Vincent

The bullet had completely passed through Cindy's body. Her right shoulder was shattered, clavicle damaged to the point where she would need reconstructive surgery and a few metal pins to keep everything in place. The tricky part, however, had been the shards of bone in her organs, especially in her lungs. It had taken a while to fish them all out and close up the holes. By the time the whole thing was done, in about two and a half hours, she was resting as comfortable as she could be, heavily dosed and on breathing support until her lungs healed.

Victoria stumbled out of the operating room and peeled off her bloody gloves, the mask, the blue cap of her hair. She even ripped off the blue gown and tossed it into the trash, not thinking. Dazed and confused, and also recovering from the intensity of the previous situation, she could do little else other than stumble over to the desk.

Tonya had put Charles safely behind the counter, keeping a careful eye on him while she handled all the various pieces of paper that came across her desk. When Victoria approached, she stood up and handed the woman a very cold bottle of Aquafina, which Victoria took, opened and swallowed heavily.

"Where's my baby?" she said, recovering.

Tonya pointed, and Victoria stepped up behind the raised desk and bent down, disappearing to see to her son.

"I already checked him over, and the paramedics assured me that he was fine," Tonya said.

Victoria pulled the baby out of his holder and cuddled him. His cheeks were slightly sticky from the tears he'd shed. Poor thing had probably been scared out of his mind.

"Dr. Lancing?" Tonya said, holding the note. "Who could have written this?"

Victoria took the paper. She read it again, as if she didn't remember reading it before. "I...I don't know. Definitely a man's writing. Cindy didn't have a boyfriend, as far as I knew."

"Seems unlikely that the shooter would go through the trouble. There must have been someone else in your apartment."

Victoria shook her head. "Best leave the detective work to the police, yeah?" she said, sitting down in the empty chair and cradling Charles. She stared down at the note. She had always had a singular knack with handwriting, but had never gone anywhere with it. She could easily tell the difference between a woman's hand and a man's, and this was definitely masculine.

She looked down. There was a scribble before the abbreviation for doctor. She squinted, pulled the paper closer. Under the ink, an uppercase V had been scratched out.

Whoever had started to write this note had started to write the name Victoria.

She paled, her grip on Charles going a little slack. The baby started to wiggle uncomfortably, she adjusted him on her lap.

"Dr. Lancing?" Tonya said. "Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry?" Victoria said, looking up. Two policemen stood at the counter.

"Dr. Sarah Lancing?" the first one, older and blond, asked.

"I'm Officer Toats, this is Officer Manning. We've been sent to bring you to the station. Your home has become the scene of a crime, and we'll need to ask you some questions."

Victoria stood up, Charles in her hands. She looked around, as if unsure. "Right now? I'm currently the only doctor on shift."

"I'll take care of it, Dr. Lancing," Tonya said.

"This is important, Dr. Lancing," Officer Manning said. "Your nanny was shot by a sniper rifle at a considerably distance. Do you have any enemies that might have done this?"

Victoria just shrugged. She had no idea what to say. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She went with them, and requested to call a friend of hers, who happened to be Detective Ray Fanning.

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"Victoria, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Ray," she said, her voice low. It was a small, quiet room, ensuring her absolute privacy. In the age of cellular phones, the novelty of a phone booth was almost alien, but this was a small room, with a table and a chair, a place for her to be relatively comfortable. As if that could possibly exist at the moment. "I've got a really big problem."

"Talk."

"Someone shot my nanny with a sniper rifle. You know anyone who would want to do that? Anyone capable?"

"Wait a second. Where are you?"

"I'm at a police station in Indianapolis...I didn't catch the precinct number. They brought me in for questioning because they want to know if I have any enemies. Do I have enemies, Ray?" The tone of her voice was nearly sarcastic, but he understood.

"Okay, you sit tight, I'm going to make a few calls. You need to ask for a lawyer."

"But I'm not under suspicion. They just want to know if I have any idea who did this."

"Most people would have just lied."

"I'm not most people. Plus..." she hesitated. Nanny. He had to have figured it out by now. "Ray, I have a baby."

"I figured."

"I don't want him to be in danger. This is too much."

"I know, I understand. Look, I'm already on the other line contacting some people. I'll come myself if I have to. You need to ask specifically where you are. I have to know."

"Okay." She sighed, feeling slightly comforted...slightly. At least someone was behind her this time, someone on the right side of the law.

Although she couldn't help but think that if Vincent were here, this mess would be half over, rather than just started.

"So what do I tell them in the meantime?"

"Ask for the lawyer. Don't answer any questions until they give you one. I don't care if they hold you all night-"

"Ray, my nanny was shot. I have to get back to my baby."

"Where is he now?"

"He's...at work, under the care of a friend."

"You're going to just have to call your friend and make sure she or he or whoever can watch the baby a little while longer."

Victoria sighed, deeply. "All right," she murmured.

"Victoria, don't worry," Ray said, his voice low. "We're going to take care of this."

