(Chapter 25.  CGH, police station, safe house, beach house.  March 28-29, 2033.)

"Olivia and I talked about it once," Keith said dejectedly, stirring his now cold soup just to have something to do, "shouted about it, actually, threw some things around the house, and decided he just didn't need to know.  We had no idea she would one day come west and start dating his son."

"So tell me why, when you knew about Steven, you still kept quiet," Jesse said in an accusatory tone.  "That was cruel."

"There were other issues to deal with.  He didn't need to know he almost destroyed our marriage before the first year was up," Keith snapped, "and it's not the kind of thing you just bring up out of the blue, doctor.  Besides, he never told us he'd discovered her birthday and worked out the math.  Now, thanks to him, it could all very well be a moot point anyway."

"What happened today wasn't Steve's fault," Jesse defended his friend.

"Who are you kidding, doc?  You weren't even there.  He could have invented an errand for that woman to run, but no.  He let her camp out in the back of the courtroom, and asked me to keep an eye on her, and that's all I was able to do, too." 

The worried father began to struggle with his emotions.  "I sat right there . . . and watched her fire four rounds . . . into my daughter . . . and now, Emily may die . . . because she took . . . four bullets . . . meant for him!"  Keith's voice broke on die, and the last of his argument came out between angry sobs.

"Keith," Jesse said gently, "she knew the risks when she became a cop.  She chose to do what she did.  No one could have made her do it.  She did it, because that is the kind of person she is, she was willing to take the risk and make the sacrifice."

"Well, her mother and I weren't.  Did you ever think of that?"  Keith had quickly regained some composure, but Jesse could still hear the tears in his voice.

Jesse searched for something comforting to say, but before he could find the words, Keith's pager beeped.  He switched the thing off and looked to Jesse, "The surgery's over."  A little sheepishly, he said, "They'll meet us in the waiting room, but I didn't go up with O.  Can you tell me how to get there?"

Jesse smiled, "I'll do better than that, I'll walk you there myself."

Keith weakly returned the smile, his anger and fear of a moment ago forgotten in the hope that the news would be good.

"Ok, thank you," Amanda said into the phone as Mark and Steve watched her expectantly, "We'll be there right away."  After she hung up, she looked at her two friends and said, "That was the OR.  Emily is being moved to recovery now."

Steve was up like a shot.  "Let's go," he said, "I need to know how she is."

As he entered the waiting room with Amanda, Mark instantly realized there was far more wrong than the near-fatal shooting of a police lieutenant, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the problem was.  Olivia and Keith sat so close not a breath could pass between them, but they were not touching.  Beneath her worry, Liv looked angry.  Keith looked jealous and guilty. 

Steve, who had been so anxious for word of Emily's condition that he had sprinted up the steps ahead of the elevator carrying his father and Amanda, was now pacing frantically, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. 

Steven sat on a sofa in the corner next to a pretty young woman whom Mark did not know.  Both of them seemed worried, but they both also had that youthful confidence in the ultimate kindness of the world.  Mark hoped for their sakes and Emily's that life would not choose tonight to shatter that confidence. 

Charles Donovan had claimed a chair in the opposite corner where he sat clutching a rolled up newspaper.  He looked pale and ill and seemed to be trying to become invisible.

Jesse sat in one of a row of straight-backed chairs against the wall and pleaded with his eyes for Mark and Amanda to join him.  When they sat beside him, Jesse said in a low voice, "Things are getting really weird here."

Nodding, Mark said, "I can tell.  Do you know what's up?"

Jesse shrugged.  "Lauren got a hold of me a while ago.  Can I assume you read the paper?"

"Oh, yeah," Mark confirmed, "but Steve hasn't, and he's going to have a rough time when he does."

"Well, we'll all be here for him," Jesse assured his friend and mentor.  "Keith has seen it, but I don't think anyone else here has.  The girl next to Steven is CJ's girlfriend, or so she says.  You met her at Steve and Liv's . . . wedding.  You remember Jeffrey Geiger's little girl?"

Mark frowned, then nodded.  "Yes, I do.  So, that's her all grown up.  Alicia, right?  The one who's been publishing all that new vascular and heart research?"

"Yeah.  She hasn't said much, but I have heard through the grapevine from some of my mother's former colleagues that except for being an incredibly talented vascular surgeon, she is a total airhead."

"You watch what you say about my son's girlfriend," Amanda protested.

Jesse grinned, "Just wait until she starts talking.  You'll agree with me then."

"You said she hadn't said much yet."

"She didn't need to."

Amanda opened her mouth to reply, but closed it without a word when Alex walked in.  Liv was off the couch, across the room, and firing off questions before her disabled husband could even stand.

"How is she?  Where is she?  When can I see her?  What can you tell me about her injuries?"

"Stop it, Olivia," Alex said gently but firmly.  "I'll answer all your questions, but you have to let me talk."

"I . . . I know, Alex.  I'm sorry.  I've just been so worried."

"It's ok," Alex reassured her.  "Let's go sit.  CJ and Maribeth are getting Emily settled right now."

As Alex walked Liv back to her seat, Keith who had finally managed to get to his feet, plopped back down on the couch with a look of complete frustration.  Steven brought over a chair for the weary surgeon while everyone else drew closer to hear what he had to say.

"Ok," Liv said brightly, "tell me the good news first.  I need something good to hang on to."

Alex looked very worried and uncomfortable, then he smiled weakly, and said, "Well, she didn't code during surgery, and her condition now is stable."

Liv waited expectantly for several moments, then her smile faded, she grew very still, and frowned thoughtfully, "Oh," she said softly, "I see.  That is the good news."

"I wish I could say something more, Liv," Alex said, "but the simple fact that she survived the surgery was more then we expected."

Liv forced a smile and replied, "You don't know my daughter.  She's tough.  She'll make it."

Alex wasn't sure whether to be cheered or concerned by Liv's confidence.  On the one hand, she probably knew Emily as well as any doctor in the world and would be the best one to suggest a prognosis.  On the other hand, if she was wrong and her daughter did not recover, it would be devastating to have her hopes dashed.

"Alex, what else do I need to know?"

Alex took a deep breath and began the litany of Emily's injuries.  "She was struck with four ceramic polycarbonate bullets which shattered into almost two dozen sharp-edged fragments on impact.  The shards from three of those bullets pierced both lungs, her heart, stomach, and liver.  The fourth disintegrated inside her shoulder joint.  I would estimate that she lost at least half of her blood supply on the way to the hospital." 

Alex stopped talking then.  He felt a bit awkward about explaining anything more.  Liv was a doctor, and she knew exactly what complications could arise from Emmy's injuries.  Strangely, he realized that no one else in the room had said a word.  He wasn't sure if they were each trapped in their own horrible imaginings or if they were simply deferring to Olivia as the patient's mother, but he was grateful that he didn't have to field a lot of questions.  Finally, Liv broke the silence.

"Please, Alex, keep going.  I know what you're going to say, but I need you to say it, because I . . . I can't."

Alex nodded, and began talking again. 

"There is a possibility of brain damage due to the blood loss.  If she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain, . . . well, we won't be able to assess that unless . . . until she comes to.  CJ is concerned about the possibility of her throwing a blood clot, but I suppose you know the chance of that is always high with these sorts of injuries."  When Liv nodded, he continued.  "Gastric contents were leaking into her abdominal cavity, so she is on antibiotics to prevent peritonitis, and her liver was badly damaged so we will have to monitor its function for a while.  The next three days are going to be touch and go, Liv.  I honestly don't know how she held on as long as she did."

"Ok," Liv said, "she makes it through the next three days, and then what?"

Alex had to smile.  While he didn't expect Emily to live until dawn, if a mother's unflagging faith counted for anything, she was already well on the road to recovery.

"If she makes it through the next seventy two hours," Alex stressed the 'if' slightly because he felt he needed to make it clear how unlikely he thought that was, "we wait for her to wake up.  Then, if she wakes up," again he stressed the 'if', and felt bad when he saw Liv flinch, "we assess her for any possible brain damage and start her on physical therapy for her shoulder as soon as possible.  I'm not sure how bad that injury is; you'll have to talk to Maribeth, but there is a chance that, even if she recovers, she will never work as a cop again."

Olivia nodded and smiled as bravely as she could manage.  "Ok.  Thank you, Alex, for being honest.  When can we see her?"

Alex opened his mouth to answer, but Maribeth, who had just entered the room, replied.  "In about twenty minutes.  CJ is just briefing the ICU nurses.  Then he needs to sign off on her chart, and he will join us.  Liv, Keith, I'm so sorry."

As she had been talking, Maribeth had moved across the room to the worried parents, and, on her final words, she wrapped Olivia in a hug and said, "If there is anything I can do, just say so, ok?"

Liv gasped slightly, and trembled in Maribeth's embrace, fighting the tears that were never far off these days.  Nodding, but not trusting herself to speak, she stepped back and answered with a grateful smile.

Maribeth knew Olivia and Keith were anxious to hear what she had to say, but there was something she desperately needed to do first.  Turning to Steven, she caressed her son's cheek and gave him a quick kiss.

"Are you ok?"

Smiling, her beautiful boy said simply, "Yes, Mom."

