Hello again! This is the 2nd chapter posted today in response to the great demand for some resolution to the epic cliffy of the last chapter.

I repeat…please read the previous chapter posted today before this one!

I realized I didn't post a note like I usually do on the last chapter but I think it was pretty self explanatory. Sometimes you just need to get right to the good stuff soooooo without further ado….

Enjoy!

Sybil's back was aching. It had been a rough day on her body. They were gearing up for a showcase and Sybil wanted her group of students to shine since this would be one of the last pieces she would get to jump in and do the bulk of choreography for. The older group wasn't on their game today and Sybil had to reteach most of the phrases, breaking down the movement slowly as she glided from the air to the floor to roll over her back, sliding like a reptile on the floor to wind up to standing. The recovery would have come easy to her a few weeks ago but now, almost three months pregnant, she was feeling the exhaustion deep in the muscles of her back. A long soak in the tub was on her list of things to do when Jon took her home.

Tom had let her know early in the day that he would be at the office most of the afternoon into the early evening. Jon had invited Sybil over for dinner since Gwen was trying out a new recipe and he didn't want to be the lone guinea pig to his eight months pregnant wife, who could be most aggressive if she didn't get the desired reception to her new meal experiments. Having Sybil there, some of the attention would be shifted from him and he wouldn't have to worry over inadvertently saying something to hurt Gwen's feelings, as fragile as they were these days.

It turned out dinner was a cross between a lasagna and a tuna casserole…which Jon and Sybil both pretended to enjoy, pushing the food around their plates and keeping Gwen occupied with talk of the baby while they handed off their plates, scooping the majority of it to Ghost's dish when Gwen wasn't looking, under the table where he was normally perched during meals but seemed to be conveniently absent during this particular culinary endeavor. Smart animal.

Jon took a detour taking Sybil home, stopping off to grab fish and chips for both of them, which they ravenously ate in the car before Jon dropped her at the empty house. It was almost eight, and Tom still wasn't home. The scandal with what's-his-name must not be going well. Sybil shrugged off her coat, laying it against the sofa as she made her way to the kitchen. Cookies. That was what this day needed. Fresh baked cookies and a nice long soak.

Grabbing a package of premade, precut chocolate chip cookie dough Sybil preheated the oven. Tom would enjoy the smell when he opened the door, and she didn't intend to actually do the baking herself. Too many mishaps with her own culinary skills had convinced her that the oven was meant only for reheating, unless Tom was in residence, in which case he would dazzle her with his domesticity, whipping up hash, pancakes and frying bacon as easily as any diner chef. Sybil was lucky if she didn't burn the cookies, setting the timer like the package said and sending a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that at least a few would remain edible.

Grabbing her mobile from her purse Sybil sat at the kitchen table, looking over Mrs. Branson's latest email about easy solutions for making your clothes bump friendly. There was an interesting bit about a rubber band through the buttonhole of pants to accommodating your growing belly. Sybil thought it very creative but brushed it off as she only wore materials made of stretch fabric anyways to work. She didn't think she would have to change much about her wardrobe, she conveniently had an abundance of stretchy pants and flowy tops.

Sending a quick thank-you to her for her thoughtful ideas Sybil considered calling Tom to see how long he would be. The cookies were smelling divine and she didn't know if she had enough self-control to leave any for him if he wasn't home soon. She was just contemplating how best to remove the intoxicating scent so she would be able to eat the entire batch without Tom giving her that cocky all-knowing stare that she received just before he descended with an unrelenting tickle attack. She didn't think her back could take it tonight, but perhaps he would feel bad if she really laid it on and he would indulge her with a back rub. Cookies, a good soak and back rub….life didn't really get much better than that.

