I awoke to the sounds of people shuffling about the room. I could hear the shrill alarms of electronic equipment and the voice of a woman, seemingly screaming over a loudspeaker. I tried to open my eyes, but the blinding lights above me forced them shut again. I could hear voices close to me and from their conversation deduced they were talking about me. Their words however, unnerved me.

"She's been through a lot," I heard a woman say. "She's lost a good amount of blood, she has two gunshot wounds, most of her body is covered in bruises, her back has been cut to shreds, three of her molars have been extracted leaving considerable damage, and there are signs that she was electrocuted. Quite honestly, this woman shouldn't be alive. I still can't believe she was able to take down four armed men in this condition."

"Is she going to make it?" a man asked, ignoring the doctor's upsetting description. I recognized the voice – Frank Donovan.

"I can't say really. I've done everything I can surgically. We'll continue monitoring her and administering pain killers and anti- inflammatory drugs, but really it's up to her now. It'll be rough if she does pull through, but if she made it through today's nightmare, I can't see why she won't live through the rest of it."

"Thank you, doctor," Donovan replied. "My people and I will be staying around. She's still at risk, now more than ever. Make sure your nurses report to Agent Cross throughout their shifts."

"Of course, Agent Donovan," the doctor replied. "I assure you, no one knows who she is. I've specified only certain nurses and technicians to look after her. There shouldn't be any problems."

"I'm sure your people are trustworthy," Donovan countered, "but the people we're trying to protect her from could easily get past our even our security. We can't take any chances. The entire hospital is being monitored."

I heard more people walk up near where I lay. I opened my eyes as much as I could force them open, but I could only make out four blurred images. I guessed that the tallest figure closest to me was Donovan. A new voice chimed into the conversation, one I had never heard.

"The campus is clear. FBI took what was left of Carter's men in. Still no sign of Carter. We still haven't figured out how he managed to escape when none of his accomplices did."

"Carter isn't simply a weapons supplier, Jake," Donovan corrected. "He's a survivalist. You don't get to where Carter is in life and sustain it unless you are able to survive in any kind of situation."

"I don't understand why he did this in the first place," a new woman's voice confided. "If he wanted to get back at you for his wife's death, why didn't he just come to you? What did the college have to do with anything?"

"Mercedes Carter graduated from there," another female voice announced as I heard the approach of a fifth person. "She was a pre-med. student there in the seventies. She never made it to medical school. Married Carter in her senior year and had to start moving around as he did. As far as we know, in the more than twenty years they were married, she never figured out his game. She lived her life in a bubble. Carter completely controlled the information that got to her and what she saw and experienced and never gave her a reason to doubt the situation."

"But besides that connection, Monica, what else have we got?" Donovan inquired. "What else could have motivated him?"

"Well, at this point Carter is off profile. He's mentally pushing his limit. I believe his killing and entrapping innocent people is his reflection upon your killing his 'innocent' wife. He wanted nothing more today than to kill innocent people, confront you directly, and then get away with it. Exactly as you 'got away' with killing Mercedes."

"Why did he think we had someone inside?"

"Extreme paranoia. I suspect as his plan to take the building progressed, so did his concern that there was an informant among his men. His confidence was lost and his imagination took over. He was probably seeing the face of a federal agent in every one of those hostages. Everything reminded him of the day Mercedes was killed and of how you had planted an operative in his team before. He claimed his intelligence 'officer' said that they had proof of an undercover agent inside. But I think whomever this guy was he was just playing along with Carter's twisted ideas. I mean if you play along and don't get the boss mad, then you stay alive longer."

"Agent Donovan, I think you're team really should continue this somewhere else. Miss Connor seems to be coming to and hearing this could cause extreme stress," the doctor advised, unaware that I had been hearing everything and was already worried.

Carter had escaped. He knew who I was. If he thought for a minute that I was a threat or if he planned on taking revenge for the loss of his men, I was in more danger than Donovan was even alluding to.

"Okay, we'll continue this later. Jake, check with the local law enforcement and the Bureau, make sure we have everyone we can get looking for Carter. Monica, I want you to get back to headquarters and run through the building plans of the school with Cody. We have to find out how he got out of there. Also, dig up as much recent information on Carter as you can. Work up a new profile as best you can. He's been off of the radar for a while, but I think that if we look hard enough we can find his trail. I'll stay here with Alex. When Miss Connor wakes up, we're going to have to ask her some questions."

I heard muffled acknowledgements and then the mass exodus of people from the room. I opened my eyes a little, able to make out the foggy image of Donovan by my side. I allowed my eyes to fall closed again, oddly comforted by the fact that this complete stranger was near me, protecting me.