Nodding, she turned to her husband.  He seemed particularly tense, even more so than was usual these days, and she knew he had realized, just as she had, that if not for Emily's incredibly selfless actions, he would be the one clinging to life by his fingernails.  She threw her arms around him and hugged him hard, thanking God she was able to do so, and suddenly she was fighting tears.  A moment later, as Steve's arms came up around her, she found her strength inside their circle, and knew she could hold on a little longer, for Liv and Keith's sake.

Stepping back from the hug, holding Steve's gaze for a moment, she let her hand slide down Steve's arm until she felt his fingers entwine with her own.  Then she turned to face the parents of the amazing young woman who had been willing to sacrifice herself to protect him.

"Now," Maribeth said kindly, smiling at Liv and Keith, "I have some more news for you."

"W-What now?" Olivia asked, dreading what she might hear despite the encouraging smile that came with the words.

"Well, when CJ and I settled Emily in ICU, we had to disconnect the ventilator for a bit.  You know the procedure."

Liv nodded.

"Well, she is already trying to breathe on her own.  She managed several normal breaths, but she's too weak to sustain respiration, so we had to put her back on the vent.  Still, if we can get her breathing on her own a little more every day . . ."

"She will recover faster," Liv finished, smiling brightly.  "That is good news, thank you, Maribeth."

"You're welcome," Maribeth replied, "Now, Alex is on duty until six a.m., and I will be on call until noon, so we have to get back to work, but CJ said he'd drop by and let you know when Emily is ready for visitors, and then I think he's going home."

"Ok, Maribeth, and thank you again."

"No need to thank me," she said.  Then, growing very serious, she added, "I know the two of you are very worried about Emily, and you should be, but don't forget to look after yourselves and each other, ok?"

Liv and Keith both nodded mutely and instinctively grasped hands.

Turning to Alex with a smile, Maribeth said, "Now, Dr. Martin, I think you are due in ER, and I have patients to attend.  Shall we go?"

The room descended into tense silence again as the two doctors left, but this time there was an undercurrent of hope.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," Alex said with a sigh when he and Maribeth were out of earshot of the people in the waiting room.

"Done what?"

"Given them false hope, that's what!"  Alex was suddenly irate.  Maribeth knew as well as anyone that Emily's chances of survival were somewhere between nil and zero, and yet she had told Keith and Liv that their injured daughter was 'trying to breathe on her own' when she knew full well that the reflexive action was merely a sign that the brainstem had not yet shut down.

Maribeth stopped and turned to him saying, "You know, Marilyn and I talked once about why you and she had decided not to have kids.  I understand your decision, Alex, but there are lessons the two of you never learned, because only parents ever get the chance to learn them."

Surprised by the sudden change of topic, Alex merely nodded.  Marilyn's older brother had died of complications associated with Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome when he was a teenager, so when she and Alex had gotten married, Marilyn had requested genetic testing, and was found positive for the genetic defects.  Since the condition was sex-linked, if they ever had a son, there was a fifty percent chance he would have the disorder, and the odds that a baby girl would be a carrier were also fifty-fifty.  Marilyn had had certain moral qualms with in-vitro fertilization for the purpose of choosing a baby's genetic characteristics, and all Alex had ever wanted was for his wife to be happy, so he never pushed the issue.  At one time, they had tried to adopt, but after their plans collapsed around them for the third time, they had decided to instead devote their time and energy to each other, their friends and their friends' children, and their pets.

Suddenly remembering their initial subject of conversation, he asked, "So, what lesson have I failed to learn here?"

Ignoring his question, Maribeth countered with another of her own.  "Alex, do you remember when I had that miscarriage a couple of years after Steven was born?"

Again confused, all he could do was answer.  "Yes, why?  What does that have to do with Liv and Keith?"

"Was there any way that baby could have had a normal life?"

"No, almost none.  You were not only exposed to rubella, you came down with it," Alex replied, as if the answer were obvious.  "It would have taken a miracle.  If that baby had survived, it would have been retarded and had terrible birth defects.  It probably would have suffered a while and died at a young age."

"I know, but Steve and I decided to give it a chance anyway.  Do you know why?"

Alex shook his head.  "No."

"Because we were hoping for a miracle."

Alex's expression of confusion slipped into one of thoughtful puzzlement, and now that Maribeth knew she had him thinking, she continued.

"Parents live on hope as much as they do food and water, Alex.  From the moment they know they are pregnant, they begin to hope for things.  Moms hope for an easy pregnancy.  Dads hope they can get to the hospital in time for the delivery.  We hope for happy, healthy babies who sleep through the night at an early age," she said with a smile.  "We hope for good teachers and safe schools.  We hope that our children will be polite and kind, well liked and successful, and that they will stay away from drugs and keep out of trouble.  We hope for so many things, Alex, and at times like these, we hope for miracles."

"But Maribeth . . . "

"Shhh," she hushed him, tears in her eyes, "they know she probably won't make it through the night, but until she's gone, they have to hold on to that slim hope.  It's the only thing left that they can do for her.  Do you understand?"

Alex looked at Maribeth for a moment, and could tell she was thinking about Steve and how different her world would be right now if Emily had not protected him.  Then he thought about Marilyn.  If she were the one in ICU, he wouldn't want anybody telling him how bad the odds were against her, and finally he understood.

Nodding, he said, "I hope she makes it too, Maribeth.  I really do."

Maribeth smiled.  "I know that, Alex, but you are her doctor, and you know the facts.  So do Keith and Liv, but because they're her parents, they don't have to face the truth until it happens."

"Ok, I think I understand," Alex conceded, and with that, they headed off to their duties.

By eleven that night, the crowd waiting for more news on Emily had diminished to five.  After Maribeth and Alex had gone back to work, Jesse headed home.  Once Steven had called Ron on the secure cell phone, Steve had left with Officer Donovan to question Leigh Ann at the precinct.  Amanda had ostensibly gone off to finish an autopsy, but Mark knew she was really planning to tell Maribeth about the article in the Times because he had asked her to do so.

As he spoke quietly to Alicia, Mark surveyed the room.  Steven was now sitting in his own private world, staring blindly at a magazine he was too tired and worried to read.  Liv and Keith had given up all pretense of unity, and were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, facing away from each other, sulking and worrying by themselves.  And as for Alicia, well, Mark thought Jesse would do well to speak to the girl for himself before listening to gossip from the medical community.  Mark had found her an intelligent and well-informed conversation companion, and smiling as he listened to her go on about something she had learned surfing the net, he realized that in some ways, she reminded him very much of a certain naïve and enthusiastic young medical student he had met almost forty years ago.

" . . . and I don't care what anyone says, Dr. Sloan.  Our government has admitted to conducting research in which disadvantaged patients were allowed to die of such easily cured diseases as syphilis.  They have admitted to using LSD on our own soldiers and to dumping viruses into the jet-stream to see where they would go in case of biological warfare.  They also knew the truth about the Gulf War Syndrome for years before they started doing anything to help the victims.  If they would admit to such horrible, unconscionable, pseudo-scientific atrocities, what do you think they're hiding at Area 51?  CJ!"

For a moment, Mark was profoundly confused, but as he watched the young woman run to embrace his godson, he realized she was simply greeting him and not suggesting that some mysterious men with evil intent were hiding him in the desert.  CJ slipped his arm comfortably around Alicia's waist and came further into the room as Keith and Liv rose to meet him.  Steven helped Mark to his feet, and they, too, moved forward to hear the most recent news.

To Mark's practiced eye, the young doctor looked tired, and he wasn't surprised when CJ started briefing them on Emily's condition without preamble.

"She is in very bad shape," CJ said, "and I really don't know when, or even if she will wake up.  As long as there is hope, we will do everything possible to help her, but I think you may need to prepare yourselves for the worst.  I'm sorry."

"No."  Keith said, "No!  Maribeth said she was trying to breathe.  That has to be good."

"Mr. Stephens, that could have just been reflex.  She . . . "

"No, dammit.  She's going to be all right.  She has to."

"Keith," Olivia put a hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

"I said no!  She will be ok, O!"

Olivia folded her arms and turned slightly away from him.  "All right, Keith."

Smiling desperately, he turned back to CJ and asked, "When can we see her?"

CJ smiled back, and tried to be encouraging.  "Right now.  Uncle Mark, Steven, Alicia, you can have five minutes, no more, and after that, you can only go in two at a time.  Keith and Liv, you can sit with her as long as you want, but if anything happens, even a blink, you call the nurse and have her page Alex, or Maribeth.  Tomorrow, you can page Jesse or me, ok?"

The worried parents nodded.

"All right, then.  CJ checked his watch.  It's eleven thirty.  I've been on duty since one.  I'm going home now, but I will see all of you tomorrow.  Alicia, I will call in at the hotel around nine to meet you for breakfast if you like."

She smiled and nodded, "Ok, I'll look forward to it."

Mark declined to go into the ICU room.  He had never met Emily, and was concerned that she might be disturbed by a stranger's presence in the room.  Privately, he also thought it would be a good time to go see Amanda and find out how Maribeth was taking the news of the Times article.  Asking Steven to find him in the path lab before he left the hospital, Mark said his goodbyes, gave Liv and Keith his best wishes for Emily, and headed downstairs.

"Why did you do it, Leigh Ann?" Steve asked from across the room.  Donovan was there as a witness to the questioning and to run the tape recorder, and Steve again found himself strangely grateful for the young man's steady presence.  The freckle faced, redheaded rookie had been a reassuring constant throughout the difficult day and the surreal evening.

"I hate you," she hissed, glaring up at her former boss. 

