A/N: A green apple can signify man's redemption as it is the opposite of the red apple that symbolize's man's fall (biblical). Thanks everyone for the amazing feedback!

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John was sitting on the couch in his office, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. His brother Michael was sitting on the floor next to him, his back leaning on the couch. Tears were also streaming down Michael's cheeks.

"She can't be dead, John. She can't." Michael's words had no conviction of truth. He wanted to believe. He turned to his brother and put a hand on his arm.

John didn't respond.

Michael turned and looked. It was then he realized.

"You love her."

John looked up. Tear slid down his face into his open palms. His burnt palm was unbandaged and the salty tears stung the oozing burns. They were full of dirt from the makeshift grave he had pawed at in vain.

Michael looked with a doctor's eye at the wound, but his thoughts were still filled with the picture of Natalie's lifeless and bloody body.

"You loved her."

"I loved her."

John's words were just a whisper, but they echoed in the unnaturally quiet office.

Michael grasped John's wrist and pulled the wounded palm towards him. "Let me take care of this."

"It doesn't matter." John's breathing was still broken and ragged.

Michael uncurled John's fingers. Tears were drying on his face as he gratefully slipped into the disassociated state required by his profession.

John tried to pull his arm away.

Michael's grip tightened.

"Are my boys fighting again?" Eve McBain said from the doorway.

"Oh, your hand John." She took John's arm out of Michael's grasp, put her fingers around John's wrist and stroked his wet cheek. "Let your brother take care of this."

"She's dead, Mom."

John's gravelly voice sent chills down Eve's spine. "I don't believe that and neither do you," she said firmly.

"There was a picture."

"And if you saw a photo with me with Elvis would you believe it or think that I went to one of those booths on the boardwalk?"

John closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Do you feel her, John?" Eve leaned closer to ask her question.

John opened his eyes and looked at her in surprise.

"I knew from the moment I met her she was meant for you. Anyone with half a brain watching you two together can see the connection. I heard those words from your own mouth."

Michael flushed and looked at the floor at his mother's observation. He had tried so hard to push John away from Natalie. Evangeline hid his brother's pain. Natalie brought it to the light of day. It made him uncomfortable to see it.

"I'm a selfish ass."

The other two McBains ignored Michael's words.

John kept his wet, blue eyes locked with his mothers. He felt her fingers sending warmth through his cold body.

"Do you feel her, Johnny?"

At the sound of the childhood name he felt something thaw inside him. Something that had been there for longer than he could even remember.

"She's not gone." John's ragged whisper was tinged with relief.

Eve hugged her son. Her heart broke a little at how thin he felt.

"Now." Eve pulled back and put her hands on John's cheeks. "Go with your brother and get your hand taken care of. Then you're coming back with me to eat and sleep. You too." This she directed at Michael.

"Yes, Mommy." Michael shrugged his shoulders and gave his brother a half smile before getting up off the floor.

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"Any word, Johnny Mac?" Roxy rushed out from behind the counter as soon as she saw the McBains enter the hotel.

John and Michael shared a brief look. What should they say? Eve jumped into the breach.

"He hasn't found her yet. But she's going to be fine. Right now, though, he needs to eat and get some sleep."

Nigel came up behind Roxy and put his hand on her shoulder sending her his silent strength.

Michael looked away. He wasn't as convinced as his brother and mother that Natalie would be okay.

"I should go back to the station," John said after Nigel led an agitated Roxy away.

"You'll do no such thing. You will be called when they have something. Let someone else carry the load for a while."

John looked down at the white bandage wrapped around his hand. Spots of blood had seeped through. Like Natalie in the photo. He was frozen.

"I want her home." This time the words were laden with the feelings he had finally admitted to Michael in his office. After he thought it was too late.

Eve put her arm around her son's waist and led his unwilling body up the stairs to his room.

John woke with a start. His heart was pounding. He looked across his apartment. The door was still closed.

In his dream she had been standing in the open doorway. "Someone order take out?" She smiled and held up a bag of food from Rodi's.

She was wearing a turquoise shirt. He could never resist her in turquoise.

He glanced at the clock and was surprised to find he had been asleep for ten hours. He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and called in.

After a terse conversation he put the phone in his lap and ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. The FBI had confirmed that the photo was doctored. It was another sick ploy.

But why? Why hadn't they killed her? Why were they playing with him, with Marcie and with the LPD?

He picked his telephone up and called Special Agent Kelly. This time he was going to be the one asking the questions.

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John bit into the green apple his mother had pressed on him when he had left the hotel. He felt infinitely more confident than he had been in two weeks that Natalie would be all right. He had regained his ability to compartmentalize his fears and the disturbing images of Natalie being hurt or scared. He wasn't quite ready to do cartwheels, but he felt himself slipping into the zone where everything became clearer. Where images were acute and leaps of logic flowed through him.

He walked through the squad room past Natalie's desk. She would, he vowed, he sitting there again soon. And he would make sure there were fresh flowers on that desk every week – from him.

He picked up the profile from his desk and keyed in on the points that had been tumbling around in his mind since his long, hot shower. There was something there. Something he had missed before.

"Come in," he called out when there was a knock on his door.

"You look a lot better than the last time I saw you." Special Agent Marcia Kelly sat down in the chair in front of John's desk.

"I feel a lot better." He looked up from the profile. He wasn't smiling, but neither did he look as grim as he had before.

"You said you had some questions for me."

"Where is Cristian Vega?"

"In a safe house in Miami."

"Really? So where is Natalie Vega?"

When Marcia didn't respond he leaned forward and fixed her with a piercing look. "Is Natalie Vega in Miami with her husband?"