next few minutes, the room remained still until the insistent beep of the thermometer sounded.

"A hundred and three point eight." Shane revealed gravely. He lifted his head towards his partner. "My black address book is on my desk in the study. Ring the Wellington Estate next door for me, immediately."

Peachy nodded affirmatively and hurried off into the study as Shane barked, "Ask for Edward!"

He gazed down at Kimberly once more. Her usual healthy, peaches and cream complexion had disappeared into a pale lifeless hue resembling more a porcelain doll against the jewel colored green of her sweater and her red stained lips. The raging fever emanating from her body created the feel that he was holding a radiator in his arms instead of a human being. Strands of her honey blonde tresses fell into her face shielding her eyes, which had closed momentarily from the weight of the fatigue. Beads of sweat rippled along her forehead, yet Kimberly's body shook continuously no matter how much Shane tried to warm her. The eerie quietness enveloping the room unleashed a series of long forgotten memories rippling through the spy's psyche. Leaning back into the leather sofa, he pulled Kimberly securely into the crook of his left arm and for the first time in ages, lovingly held her close to his body the way he used to. Closing his eyes, Shane rested his chin gently on top of Kimberly's head as she dozed peacefully in his arms. For a few precious minutes, the couple appeared as they once were…

"Laddie, he's on his way." Peachy chirped as she reemerged from the study. Seeing the pristine picture before her, her eyes moistened briefly.

Capturing her expression, Shane snapped out of his nostalgic trance, and slipped into a more formal mode.

"We should get her more comfortable." He offered clearing his throat as he maneuvered both himself and Kimberly off the couch. Securely wrapped in his arms, Shane carried her limp body upstairs and into her room; Kim's arms flanked over his broad, protective shoulders. Remaining in the foyer, Peachy waited for Dr. Wellington to arrive.

Entering the master bedroom, Shane carried Kimberly towards the four-poster bed pulling the cream-colored comforter down and gently laying her on it. The jostling of being maneuvered from the living room to the bedroom induced a feverish moan from Kimberly as Shane hovered over her readjusting the chenille blanket like a cocoon around her shivering shoulders and torso. Surrounded by a few pillows to prop her up, Kimberly curled up on her right side in an attempt to stay warm from under the blanket. Finding a spot on the edge of the bed, Shane sat and began removing her high heels from her feet. Through the veil of black hosiery, Kimberly's beautifully burgundy manicured toes enticed the spy to dotingly massage them. He smiled fondly at the memory as his strong, but gentle hands performed the instinctual ritual. Shane slowly and methodically stroked each foot letting one hand linger towards the back of Kim's calf. Shane stopped short, not completing the intensely personal task. However, his mind traveled vividly through the motions of caressing each foot with his cheek as he cradled it in his hands before marking them with a kiss. The expression emanating from Shane's face revealed the intimate indulgence derived from the act.

Breaking free from the memory's chains, Shane carefully placed her bare feet under the warm confine of the covers and lifted his eyes towards hers, which appeared slightly moistened and closed. The expression of unwavering devotion the spy possessed towards Kimberly as he performed the intimate ritual had always rendered her breathless and aroused in a way that no other could lay claim to…

Unbeknownst to Shane, Kimberly had been privy to this latest expression of adoration and had closed her eyes before she was discovered.

The brisk shuffling of footsteps and low murmurings announced that Dr. Edward Wellington had arrived. Shane abruptly rose and whirled around to greet the gentleman as he and Peachy walked through the opened door to the bedroom.

Dr. Edward Wellington, whose family traced their lineage directly back to Shropshire from the time of the Battle of Hastings, possessed strawberry blonde locks and wore thin wire-rimmed glasses that amplified his piercing blue eyes. Several family members had served in the Royal Court to some degree or another, which was quite typical of Shane's childhood classmates from Eton. Though a scrawny little lad when he chummed around with Shane growing up, Edward had transformed into quite a formidable man. Possessing a commanding presence when he entered a room, Edward served on the board of several NHS hospitals and frequently treated various members of the Royal Family.