Steve never would have gotten as far as he had in the LAPD if he had been easily frightened, but the venom in her words sent chills down his spine.  He paced a moment, trying to appear cool and trying to make the goose bumps go away.  As casually as he could, he asked her, "Why?"

Her smile was that of a snarling animal.  "If you don't understand, there's no point explaining."

Trying to hide a gasp of surprise as he saw the insanity light her eyes, Steve wondered precisely when she had gone mad.  Maybe she always has been this way, and you just never noticed.  "Try me," he said. 

"Ross Cainin was my father," Leigh Ann spat at him as if that was all the explanation he should need.

"I know that," Steve replied.  "But why did you try to kill me?"

Leigh Ann started to chuckle.  "I meant to kill you.  That's right, but I think it worked out better this way.  You took my daddy away from me, and I took your daughter away from you.  That is a fair trade." 

"I don't have a daughter," he said.  There is no way she could know about what I said in the hospital.  She was in custody before we left the courthouse, wasn't she?

"Yes, you do," Leigh Ann insisted in a childish tone, "the blood test was inconclusive, but you know she's yours, and you still let her sleep with your son.  That is sick.  I wonder what your wife will say?" 

"Blood test?" Steve croaked, dreading what she might say next.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Chief," she used the tone of a patient parent speaking to a dense child.  "I know you found the tapes at Mr. Gorini's place." 

"Tapes?"  The chill Steve had felt when they started talking had moved deep within him when he saw Donovan blanch.  Leigh Ann seemed to have the upper hand somehow, even though she sat before him, alone because she had refused a lawyer, and in full restraints because she had tried to assassinate him.

"Yes, two of everything, remember?  Oh, except, of course, for that one where you are asking Dr. Bentley to run a paternity test for you, comparing your DNA to that of Lieutenant Stephens." 

Steve's stomach gave a sickening twist as he remembered the bug Ron had found in Amanda's lab.  At the time, they had no idea whose it was, and he had never looked into the full catalog of tapes found at Gorini's apartment.

A lunatic smile brightened Leigh Ann's face as she rambled on, oblivious of her former employer's growing distress.  "By the time that bastard bitch of yours is cold in the ground, you will have lost everything you ever gave a damn about, Chief.  Your wife will leave you; your son will hate you.  Your father and friends will be ashamed of you, your reputation will be in ashes, and you will probably lose your job because you covered for a dirty cop.  Maybe you could salvage some dignity by claiming old age clouded your judgment, but that would only prove you're an old fool clinging to a younger man's job, too vain and proud to admit you are well past your prime.  Everything that matters will be stripped away from you."  Sounding very satisfied, she concluded,  "I think that's a fair trade for my father and my lover."

Leigh Ann began to chuckle again, a deep, throaty, demented sound, and though he was not a superstitious man, Steve knew it wouldn't take much to convince him that she had demons in her.

Keith entered the ICU aware that he was clutching his wife's hand like a frightened child.  He was limping heavily from the stress related pain in his prosthetic legs, but he didn't need her support to walk, he was just terrified to see what condition his daughter was in.

"O, there are so many tubes.  Why are there so many tubes?"

"She has a lot of incisions.  They're to drain off the fluids that accumulate in the surgical wounds to let them heal faster."

"What about the ones going into her?"

Olivia looked at the various bags hanging from the IV pole.  "Blood, fluids and nutrients, antibiotics.  She needs them all to stay alive."

"Oh."  After a moment, Keith added, "She looks blue."

"She's so pale because she lost so much blood.  Her color will improve as her blood supply replenishes."

Keith nodded, then closed his eyes against the tears.  "I-I'm sorry," he choked out on a strangled sob.  Then he let go of his wife's hand, turned away, and limped out of the room.

Olivia watched him in surprise for a moment, then, deciding her daughter needed her more than her husband, she pulled up a chair and sat at her bedside.  As she sat there, holding and stroking Emily's cold hand, she watched as Steven and Alicia did what they could to reassure themselves that Emmy was still there and to encourage her to come back to them.

"Em, I want you to listen to me."  The young man's voice trembled, and Olivia placed her free hand on his shoulder for a moment so he could draw strength.  "Em, CJ is only allowing me five minutes to visit right now because he thinks you are so ill.  I need you to convince him you're gonna be ok so I can stay longer.  I've . . . missed you," this time his voice cracked, "and I don't want to be away from you any longer.  Please," he begged, "get better quick."

Steven kissed Emily on the forehead, then, and stood slightly off to the side so Alicia could get closer.

"Oh, Emmy," Alicia said in a childish tone that made Liv smile because she knew it would grate on Emily's nerves, "After all these years, trouble still comes looking for you, doesn't it?"  She brushed some hair off Emily's face and said, "Well, you're safe here, girlfriend, and you have a sexy man waiting for you.  Don't keep him waiting too long.  Don't keep any of us waiting.  We all need you."

By eleven forty-five, Alicia gave her friend a kiss on the cheek and, taking Steven's hand, she quietly left Olivia alone in the room with her daughter.

"Cioffi?  What the hell are you doing here?" Chief Sloan demanded as he stalked through the squad room on the way to the elevator up to his office.  Charles Donovan hurried to keep up, and 'Fredo Cioffi automatically fell in stride beside his friend when the Chief continued walking as he spoke.

"Agent Wagner sent me home, Chief.  He's going to arrange twelve-hour shifts, and I'm not due back until noon, sir."

"Then you should be home, asleep," the Chief said.

"Yes, sir, I just thought I should check in here, first.  How is the lieutenant, sir?"

"Alive.  I want you and Donovan in my office now."

"Yes, sir," both men replied, though they were already almost there.

"Emily," Liv said softly, "Emmmmilyyyy.  Listen to me, baby.  We're all real worried about you, and we really need to know you're still with us.  I know you're tired, and I know you hurt, but could you just do something to let me know you're there?"

Liv thought she felt an increase in the pressure on her hand.

"Oh, God, sweetie!" she whispered, "Do that again, so I'm sure I'm not mistaken."

This time the squeeze was stronger.  Emily's eyes popped open, and two tears slipped toward her ears.

"Now, can you stay awake just long enough for one of your doctors to check you?"  Olivia pressed the buzzer and soon heard the nurses paging Alex and Maribeth.

Em squeezed again, and her free hand flailed about in the air.  Gently pressing the hand back to the mattress, Liv said, "Mr. Moretti is all right, and the Chief is fine.  I'm so proud of you, and I love you so much."

Emily nodded slightly, then she squeezed her mother's hand hard and writhed in obvious pain.  Her eyes rolled up in her head, and then she went limp.  Over the wailing alarms, Liv heard the nurses paging Maribeth and Alex again.

"Dad," Maribeth pleaded as she slumped in a chair beside Amanda's desk in the path lab, "I'm too tired to read the paper now.  Can't it wait until morning?"

"I wish it could, Maribeth," Mark said. 

As Amanda called up the e-edition of the times, Maribeth put her head down on the desk and pretended to snore.  "Too late," she said, her words muffled because her head was buried in her arms, "I'm already asleep."

Doctors Maribeth Sloan and Alex Martin to ICU.  Doctors Sloan and Martin to ICU.

As Maribeth got up to go, Mark sighed deeply.  She smiled, and said, "Saved by the bell.  I promise I'll read it when I get home."

Doctors Maribeth Sloan and Alex Martin to ICU CODE BLUE!  Doctors Sloan and Martin to ICU CODE BLUE!

As his daughter-in-law sprinted off to her patient, Mark looked after her and said to himself, "By then, it may be too late."

"Just for your information, gentlemen," Steve lectured the frightened young cops after getting to the bottom of the mystery of the missing tape, "I have done things I am ashamed of in my life, but I have never, ever, done anything I had to hide from, and I certainly do not need a couple of rookies protecting me.  Do. You. Understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Cioffi and Donovan replied in unison.  Then Cioffi spoke up.

"Sir, with all due respect, sir, Charles . . . "

Steve cleared his throat.

"I mean, Officer Donovan may have hidden the tape, but I was the one who found it, and I should have stopped him."

"You're right, Officer, and that is why I am suspending you, too."

"Sir," Donovan broke in, "I was the one who hid the tape . . ."

"I don't care!!!" Steve roared, then tightly continued, "Cioffi heard it too, and should have brought it to my attention when it was not on the inventory.  Now get me that damned cassette, clean out your lockers, and go the hell home.  You are both suspended without pay until further notice.  I want you to stay away from Moretti, stay away from this department, stay away from Lieutenant Stephens, and stay the hell away from me until Internal Affairs says you're clear to go back to work.  Officer Cioffi, I will contact Agent Wagner and let him know you will not be able to protect Moretti as planned."

"But Chief," Cioffi replied, horrified, "my dad is there!"

"I know, officer, and as a father myself, I know how disappointed he will be.  Perhaps next time, if there is a next time, you will consider that before you conceal evidence.  You are dismissed."

Donovan turned and started to walk out, but when he realized that 'Fredo was still standing before the Chief's desk, devastated more by the fact that his father would find out what he'd been a party to than by the fact that the Chief had found out, he went back and, taking him by the elbow guided him out of the office.

"She squeezed my hand and opened her eyes," Liv spoke over the alarms as she stepped away from the bed to let Maribeth and Alex examine her.  "She was crying, and then it seemed like she suffered some sort of acute, severe pain.  She squirmed a bit, like she was frightened, and then she coded."

