Note: FYI- I had absolutely no intention of writing this chapter the way in which it turned out. I had two endings, one happy and one tragic, both of which were written out, and then somehow I ended up with what happens here. The muses demanded that I write it this way and as many times as I tried to change it, I couldn't. I hope you can indulge me this digression, which is purposefully ambiguous and will remain unresolved for a while. After this chapter, there are seven to go, and much of the rest of the story is action -packed as the chase begins. Thanks to everyone who took time to leave a review since the last chapter, as every review makes me think and really motivates me to keep going! Thanks to Red Hardy, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, Penlew, Caranath, BMSH, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, max 2013, and Paulina Ann for your feedback!

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 25

"She's not going to make it."

Frank looked at the room across from him and knew it was time to say goodbye. Vanessa and Fenton had come and gone. Callie's parents had just left; Joe had never come, so grief stricken he had gotten sick. He had apologized or tried to apologize through wracking sobs, but he didn't have to. Frank really did understand what it would do to Joe to watch her die.

It was just him now, as it had been from the start. His love; his soul; his precious wife. She was only 27, just like him, but their almost 13 years together had been a lifetime. Long ago, he had stopped asking himself WHY things happened as they did. Prior to this case, Callie had been healthy and strong and had been in a hospital only twice for very minor injuries. Except for THAT. No- he would not go back there. He COULD not go back there.

He had just about convinced himself that his life was perfectly normal; that his job would never endanger his loved ones, when this case had arisen in March, and had changed his life forever. Then this unrelentingly agonizing year had happened, when her life had been turned upside down and she had experienced more heartache and pain than a person should go through in a lifetime.

Somehow, this was his fault. Again. He should have stopped Cotnig the first time. He should have been with her this time. And, long ago... He felt his stomach lurch; he fell to his knees. He had vowed to love her and to protect her with his life, and he had failed miserably. It should have been him, not her. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

He couldn't move, could not will himself to enter the room.

He remembered every detail with the same intensity that he knew he would soon forget it willfully. The accident that had been no accident at all. The huge Hummer that had plowed into the police cruiser with the intent to kill had met its mark. And it had to have been driven by … one of those people connected to Cotnig… he could not even think of their names right now. He- or they- had gotten away, presumably with no harm done, like the drunk driver who walks away from the fatality he caused. The puzzles; the cases; the codes; the stages of conviction they had revealed… they meant nothing now.

The officer who had been driving was badly hurt, but would recover. Laura had been sobbing as she was taken here, with a concussion and whiplash to serve as a reminder. And, by some miracle that could not be explained, his son had been spared. JJ had come away with no more than the ear infection he had left with… because his mother had given her life for him, protected him from the magnitude of the impact by using her body as a shield. He would not think now about what could have happened to JJ; he didn't know if he would ever be able to think about it. His amazing and perfect son was going to lose his mommy today, and Frank wished to god he could just go with her. But he couldn't. He owed it to her to raise his baby with all of her conviction and passion.

And his other baby was still inside her, somehow holding on, going to go to sleep with its mother- together. That was a little miracle in all of this; she hadn't miscarried yet. She wouldn't be alone. He felt his chin and hands trembling at the thought. His heart would have been shattered if he could have felt anything at all. But there was only nothing, an emptiness so profound it could never be filled again.

The blood loss was severe; her internal injuries too many even to count. On top of the Placenta Previa, she'd experienced a placental abruption: her placenta partially detached from the wall of her uterus which caused severe bleeding and shock. She already was anemic. It was the perfect storm, a survivable crash- maybe- had she not been pregnant. She'd been rushed into emergency surgery, but the hemorrhaging had been so bad that it had grown of control, and the doctor had told him that her chances of survival were less than 10%. She would not make it through the night.

How fickle life was. How strange and cruel it could be. This morning, he had made love to his wife. This evening, he would hold her as she died. He couldn't process the profundity of it.

He managed to stand.