The timer dinged, indicating the pan was done. Grabbing them out with the potholder, Sybil shrieked in surprise at how perfect they looked. Just like the picture! Tom would be so proud. Which was ridiculous, since all she did was open and heat, but after the cinnamon roll fiasco of last Sunday, this was a monumental achievement for her. Grabbing her mobile from the table Sybil scrolled to find the camera function. She took a very lovely photo of her work and tapped around, locating his name. "Baby Daddy" finally came into view. Thomas had been playing angry birds again while she was teaching this morning and had changed Tom's contact name again. Last week he was listed as "Irelands Best Shag 2012", "Shoulders of Thor", and "He Likes Nipples Pinched". Which in fact, Sybil knew he did not like, but Thomas though it hilarious and she didn't want to ruin any fun he might get to have sitting and bored as he was most every day since the attack.

Sybil thought a constant guard was bit much, but she did feel safer knowing there was always someone out in the waiting lounge. It allowed her mind to run free and she could release all her stresses in the studio. Typing out her message she was surprised to see a notification pop up before she hit send. Tom was texting her. It was funny how often that occurred. They were so closely connected sometimes that they would send almost identical texts, just checking in or just saying they missed each other at almost the same moment.

Discarding her message in favor of seeing when he would be home Sybil almost dropped the cookie she had snagged from the cooling batch, the hot treat burning her hand but she didn't notice. Grabbing her coat she immediately called Thomas, knowing he was off for the night and Jon would be all the way home by now. Thomas was closer to town, and thus closer to Tom. He picked up on the second ring. Sybil cut him off before he could even say hello.

"Its Tom, he's in an alley somewhere, he's hurt. We have to find him. I'm at home but I'm going to have Jon come get me, can you start searching the town? He must have just gotten off work so he won't be far from his office."

"Christ. Yeah, I'm on it. I'll call you as soon as I've found him." Thomas's calm business voice drifted to her over the line.

She hung up and dialed Jon. She choked back a sob as the realization of Tom laying hurt in some darkened alleyway settled around her. When the line clicked and Jon answered Sybil couldn't find her voice.

"Sybil? Thomas just texted me, all he said was emergency. I'm on my way to get you. Stay calm ok? Breathe for me. Are you doing it? In and out." Sybil followed his voice, hearing him start the ignition in the car and comforted by his commanding voice.

"Y-Yes. I a-am. T-Tom is going to be…o-ok right?" Sybil knew that Jon couldn't possibly make promises like that, having none of the information needed for such a claim, but he knew what she needed.

"He's going to be fine. I'm coming down your street. Grab your bag and meet me outside ok?" Sybil did what he said. She grabbed her bag, glancing to make sure the oven was off before locking the door behind her. Jon's car pulled up to the curb and Sybil didn't wait for him to come get her. She slid into the passenger seat quickly and buckled up as Jon put the car into gear.

The arrived outside of Tom's office to find Thomas waiting for them. He was speaking angrily into his mobile when they pulled up next to him. They exited the car as Thomas ended the call.

"I have Jimmy canvasing the other side of the street but there's no sign of him. What did he send you?" Thomas reached his hand out as Sybil scrolled through to find the message that was burned into her mind.

Larry too much blood. Alley. Can't stand. Tuna bag. Love need you. Blood head hand. Help.

She had gathered from the gibberish that he was in an alley, bleeding. She had no idea what "Tuna bag" was but she could guess at what "Larry" meant. Somehow Larry had attacked Tom, and now he was probably bleeding to death while they stood around discussing possibilities.

"What the feck is 'Tuna bag'?" Thomas asked, staring at the jumble of words.

"Where does he grab dinner on the way home?" Jon asked her sensibly. Of course. Tom would have gone to the deli around the corner if he was coming home late and hadn't eaten. Taking off at a run she heard the two men following close behind her. She came to a stop outside of the deli, noticing the empty street. Turning around herself Sybil tried to think like Tom, her hair whipping around her face as she kept spinning, taking in her surroundings. If he was coming home after grabbing a bite he would probably head down the main street, taking a left into the business district where the flower shop and laundromat sat. He would probably cut through the space between the two instead of going to the end of the block, cutting through the wildflower field on his way to the house.

