Whew, from way short to way long… but it was either that or chop this one in half some how and that just wasn't working either…

So – sorry to keep y'all in suspense, but here it is… and this one has a couple of twists too…

(And a really huge thank you to everyone for reviewing! It never fails to make my day when I see those notices in my email.)

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Chapter Forty Five:

Hedidn't see it coming…

I remember waking up, scared out of my mind, not knowing where I was or how badly I'd been screwed over this time – and an angel's sweet voice cut through the fog and pain, telling me that I was safe, that she'd take care of me.

I remember her leading me to the bath, putting me in the water, sitting with me through the fever – I leaned back into her strength and I knew I was safe. I knew that she really must be an angel, because no mortal could be so fucking kind, not to a guy like me. No mortal would be able to look at me and not be at the sight of my ruined face.

I remember her singing me to sleep and I remember her scent – that orange-floral-musk.

I remember her holding me in the dark, chasing away the nightmares, making me be believe that I would be all right, that I was strong enough to get through what had happened.

I remember her promising me that she wouldn't leave me alone in the dark. I remember that when she said it, I stopped being so afraid.

I remember her telling me that someday I would trust her.

I remember her holding onto me for comfort… me. She held onto me… but it was so comfortable, laying there with her arms around me. I kissed the top of her head and told her to call me Sheldon. And I remember how much I loved the way it sounded when she said it.

I remember that kiss she gave me that night, just a peck on the cheek but – my Christ, the things she conveyed in that little kiss.

I remember that kiss in her hallway and how much I wanted to take her right then and there and make all the hurt go away… but I couldn't. Someone was waiting for me…

I remember every last detail of last night – kissing her, caressing her, loving her – making love to her.

I don't remember when I fell in love with her. I just know that I did.

But I do remember how much I missed her when I left Mexico – and how good it felt to hear the sound of her voice that day she called. I remember how good it felt to hear Cicily's voice that day. I missed my little angle reading to me at night.

My angels. I don't know what I'd do if I lost them.

They followed me to D.C.

Beth followed me out into the snow and talked me back from the edge Alison's words had driven me to.

And now…

Now she's bleeding to death in my arms.

Paula's helped me apply pressure to the wound, slowed the blood some, but… but it's not good. The human body only has so much blood and when that's all gone… when that's all gone you just die… and there's nothing I can do… I can't make it stop coming out.

I hear the sirens – voices – the paramedics tell me that I have to move – have to let them do their job – have to let go, just for a few minutes – I don't know if I know how to let go of her – Paula helps. She stands with me while they get her onto a stretcher – while do whatever it is they have to do. I strain to hear – but nothing they're saying is really making any sense except that it doesn't look good – only I don't need a fucking paramedic to tell me that. I already know she's dying. And I know it's because of me…

And I remember all those nightmares where glass broke and bullets flew – I remember feeling Beth bleeding to death in my arms with Cicily sobbing in the next room… just like she is now…

"I'll take the girls and your dog," Paula's voice cuts through the dark haze of my thoughts, "You stay with Beth."

"Paula – " I don't even think I have the words to say thank you.

"Just – go. We'll be right behind you."

I follow them out and manage to scramble into the back of the ambulance without hurting myself or anyone else, but staying out of the way is hard. I need to be where I can see her – and the only way I can see is through my hands. I just need to know she's there – I need to know – I need to just know she's really still with me. Finally, one of them – a young man – seems to understand and situates me so that I can keep my hands on Beth's legs while they continue to work to stop the bleeding… it really doesn't look good at all…

Please don't die on me…

……………………….

"You can't stay here," says a woman – a nurse I presume, but that may be sexist of me, for all I know she's a brain surgeon.