"Edward thanks for coming." Shane extended his hand to shake his old childhood schoolmate. "I'm terribly sorry to take you away from family…"

His eyes darted over his right shoulder as Edward leaned to the side to get a better view of the patient.

"Nonsense, Shane." The good doctor replied giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder, as he brushed past and approached the left side of the bed where Kimberly lay. It had been the Wellington clan who orchestrated the traditional sleigh ride for the Donovan children on Christmas Eve.

"Is this the young lass who missed out on all the fun yesterday?"

Kimberly nodded silently. All the commotion had stirred her once again, so she groggily listened and complied with Dr. Wellington's instructions.

"Yes," Shane confirmed. "I ignored my better judgment and assumed she was merely sleeping in." He added regrettably.

A knowing smirk escaped Dr. Wellington's lips. "Ahh, a stubborn one you are from what I've been told."

Kimberly's brow narrowed with displeasure—her fiery Irish temper flaring behind that icy stare, which produced ripples of laughter from Edward. He sat on the edge of the bed where Shane had resided moments earlier taking Kimberly's temperature and feeling around her ears and throat. Kimberly winced when the doctor touched the area. Edward noted the reaction as he continued the examination. Shane folded his arms across his chest waiting for Edward to give any clues to a diagnosis. A doctor to the Royal Family, Shane possessed little doubt that he would recommend the appropriate course of action. Peachy stood by his side giving Shane a nurturing pat on the back as Dr. Wellington checked her pulse and performed all the necessary tests to determine the cause of her illness. Kimberly appeared uncomfortable by the movement and interruption of her sleep, but submitted to the good doctor's instructions at his gentle requests. Finally, Dr. Wellington secured Kimberly back into her covers and approached a concern Shane and Peachy.

"Well?" Peachy interjected before Shane could.

Edward sighed sympathetically. "I swabbed her mouth and took a blood sample, but until I get to the nearest lab, I won't be able to make a conclusive diagnosis."

The annoyed look saturating Shane's face provoked him to continue, "I'll drive in to Cheltenham first thing in the morning, but my best guess is the flu with a possible secondary infection…"

"Then, prescribe an antibiotic, Edward!" Shane interrupted forcibly, to which Edward raised his hand to quell the spy's rare outburst. "Shane, I would like to see the results of the blood work first before blindly prescribing meds." His tone firm, it was clear Dr. Wellington had no intention of arguing over the matter.

Peachy subtly grabbed Shane's arm and gave it a firm squeeze before another outburst was unleashed upon an old friend.

"Oh thank you for coming out at such a late hour…" Peachy commanded the room; her Scottish brogue unusually thick as her voice rose a full two octaves to punctuate Shane's lapse in good manners.

"Yes, you're right Edward. I know." Shane offered in a more conciliatory tone. " I'll phone Neil and have him fax Kim's medical records to you just in case."

Edward smiled compassionately and scribbled a number on his notepad. "Keep her hydrated and continue to monitor her vitals." He instructed as they walked towards the doorway. "The lady needs some rest, so address the fever with Tylenol over night. You can taper off during the day, so her body has a chance to fight it…but for now I think rest trumps the fever."

Shane nodded affirmatively.

Glancing over towards his patient and then back at Shane and Peachy.

"I won't lie to you." Edward began in a hushed voice. " Her lymph nodes are dreadfully swollen and her temperature is hovering at dangerous levels which bothers me."

The trio huddled around the bedroom door.

"Should we consider a hospital?" Peachy inquired amusing Dr. Wellington, who chuckled,

"Are you kidding? There's no way she'd get better care than in this very house."

And shaking Shane's hand confidently, " I know you won't hesitate to call me if her condition deteriorates. I'll return in the morning before heading out." He assured his old friend.

"Peachy, would you escort Dr. Wellington to the door." Shane nodded appreciatively to him as his partner assumed her more public role.

"Of course, Sir." She chirped professionally.

Reaching the massive oak double doors of Donovan Manor, the elder spy paused before letting the doctor out.