"I'm getting way too much blood from these drains," Maribeth said as they worked to stabilize Emily.  They had shocked her back to the world of the living, but her heartbeat was still erratic and her blood pressure was still plummeting.

"Do you think the squirming around could have torn something open inside of her, Liv?"

"Maybe, but there was something else wrong before that.  The pain precipitated the movement, not the other way round."  Liv was working in doctor mode at the moment, and there was nothing in her of the frantic parent.

"Ok," Alex said tensely as they prepared Emily for transport back to the OR, "we must have missed something.  With the rapid pulse and dropping BP, it must be internal bleeding.  Nurse, have Dr. Livingston-Wagner paged to the OR for me."

"No!"  Maribeth snapped, "He went home."

"Well, then, do we have a vascular surgeon on call?"

"Not on Mondays."  At his questioning look, Maribeth elaborated while she hooked up the portable ventilator, "As far as I know, I am the only one on the surgical service on call tonight.  Monday nights are usually slow because everyone is too tired from starting a new work week to get into much trouble that would require our services."

Alex gave her a look that was a combination of disgust and frustration.  Between budget cuts and a dearth of qualified doctors, Community General had been experiencing staff shortages for several years.  More than once he'd found himself wondering if a patient he'd lost would have survived had there been a specialist available immediately.  He always came to the same conclusion--that he'd done everything he could and the patient's death wasn't his fault, but somehow, he knew, 'It wasn't my fault,' would ring especially hollow this time.

Sparing a glance from her daughter to the three worried faces peering in the window from the hall, Liv said, "Alex, Alicia's still here."

"Alicia?" Alex grunted as he helped transfer Emily to a gurney to transport her to the OR.

"Birch-Geiger.  From Chicago Hope?"

"I don't know, Liv, she doesn't have admitting privileges here, and I heard she was kind of . . . flaky."

"I don't care if she's a snowdrift, Alex," Liv said, standing aside to let the gurney pass.  "She's the best damned vascular surgeon in the country and she's here, now, when we need her.  I'll sign any waivers you want, but please, let her help Emily."

There was no mistaking the pleading in Liv's voice, and as he helped push the gurney out the door, Alex said, "Come scrub up, Dr. Geiger, you're needed in the OR."  He knew he'd be called to answer to the board for his actions in this case, but he really didn't care.  He just hoped breaking the rules would give Emily a better chance of survival.

Steve sighed.  It had been a long day, and he was tired, but before he could go home, he'd had to call Ron and tell him about 'Fredo Cioffi's suspension.  Ron wasn't happy at all with the situation, but promising him that Cheryl would remain on Moretti's guard detail had placated him somewhat.  Looking at the clock, Steve realized it was just past midnight.  Suddenly feeling bone tired, he decided to stay home tomorrow.  Though I guess it's today now.  He smiled, knowing his wife would be pleased.

As he placed the secure cell phone in his briefcase alongside some folders, Steve reflected for a moment on his conversation with Leigh Ann.  It had been like a lunatic's game of cat and mouse.  For some reason, Steve got the distinct impression that even though she had been the one who was trapped, he had been the mouse.  He couldn't say exactly why, but he had the horrible feeling things were spiraling further out of his control by the minute.  He tried to shake off a chill, but it just wouldn't go away, nor would the dreadful thought that the situation would get much worse before it got any better.  When the phone rang, his stomach lurched, and he muttered to himself, 'Now what?'

"Sloan here," Steve answered his phone grumpily.  "Oh, man . . . Why? . . . I see.  Amanda, what do you think her chances are? . . . Oh . . . Umm, Amanda?"  Steve swallowed hard.  "What do you think I should do?"

Amanda could hear the pain in Steve's voice.  Though he still had no conclusive proof, he was so sure Emily was his daughter, and Amanda could tell he wanted to be there for her.  It didn't matter to him that she didn't know what he was to her, he just wanted the chance to say goodbye if he should lose her or the chance to offer her some support should she survive her injuries.

"I think if you want to be here, you should come," Amanda told him.  "Go to the waiting room.  Ask Liv and Keith if you can sit with them.  If they say no, come to the lab and you can sit with me until we have word."

"O-ok," Steve said.  "I'll do that.  Thanks, Amanda."

"It's gotta be her kidneys," Alicia said.

"Can't be," Maribeth disagreed, suctioning away more blood.  "All of the bullet fragments are accounted for, and none of them penetrated that low in the abdomen."

Alicia took a deep breath and continued working.  She often had trouble getting people to take her seriously and she knew it was because she didn't know much about the world, but dammit, she had proven time and again that she knew about medicine.  Why did she always have to fight this same battle?

"Look," she said as patiently as she could, while she probed deeper into her friend's body, "if it were the heart, aorta, or vena cava, she would already be dead.  If it were the lungs, there would probably be air bubbles.  If it were the stomach or intestines, we would smell it, and if it were the liver, well, by the time she coded, she would have been out of OR long enough to be jaundiced.  What else could possibly bleed this much?"

Maribeth was silent a moment, then she conceded, "Kidneys."

"So, what do we do?" Alex asked.  "Close her up and turn her over?"

"No time," Alicia said, knowing Emily's vitals were slipping by the second.  "We move things aside and press on from here."

For several minutes, the three surgeons worked in virtual silence, suctioning off blood, moving aside bowels and other organs, and struggling to create a space where they could assess Emily's injuries and repair them.  Suddenly, the three of them gasped in unison, and after a beat, Alicia said, "What in the hell happened here?"  She knew no answer was forthcoming, and did not wait for one, instead holding out her hand and requesting a vascular clamp.

"So, I was hoping, if you wouldn't mind, I could stay here until you got word on how she was doing."  Steve looked down at his hands.  The were shaking, and so was his voice, and so were his knees, and he was sure if Liv and Keith sent him away he would collapse or cry before he got out of the room.

When neither Keith nor Steven replied, Liv smiled slightly, grateful that Steve hadn't said anything about Emily being his daughter.  That was something she just couldn't deal with yet.  It was too much to explain, and she simply wasn't up to it.

"It will be a while yet," Liv said as she headed over to the coffeemaker.  "Do you want regular or decaf?"  As she poured the coffee, Liv watched Keith limp out of the room and shook her head.  Whatever was eating him, he would have to work it out on his own.  She was barely holding herself together as it was.

"Al," Ron said to his colleague when Moretti headed off to the bedroom, "I have news from Chief Sloan for you.  I don't think you're going to like it . . . "

"Look, 'Fredo," Charles Donovan said placing a hand on his friend's arm, "I'm sorry, but it will be ok, really."  They were just leaving the precinct after having cleared out their lockers and turned in their guns and badges.

'Fredo shook himself free of Donovan's grasp and turned to face him.  "You just don't get it, do you?  Sloan is your hero, and there isn't anything you wouldn't do to protect him, is there?"

"He's a great cop," Charles said, standing straighter and puffing out his chest defiantly.  "That tape had nothing to do with any current investigation."

"So you hid it to protect him, is that it?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Charles, you're an idiot," young Cioffi said as he crossed the parking lot to his car, Donovan walking beside him, "and I should have made you turn the tape in the day we found it.  I like the Chief.  He's a good guy and a great cop, but my dad is my hero.  He never knew his own father, but he learned how to be a damned good one for me.  Now, when he finds out about this, he's going to be ashamed and disappointed."

"He'll get over it . . . "

"That's not the point!"  When Charles looked at him in confusion, 'Fredo just shook his head and said, "Aww, I'm goin' home."

"Ok.  I'll call you tomorrow."

"Don't bother.  I don't want to talk to you."

'Fredo got in his car and drove off, leaving Donovan to wonder what he had done that was so awful.

Liv sat curled up on the corner of the couch in a daze, Steve's jacket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill.  This had to be the longest night of her life.  Keith had disappeared on her again, Steven had finally succumbed to the need for sleep and was dozing in the recliner in the corner of the room, and she and Steve hadn't said two words to each other since she had poured him a cup of coffee when he asked permission to wait with them for word on Em's condition.  Now, all she could think about was wanting one more chance to tell Emmy how much she loved her, and slowly, two tears slipped down her face.

"Liv?" Steve said, and came to sit beside her.

She dabbed at the tears and shook her head.  "I'm ok, Steve, just thinking."

"About?"

Liv wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock.  "About Emily.  She and I have always had a . . . painful . . . relationship from the day she was born.  We both nearly died then.  It has never been easy or good between us.  I just wanted her to know that no matter how bad things got, I never, not even for a moment, ever stopped loving her."

The rocking alarmed Steve, but he was encouraged that Liv was talking about her troubles.  As long as she was talking, she couldn't slip off inside herself like she had the night of the sting when Emily and Moretti had delivered six mobsters, including Joey Russo, who had taken them straight to Roger Gorini's tapes.  Suppressing a shudder of his own as he thought about the tape Donovan had hidden to protect him, Steve said as cheerfully as he could, "Well, Liv, all you have to do is tell her so."

"I know, Steve.  That's all I ever had to do, but I didn't, and now I may never have the chance!"  Liv wasn't crying really, but she was still rocking, and her tears were falling faster than before.

Steve slipped an arm around her shoulders and stilled the rocking.  Hugging her close to his side, he shushed and soothed her and pressed a kiss to her hair, and for a long time they just sat close together, holding on and gaining strength from one another.  Neither of them saw Keith when he stopped by and looked in the door, shook his head in disgust and limped away.