"And you can't make me move," I reply. I'm standing just outside the operating room where they're working on my angel. I'm just leaning up against the wall, nice and out of the way of everyone coming and going – if they'd let me inside the OR, I would be there instead of here, but I suppose the guys who brought her back here had to draw the line somewhere. Spencer really couldn't come back here, so he's with Paula and the girls in the waiting room, but I'm not budging. Not for this lady or the two others before her who tried to get me to go to the waiting room 'where I belong'. "Before you think about calling security," I add, "I feel it's only fair to warn you that I can think of six ways to kill a man right off the top of my head – and that's before I take his sidearm away. Your best bet, sister, is to just leave me right where I am."

I hear her open her mouth. And shut it again. I doubt I look like I'm kidding.

"Sands – "

I don't bother turning my head in the speaker's direction. It's Eddas. I'm not sure how I feel about her right now. I'm not sure how I feel about anything. I just know I'm not moving from this spot until Beth is out of surgery. (I wish they'd give me some kind of fucking update – but honestly I don't even know how long I've been standing here. It could have been minutes or hours – everything is just so fucking black. Cold. Empty. It's a painful kind of empty, like when you suddenly realize how good you feel about life – and then that thing that makes you feel so good gets taken away, only what's left behind is even emptier than the big hole that was there before the something good came along…)

"Sands," Eddas says again as she draws nearer.

"You can't be here either," the nurse/doctor says to her.

"Yes I can," Eddas says – she doesn't sound like she's interested in dealing with hospital staff any more than I am. And – I'm guessing she flashes her ID and that it's at least enough to secure some temporary peace. She waits until the woman has left before returning her attention to me, "I just heard – how is she?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, I'll bet you are lady – I trusted you too. But I keep it to myself. I don't really feel like talking to her. Or anyone else.

"We lost Milo." Eddas tells me.

Fuck. "Dead?" I need a cigarette – but I'm not budging from the spot long enough to go smoke one.

"MIA."

And fuck. Again. Because that could mean… that could mean he really did sell me out. And somehow now, with all the adrenaline out of my system, with that wonderful numbness gone, somehow the thought of Milo turning against me after all this… it's hard to fucking swallow, especially since I know he knew what De Jesus and his goons would do to Beth and the girls. Even if he might maybe have tried to make some kind of arrangement to keep them out of it – a guy like De Jesus just wouldn't care who got in his way and Milo would have had to fucking know that. (And apparently I've done something to rub this De Jesus the wrong fucking way. There's a part of my brain wondering what exactly that was… but it can wait. Nothing is more important than my angel… my girls.)

And – I really did believe Milo that was at the very top of that very short list of people who were unlikely to ever fuck me over. Not after me and him and six guys beating the crap out of him (although I swear, I didn't do that for him, I did it for me, for Chet – for the sheer fucking fun of it.) But – after that night on the beach when we talked about normal and family and – and all kinds of shit that I don't think either of us would have talked about with anybody else….. after holding onto each other in a cold, dark cell where when I asked him why he didn't just let me fucking die already, he confessed that he was just too scared of being alone to let me leave like that… after everything he's done for me in the last few weeks… I was really starting to think that maybe we might just possibly be something more to one another than a couple of guys who get together twice a decade to get shit faced and act stupid. And I admit it – I liked the feeling. I like Milo, I really do. But never trust anybody, right? That's where I went wrong in Culiacan, I trusted Ajedrez. I trusted her and she just fucking sat there the whole time, watching as Guevara drilled my eyes out of my head. She just sat there listening to me scream… I couldsee her, at least for a little while, before the world went black… the last fucking thing I saw was the smug look on her face… I think it was her who gave me that last little shove out the door onto the street…

"Sands?"

Eddas. Right. I think she might have been talking to me and I missed it. I don't think I really care. "You have any leads on De Jesus?" I ask her (I just assume she's been briefed by someone.)

"He could be anywhere. The DEA and FBI are coordinating efforts to look for him – but – I doubt he'll be caught unless he does something stupid."

"So what happened?"

"You tell me."

"I got back to the condo and there was Collins," I shrug. "Rest is pretty much fucking obvious."

"He murdered the officers – and two FBI agents – who were watching the place," she tells me.