"Please forgive Mister Donovan's insolence," Her voice clipped along in formal fashion. "He tends to be a bit…"

Edward eyed her knowingly. "Protective?"

Peachy smiled graciously and nodded affirmatively.

"Ah, he's like his father in that way." Edward noted nostalgically as his eyes fluttered around the room. Peachy responded with a skeptical stare. While she had never officially met either of Shane's parents, Simmons recollections gave the older woman the impression that Shane's reserved, yet tender demeanor was a product of his mother? As if reading her thoughts, Edward rested his hand on the door handle, "Not necessarily personality but…"

His words trailed off as he cast a glance towards the family room over his shoulder. Peachy listened intently. Despite the longevity of their partnership, there was a treasure trove of information regarding the Laddie that virtually remained hidden from public. Sensing the trust between this maid and his old friend, Edward continued.

"The elder Andrew Donovan was a force to be reckoned with for sure." Edward began with a low belly laugh that seemed implausible for a man of his lean stature. He smiled brightly at the memory. "Quite charming and affable, but all business and could be frightfully intimidating to lads young and old." Edward paused and let his translucent blue eyes drift upwards towards the top of the winding staircase. "Mrs. Donovan…why, she was the sweetest soul I've ever known." He acknowledged affectionately. "Don't let the exterior appearances fool you. For all Mr. Donovan's bravado, that man was lost without his Jeannie." Edward remarked with a twinkle in his eye before adding, "I think the elder Donovan drew his strength from her." He noted in a more subdued tone. "Fitting that they went together."

Their deaths had rocked the tranquil enclave nestled in the protective hills of the Cotswold. Peachy felt her eyes moisten at Dr. Wellington's analysis, which caused the good doctor to snap back into a more animated demeanor.

"It's as plain as the nose on my face; you see . . ." Edward shifted his stance and addressed Peachy head on. "So I take no personal offense at Shane's temper."

Peachy nodded knowingly. "Neither do I." She replied with a wink.

The blustery wind churning the fallen snow outside smacked the doctor against the face as he exited the estate. Edward glanced over the shoulder and quipped: "Besides, Captain Donovan will need a stitch or two at some point again and he knows I may not be too kind with my bedside manner if he's too squirrelly with me now."

With a flick of his wrist and he disappeared into his vehicle driving off into the placid Christmas night. Peachy secured the doors and chuckled to herself. She quite liked that fellow.

Location: Donovan Master Bedroom

Shane took the moment to walk across the hall and check the children, who slept blissfully in their beds unaware of the chaos that had consumed the manor for the past hour or so. Returning to Kim's room, he found her trying to maneuver herself towards the bathroom.

"Heeey, hey. What in heaven's name do you think you're doing young lady?" He chided Kimberly as he rushed over to assist her. Shane reached her right before Kimberly tumbled to the floor by the bed— his arms slipping under hers for support. Narrowing her brow and striking back with those glassy blue-green eyes,

"Young lady?" She admonished hoarsely and grabbed her throat due to the searing pain accompanying her attempt to speak. Her point valid, Shane chuckled and noted,

"Very well then. Shall I refer to you as ol…"

Kimberly grimaced and dug her nails into his arm; the only means she possessed to inflict her protest due to her weakened state. Shane winced slightly, but then smiled playfully at her. Kimberly melted at that moment just as her feet felt as though they'd slip right through the floor. All her strength stripped away, Kimberly held onto him for support.

"I wanted…I can…" She attempted weakly.

And surveying their surroundings, Shane observed astutely: "You can barely hold yourself up, much less dress for bed by yourself." He remarked gently steadying her by the shoulders as she tried to defiantly stand on her own. Kimberly's head lobbed back and forth as she tried to muster the strength to prove him wrong, but to no avail. Her eyes glazed over from the fever, her defeated expression tugged at his heart. He remembered the days when Kimberly allowed him in; allowed him to love her. Brushing a few strands of hair away from her eyes, Shane captured them with his. In a low, affectionate tone, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Her lips parted to protest his suggestion, but Kim's wishes won this round given her inability to fortify the walls around her heart at the moment. Shane felt her body wholly relax within his arms and give in to his care. Completely awestruck, she whispered weakly, "Yes."