Finally, he felt his feet move him forward, something propelling him into the room. He'd been here before, but never with this utter lack of hope. How could he say goodbye? How could he part with his own soul?

Mechanically, he sat next to her on the bed, ignoring the coldness of the room, the lifeless machines giving her life, at least for a little bit more. He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, his shaking hands just managing to find pictures he always carried with him: their wedding photo; JJ's first day home. He slipped the pictures into her hand and closed it around them. He touched her stomach, bid goodbye to his child, whom he loved so much already.

Then, he wrapped her in his arms. There was nothing else he could do. He would not let her go alone.

He let the tears fall, but could not sob. He told her that he loved her, that he was sorry he could not keep her safe.

"Our father, who art in heaven," he heard his lips whisper.

He continued like that unconsciously. I love you. I'm sorry. Our father. I love you. I'm sorry. Our father.

And he felt her heartbeat, some inexplicable warmth that comforted him.

He waited.

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Joe stood outside the NICU and held Vanessa as they cried in each other's arms. He was shaking. It couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He couldn't lose his sister. He loved her.

And if he lost his sister, he'd lose his brother; that he knew.

He choked on the guilt he felt: that he hadn't been able to solve the case quickly enough, that though he was dying inside from Callie's inevitable loss, he was also so relieved that Vanessa hadn't been in that car. She always sat in the back with Callie exactly where Callie had been sitting; had she not been sick, she would have gone with Callie. Hadn't she told him that the pediatrician's office had wanted to know who would be accompanying Callie to the office? They never asked that. Cotnig again.

And Vanessa had been the target, though Callie had received the impact.

God, would have lost her. How could he have lived?

Now, instead, Callie would die. And he'd almost lost JJ. And his mother had been hurt. He screamed inside. WHY-WHY- WHY was this happening to his family?

He looked into the NICU as he clung to his near hysterical wife. It hurt like hell, but he was grateful that he could feel. And he would make good on his promise to Johnny from the original case, the promise he had just made to Callie, silently-this was his game now to win or lose. And he had no intention of losing. He would get Cotnig and Grant, now, if it was the last thing he did. That was a promise. And he never broke a promise.

He would wait no longer.

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Ezra Collig hugged Fenton tightly, no longer Police Chief and internationally known private investigator, but two old friends, united in suffering.

"Thanks," Fenton said, stepping back. His eyes were fighting tears.

"Fen," Collig stated, "I'm going after him. Now. I will not wait another second more, and I will pull every string in the damned book to get as much help as possible. This mother f-cker just crossed every conceivable line. Stay with Laura and the boys. They'll need you."

Fenton took ragged breaths, fury filling his veins. "I'm going with you, Ezra," he said, deadly calm. "He wants me, he can have me. But he cannot take any more from my family. He's already taken too much- and revenge will not be enough. I'm ready."

"You're certain?" Ezra asked.

"I am," Fenton replied. "It is the bare minimum I can do for Laura, Joe and Vanessa, JJ, Frank- and Callie," he choked out.

Ezra nodded. He didn't need further explanation. They set out together, knowing they would return victorious.

Or not at all.

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It wasn't at all what she thought it would be like. It was watching life reveal itself in stages, small slices: with an interest, a detachment, a curiosity. She wasn't afraid. If anything, it was peaceful and calming, a total equity between understanding and acceptance.

Stage 1. She looked down and watched the aftermath of the accident. There had been a terrible, excruciating pain… and then this. She remembered the impact, remembered how her last conscious thought had been to protect Jonathan Joseph, so she had, shielding him with her body as the Hummer slammed into them. She hovered, saw Laura Hardy sobbing, clutching the baby. She smiled slightly. He was okay, she knew that now. That was all that mattered. It was odd, watching the police officer crawling next to her, seeing the EMTs struggling to revive her body, barely clinging to life, an impartial, casual observer to her own dying process.