I awoke a few hours later, Donovan still by my side. He was sitting in the chair next to my bed, a bed tray pull up to him, typing away at a laptop. I took a moment to observe him up close for the first time. He was a handsome man, dark hair cut short with only flecks of gray. He had a short, dark mustache and goatee. Though the facial hair made him look older, I predicted he was in his mid-thirties. He seemed too stern and experienced for such a young age. I was wondering about his past when I became aware of the number of tubes that were connected to my body. I had one IV in my right arm, one in my left hand, and oxygen tubing draped across my face and wrapped around my ears. The feeling of the prongs from the oxygen tubing inside my nostrils made my eyes water. I felt suddenly as though it was smothering me rather than aiding my breathing. My first instinct was to reach up and pull it from my face, but the pounding pain in my left shoulder exceeded my desire to move. It took me a while to remember, but the visions of the past day slowly came trickling back. As the memories came, so did my consciousness of the pain. Whatever drugs they were giving me, they were not capable of erasing the severity of the damage. I involuntarily moaned at the onset of a sharp pain shooting down my back, alerting Donovan that I was awake.

"Miss Connor, it's okay. Try not to move," Donovan said, pushing aside the tray and standing at my side. "You're in the hospital. You've been severely injured."

"That's the understatement of the century," I thought to myself, not yet wanting to try to speak.

"My name is Frank Donovan. We spoke over the radio while you were inside the school. My team and I were the one's that found you after you were shot in the shoulder. Do you remember any of that?" He was pushing for acknowledgement, but I still couldn't bring myself to respond. "Miss Connor, can you answer me?" he probed. His concern appeared to be genuine.

"You called me Kate," were the only words I could force my lips to form. He looked at me for a second, taken back a little by my words.

"Yes I did. I assumed it was your nickname. I thought it would have been more comforting. Was I wrong?"

"No one has ever called me Kate."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" he stumbled for words.

"No. It's fine," I said, interrupting his apology, unable to say I preferred the name. I liked its simplicity, especially now that my life was full of complications. I closed my eyes for a while, allowing only a few scenes of the day to play through my mind. I could see the lab and all of the students lined up against the lab benches. The look of terror on their faces as detailed as if I was standing in front of them now. "The students. Did you get them out?"

"Yes. Every student was safely removed from the building. Unfortunately, most of the instructors on your floor were killed."

"I know. I saw them before they took me down…" I stopped, unable to say anymore, afraid to think about it. I could see the images in my mind, but putting them to words would have made them real again, and I couldn't do that just yet. The blood, the torture, they were all too much. Such pain and no one to stop it. And then I remembered Vanessa. I saw her face, pleading with me not to abandon her. "Vanessa," I said out loud, reflexively trying to sit up. I cried out with pain from the motion.

"Miss Connor," Donovan exclaimed, putting his arm out to prevent me from sitting up anymore. "You mustn't try to move. Your injuries are too extensive. Please sit back," he insisted. I lowered myself again as he raised the top of the bed with the remote. The pain emanating from my back, caused by the pressure placed upon it from sitting up, was excruciating.

"Vanessa. Vanessa Parkins. She was in the lab. They beat her up before they took me," I managed to explain in stuttered half- sentences.

"Yes. I know about Miss Parkins. I'm sorry to have to tell you this Kate, but Miss Parkins was not alive when we got in. According to the doctors, she had massive internal injuries. There's no way she could have made it even if we had made it to her sooner," Donovan explained softly, afraid to say too much, but knowing instinctively that I wouldn't rest if I didn't hear it all.

"No, she can't be," I said in disbelief.

"I'm afraid so," he said. I felt the warmth of his hand upon my own.

"No, you don't understand. I told her she wouldn't die in there. I promised her," I said getting more excited with each word.

"I'm sorry Kate, but she didn't make it."

"No!" I screamed, sitting straight up, trying to turn to get out of the bed. Pain shot through my body like another bullet, but I ignored it. "She has to be alive! I promised her! She's waiting for me!"

Donovan moved to prevent my movements. "Kate, you can't get out, you're too hurt to be up," he ordered, trying to contain me.

"No. I have to get out of here. She's still there. You left her there you bastard!" I screamed choking on the flood of tears that began flowing down my face. I was pounding on his chest, hitting harder as my own pain escalated. "You left her! She's not dead!" He gentle grabbed my arms, easily stopping my assault. He brought my arms down, not letting go of them. "I promised," I sobbed, letting my forehead fall to rest upon his chest. "It's my fault," I said softly, my strength expired. "It's my fault." The tears came full force as I broke down into heavy, loud sobs. I felt his hands let go of my arms and then his arms as they wrapped around me as I knelt on the bed, my weight against him.

"It's not you're fault, Kate," he said softly, resting his cheek atop my head. "It was never your fault."