Ushering Kimberly back to the bed, he retreated towards the bathroom and found the warm cozy blue pajamas to dress her in. Doubling back quickly, Shane discovered her already slumped over on her right side with her head and hands propped on the creamy satin pillow as her legs dangled along the side. The spy approached and gently laid the clothing on the bed to his right as he sat beside her.

"Kim?"

She mumbled something incoherently about being fine the way she was, which produced a smirk from the spy. Shane guided her towards him and began coaxing her to comply with his instructions. He slipped his hands up her sides methodically removing her clothing and discreetly averting his eyes as he worked so that Kimberly would feel at ease. Instead of fighting him, she sought his comfort at one point with her head falling into his chest from the exhaustion. Abandoning the task for a minute, Shane wrapped his arms snuggly around her waist. His free hand glided through Kim's hair as he stole an affectionate whiff of her intoxicating scent. The two remained motionless in a tight embrace as Kimberly drew strength from his self-sacrificing love.

"This is worse than the flu, Shane." She whispered haggardly as he finished dressing her. Kneeling before her, he lifted her chin to study her pleading eyes. Kimberly stared at him clearly dazed by the fever and fatigue.

"Shhh, you need rest darling." Shane assured her. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Helping position her comfortably under the covers, Shane lingered and hovering over her tenderly stroked her flushed forehead. Her tousled locks flowed evenly over the satin pillowcase as her wide eyes watched for his next course of action. Their eyes locked into one another in a moment of complete lucidity; the message behind them vividly clear. They had reached an emotional truce; an understanding that regardless of past folly, they shared something uniquely remarkable that clamored to be nourished. Kimberly's lips parted as Shane's adoring stare tempted them to unlock the buried message. Instead, she swallowed hard; the piercing pain pulsating through her body and closing the window of opportunity.

Leaning over her,

"I promise I won't leave you." He emphasized compassionately instead. It was a risk the spy wasn't quite ready to take yet. And Kimberly had taken that risk too many times in the past and had gotten shot down to do the same. So the two continued to dance around the issue for a while longer.

"Thank you." She replied breathlessly before her eyes closed from the weight of it all.

Shane returned the gesture with a delicate kiss on the forehead and then pulled back creating a safe distance between them. Watching her slip into a deep sleep, the weary spy snatched the blanket from the side of the bed and settled into the floral upright chair to the left of the fireplace after lighting the long forgotten embers within it. Adjusting himself into its plush seating, Shane pulled the chenille blanket against him as the melody of the flames illuminated the room in a heavenly glow. He'd left her side too many times when she needed him, so Shane would be damned if he allowed the same thing to happen again. Studying her sleeping peacefully in their bed, Shane's mind drifted as Kimberly's sultry voice echoed in his ears, "I love you… Oooh, how I love you."

Once upon a time, this elusive creature had been so expressive with her love and adoration for him. What he would give to hear that from her again! The flicker of the flames created a rhythmic symmetry in the room drawing his mind to a close allowing Shane to settle into a monotonous, but brief slumber.

Location: A few days later…Hotel Room, Berlin

The short, obnoxious, and pulsating ring of the phone interrupted a hazy alcoholic-induced sleep. Stewart Perkins turned over onto his left side and fumbled for the phone.

"Hello?" He grumbled irritably into the receiver.

Picking up his flashy, golden Rolex, he squinted his eyes to focus on the blurry hands of the watch.

1:16 pm.

The response from the other end of the line evaporated the obese man's drunken stupor instantly. Covering the receiver,

"Up, up!" He slapped the bare ass of a frumpy extra, which slept soundly beside him. The mousy brunette fumbled erratically for her clothing as Stewart glared impatiently at her to leave.

Clearing his throat,

"Yes, yes, I'm awake."

Stewart leaned over towards the nightstand to retrieve a cigar from its silver encased box. As the clicking sound of the door announced that he was alone, the manager lit the cigar and settle back into the pillows of his unkempt bed.