"I kinda figured that much out on my own. Dan Collins isn't good enough to just sneak in."

"Did he he anything to you?"

"That De Jesus wanted to deal with me personally. I don't know why. But I think I hit a nerve when I went riffling through Collins' underwear drawer – it's just that nothing I've come up with so far from his storage unit seems worth – all this." Even his dirty laundry list, as personal as that might be – it's not worth the price of getting caught, not when it's going to mean getting sent up for killing a couple of feebs and fellow officer… "He gave me the impression that De Jesus is pretty well connected here in the U.S." I add. We knew it went up pretty high on the ol' Hill, compliments of Paula – but – but I guess we really didn't know that it was De Jesus who had the connections… Fuck me – I think I need a whole carton of cigarettes, my brain is just not processing shit right, right now… and when I feel Eddas' hand on my arm, I pull back. I'm in no fucking mood for whatever sympathy or understand she was going to try to give me. I'm not even sure how long I'm going to be able to stay in her good graces, because even if I hadn't almost lost it on Collins, I'm not so sure I'm really up for this team player thing. After all, I am a cowboy… Eddas is talking again:

"I've got people on the hospital – good people, people I trust. No one is going to get to her here – and Collins isn't going anywhere either."

"Spiffy. I'm staying right where I am."

"Look – I know you feel like need to stay here – I'm not going to argue with you over it," she adds, probably seeing the way I was opening my mouth to tell her just how pointless that argument would indeed be. Eddas continues: "But that's you. Not Emma and Cicily. They've been through Hell – and a hospital waiting room isn't where either of them need to be right now. It's probably not the best place for the CIA officer who's supposed to be investigating you to be hanging out, either."

Fuck. She's right. The last place Paula should be seen is here, helping my sorry ass. She can probably pass it off as – as something. She's creative. "I – I can't leave – and I can't send the girls back to the condo – it's – it's a mess. I think I owe your guy some new drywall."

"I'm sure Patrick will understand. And – Jeff – Milo wasn't in on this. I've worked with him for three years – I know him. I trust him – and I'm doing everything I can to find him."

"Of it hadn't cross your mind that he might be in on it, you wouldn't be bringing it up to me that he's not, there Doll Face." I really don't know what's worse, thinking about him dead somewhere – or forcing myself to acknowledge that he very probably did screw me over and that he did it knowing what would happen to Beth and our girls. If Milo's not dead already, I swear he fucking will be when I get through with him…

"I'm bringing it up because I'm sure it's crossed your mind, but – I don't believe for a minute that he'd sell out a friend. I don't think you really believe it either."

"Guys like us don't have friends."

"He stuck his neck out to bring you into my office – to bring you back into this country. And you're willing to stick your neck out for him by taking the heat for being my rat in the CIA."

"Yeah well – I'm just fucking stupid."

"You know I don't believe that."

I just snort.

"Look – the real point is – is that your daughter – Beth's daughter – they shouldn't be stuck in a hospital waiting room. This is scary enough."

"Em's – Em's used to it," shit. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing right now. Holly's been dead what – three months? And here Em is back in a hospital again – but you know, I can't think anyone I'd rather leave Cicily with right now. At least I know she's – safe? No, I don't know she's safe, nowhere is safe, not with De Jesus running around – but – they're here. They're close.

"They're kids, Sands. I'm sure your daughter likes to think of herself as a grownup – believe it or not, I have some vague recollection of fifteen – but even if she thinks she's adult enough to handle this, I can't believe you think she is. You know – Hell you, know better than the rest of us what the world is like."

"Yeah. Yeah that I do Doll Face. Thing is – I kinda don't have any other options. I'm not leaving Beth – I can't – and I just don't have anyone who can take care of them."

"What if there was someone?"

"Who?" I ask, because if her tone is any indication, I'm not gonna like this.