Alicia sighed as she looked in on her childhood friend in ICU.  She had been elected to give Keith and Liv the details of Emily's condition this time, and she knew exactly why.  Alex and Maribeth had both been embarrassed about missing Emily's damaged kidney, Maribeth even more so than Alex because she had been the one assigned to repair the damage in Emily's abdomen and had then doubted Alicia's diagnosis when Emily was rushed back into surgery.  Alicia had tried to placate them both, reminding them that they were looking for injuries caused by bullets and not blunt force trauma, but neither of them would accept the excuses she made for them.  When you got right down to it, they had missed a serious injury, and it had nearly cost Emily her life.

Sighing again, Alicia headed to the women's locker room to change into clean scrubs.  She didn't want Olivia to see her covered in Emily's blood.

"I can't believe he did that," Al Cioffi said, shocked.

"Well, he did," Ron said, "and he admitted as much to Chief Sloan."

Pacing agitatedly, Al rambled, "You know, I have been a cop since before he was born.  I've had to make tough decisions, and I've suffered for them, but I have never, ever broken regulations.  He knows better."

"You never once broke any regs?" Ron asked, doubtfully.

"Never."

"Never stretched the interpretation of probable cause to validate a search on someone you knew was guilty?  Never fixed a ticket for your wife when the kids were small and she double parked because she just needed to pop into a store to pick up one or two items and couldn't find a decent parking spot?  Never let someone get by without using their lights on a rainy day because you didn't want to get out and get wet?  Never maybe used slightly more force than necessary to subdue a resisting suspect because he was such a disgusting excuse for a human being that you wanted to kick the crap out of him and knew you'd never get away with that?"

Cioffi stopped his pacing and frowned, shamefaced, knowing he'd been caught in a lie he hadn't realized he was telling.  Finally, lamely, he said, "No one enforces the headlights law.  It's only a twenty-five-dollar fine, and not worth the risk of making a stop or the hassle of getting wet."

"But you still know better, don't you?"

Al just nodded.

"Look, from what Steve tells me, it sounds like 'Fredo and Donovan did the wrong thing for the right reason," Ron tried to reassure the upset father.  "They'll both get reprimanded and remain on their probationary period a while longer, but they'll be ok."

"They still shouldn't have done it."

"Maybe not, Al, but listen.  I know you, and I know you raised your boy right.  Donovan seems like a good kid, too, and I doubt that either of them would have done this if it had been a criminal matter."

Al gave a resigned sigh, and then grumbled, "I suppose you're right, but when I get through with that boy, he's gonna wonder why people worry about Internal Affairs."

In the other room, Moretti, who had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation, had to grin when he heard Agent Wagner chuckle.  Somehow, he knew his son was only half exaggerating.

"Alicia!  How is she?"  Liv, who by three in the morning had finally relaxed a little as she sat beside Steve, was instantly alert again.  Her exclamation had woken Steven and now both of them and Steve were pelting the young woman with questions.

"What was wrong?"

"Why'd she crash?"

"Will she be ok?"

"Can we see her?"

Taking Olivia gently by the elbow and leaving the men to follow, Alicia led the worried mother over to the couch.  "Let's have a seat.  Keith will be in shortly.  I saw him coming down the hall as I was entering the lounge.  Emily's still holding her own, but obviously, she's a little worse for wear now."

"Alicia," Keith said, entering the lounge, "how's my daughter?"

Indicating an empty spot on the couch beside Olivia, Alicia said, "Come sit down, and I will explain everything."

As Keith joined his wife on the couch, Alicia noted that they did not hold hands or touch.  In fact, Liv moved slightly away from him and closer to Steve.  Alicia didn't say anything about the behavior, but couldn't avoid raising an eyebrow at her aunt and wondered whether anyone else had commented.

"The reason Emily crashed really had very little to do with her gunshot wounds," Alicia explained.

"What?  What's wrong then?" Keith demanded.  "Why'd she crash again if not because of that?"

"Well," Alicia said patiently, "apparently at some point in the past few days, maybe a week, or even a little more, Emily's right kidney was bruised by a severe blow to the back.  She should have been on complete bed rest and monitored her fluid intake and output, but for whatever reason, she ignored the pain she must have been suffering and kept on going."

"Wouldn't there have been blood in her urine?" Steve asked.  "I know they put in a catheter after any major surgical procedure, at least until they are certain you can get yourself to the bathroom."

"Yes, sir, ordinarily you would see blood in the urine with an injury like this, but in Emily's case, the ureter was also damaged, or at least the surrounding tissue was, and I think it was swollen shut."  Alicia continued to explain, "I don't think she had any urine at all emptying from her right kidney, so there was no bloody urine for her to see."

"So she didn't know she was hurt, did she?" Steve asked. 

"Oh, she knew, Dad," Steven interjected, "but knowing her, she just wrote it off as a sore back.  She's too tough and stubborn for her own good."

"I would have to agree with Steven on both counts," Alicia said.  "Because she kept active, blood kept leaking from the damaged vessels.  The renal capsule swelled to accommodate it and the urine it couldn't expel.  Then, during and after surgery, she spent the next six or so hours completely still and flat on her back, and the leaking capillaries were finally able to clot and stop the bleeding."

Olivia looked horrified, because she knew what had happened next.  "As her blood pressure came up after the surgery, the damaged blood vessels were like a system of old pipes when a major leak is fixed.  All of a sudden, a lot of other pipes spring leaks because they can't handle the restored pressure."

"Exactly," Alicia confirmed.  "The kidney filled with blood, a damaged spot on the renal capsule ruptured, and her abdominal cavity started filling with blood and urine."

"So," Olivia said, sounding defeated for the first time, "what's her prognosis now?"

Smiling, Alicia said, "Surprisingly, no worse than it was five hours ago.  Our three biggest worries are still peritonitis, blood clots, and brain damage.  We're still giving her the same fluids and antibiotics, and all we can do is wait."

Looking at the four worried people in front of her, she said, "Steven, Chief, I need to talk to Liv and Keith about another matter.  Why don't the two of you go on in and see Emily?  You can have five minutes, and that's it."

Obviously puzzled, the two Sloan men looked at each other and then at Alicia, and knowing better than to argue, they thanked her, said their goodbyes, and left.

"Now," Alicia said, turning to her old friends, "I don't know what's up with you two, but you have to straighten it out before I let you in to see Em.  She'll sense that something is wrong between you, and that will upset her.  Her condition is fragile enough that she might not be able to survive that."

Keith and Liv looked at each other sullenly as Alicia stood up and said, "I'll close the door on my way out and give you two some privacy."

"My God, Dad," Maribeth said as she held the paper in trembling hands, "this will kill him."  She had stopped in the path lab to see if anyone was still about, and had been surprised to find her father-in-law still waiting for her to come back and read the paper.  What she read had broken her heart.

"I know he will be hurt, sweetie, but with all of us there to be strong for him and to support him, he'll get through this."

"But, Dad, they question everything he's done."

"I know that, Maribeth, but that doesn't matter.  Do you question any of it?"

Wide eyed and sincere, she shook her head, "No, Dad.  He's my husband and I love him.  I know what kind of man he is, and I know he only ever wanted to do the right thing.  The fact that everything went wrong and that everything he did was misconstrued doesn't change that.  He's . . . he's my husband."

Mark gave a satisfied smile, knowing his daughter-in-law's support was essential to getting Steve through this disaster.

Maribeth sighed and stretched as she got up from Amanda's desk.  She had read the Times article twice, and the thought of what it would do to Steve brought her to tears, and then, to have Amanda tell her he had suspected Emily was his daughter since they'd got back from Maui, well, that that was something she could deal with later.  First, she had to make sure Steve was all right.

Smiling weakly, she said, "I guess I ought to go find my husband."

Nodding, Amanda said, "Last I heard, he was in the waiting room with Liv, Keith, and Steven.  Maybe by now he has gone in to see Emily."

"Thanks, Amanda," she gave her friend a hug, "for taking care of him.  Dad?"  She turned to Mark.  "How are you getting home?"

"Steven's going to come down here to get me.  I figure I will fill him in on the way home."

"Ok, that sounds good to me.  Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"He's likely to worry about how I am taking all this, too.  Tell him I'm all right, that I have read the paper, and that I said he shouldn't worry about me.  I just want to be sure his dad is ok."

"All right, Maribeth, I'll do that."

She moved over and gave Mark a hug and said, "Thanks, Dad, for always looking out for all of us.  I will help you look after Steve."

"I know, Sweetie.  Now you go on and find your husband.  He's gonna need you."

"Right, Dad.  See you later."

As she walked out, Mark had the terrible feeling that the next few days were only going to get worse for his friends and family, and especially his son, and he wondered if Maribeth's unquestioning faith and belief in him would be enough to get Steve through what was to come. 

"She looks so frail, Dad."

"I know, Son," Steve reassured the young man as they both stared through the window before going into Emily's room, "but if she's as much like her mother on the inside as she is on the outside, she's a fighter.  She'll get through this."

Steven smiled slightly and said, "I've been talking to Liv all night, and I get the impression that they are just alike."

Steve snorted with laughter, "Yeah, in all the wrong ways.  I'll bet they drive each other nuts."

Steven had to chuckle then, "Why do you think she moved to California?"

