"I'm Booker." He held out his hand.

"Jacquelynne." She took his hand and shook it. She looked at him for a moment longer and shook her head.

"What?"

"I don't know... I just get the feeling I know you from somewhere..."

"You do?"

"What elementary school did you go to?" Jackie reached into the refrigerator for a juice.

"Uh, P.S. 23? In Raleigh?" Booker followed suit.

"No... high school?"

"Count Mercy High."

"I went there!" Jackie smiled.

"You did? What year?"

"Class of '94."

"Me too!"

"Then that's where I know you from. Booker... Booker Murray? The Booker from my lit class?"

"Yeah, that's me. Mrs. Armstrong, third period."

"This is really weird. I'm Jackie Laine, remember?"

Booker's smile came to a grinding halt. What he did remember from that name was heartache, intense longing, and tears. "Jackie... Laine..."

Her smile was gone too. "I guess you still remember." She handed the cash to the lady behind the counter and pocketed the change. "I... I'm sorry... if I can even apologize for it."

Booker was very quiet. "I hardly remember."

She looked at him. "You never could lie well."

He managed a small smile as they chose a table. "No, I guess not."

"Look, Booker, I don't even know why everything happened, but I think we really need to talk."

"Jackie, it was so long ago. Already eight years--"

"And how do I know you haven't found someone else." Jackie pushed the straw into the carton of juice, her eyes lowered.

"You can still finish my sentences."

Jackie smiled wryly. "Talent." She sighed and looked up at him. "I was stupid, okay? I knew I..." She trailed off.

"You knew what?"

"I knew I was in love with you. God, it feels to weird to say it almost ten years later..." She shook her head. "I'm being stupid again."

"No." The firmness of his tone startled her. "No. You're not."

"Why not? Isn't there a Mrs. Booker Murray by now?" She bit her lips at her outburst. Booker gritted his teeth privately.

"For your information there is no Mrs. Booker Murray," Booker said, a trace of frustration in his voice. "I never found her." He looked down at his tray, suddenly very ashamed. "I--I was sent down here to get something to eat for the sheriff and that poor girl's parents. I shouldn't be down here." He stood up. "Good night."

"Booker."

He turned and walked away.

"Booker!" she called after him. He didn't stop.

To his relief and disappointment at the same time, she did not follow him.

Upon his arrival back at Kayla's room, holding sodas and various things to eat, they found an older woman had been moved into the bed next to Kayla's. A young doctor was taking her blood pressure. He looked upset and shook his head as he removed the band from her upper arm.

Booker turned back to his friends and so did not notice her come into the room and sit down next to the bed. So absorbed was he with everything, he didn't notice anything until it happened.

The heart monitor of the woman next to Kayla went still, trilling a long, loud wail as if it was mourning the death of this patient too.

"Mom?" Booker's head snapped up at the sound of her voice.

"Mommy?" She was standing up, looking at the monitor, and then at her mother.

"Nurse!" Booker yelled. Jackie looked up, startled, her hair cascading down over her shoulder, fallen from its clip, tears streaking her face suddenly. She knew her mother was gone. And she knew Booker's voice anywhere.

Doctors rushed in. "No!" Jackie said as they surrounded the woman. "Wait!"

The doctors looked at her. "She's no code," Jackie said. "No code." Her voice shook.

"No code," Booker whispered to himself. He knew what that meant. A patient had the right to be resuscitated in the event that their heart stopped beating. It was known as Code Blue among the doctors.

But there were patients who declined this option and chose to die instead. Some were simply suffering too much to be kept alive.

Booker knew what kind of a sacrifice this was, and how much those words hurt Jackie as she said them. He regretted being angry with her, regretted walking away, regretted even thinking that she had had control over what had happened between them eight years ago.

The doctors slowly stepped back, and one of them paged a morgue assistant.

Everyone standing around Kayla was watching the scene with horror and shock. Kate looked sympathetically at the young woman standing over the bed. Jett, Wood, Victor, and Kayla looked at each other and then at Booker, who looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

Jackie was struggling to keep her composure. Her jaw was set, her eyes overflowing. She turned as the men lifted her mother's body onto the stretcher and covered it with a sheet. She followed them out the door.

"Booker?" Wood's voice startled the deputy.

"Sir."

"You look upset. Are you all right?"

"Yes sir," Booker lied. "I don't like death too much."

"None of us does. Look, Booker, you've been here a long time." Wood said gently. "Are you sure you don't want to go home?"

Booker sighed. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, sir." He stood up. "I'll be at the station tomorrow morning."

"Good man, Booker. And thank you." These words were spoken man-to-man, friend-to-friend. Wood understood.

Booker walked slowly out the door, his mind racing a mile a minute. He could hardly believe that the love of his teenage life had come back. He could hardly believe that Kayla was hurt, that everything had been such a whirlwind that he hardly had time to think.

As he rounded the corner of the hospital, in the warm night air, he heard a female voice talking.

"Yes, Jimmy, Mom's gone." Her voice shook and Booker felt a twinge of guilt as he walked slowly past her. Jackie did not look at him, or maybe she didn't know he was there. The streetlights illuminated her hair.

"Let everyone know, okay?" she said. "I don't think... I don't think I'm in the best position to do much of anything now." She listened for a moment. "Thanks. You're the best big brother."

Well, there went any doubts that this Jimmy guy was her boyfriend, Booker thought, to his own puzzlement. Why was he even wondering? He kicked himself mentally.

She sank down on the bench that was nearby. Booker waited. What was he supposed to do? Half of him was telling him to walk away, and half of him was screaming to go to her. He stood still.

She did not do what he expected. She did not burst into tears. She do anything, in fact. She was completely still. She didn't move for a long moment, and then her head lowered into her hands, and her shoulders lifted and fell once.

He remembered this suddenly: she cried in this silent, painful way that made him want to kill anything that was hurting her. He didn't move.

Should he go to her? Was she still angry with him? Was he angry with her? He didn't know. So he stayed where he was, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

*Stop being such a coward, Booker! For God's sake, admit you still love her and get over there!*

He tried to shut his subconscious up. It was making him feel guilty... that insidious bastard that his thoughts were anyway...

His feet moved of their own accord, and he found himself standing in front of her, sinking to his knees to see at her eye level.

* * * *