"Something just came to my attention – and – and under the circumstances I'm going to butt in just long enough to urge you keep an open mind, because there are worse options available. Although – if it came down to it, I've got a spare room that never gets used. I'm just not sure they'd be happy coming home with me. I'm not the most nurturing individual – my work is my life. But – it's an option – and it's not the only one you've got."

(And she thinks I'm a nurturing individual?… however…) "I really don't think I'd like this kind of fucking vaguely under the best of circumstances, there Boss Lady –"

"There's someone in the waiting room who wants to talk to you – just listen – and – remember that spare room at my place. I take care of my own, Sands. I know you don't think you have any reason to trust anybody right now – but – I take care of my people – and God help me, that means you, too."

"Yeah." Right. I don't like any of this… but she really did stick around that day they debriefed me… she didn't have to do that. "Could you – do me a favour before you leave – ?"

"What is it?"

"I just – could you take a look in there and just tell me – ?" something. Anything.

There's a brief pause, presumably while she looks through the window, "I'm no doctor – but – no one looks panicked so – I guess that's a good sign."

"Thanks."

And it occurs to me after I hear her leave that I probably should have at least asked who the fuck was here with her…

I don't think more than a few minutes pass before I hear footsteps that are clearly out of place. Hard soled shoes (everyone around here wears thick rubber soled shoes.) The shoes are flats – men's shoes. Men's footsteps. Aqua Velva? I only know one guy who wears that crap. Tonto. But what the fuck is he doing here – and what the fuck could he possibly have to say to me now.

"Jeff – " he begins, real uncertain sounding. "It's me – Ryan."

"Recognized your aftershave."

"Ah. Look – ah – how is she – your friend?"

"How the fuck do you think she is – she took a bullet to the chest at close range – they're fishing it out of her now."

"I'm – sorry. To hear, I mean – "

"Look, Kid – this is not the time for – for anything."

"You have no idea – "

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fuck me I need a God damned cigarette.

"This isn't the time or place I ever would have wanted to have this conversation – in fact I wasn't even sure I even wanted to have it at all – "

"So let's just not."

"Jeff – does the name Abigail Moss mean anything to you?"

"Sorry – no fucking clue. Of course right now my own name doesn't mean all that much to me."

"About – twenty seven years ago, she worked for a guy – Greg Adam Sands."

Oh fuck me but good, "Kid – if this is going where I just think it might be going – I suggest you stop right there." I am not in the mood for – for fucking anything, but I am especially not in the mood for this. "You just walk away now and I'll pretend you were never here," I give him one of those cold little smiles – but do you think that Tonto has enough sense to take some very good, if less than friendly, advice from me right now?

Of course not…

"I knew who you were when I asked to be assigned to you, but I swear, my being in the DOJ, that was just coincidence. I looked for you before – but – I don't have to tell you how hard you were to find. I had no idea who you worked for."

No of course, he didn't…

"This is your last chance to back down and walk away while your legs still work, there Buckaroo because you are very seriously less than five seconds away from making that fiancé of yours a widow before she even gets to walk down the aisle," I warn the kid in a tone of voice that should convince him I'm not fucking kidding here. I don't need this kind of crap. I wouldn't need it on a good day, but I sure as Hell don't need it today.

"Jeff – please let me get through this. I've rehearsed it in my head a hundred times – "

"Did you rehearse the part where I put my foot up your keister?"

"Yes."

Ok, that gets me – sour mood, deep dark hollow feeling at the pit of my stomach and all, that really does get me. It's a short lived laugh (and it's pretty cold) – but there it is.

"It started when Jeanie and I started talking about marriage – just in the abstract at first – you know – what if – "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah – just cut to the fucking finale, you know the part where you thought it would be a good idea to lay this kind of shit on me today of all days – which is right before the encore. That's where I hurt you – and that's the part I'm looking forward to."

"Just – hear me out. Jeanie's from this big, close knit family – for me growing up, it was just me and Mom – and later my stepfather. I really love Rich, he's great, but – I guess I just wanted to know more about where I really came from. I didn't have much to work with, but – I tracked your sister down and tried to get in touch with her about six months ago. She pretty much slammed the door in my face."