The two men shared a hearty, genuine laugh, then Steve suddenly became very serious.  "I mean it, though, Son.  I can't say how I know, but I really do believe she'll make it."  He put his arm around the younger man's shoulders and gave a squeeze, though it was a stretch for him because Steven was so much taller.

For a moment, Steven leaned into his father's embrace.  "Thanks, Dad."

"Now, she doesn't know me all that well, so I am not going in," Steve said.  "I think I am going to go back to the precinct for a while.  I need to contact Cheryl and Dion and a friend of mine in Internal Affairs, and then I'll go home and sleep for a week."

"Dad, are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Son, why?"

"I think you just admitted that you need some rest."

Steve smiled and said, "Shhhhh, don't tell your mother."  He didn't want to admit how much this whole fiasco had affected him yet.  Emily was quite enough for everyone to worry about, but in a few days, when they knew if she was going to recover, he would have to sit down with Liv, Keith, Maribeth, and Steven and clear the air.

Steven chuckled and waved his dad off before he again grew serious and headed in to see his ailing girlfriend.

"Em, I don't know what to say," Steven began when he finally stood beside his lover.  "I don't want to lose you, sweetheart.  I need you too much."  Gently he reached out and stroked her brow.  There was no response, and even though he hadn't expected one, he was still disappointed.

"My dad promises me you're tougher than you look.  He says if you're anything like your mom, you'll get through this.  I don't know how tough she is, Em, but I know she needs you back, too."

He smiled softly, and said, "We were talking earlier about when you and she used to go picking berries together.  I know how much you treasure those memories, and I told her how happy those times were for you."

"She's quite a lady, your mother," Steven said with admiration.  "Now, I know why you're so wonderful, and I think my dad's right."  With forced relief, trying to make himself, and, if she could hear him, Emily, believe it, he said, "You're going to be ok, Em.  You rest now, and in a couple days, when you're feeling stronger, come back to us and show Alex, Maribeth, and CJ how strong you are.  Surprise them, sweetie.  Surprise us all."

He heard someone clear her throat behind him then, and turned to see his mother standing in the door.  "Hey, Son," Maribeth said softly as she pretended not to see the tears her son scrubbed away from his eyes.  "You doing ok?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine.  Just trying to convince Em to work one more amazing feat and come around for us so we will know she's all right."  He glanced at his watch and saw his allotted time had lapsed.  Leaning over, he kissed Emily on the forehead and whispered, "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart, and I will expect you to be the same difficult patient who insisted I stitch up her hand at home before this whole mess started, ok?"

Of course, he got no response, and was again disappointed, even though he hadn't been expecting anything from her.

As Steven stepped out in the hall, Maribeth asked him, "Where's your dad?"

"You just missed him, Mom.  He went back to the precinct.  He has some business to take care of, and then he's going to take some time off, I think."  Steven grinned then, "If you are quick and clever, you might even talk him into a vacation before he knows what's happening."

Maribeth smiled.  "That might be nice."  Then she became serious again.  "Now, I want you to listen to me, Son.  Your granddad is still waiting for you in the path lab.  He's got some news for you and it isn't good."

Steven looked very worried, but Maribeth just kept talking.  "I asked him to also tell you that I am ok.  I really am, but Gramps and I are gonna need your help."

"Mom?  What is it?"

"Just go see your granddad, Son, he'll explain everything.  I'm on call until noon, but I'll be home as soon as I can.  For now, just do what Gramps tells you, ok?"

"O-Ok, Mom.  You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Son.  Like I said, I just need your help with something.  Your granddad will tell you all about it."

With Steve still out of reach, except for by phone, and Maribeth really didn't want to discuss things with him over the phone, she decided to find Liv and Keith.  At least they could refute one part of the story as a bald-faced lie, she hoped.

"Well?"  Olivia said as the door closed behind Alicia.  It was heavy oak, with a thick glass window.  The lounge used to be an office, she thought, but the door was thick enough that though people might see them arguing, they would have to listen intently to overhear what was said.

"Well what?" Keith asked, annoyed.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"About what?"

"Keith," Liv said, softening her tone, "I can tell there's something wrong.  Won't you please talk to me?"

"Talk to you," he said, "as in tell you what's bothering me."

"Yes."

"Ok.  Why have you been tinkering with my prosthetics ever since we got married?"

Liv's face was a picture of confusion.  She tried three times to respond, but kept getting stuck on words like, 'what,' 'why,' and 'because.'  Before she could get anything out, Keith interrupted.

"You saved Sloan's legs when he was shot.  You couldn't do that for me."

"Keith, I . . . the technology . . . the medicine . . . "

"I know," he said acidly.  "It didn't exist for me.  Different time, different place.  I never blamed you for that, O, not really; but I always thought you blamed yourself.  Lately, though, I've gotten the idea that you just wanted a whole man." 

"Keith, no . . . "

Not interested in what his wife had to say, Keith continued as if she hadn't spoken.  He punched one of his prosthetic limbs, and, grimacing, he said, "It sounds like real flesh, hurts like it, too.  It looks and feels real now."  Smiling bitterly he added, "You even made me ticklish again.  Why?"

This time, when he paused, she was able to answer.  "I thought you wanted me to!  I thought you wanted to be able to play basketball with Emily.  I thought you wanted to . . . to . . ."

"To what?" Keith hissed, fury building.  "Be normal?  Be whole?  Be good enough for you?"

Tears sprang to Liv's eyes and slipped down her face.  "All you ever had to do was ask me to stop.  I didn't know you didn't want it." 

Liv had no idea what was going on, but she knew her husband, and she knew he was still working his way up to the real issue.  She also knew he would have more hurtful things to say to her before he got there, and she had already forgiven him for it.  It didn't lessen the sting any, but it kept her from getting angry and shutting him out now that he had finally opened up to her.

"You didn't care," Keith accused his wife.  "You were just trying to assuage your guilt."

"I was trying to improve your quality of life!"

"You were using me as a guinea pig!"

"You should have told me to stop, Keith.  You should have told me!"

"You should have known!  You should have known I didn't want it!  You should have known what could happen, what could go wrong . . ." 

The tears had started for Keith now, too, and Liv knew he was finally getting to the heart of the matter. 

"You should have known," he wept.  "I saw the gun, O, before Emmy did.  I saw it and I tried to stop Leigh Ann.  I tried to save our daughter, and . . . I couldn't move.  My legs wouldn't work.  We're gonna lose her, O, and it's all my fault."

"Keith!  Oh, Keith, no, sweetie.  You've got it all wrong.  You had nothing to do with what happened today."  Slowly, warily, Liv moved closer to her distraught husband.  She wasn't sure if her words were getting through, but the only thing she could do was talk to him.

"Keith, Leigh Ann went to great pains to smuggle that gun into the courtroom.  She was intent on hurting someone.  She fired that gun because she was malevolent, evil, I don't know what.  Emily got in her line of fire . . . "

"Because we made the mistake of convincing her Sloan was some kind of damned blasted hero!"

"NO!  She did it because that's the kind of person she is," Liv insisted.  "As long as people are in trouble, she will help them, regardless of the risk and hardship to herself.  Like it or not, we made her that way.  Both of us made her that way, and if there's any blame to be had, we must share it because we taught her how to be and what to do, and despite all the trouble she ever got into, when it counted, she came right back to what we taught her when she was small."

Smiling through her tears, Liv continued, "This is all so hard, Keith, and so frightening, but we should be proud of her.  She's a really good girl."

Sulking, Keith nodded slightly, and Liv felt a stir of hope that she was getting through to him, but that hope died aborning as her husband spoke again, and for both of them the tears came faster.

"I still could have stopped that witch if my legs had worked," he spat.  "If I'd had the old fashioned ones, I could have stopped her, but I couldn't, because mine were playing hell with my reflexes, because you weren't satisfied with me the way I was, because you couldn't look at me and love me for what I was.  You could never love me like you do him."

A hand flew to her mouth.  "Oh, God!"  For several moments, she stood in shock, gasping for air, fighting the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.  Finally, she managed, just barely, to bring herself under control enough to answer his accusations.

 "Keith, it's true . . . I loved Steve.  I always will, because . . . he saved me . . . from a hell . . . of my own making.  But Keith," she reached out, toward him, but not yet daring to touch him, "I made . . . my life with you, my world . . . with you.  I had my daughter with you.  I've been through . . . Oh, God!  I've been through everything, with you, and I will get through this, but . . . only with you." 

Finally, she touched him.  "I need you, Keith.  Please, tell me what I can do to fix this."

"NO!" he shouted, and shoved Liv away, causing her to stumble into a chair and fall.  Without a backward glance, he ran limping out of the room as fast as his aching, burning prosthetic legs could carry him.

Maribeth stood speechless as Keith stormed out of the waiting room and headed down the hallway.  She couldn't believe the conversation she had just overheard.  Ok, you were eavesdropping.  You couldn't have overheard all of that by accident.  True, she could understand guilt and jealousy, but she had thought Keith was much more secure than he seemed now.

"Keith," Olivia called as she came running out, but, from the other end of the corridor, he waved her off and headed down the exit stairs. 

She started to run after him, but Maribeth grabbed her arm.  "Leave him be, Liv.  He's too upset to talk to you right now."

Liv collapsed back against the wall and said, "He just wouldn't listen.  If he would just listen for a minute, he'd understand."