She flinched. "It's Claudia, isn't it?"

"You're pretty quick to start naming suspects," Ray muttered. "How do you know it isn't a certain ex-contract killer?"

Victoria felt her teeth press together involuntarily. "He's never do that," she said.

"You so sure?"

"Yessss." Real anger now. If he pushed any farther she was going to slam down the phone and to hell with whatever happened next. But, her reason chided her, she had to think of Charles. Charles above all things, even her pride, most especially her heart.

"Okay, fine. I'll be in touch." And he hung up.

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At about four thirty in the morning, there was a county defender passing through who agreed to talk to Victoria in confidence. Once it was explained that Victoria was in Witness Protection, everything changed. She was released unconditionally as the woman, her name was Rebecca Gates, gave her her number and told her they would contact the right people. In return, Victoria gave them Ray's contact number, and went back to the hospital.

Victoria entered the room where Cindy was resting. Charles was asleep in his carrier, safe and sound under the care of Tonya and another nurse who had just come on duty and instantly fallen in love with the little baby. She did the precursory check of all of Cindy's vitals, saw that she was still stable, and breathed a soft sigh.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. A part of her wanted to scream, to carry on, to force God to call a time out. It wasn't right that after all this, it still wasn't over. Claudia still dogged her steps.

She thought about Vincent. Thought about in so intently that she let out a small, longing moan. She covered her face with her hands, rubbing away the exhaustion. Where was he now? Was he safe? Or had Claudia taken care of him first before coming after her? The thought was unbearable. And yet it was equally unbearable to think that she was in such danger, and absolutely alone. She never fully realized the benefits of being with Vincent - he had always kept her safe, always rescued her, always done whatever it took to ensure her safety.

But he wasn't here.

She wished to God he was here.

"Victoria?"

She closed her eyes. No, she had imagined it. She had just been a victim of wishful thinking. Intense emotions were capable of causing the mind to play tricks on itself. He wasn't there, in the room, behind her. He wasn't standing behind her, in the darkened corner. He wasn't there.

She heard a footstep. "Victoria," he said again, and he knew she was aware of him, he could read her so easily, but no, she told herself, he wasn't there, she was imagining him. She told herself this, so that when she turned around and saw nothing, her heart wouldn't break from the disappointment.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned around, wanting to go faster, wanting to show her eyes and her stupid brain that her heart was wrong, wrong, wrong...but there he was, the profile of his face in the shadow, that nose she would recognize anywhere, the familiar build, even his height, all familiar.

As he stepped closer, he pushed back the hood of the sweatshirt he was wearing. His hair was no longer gray, but long and brown, hanging around the nape of his neck. His facial hair that thickened into nearly a beard, balancing out the years the color change added to his features. But his eyes, they were no different. They were still the same bright bluish-green orbs she remembered, staring at her so hard they pinned her in place, held her tighter than any fists ever could.

She whimpered; the strain was too much.

He stepped even closer, one hand going out, finding her arm, fingers sliding across it, as if he, too, wanted to be sure of her existence. But no, he'd known she was here. He had come for her, like he always did.

"How?" she whispered, realizing she was on the verge of tears.

"Don't ask," he said, almost with a smile. His face was so sad, much sadder than she remembered. He'd always seemed lonely, but there was a loss there now that was starting to lift, the longer he looked at her.

Dear God, he missed her as much as she missed him. Maybe more.

His fingers tightened around her arm, and he pulled her closer to him, so close his breath was on her face. Warm and sweet...he still brushed his teeth twice a day. He didn't drink, didn't smoke. She leaned into it, wondering what his beard felt like now that it was thicker, wondering if it scratched as well as his old, thinner one. She noticed that even his beard was vacant of his gray hairs, and she felt a strange kind of disappointment. She had so liked the scratchiness of his graying beard.

Slowly, he bent his head, and she was sure he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes for a second, remembering how it felt to kiss him. She had imagined, in childish fantasies, when her guard was down and she was lonely, how she would kiss him if she ever saw him again. She imagined the passionate kissing of long lost lovers, mouths open, tongues entwined, hands groping, unable to press their bodies together hard enough. Wanting to touch everything at once, to swallow each other so they could never be separated again.

Her hands went up. She took a step back. No, she had to resist. It wasn't a good sign, him being here. Claudia was out there, that was why he was in here. That was why her Nanny was shot and lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

"You were the one who wrote that note," she said, looking away.

"I did."

"Thank you for getting Charles to me."

"I just gave the instructions. They're the ones who did it."

She grunted, looked up at him. She'd almost forgotten his adversity to fatherhood. She wondered, when he'd been in her apartment, if he'd bothered to look at Charles, if he'd walked up to the crib, if he'd touched him, looked into his face and saw what she did, every day - Vincent's own eyes, and the same brown hair that was on Vincent's head this moment.

"We need to talk, Victoria," Vincent said, bringing her back to him.