"Don't take it all personal-like. Al's just like that. Apparently it has something to do with growing up with me." Personal – kid said his reasons for wanting to work with me were fucking personal… oh fuck me but good. Rod Serling's gotta be hanging out around here fucking somewhere because I've gotta be in the Twilight Zone. Tonto's still talking:

"Her husband made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with me – "

"Roscoe's a real charmer, isn't he?" Serendipity – that's what Holly would have called this. Fucking serendipity – things lining up just so, just to screw with a person's sense of – of well everything.

"I take it she never mentioned anything to you – ?" Tonto asks.

"Al and I aren't exactly what you'd call close. You know, the whole never knowing just which rock I'm going to crawl up from under – or when – to come and disrupt her cozy little suburban life. That and apparently she's sore at me for some of the shit I pulled when we were kids. You did get the memo that I'm not all together stable, right?"

"I remember you pulling a gun on me in the motel," (I can't quite tell if he's pissed at me over it – or just still a little twitchy from the experience). "I've never been that close to agun before – and never on the wrong end – but – yeah, I'd heard the rumours about you, after – after I heard that you were coming to work for DOJ, I tried to find out what I could."

"And yet here you still are – so you're either suicidal or – what the insanity really is hereditary – ?"

"That isn't funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

There are a few moments of uneasy silence (although frankly silence suits me just fine right now, easy or otherwise. Of course it isn't long lived...)

Tonto starts up again: "It wasn't just you two that I went looking for. I tried to get in touch with Gloria's and Joyce's children, too," his tone suggests that he honestly believes I give a flying fuck. Apparently, in Mayberry they don't teach their young-uns that the children of the first wife don't necessarily care about the second and third wives and we definitely don't give a shit about their offspring. (Gloria, as you may recall, was wife number two, you know the one my old man left us high and dry to go play house with. He left her for Joyce just a few years later. I know that both bore him children, and the fact that there were others after Joyce isn't exactly a shock, I just never figured any of them would be stupid enough to come looking… and this is really just too fucked up for words, gang. Fucking personal reasons…)

But colour me the teensiest bit curious, anyway, "Any luck with that little venture?" I ask – I kinda do wonder how the offspring of Two and Three reacted to Tonto showing up on their doorsteps… and what the Hell, it's a distraction... as if I could really be distracted from the fact that I'm standing right outside the room where doctors are digging around inside my angel to fish out a bullet. You know, maybe if I really loved her, I'd just walk away now... but… Tonto is speaking, and I guess I should pay at least a little bit of attention to what he's got to say, seeing as I asked a question an' all:

"I tracked them down, but only one would speak to me – Joyce's son, Arnie. He's in prison, and – I think he's just happy to have someone to talk to – well, write to, we've never actually met face to face, but we've been corresponding for almost four months. I got the impression his family doesn't have anything to do with him any more, even though he seems like a really great guy – I mean – other than being in prison."

"What's he in for?" Like I said, colour me curious.

"White collar type stuff – but – he told me he sort of lost it and – tried to hold up a convenience store – the gun wasn't loaded but that doesn't matter. He's serving fifteen years at a medium security prison in Arizona."

Christ on a crutch, what a total fuckmook. And Tonto's still jaw-jabbing over there:

"Mom couldn't tell me much about – Greg Sands," (I hear that pause there, while Tonto – wisely – considers what exactly he should call the subject.) "I've never even seen a photo of him," he adds.