"Liv," Maribeth said gently, "I was out here.  I heard you two talking, and I saw him push you.  He was listening.  He was just too angry to hear you.  Give him some time to cool off."

Slowly bringing her sobbing under control, Liv nodded and said, "I, I'm going to go sit with Emmy.  If you see him, will you tell him where I am?"

"Sure."  Maribeth watched her head off down the hallway, and decided she needed to talk to Keith.  Her questions could wait a little longer.

She found him sitting on the steps just the other side of the exit door.

"Wanna talk?" she asked, settling beside him on the stairs.

"Nope."

"It might help."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Ordinarily, given that she was Steve's wife, Keith wouldn't have been so blunt, but he was in a mood and a half, so he just spit it out.

"I found them in bed together."

He had expected her to rage and protest, to have a fit, to cry.  In fact, he would have expected anything apart from the reaction he got.

Maribeth laughed out loud and said, "So did I." 

As he sat there gaping, she explained.  "I threw a fit, just like you.  Threw a few other things, too, as I recall," she said with a smile.  "Then I realized it was completely innocent.  They are friends who care deeply for one another, Keith, and they will always be there for each other, and they are lucky to have that.  But they are just friends.  You are her life, and I am his, and nothing will ever change that.  When she withdrew inside herself during the sting operation, she only responded to you.  Steve was there for her, but only you could bring her back."

"Hmph!"  Keith was far from convinced.

They sat in silence for a while, then Keith spoke again.

"Do you know what I remember from our wedding?"

"What?"

"He danced with her, and I just sat in my wheelchair.  Everyone cleared the floor to watch them.  They moved beautifully together, and I just sat there."

Maribeth watched him silently for a moment.  He was feeling sorry for himself.  Maybe she could snap him out of it.

"Not only are you a whole man, Keith…"

He looked at her in surprise.  He hadn't realized she had heard that much of his argument with Liv. 

"…you are also a complete jackass."

"Look…" he tried to protest.

Maribeth raised her voice to override his protest.

"Ok, so he danced with her at the wedding.  Big, stinking, hairy deal!  You took her on the honeymoon.  You have had her for the past thirty years.  Isn't that proof enough that she loves you?"

Keith had gone silent.  After a long minute he said, "I suppose it should be."

"And it wasn't your fault you couldn't stop Leigh Ann.  Sometimes people just freeze in a crisis.  It could just as easily have happened with conventional prosthetics or flesh and blood.  It's called being human."

"I know.  I just feel so ashamed.  I wish I could have done something to help."

"I know, Keith.  You couldn't then, but now, you can.  Your wife is sitting with your daughter.  Go be with them."

Keith looked at Maribeth warily.  Then he looked down at his hands, the fingers laced loosely together, resting in his lap.  Then he looked past his hands to his feet and down the stairs.  Finally, he nodded, stood, and climbed the stairs.

"Jeeze, Gramps," Steven said as he got a beer out of the fridge.  Four in the morning was early to be drinking, but as he hadn't been to bed yet, Jesse had already found someone to cover his shift, and he'd had to nudge the car through a mob of reporters to get to the house, he figured he might as well just say it was still after five p.m.  "What are we going to do?  This is . . . it's . . . "

"Rot," Mark supplied.  "Garbage.  Slander."

"Yeah," Steven agreed, "but it's true."

"It's only half the truth, Son, and half a truth is . . . "

"I know, I know . . . is all lie.  Mom's told me that often enough, believe me.  But all he can do is explain.  He can't deny any of it, except for Emily being his daughter."  A look of horror crossed the young man's face.  "He can deny that, can't he, Gramps?"

Mark hesitated a bit before he answered, and Steven knew he wouldn't like what he heard.  Still, his grandfather's words hit him like a punch in the chest.  "We don't know, son.  You Aunt Amanda says he somehow got a blood sample and had her run a paternity test, but the sample was contaminated, and the results were inconclusive."

"Oh, God, Gramps.  If she's my sister . . . "

"Steven, don't panic about this yet."

"Why didn't he say anything?"

"You know your dad, Steven.  He likes to work his problems out on his own before he shares them with anyone."

"But this wasn't just his problem.  It's my problem too.  I was sleeping with her, Gramps.  We were talking about marriage and babies.  If she's my sister . . . "

"First of all, Steven, we don't know yet that she is, and secondly, even if she is, neither of you did anything wrong, because you didn't know."

"Try telling them that," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the reporters at the front of the house.

"It's none of their business anyway," Mark insisted obdurately.

"Oh, everything is their business now, Gramps.  Nothing's too private for print.  I don't think she is, my sister, I mean.  I would have known, wouldn't I?  I'd have felt something was wrong.  Don't you think Gramps?"

"Steven, stop it!" Mark snapped, and the young man immediately hushed at the sharp tone. 

"I want you to lay down on the couch and rest, ok?" the old man requested in a soothing singsong tone.

Nodding, in shock, Steven did exactly as he was told.  No matter what kind of grief he gave his parents, even as a wild child in his teens, the boy had always obeyed his grandfather without question.

Mark laid an afghan over his long, lithe form and took the half finished beer gently from his hand.  "Just rest now, Son.  It's been a long day for all of us.  We'll just relax here, and when your dad comes home, he can tell you himself why he never talked to you about Emily, ok?"

By the time Mark had settled himself in the recliner, the exhausted young man had drifted off to sleep, and, without meaning to, Mark did the same himself a few minutes later.

"Maribeth!" a voice whispered sharply.

She rolled over and grunted as a hand shook her gently.

"Maribeth, wake up!"

"Go 'way!"

"MARIBETH!"

"WHAT?"

Peter Green smiled down at her.  "Alex called me.  About half and hour ago, he caught the news on the TV in the doctor's lounge.  You should be home with Steve."

"But I'm on call until noon."

"You're also too tired and too worried about too many things to be thinking straight.  Your husband's going to need you.  I have arranged for one of the nurses to give you a ride, and I am here to cover for you.  Go home."

Maribeth smiled blearily and patted Peter's cheek.  "You're a good boy, Peter," she said.

"Thanks," he said.  "You owe me."

"I know.  I won't forget it."

Peter helped her into her coat and guided her to the door where a nurse whose name she did not even know smiled kindly and helped her into the car.

As they pulled away into the night, Maribeth finally began to wake up.  "I-I'm sorry.  I don't know your name, and why are you helping us?  Have you read the paper?"  Maribeth couldn't believe any stranger who had read that terrible article would ever dream of helping her or her family right now.

"My name is Blair Hutchins," the young woman said.  She was probably close to forty, actually, but as old as Maribeth was feeling right now, that was young.  " I used to be Blair Worral before I got married.  When I was a little girl, my brother Ben accidentally shot and killed our dad when he was beating up our mom.  Your father-in-law took me in when our mother disappeared and Benny ran from the police because he was afraid to go to jail.  He was real nice to me.  So were his friends Dr. Bentley and Dr. Travis, and your husband talked to the judge on Benny's behalf so he didn't have to go to jail."

"I see," Maribeth said, though she wasn't sure she did.

"What goes around comes around Dr. Sloan" Blair said with a soft smile.  "Your husband and his father and friends have helped a lot of people over the years.  They'll help him now, and they'll make sure the whole truth comes out.  You rest now.  I'll wake you when we get to your house.  Dr. Green gave me directions, but I remember the way."

As he crept along the beach to his house in the darkest hour of the night, Steve reviewed all the things he had done since the shooting.  He'd left messages for Dion and Cheryl about Moretti's guard detail and Donovan and young Cioffi's suspension.  Then he had contacted an old friend of his in Internal Affairs and left a message requesting that he put a good scare into the young cops but leave them some hope of redeeming themselves.  He'd called Ron with an update on Emily's condition, and had to laugh at Ron when he grumbled about Moretti's grocery run.  Even in a coma after crashing twice and losing more than half her blood supply, Em was still causing trouble.  He'd considered listening to the tape Donovan had concealed, but decided against it.  He remembered exactly what he had said that day in the path lab, and didn't need to hear his own voice repeating it.  Finally, he'd headed home, and upon seeing the mass of reporters outside the beach house Probably waiting for Keith and Liv he'd driven past without even slowing down to park at Alex and Marilyn's place. 

Though he hated it when Marilyn called him the dog's 'Uncle Steve,' tonight he was glad they knew him.  The big Newfies had greeted him with excited whimpers and licks as he slipped through their yard, and after some petting, wrestling, and tug-of-war, they were content to let him head out the gate and down the beach to his own home without a single protest.  As he walked down the beach, he called the precinct and requested the presence of a black and white so that whoever else came home wouldn't have to fight their way through the mass of press camped out just beyond the end of the driveway.

Steve chuckled as he entered the house from the deck and heard the barnyard sounds of his father and son sleeping, Steven's the deep bass grunt of a rooting pig, and Mark's the high whistling whinny of a nervous horse.  He laughed even harder to think that Maribeth said he himself quacked like a duck.  Of course, she refused to admit that she roared like a chainsaw with a valve gone bad.  Gently, so as not to wake the elderly man, Steve draped a blanket over his father.  Next, he turned to his son, and tucked the old afghan further up around his shoulders.  Then, as he was heading to his own bedroom, he caught sight of the evening paper. 