Stage 2: The hospital. She saw them all- they were all there. It unfolded in slow motion, each scene more tragic than the next. If she had been present to witness it in person, it would have killed her anyway. But now, it was watching a play performed, and she was in the audience, alone, distant. Fenton Hardy breaking down as he finally spoke with his wife, holding her close. Her parents, zombies, devoid of emotion; lifeless. Vanessa screaming. She moved her eyes. She watched Joe cry as he looked after JJ in the NICU and, for the first time, she felt a zap, a buzz, something inexplicable. She reached out her hand and touched JJ's head, watched him open his eyes. He saw her, and she kissed him goodbye, lighter than air. Her greatest contribution to this world in a perfect, beautiful package. Again, that buzz, even stronger, came to her, and she took a breath. At least, she thought she did. Who knew. Frank, white as a ghost, so numb he couldn't feel a thing. She wrapped her arms around him to no avail, and the buzzing became horribly painful… she had to leave.

Stage 3: She was somewhere else altogether, a place she did not recognize, a room of some sort. She was in no hurry; she was not frightened. She was just… there. She waited.

Stage 4: She felt them pass by her. Her grandparents, her Aunt Janice, her little dog, Maxie. She hadn't seen any of them in a long, long time. They touched her, they did not touch her, but their warmth, their love, surrounded her and she felt them more than anything. How amazing. It would have brought tears to her eyes if she was capable of crying, but she was not. And that was okay.

Stage 5: She gasped. Iola almost floated towards her, more pure and spectacular than she could ever have imagined. And she could talk. And she was real.

"Callie," she intoned, her eyes bright and glorious, a smile on her face. "Hey girl."

Then her voice came back to her. "Iola?" she managed, though her voice somehow sounded perfectly normal. "You're here."

Iola touched her face. "And so are you," she answered. "You'll understand soon why."

And she remained there, stroking Callie's hair, compassion and understanding in her eyes. Callie couldn't ask anything more; somehow didn't need to. Iola's presence was enough.

Stage 6:

"Sweetheart!"

She looked up and her heart soared.

"Johnny!" she whispered.

She knew that she was both standing still and running to him at the same time, both weighted down and light as the breeze. She threw herself into his arms, and he was the only person who felt wholly real and present. He held onto her tightly and then kissed her lips so tenderly that well from deep within threatened to break through, but stayed at bay. It was completely chaste, but completely love.

"Johnny," she repeated, looking into his deep green eyes. There was so much to say and ask him and think about, but nothing came. He kept his arms around her, and suddenly that was all that mattered. She couldn't ask many questions; could only respond briefly. But she trusted him.

"You named your precious boy after me," he said, kissing her head as she leaned against his chest. "How marvelous. Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded. "I promised you that my son would know his Uncle Johnny."

"I heard," he said. "I can hear when you talk to me."

"You can?" she asked, and then she felt Iola come up from behind her, sensed the presence of her hand on her back.

"I can, too," Iola said. "Thank you for visiting me so much. It's so lovely to be remembered."

"You know each other, then," Callie replied, accepting it as fact.

"We've met," Iola answered, smiling.

"You both look so beautiful," Callie added.

"You see us as you choose to," Iola said gently. "You recognize the best of us; our hearts; our being. There is nothing else here, but we have come in a form that you'd recognize to soothe you so you wouldn't be scared."

"I know you must be mildly curious about where we are," Johnny added, rubbing her back.

"I never thought heaven would be like this," she responded, and was shocked when Iola and Johnny laughed.

"Oh, sweetheart, no. No, this isn't heaven," Johnny said gently. "It's a bit of a waiting area that some people get to visit to make a very important decision."

Callie looked at up at him, curious, still felt Iola's hand on her back. "Have you been there?" Callie asked. "What's it like?"

"It's like that feeling of falling in love, magnified to infinity," Iola responded with a smile.