"Trust me, Kid, you didn't miss a thing." And fuck – I didn't really mean to say that, I didn't mean to say anything. He just sounds so fucking eager over there, like I could somehow – somehow give him the information that would just make his fucking day. News flash – Greg Sands was a son a prick who couldn't keep his dick in his jockeys – as is evidenced by the sheer number of fucking offspring. Or in Tonto's case, non-fucking offspring… oh fuck me, I think I need something for my head. It's really starting to throb. Anybody got a gun? Oh wait – no, I'd shoot Tonto first and I think that might upset the staff who're already pretty unhappy with me…

"Look – I know must be a shock – "

"No. Finding out that the woman I'd been sleeping with was Armando Barillo's daughter – that was a shock. Having my eyes drilled out of my head while she fucking watched – that was a shock. Learning that my daughter's mother had died of a disease she never even bothered to tell me that she fucking had, and that I was suddenly responsible for a fifteen year old daughter I was never even supposed to meet – well, you've met my little Muffin, so I'm sure you can imagine just what kind of a shock that was. And coming home to find Dan fucking Collins in my living room, that was a real fucker of a shock all right, let me tell you. But finding out that the old man propagated – fuck me, I knew that. I knew Gloria'd given him one brat – and Joyce had two girls and that boy who you say's taken a shine to you." From prison – what a fucking shock that is (sarcasm, kiddies. I'm surprised more of us didn't end up in the pokey – or the loony bin. Maybe after this is through I'll go check myself into a nice little padded room somewhere…) "I just stopped keeping score after Joyce – the old man had pretty much established his pattern and – and I just don't care." And now I really need a fucking cigarette – or maybe some nice security guard will just come along and blow a hole in my skull because I haven't had a headache this bad in – in weeks. Is this really what the rest of my life is going to be…?

"I'm – sorry," Tonto says to me.

You know something – I don't care if he's sorry, or what he's sorry about. "How long has the Boss known?" That's what I wanna know right now.

"Less than an hour. We were having coffee when she got the call about your friend. I – figured – maybe under the circumstances I should tell her. And you."

"Well don't expect me to get all fucking warm and fuzzy on you just because we happen to share the same sperm donor. In point of fact, it could make me like you a whole lot less." Just in case he hadn't figured that out for himself… Christ on a crutch. I need a drink.

"I know. I just – I want to help."

"Good. Then go back to your happy little life and leave me alone."

And I almost deck the kid when I feel his hand on my arm. He manages to back off me, just in time. "Sorry – I didn't mean – I just – " Tonto stumbles over his own tongue.

"I told you what you could do if you wanted to help. Now fuck off."

"I know about your daughter's grandparents – and – just – give me thirty seconds more – "

Apparently the fact that that is a real sore subject shows on my face.

"They don't really have a legal leg to stand on – but – I mean – if anything weird happened – it is legally more sound to have your daughter staying with a blood relative than a non-relative."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"I know you're not a lawyer – "

I wave his words aside, "You've seen my kid. Do you really think you can handle that?"

"She's fifteen."

"And she's all mine – I don't mean that in a possessive sort of way, Kid," I add when I hear him open his mouth to protest, "I mean that the apple just did not fall far from the ol' tree there."

"She's still fifteen – and scared. I can handle that. I'm good with kids – and under the circumstances – I just want to help. I knew you wouldn't take it well, but I knew eventually I'd end up telling you what my personal reasons really were – "

"And you thought today would be a good day to spring the news?" Well, what's that saying 'today is a good day to die' – I guess Tonto could have woken up with that thought buzzing around his brain…

"No, of course not. But I just thought – with the situation – that – look, I don't expect you to get all 'warm and fuzzy' on me. I just want to do what I can to help, even though I know telling you now pretty much tanks any chance I might have had to get you to reconsider your position on keeping me around as your assistant. That's why Marlina and I were having coffee – I was trying to persuade her to – to let me have one more chance at it. Only she told me it was really your decision. I was going to come talk to you about it tomorrow."

"Now I know you're shitting me."

"I'm not – shitting you."

I almost smirk – I actually got Mr. Squeaky Clan to swear. My Christ, this is just too fucked up…

"I meant everything I said about it being really great to have been able to work with you. I'd like to keep on working with you – but I know this isn't the time to discuss something like that, so I'll just tell you that I'm going to ask you to reconsider, later, when things are – better – you know, with your friend."