Tired as he was, he was still restless, and thought he would read himself to sleep, so, taking it with him, he headed off to bed.  Tossing the paper on the bed, he slipped off to the bathroom to change into his pajamas and slip on his robe.  Then, deciding he was hungry, he went out to the kitchen to get himself a snack.  Finding a big sticky bun covered with pecans and sugar icing in the breadbox, he decided that and a glass of warm milk would be the perfect very late bedtime snack, and he quickly zapped them both in the microwave.

Back in the bedroom, he put his goodies on the nightstand and slipped under the covers.  He knew Maribeth would lecture him about not brushing his teeth, but after seventy-five years, they were all still his, which was more than she could say, so he figured he could risk it once in a while.  He took a big bite of the sticky bun and a gulp of milk, and then laid the paper out on his lap to read.  He chewed thoroughly and swallowed hard, then, with trembling hands, set his food and drink aside and held the paper up to the light to be sure he could read every word.

Sloan Dirty:  Covered for Love Child When Federal Witness Kidnapped

By Lenny Murdoch

Steve Sloan, Deputy Chief of Police in Charge of the Valley Division of the LAPD has proven to be nothing more than yet another corrupt cop within ranks of those who have in recent years so lightly taken the oath to serve and protect.  The Deputy Chief, whose division survived the scandals and hearings of 2030 unscathed, personally hired his illegitimate daughter, Lieutenant Emily Stephens, at the unwitting recommendation of Captain Alberto Cioffi and then, with the help of various underlings, proceeded to aid and abet her in a series of state and federal crimes over the past three and a half weeks. 

At the time she was hired, Stephens seemed to have an impeccable record, but since then, the Times has uncovered some disturbing facts about the Lieutenant's past.  Before she became a police officer, Stephens was charged with embezzlement, money laundering, securities fraud, and treason.  She is also known to have dabbled in biological warfare and developing weapons of mass destruction, and she admitted to leaving her job back East when a bitter divorce made it impossible for her to maintain a safe and civil working relationship with her ex-husband, Ian Baer, a sergeant in the Clearfield County, Pennsylvania, Sheriff's Department.

Less than a month after beginning her new job with the LAPD, Stephens kidnapped Giancarlo Moretti, the star witness in the federal tax evasion-money laundering-racketeering trial of Mob boss Vincent Gaudino, head of the Ganza Crime Family.  When one of her own cohorts in the kidnapping, a Lieutenant Martin Rossi, turned on her and shot her, she abducted Community General doctor and long-time friend of the Deputy Chief, Jesse Travis, to treat the injuries she sustained.

Less than twenty four hours later, Stephens managed to escape police yet again, taking Moretti with her, but leaving Dr. Travis behind.  That evening, Sloan picked up Lieutenant Stephens' mother and her husband, Dr. Olivia and Mr. Keith Stephens at the airport and took them to his home in Malibu.  Dr. Stephens brought with her $100,000 cash, which Deputy Chief Sloan then personally delivered to the lieutenant in Peck Park at two thirty the following morning, where again, she was allowed to walk away.

A secret task force to locate Lieutenant Stephens and her hostage was set up in the lieutenant's own private home in Brentwood with Dr. and Mr. Stephens playing hosts to the officers, preparing meals and tea.  In his search for the lieutenant and her captive, Deputy Chief Sloan relied heavily on unproven technology developed by his goddaughter, Hannah Wagner, daughter of Dr. Amanda Bentley-Wagner, Chief Medical Examiner for the City of Los Angeles and sister of Captain Dion Bentley-Wagner, two more Sloan friends and members of the task force.  In the 25 days during which Lieutenant Stephens held Mr. Moretti prisoner, members of the LAPD task force spoke face-to-face with her no less than five times, and each time she mysteriously escaped.

Over thirty years ago, then-Lieutenants Steve Sloan and (now Chief of Police) Tanis Archer worked hard ostensibly to bring down the Ganza Crime Family here in LA, only to actually help the late Chief Masters install the late "Boss" Ross Cainin as head of the organization.  Then, four years ago, just before the mob scandals of 2030, Deputy Chief Sloan hired Leigh Ann Bergman, a.k.a. Liana Cainin, Ross Cainin's daughter, as his personal assistant.  Naturally, Ms. Cainin was also brought on to the task force.  Finally, Mr. Moretti, who came through his ordeal despite the best efforts of Chief Sloan and his secret offspring, Lieutenant Stephens, is poised to bring down the entire Ganza Organization, but as he is still in 'protective' custody supervised by FBI Agent Ron Wagner, yet another Sloan crony included in the task force, his ultimate survival is still in question.

It is uncertain when the Sloan Family became a major player in organized crime in the City of Los Angeles and surrounding communities, but with their close ties to the police department, the FBI, and the ME's office, they almost certainly had the means to hide their illegal activities for many years.  Dr. Mark Sloan, the Deputy Chief's father is also a long time friend of the late Mr. Roger Gorini, the local newscaster and nephew of Vincent Gaudino, and almost certainly was able to use his influence to keep the family's illegal activities out of the news for some time. 

Finally, in a cassette recording provided to the Times by an unnamed source within the police department, there is evidence that Deputy Chief Sloan knew his illegitimate daughter was having an affair with his son, Dr. Steven Mark Sloan of Community General Hospital, and did nothing to stop it. 

The Times urges the citizens of LA to demand a thorough, independent investigation of the Sloan Family's dealings with the police department, the FBI, the medical community, and the restaurant business (Deputy Chief Sloan and his friend Dr. Jesse Travis are co-owners of a restaurant called BBQ Bob's) in and around LA.  Clearly, the Deputy Chief is a man who, after years of possibly underserved adulation and unmerited promotions has become so powerful that he feels himself to be above both the law and conventional morality.

It was after four, but not yet five, the darkest hour of the night, when time was just an imaginary thing and the darkness seemed to stretch off to forever in both directions, that Keith finally came to his wife.  He entered the room quietly, and in the several moments before she became aware of his presence, he had time to observe her and Emily.  They both looked unnaturally pale, almost faded, in the washed out light of a single, unshaded fluorescent tube.  Green, red, and blue lights from the various monitors mottled them with a weird glow.

Liv sat in the chair beside the bed, stretching to caress her daughter's hair with her right hand, holding Emily's hand gently with her left.  She was crooning to her, an old song, one of her favorites, Bring on the rain . . . and Keith could see that she had been, still was, weeping.

Finally, she looked up, and for an instant, her breath caught in her throat.  Before she could speak, Keith said, "I'm sorry."

"I know," Liv said standing up, and she briefly let go of her daughter's hand to open her arms to her husband.

After a small moment of uncertainty, Keith moved forward and swept his wife into his arms.  They cried together for a little while, and then Keith took the chair his wife had been sitting in and settled her on his lap.  Liv reached out again and took Emily's hand in both of hers, and then Keith wrapped his hands around theirs.

Maribeth sighed regretfully when she walked into the bedroom.  There was a large, Steve-shaped lump under the covers, and she knew without a doubt he had come home after Mark and Steven had fallen asleep, probably tucked them in for the night, found the Times, and read that awful article.  There had been no one around to remind him that they had twisted the truth by leaving out important bits, like Emily's disguises, the four 'laser sights' she had trained on him when he delivered the money, and the fact that one of the times she 'escaped' he had collapsed at her feet with bleeding ulcers and an esophageal tear.  He'd probably read the article three or four times, and with each reading, let it tear him apart.  How could he not?  They took everything he is and everything he's done and made it all sound dirty.

She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and dressed for bed, then she came out, pulled the covers back and laid down beside her husband.  He was trembling with the effort of holding on to the tears he thought he could not bear to let go.  The whole bed was shaking.  Hoping to calm him, Maribeth put a hand on his shoulder.  He tried to scramble away from her, out of the bed, probably to punish himself by sleeping alone with his misery in the guest bedroom, but she slid over close to him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and, spooning up close to him, she said, "Oh, no you don't."

For a moment, he tried to loosen her grip and pry her arms from around him, but she whispered harshly in his ear, "Stop it, Steve."

He ceased his struggling, but the trembling did not stop, and she was concerned that he was going into shock.

"Did you read the paper?" he asked.

"Yes."

After a long moment of silence, Steve begged her, "Say something."

She didn't speak right away.  She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say.  Was she supposed to condemn the press or reassure him that the whole truth would come out in time?  Was she supposed to act disbelieving or just say he was making too much of it and that people didn't even view that particular brand of gossip as scandalous any more?  Was she supposed to reassure him that she was ok with the possibility of him having a child by another woman, or just ignore that bit of information altogether?

As she pondered, she placed a kiss on the back of his head followed by another on his neck.  Propping herself up on her elbow, she kissed him on the temple, the ear, the cheek, and then, very gently, she turned his face toward her and kissed him on the lips, and in that moment just before the kiss, when he looked into his eyes, she knew what he needed to hear.

"I love you, Steven Michael Sloan," she whispered, "and nothing that could happen in this world will ever change that."

For a moment, when their eyes met, Steve stopped breathing entirely, then he turned towards her and hid his face against her chest.  For a long time, he continued trembling, holding the tears at bay.  Finally, when she said simply, "Let it go, Steve," they came almost instantly.  He cried not with the loud, plaintive sobs of a man railing against the world that had treated him cruelly, but with the painful, hard-won tears of a broken-hearted lover, hurting too badly to even protest that he had been done wrong. 

Finally, in the darkest hour of the night, wrapped in the loving arms of his wife, Steve Sloan let out all his fears and worries of the past month, and quietly cried himself to sleep.