Sprinting around the corner she took off determinedly to the opening between the two older brick buildings. The street lamps didn't reach all the way in, but the moon was bright enough that she could make out the prone body sprawled unconscious in a pool of darkened blood. Sybil could hear someone screaming as she bent her body over his. She felt him underneath her, unmoving and cold and she shook him, trying in vain to get him to respond, to open his bright blue eyes and give her his trademark cocky smile. She realized as she felt Jon's hands prying her off of Tom that the screaming was her own.

Thomas had been calling an ambulance and now moved to check Tom for signs of life. Sybil couldn't watch him take Tom's pulse, listen for the breathing that wasn't there anymore. She sobbed into Jon's shirt as she felt her whole world crumbling around her. Jon's comforting hand was patting her back as he spoke to her but she only caught pieces before his words finally pushed through the haze of grief.

"…still alive. He's still breathing Syb. The ambulance is on its way. Look! Look at him!" She pushed away from Jon, throwing herself to the ground beside Tom's body unbelieving, her knees sticky with cooling blood as her hands moved to sweep the hair off of his forehead. Thomas had lifted his head and placed his jacket underneath it as he lightly traced his hands over Tom's body, checking for further injuries. Sybil's breath caught as Tom's eyes fluttered awakened by her screams, a groan coming from the back of his throat. He was trying to say something but she could only make out strange noises.

She realized he wasn't speaking English as his eyes squinted up at her, finally latching onto her gaze as his words intensified. "A chuisle, a chroí…..grá mo chroí….An bpósfaidh tú mé?"

"It's going to be ok. We're going to get you to a hospital. You're going to be ok. You have to be. You will not leave me Tom Branson! Do you hear me? Oh, my love, please no! Don't leave me!" his eyes were closing as he drifted back into unconsciousness one phrase repeating over and over as his lips went slack.

"mo chroí…mo chroí…mo ch…" She clutched his hand as her vision blurred, taking note of the broken shape of his other hand, the blood surround his head, and his ripped and dirtied clothing. A brown bag lay crumpled a few feet away containing what she assumed was a tuna sandwich. He was trying to tell her where he was, which way he had gone, knowing she would find him. She would always find him, she thought, as she heard the sirens of the ambulance getting louder as it approached the three of them. Jimmy was waiting out on the street to make sure they knew where to find them.

Sybil brought Tom's uninjured hand to her lips as she prayed fervently that he would be ok. He had to be. He was her other half. They were bound in this life. He wouldn't leave her alone her. He was far too stubborn for that. Life couldn't be that cruel, Sybil wouldn't let it be, not to her and not to Tom. She would keep him alive with sheer determination and force of will. She kept her fingers on his pulse, counting the beats. It was faint but present and she would keep her hand on his, tethering him to her no matter what.

As the paramedics clamored through she felt something flutter low in her abdomen. A soft brush, like the wings of a butterfly inside of her womb. As the paramedics urged her back so they could move Tom to the stretcher she went in a haze, Jon and Thomas both with an arm each around her shoulders. Her hands splayed across her small bump, feeling the quickening of their child making its presence felt again, letting Sybil know that she wasn't alone. They would be waiting for Tom to come back to them, there was no other option. He would be ok.

Rubbing the subtle swell of her stomach she spoke the words strongly, as much to herself as the life inside of her. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Thomas tear up and Jon nod encouragingly. "He's going to be ok." Her voiced sounded loud in the emptying alleyway, the stretcher heading towards the ambulance, the three of them following determinedly in its wake.

*so I don't know how much resolution that was….but there ya go! Next chapter hopefully on Wednesday…. :)*

mo chroí-my heart

A chuisle, a chroí-my pulse, my heart

An bpósfaidh tú mé?- will you marry me?

grá mo chroí-love of my heart