"Don't expect my answer to change."

"I don't. But I'm still going to ask."

"So that's why you want to help – you want to soften me up? Prove that blood is thicker than water, all that crap?" You 'help me' so I'll want to keep you around… Oh fuck me, but this just isn't happening, none of it. It's not real, I'm asleep somewhere, maybe on the sofa, and any minute Beth is going to wake me up… and why the fuck did I have to leave her alone today… ? If I'd been there…

"I want to help because I can."

Where have I heard that before...? (Remember, that's what Milo said, not so long ago… Milo, who fucking sold me out… maybe. I don't know. I just don't fucking know anything any more… ) "Look, Kid, it's a real swell offer, you taking in my darling little offspring and all – but you know, I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Why are you so reluctant?"

"Because every time I trust someone, I get screwed up the ass."

I think he's about to say something more – I'm sure it's not something I want to hear – but we both stop dead in it when a door swings open just to my left.

"Mr. Sands – ?" The speaker is male, middle aged – and he sounds tired.

"I'm Sands." And I'm afraid to breathe.

"I'm Dr. Reynolds – "

"How is she?" please just tell me she's alive…

"We got the bullet out with only minor complications, but it's the next few hours that will really tell us how it went."

"What does that mean?" I want to know – they got it out, she's still alive – what more could there be?

"Your friend lost a lot of blood before the paramedics arrived, and the bullet was lodged very close to her spine. I removed it with only minor complications," he says again, "But there could be some nerve damage. I won't know with any degree of certainty until she wakes up what, if any, the extent of that damage is. And – I won't lie to you, I have great concern when any patient looses that much blood before even getting into my OR."

"What exactly are you saying?" Because let me tell you, his tone is less than encouraging.

"The human body is a remarkable machine, Mr. Sands – and she's more stable than I would've expected. But – only time will tell for sure if your friend is going to fully recover from this or not."

Fully recover… what the fuck does that mean…

"I know this is the hard part," Reynolds' voice takes on an almost condescending tone. "But all we can do is wait – it'll be a few hours before the anesthetic wears off – and she may still be out of it for a while after that. The best thing for you to do now is to just go home and get some rest – "

"I'm not fucking leaving – and there's no room for discussion."

Which I'm sure doesn't make this guy real happy…

"Jeff – "

"You're already on some real fucking thin ice, Kid," I warn Tonto.

"I wasn't going to suggest that you go home. I was going to say that maybe you should go tell Cicily and Emma that Beth is out of surgery."

And as much as I hate to admit it, I know he's right…

…Under the circumstances, I (begrudgingly) allow Tonto to guide me to the waiting room. The first thing I hear is Cicily getting up from her chair and skittering over to me as fast as she can without actually running. The second think I hear is the little sob in her voice when she asks me if her mother (Mama) is dead.

Christ on a crutch.

I knew Cicily knew all about violence but – but I scoop her up into my arms and hang on tight, because it just bugs the shit right out of me that my little angel is aware enough of that kind of violence to ask me if her mother is dead. Not if she's alive, not if she's all right – but is she dead…

(Oh yeah, and Tonto slips off into a corner somewhere, giving me plenty of space, which is a real smart move right about now.)

"Everything's going to be ok," I tell Cicily quietly.

"Don't lie to me," she sniffles into my ear; she's hanging on real tight, too.

"Ok – how about I don't know for sure that everything's going to be ok, but your mother made it through surgery ok and – and I really, really want everything to be ok – ok?"

"Ok."

My little angel… I become aware of Emma's presence – and it feels like Spencer is standing right by my legs, too (and that just reminds me of Milo…how the fuck could he have done this to Beth and the girls…? It just doesn't make sense. But nothing makes sense any more…)

Em puts her arms around my waist and just holds on.

"It's gonna be all right," I tell her.

"I know. But I'm still scared."