"It's as if you took all the pain that you experienced in the physical world, my love, and you experienced so much, and flipped that same intensity to joy- that may be a fraction of a percent, a grain of sand in the universe. It's inexplicably beautiful," Johnny answered, voice wistful, eyes full of love.

"Then why aren't you there?" Callie queried, still unable really to feel, to cry, to think.

"We were called to visit," Iola answered. "To explain to you what you need to know."

"How much time do you have?" Callie asked.

Johnny smiled and kissed her lips again. 'Time is a man-made construct, honey. It means nothing here. You cannot race against eternity."

"What do I need to know?" she asked.

Johnny pulled her closer, and she felt Iola's arms around her from behind. "It's very simple, honey. You need to go home. You can't stay here. But you need to determine which home."

"Look," he said, and gently tilted her head to the left. She saw JJ and Frank, and started buzzing again, off center.

"Don't be scared," Iola said gently. "You will feel no pain here; I swear it."

"Honey," Johnny said, "the choice is solely yours. You come with me and I'll lead you to beauty beyond comprehension, or you can return to terrible pain."

Callie looked at him curiously. "You make it seem like an obvious choice."

"Oh, but it's not," Johnny countered. "You've suffered, Callie, and it won't end right away. I won't lie to you, honey- it could take a long time to get better- in the earthly realm, it could be weeks, months, years even before you wake, start to heal, and you may never be the same. Yet, in that earthly realm, you have such beauty, such love surrounding you. Do you know why you have that jolting feeling when you look at some people? It's because one day your soul will be whole again, reunited with its mates. Soulmates are real, Callie. And you can have more than one; just in different degrees."

"I don't understand," she managed.

Johnny took her hand and placed it on his chest. At once, she felt a warmth spread through her. "You are one of mine," he told her, tenderly."Our souls are connected, and I won't be whole again until you are back here. But I have others. And so do you."

"John-"

"The biggest piece of your soul has always belonged to Frank. The universe meant for that to be. Think of the depth of love you have for each other-it is rare and it is special," he went on. "And a little part of your soul belongs with Joe. You are connected by so much- your love for Frank…"

"And for me," Iola cut in.

"And your children will also have a part of your soul. They will be great people."

Callie looked down. "My son…" she whispered.

"And your daughter," John said, matter-of-factly.

"What?" Callie asked, confused.

"The life inside you," Iola answered. "Your precious little girl."

Callie remembered. Why couldn't she cry? "I was having a girl?" she asked, wishing she could FEEL everything she should be feeling now.

"Are having, if you go back," Johnny corrected. He looked at her with affection and deep love. "Your little one will have a fighting chance if you return. I don't know if she will be chosen to stay with you or she'll be called back home, here, but you'd give her life, one way or another. Your babies are gifts, sweetheart. You understand what I mean." He spoke to her soul with insider knowledge.

Yes. Indeed she did know.

"And Frank will be restored fully, if you go back," Iola went on. "His sorrow is strangling him now. He loves you with a passion that's so intense that he would be irreparably altered by your death. But he could survive, Callie. He is strong. And he would raise your son with courage and grace. But your souls would cry for each other until you're reunited. That's the thing about soul mates; they're connected in a way deeper than thought and feeling; an invisible rope that binds."

"And though Frank's soul is with JJ- and with Joe, his other mate- you must know that he would be empty inside, never fully himself again, for the rest of his life. Time, sweetheart- I told you- it means nothing here, but it's very long there," Johnny added.

Iola gazed at her warmly. "When Joe visits me, I will feel more complete, because he was a part of my soul, and I love him. But his much larger soul mate is Vanessa. See, in the end, we all become part of each other. It's a mystery you'll understand one day, be that now or later."

Callie looked to the left, saw Frank and JJ, her heart and her soul. She saw her broken and battered body, flinching at the sight. She gazed to the right, saw Iola's warm smile. She glanced up into Johnny's gorgeous face, his reassuring smile, his eyes filled with love.

The time had come to choose.