"Yes, it actually went better than even you could have anticipated." He replied confidently. Puffing lazily on the Cuban,

"The information you supplied has definitely helped Philip manage her more efficiently without arousing suspicion."

A relieved pause…

"Honestly, I think you're being overly cautious. She's shown no signs of remembering the altercation… much less that side of the business." His impulsive commentary met with a strong rebuke on the other end. Suddenly, Stewart bolted upright on the bed extinguishing the flame of the cigar and irritably reached for his shirt.

"I KNOW, the costs!" He interjected hastily and then monitoring his tone. "Anyway, London was a bust because of the blizzard, so we'll…."

He shuffled the phone to the other shoulder as he dressed.

"I really don't understand all the hassle…I mean, why the care? We could have tied up the unfortunate incident long ago…"

The Benefactor, clearly annoyed, proceeded to make his intentions a bit more bluntly.

"Yes, Sir. My apologies. It's not my business."

Dutifully, Stewart accepted the tongue-lashing and settled back into compliant-mode.

"No, not that I know of. She's been deathly ill since Christmas." He grumbled sloppily over the line.

Pause…

"Oh, no no. The flu, I suppose."

Had anyone been privy to the conversation, they would have been shocked to hear a contrite Stewart Perkins instead of the arrogant, bumbling fool that usually projected himself onto an unwilling populace. Listening to the instructions,

"Well, I still don't see how you expect Collier to extract that kind of information?" His whine was reminiscent of a child. "Yes, I understand…yes, Sir. I apologize for the incompetence."

Hearing the sound of a key rattling in the lock, Stewart said his adieus. Hanging up the phone, he pinched his brow in frustration as Philip stumbled into their shared room.

"Holy hell, what a day!" The ragged movie producer announced. "The crew was late for set-up, the actors fussy for having to shoot in fourteen inches of snow, and lunch was ice cold; grossly over-priced, I might add since the spread was only suitable for the peasantry." Philip paused sensing the tension in the room. "What?" He inquired with his arms still outstretched from the dramatic retelling of his day.

"Nothing." Perkins replied dismissively shaking his head.

The stench of his manager's "after-party" smacked the unsuspecting producer in the face causing him to abandon all talk of business.

"Christ, Stu!" Philip surveyed the scene. "This place looks...and SMELLS like a college dorm-room!"

He artfully navigated the battle zone and grabbed items needed for a refreshing shower as Stewart started rattling off questions regarding…of all topics, Kimberly! Kimberly, who finally seemed to be coming around to his affections and way of seeing things, yet his business manager insisted on ruining the aura with his constant harping about her fuckin' memory! Philip stopped abruptly in the doorway of the bathroom and barked,

"Look, I am getting pretty pissed off at the constant puppetry you and him continue to display in regards to my personal life!"

Stewart's normally jovial demeanor dissipated into a cold countenance. Without moving from his perch on the bed, "And where would you be without all of our support?"

Philip didn't turn to address the question. One, one bad business decision and he was still paying the price! The slight slump in his shoulders told his manager that he'd given up the fight for now. Sighing, "I spoke with her while on set. Kimmie sounds dreadful; sleeping ALL the time."

And not letting Stewart dictate the conversation any longer, Philip slammed the door behind him retreating to a lengthy shower that consumed all the hot water from the room. When he finally emerged from the steamy closed in area, Philip found Stewart snoring soundly in the same reclined position he'd left him in. Grateful for the silence, the producer dressed quickly and planned to be out of the room before the jackass woke from his stupor. No such luck.

"You heading to London after this?" Stewart groused annoyingly.

"Yes." He snapped. "No need to dictate my next course of action." Philip ran a comb through his short curly locks pausing to gaze at his sculpted torso appreciatively in the mirror. Smiling broadly, "But I highly doubt even a talented man like Shane can seduce her away from me given her present condition." He retorted boastfully.