"What about?"

"Claudia."

"I know about Claudia," she said. "Ray Fanning is on his way-"

"Ray Fanning can't do diddly-shit," Vincent said in a very low voice. "I have to take care of this."

"You mean, you have to kill her."

"It's her, or she'll kill us. It's not murder, it's self-defense."

"Your definition of it, anyway." She stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself. "Vincent, when will this all be over?"

"When Claudia is dead, it will be," Vincent assured her.

"So...more killing."

"One more. I haven't killed anyone since I last saw you. I haven't cut my hair, either." He lifted one hand to push back some of the soft brown locks behind his ear. He gave her a tiny smile, hoping for a drop of levity.

"Explains that," she said, looking up.

"You like it?"

She wanted to say something...yes, no, that she could get used to it. Instead, she just looked at him.

"And you and me, Vincent...when will we be over?"

That seemed to hurt him. He visibly flinched. "I take it, then, you're not happy to see me."

The word No was on her lips, but she stifled it. It wasn't the truth. She was happy to see him. It seemed to relieve a tension she hadn't known she was feeling. "I just wish it were on a happy occasion," she said softly.

"Me, too." He reached for her again, innocently, not expecting her to move away. She found herself unable to reject him a second time, and was in his arms. "I missed you, so much. I 't stay away from you."

She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, felt him so close to her. Dammit, it felt so good to be near him.

"So you saw your son," she whispered.

He hesitated to answer. "I did."

"You know that you're a father now." Her voice had turned hard, almost against her will. She looked up at him, into his face. He looked down at her, listening.

"I know," he whispered.

"What did you think of him?" she asked, nearly a challenge. "He looks like you, you know."

"But he's beautiful like you," Vincent replied. "I saw you yesterday with him. I saw how happy he makes you. I wish I could make you happy like that."

She closed her eyes and gently extracted herself from his embrace. "Vincent, this really isn't a good place for ...this," she whispered.

"I know." Suddenly he was all business, hardening because of her inadvertent rejection. "You can't go back to your condo, Claudia knows that you're there."

"Then where do I go?"

"A hotel, the closest one." He paused. "You could come stay with me. I have a room at the Sheraton."

"And Charles?"

Vincent hitched. "Of course, him too."

She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'll get my own room."

"God, Victoria...I'm not allergic to him."

She grinned up at him, but it was humorless. "Yes you are. You want to talk to me again, leave me your number at the Sheraton. But I think you'd better go."

He stared at her for a long moment, absorbing what she'd said. "Fine," he whispered. He walked over to the small table by the bed, scribbled something on the hospital pad there, ripped it off, handed it to her. Then he left the room without so much as a backwards glance.

A/N: Okay, gotta catch up from the reviews from last time.

asd: Thank you for reading! I appreciate your reviews and hope you stick around until the end. Hope this chapter made you happy...a little, anyway. Our happy couple still has some unresolved issues.

PAR: I'm sorry, I've been so busy I just haven't had a chance to email you! But I will soon! Please review in the meantime! My numbers really need it! LOL.

LunaGrrBack023: So have you read the RFR stuff yet? JUst curious. You know, Claudia keeps a lot of stuff to herself and she's not very forthcoming, so as soon as I get Vincent to beat it out of her, I'll let you know. :)

Cerebralgoddess18: yeah, that thing about TOm Cruise did kinda gross me out. Although I can't say that the people who get to do that for him aren't...kinda...priviledged? No, that totally isn't the word. But Cruise must have a high pain tolerance, considering how painful waxing is! UGH.

SweetArwen: Don't bang your head too hard...that can cause serious headaches, trust me, I know. OH, please, you think I'm going to kill Victoria? I'm not that sadistic! LOL

Okay, so I go to the review boards and there are like 13 reviews from Warm Mittens, which was kind of funny. But I asked for it, so I was prepared. Heh. And she says she misses the shout out to her at the end, but she knows she wasn't reviewing so it wasn't there. So here's a special SHOUT OUT TO WARM MITTENS, and welcome back! You aren't allowed to drop out again, you know! Yeah, whenever will there be peace on earth? I have no idea. Although something is seriously going to happen in the next chapter, which I haven't even started writing yet. 'Nuff said. :)

On a final note, I want to thank everyone on here for being so great. I know I said it before but I want to say it again. This really hit me the other day when I was looking at a story that I had reviewed, and the author had responded to me in the next chapter, and quite frankly, she sorta made me mad. She got kind of defensive about what I said, although I hadn't really criticized it-- I personally thought there wasn't enough of the main characters, that she was giving too much time to secondary characters. I phrased it very gently and even vaguely, so as not to sound like a criticism. And that was just my humble opinion. I dont' think I was rude, but I do think she was, so, if I've ever, ever, ever been rude to anyone, please smack me. Because I appreciate all of you guys and I would never want to do anything that would alienate any of you.

Okay, too much pontificating for one evening. See you guys in a few days!
SJ