Though internally the very thought of the two spending any time together longer than necessary bothered the producer immensely. The very distinct message Donovan delivered to him in Kim's study gave no doubt as to the man's intentions with his fiancé. It was a problem. Despite their minor hiccups, Philip quite enjoyed Kimberly's company. She kept things very easy for him and given the already established family she brought into the relationship, the busy producer didn't have to worry about cheating her out of one. Establishing something permanent with Kimberly fit nicely with Philip's idea of the perfect public persona. Besides, the producer noted wickedly, the woman had a way with a man that was positively criminal. Sampling that delectable merchandise again kept him warm on this excruciatingly boring location shoot since bringing his mistress along for the ride proved futile. Wrapping up the shooting schedule and jetting back to whisk Kimberly away from her ex at the first opportunity, weighed heavily on his mind. "If only his handlers would get the hell off his back already!" He fumed to himself.

"I wouldn't have to dictate if you could man up and bed the woman already!" Stewart spewed haughtily interrupting Philip's train of thought.

The insult clearly hit a nerve, for Philip slammed the comb down on the bureau. Lurching forward, he had Stewart's throat wrapped around his fingers before the man could muster the proper defense.

"Perhaps, if you hadn't fucked up in the first place, we wouldn't be in this goddamn situation!"

"Careful, careful, Collier." Stewart seethed beneath a choked breath. "If I die, you go down. It's as simple as that."

Philip stared into Stewart's grey, dead eyes. The movie producer used to scoff at the notion of "selling one's soul to the devil," but this was before he'd met the man who had saddled him with this flunky. Now, the jaded producer would not bat an eye at the notion. Releasing Stewart, Philip grabbed a sweater and wool coat before storming out of the hotel room.

Location: Donovan Manor, Three days after Christmas

Dr. Wellington remained true to his word, stopping by first thing the morning after Christmas to check on the patient before heading to Cheltenham. Kimberly's fever rose and fell throughout the night causing her to toss and turn miserably. Shane eventually abandoned his station at the chair and propped up on the bed beside her. Occasionally, he would drift off to sleep with his head propped up against the headboard, only to wake abruptly when Kimberly stirred. Dabbing her forehead with a cool damp cloth, Kimberly's fever broke slightly before dusk.

The tests revealed very little; that is, while it ruled out Strep infection, nothing notable could be revealed from Kimberly's blood work except for elevated white blood cell count. So Dr. Wellington sent an antibiotic to Donovan Manor suspecting at the very least a secondary infection had rapidly developed over the past twenty-four hours.

Meanwhile, Shane alternated between keeping Kimberly comfortable during her waking hours, which were few, and tending to the children. Once the bedtime routine was finished, Shane took over for Peachy and resided in Kimberly's room for the evening.. Shane snuck in naps with Jeannie during the daylight hours, so that he could retain his schedule with Kimberly during the evenings. It had taken several attempts to reach Philip regarding her condition—a detail he kept to himself, but finally the spy was successful. The hopeful look on Kimberly's face as she listened to Philip make promises to her over the phone was bittersweet for Shane. The producer talked a good game with Kimberly but rattled off excuse after excuse to Shane as to why he couldn't abandon production to come be with her.

Over the next three days, the fever returned ebbing and flowing throughout the day as a subtle but ragged cough evolved keeping Kimberly up miserably through the cold and brutal nights. It was late in the evening after the Tylenol had taken effect and Kimberly drifted to sleep with her head nestled inside the crook of Shane's arm that the decision was made in the spy's mind. After Kimberly recovered, he was going to be unabashedly honest with her regarding their situation. "To hell with the consequences!" He justified to himself resolutely.

Finally on the third day, Peachy interjected: "Laddie," to a beleaguered Shane who appeared haggard and unshaven from caring for his ex-wife. "The children need your undivided attention now." She noted wisely. Shane had orchestrated a family outing to the local playhouse for a matinee performance of 'Nutcracker' long before Kimberly had fallen ill. "I won't leave the Lassie's sight." She assured him with a gentle but firm nudge on the shoulder.

Peachy's maternal love for Kimberly eased Shane's anxiety and allowed him to trust her sage advice completely. Knowing that Kimberly's preferences lay with the needs their children, Shane finally agreed to Peachy's insistence that he escort them to the ballet and a dinner afterwards…

Later...

"How's she doing?" Shane inquired to Simmons as he and the children entered Donovan Manor through the kitchen. The trio was a charming site. Shane and Andrew had dressed formally in their black suits with matching red ties and Jeannie in her blue velvet dress and a white miniature Peacoat for warmth. Smiling brightly, her blonde curls flowed freely around her shoulders mimicking her mother's effortless grace. He set Jeannie down and took her coat and matching mittens placing them on the wrought iron hooks in the adjacent mudroom. Andrew tossed his woolen outerwear aside to snatch a cup of hot apple cider that Simmons hastily prepared for them as the car drove up the gravel drive.

"Doctor Wellington is here checking on the Misses as we speak. " He replied formally in front of the children. The elderly butler busied himself with the soup simmering on the massive gas range stove as Shane approached the granite island. The smell of fresh chicken stock was enough to heal the wounds of anything that ailed a man! Simmons smiled brightly at the two red-cheeked children, "Your mum would love to hear about your experiences at the ballet." He suggested merrily. Andrew rolled his eyes, but didn't hesitate to escort an excited Jeannie up the back stairs to see their mother. The child's brow crinkled just as his father's when he was worried. The two gentlemen watched as the children sauntered up the narrow mahogany stairs before Shane turned to Simmons gravely.

"Out with it, old chap." He demanded smoothly with a hint of affection as he yanked at the tie to loosen it from his neck. Simmons smiled encouragingly but the serious expression in his eyes revealed much.

"Captain Donovan, Dr. Wellington is in the study now discussing things over with Dr. Curtis."

Shane inhaled deeply.

News of Kimberly's condition had filtered back to Salem, which caused various members of the Brady family to call frequently for updates. The family had endured much over the past year and Kimberly's tenuous health condition certainly weighed heavily on their minds.

Simmons gestured towards the kettle and the weary spy nodded affirmatively. After a few minutes, it whistled signaling Edward's entrance into the kitchen and tea ready to be steeped.

The two old friends rested on two leather barstools lining the black granite island as Simmons busied himself with the soup being prepared for Kimberly. She hadn't eaten much despite all of their cajoling and it worried everyone caring for her. The light above it cast a beacon of hope billowing through the room to combat the frost-laden windows lining the front and back of the kitchen.

"Lay it on me, Edward." Shane demanded professionally.

Simmons set two saucers and cups before the men as they conversed. Edward smiled briefly and then replied evenly, "Shane, after three days of antibiotics, we should expect an improvement with Kimberly's condition."

Shane nodded in agreement. A continuous low-grade fever still ravaged Kim's body and while the swelling in her lymph nodes had subsided a little, swallowing remained difficult for her.

"What is your diagnosis, Edward?" He asked grimly.

Edward inhaled slowly.

Treading carefully, he replied, "Kimberly's immune system is pretty low right now. I brought my personal assistant with me this time, whose taking more blood as we speak. But Shane, I think you need to understand that given her health issues from the past year or so…(knowing his friend had conversed with Neil, he admired Edward's tact regarding the matter)," The good doctor paused punctuating the gravity of the situation. " She's not responding to the first round of antibiotics like I had hoped. I think we are dealing with something more severe."

Shane looked up from his tea and bowed up slightly. "As in…?" He questioned alarmingly gauging his old friend's grim countenance.

Edward set the cup onto the saucer. The clink reverberated around the suddenly still kitchen as Simmons paused in his work. The good doctor removed his spectacles and rubbed his brow anxiously. Shane's heart sank as the revelation punctured the last glimmer of hope he had of the two rebuilding what had been lost between them.

"After consulting with Dr. Curtis," The next line seemed to unravel slowly as Shane focused on his friend's worried expression and moving lips… " Although pneumonia is certainly a possibility, we feel it's necessary to try and rule out leu..kem..ia…" He revealed solemnly.