Yeah – me too. Me too…

"Officer Sands?" That's Paula there sounding all official – well, the words are official, but her tone is pretty mild and that hand on my shoulder giving me a little squeeze tells me all the things she can't really say out loud, not with Eddas here. (Yeah, she's still here – I heard her voice in the background when I first came in, it just wasn't a real priority in my world. It sounds like she's talking on her cell…)

"Thanks for sitting with the girls," I say to Paula.

"Hey – no problem. It was ah – the only decent thing to do."

"I hope you don't land feet first in any rotten kimchee over it."

She laughs, just a little, "I can handle myself. You gonna be ok if I head back into work? You've given me quite a mess to sort out here, Babe."

I just smirk at her, "Hey, what are friends for, right?"

"Friends like you, a girl doesn't need any enemies."

"Go and get back to work – I've got it from here."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure – go."

"Just – one more thing," she tells me quietly – then switches to Mandarin. "The other night in the bar – I was a little drunk – and a lot out of line."

I reply in kind, "You weren't that out of line. You know me."

"I'm not so sure about that – but I like this side of you – anyway," she continues on hurriedly, "I just wanted to apologize. I feel like an idiot for coming onto you like – like a bloody train wreck."

"Accepted," I just shrug at her. She really had no reason to think I wouldn't go home with her.

"I'll call you soon," Paula takes her leave of me quickly – and I think the reason is on its way over. Eddas. I recognize her staccato steps and that high end cologne of hers.

"Dan Collins has been charged with – a number of things," she tells me.

Yeah, probably not good to go into details with the girls right here. "Cicily – can I put you down so I can talk to my boss?" I ask.

Cicily clings to me tighter, barely audibly telling me 'no.'

"It's all right," Eddas says. "I just wanted you to know – he's at OMS, but he's under lock and key."

OMS – that's where sick and injured spies go to get better. "Any word on um – hmm – what he's saying about what happened?"

"My understanding is that there were no witnesses to whatever altercation took place between the two of you – at least that's according to Officer Basil. She said she arrived after the fact and really couldn't speculate to what took place before her arrival – although I am under the impression that she's going to collect the – physical evidence – before heading back to Langley."

I'll be damned…

"So – it's his word against yours – and – given that I'm not inclined to prosecute based on whatever he has to say about the matter, I doubt that the D.A. will have any inclinations of that sort either. Technically, we can claim it as a Federal matter, given the circumstances."

Maybe it's safe to have a little faith in humanity after all… Eddas phone rings again and she excuse herself...

With Emma's help, I put my butt in a chair without having to put Cicily down; she really isn't ready to let go. That's ok – I'm not really ready to let go either, but I am ready to fall down, so sitting feels good.

Emma leans over and tells me that she brought me a clean shirt, "I just thought – you know," I kind of feel her shrug. She doesn't take her head off my shoulder even after she's done talking, either. I'm not sure, but I don't think Cicily's the only one who's been crying.

But – at least Emma's not afraid of me… I can't believe I came that close to losing it. I can't believe I did that right in front of her… I'm not even sure how much of the blood I'm no doubt wearing is Collins'… and Cicily has curled herself right into my lap... Christ… just about then, I feel Emma sliding her arm into mine, getting just that much closer. "Look – Em – about what happened – "

"I don't care what happened," she tells me – there's this little edge to her voice giving me the idea that if she thinks too hard about what she saw, she might loose it. "All that matters is that – that it's over."

And – I don't have what it takes to tell her that it's anything but over. Sure, they've got Collins, but he was just the tip of the ice burg and I really am beginning to believe my own line of bull shit. Collins was sent in alone like that because Suarez (and therefore De Jesus – who I've never even met, by the by) knew I'd fucking smoke his brains out. At a worse case scenario, Collins would kill me, and one of their problems would still be out of the way, because somehow I've done something that's really rubbed these guys the wrong fucking way… Maybe they're just pissed because I didn't die like I was supposed to… I don't know. All that really matters is that eventually they'll come at me again. And with my luck, you just know it's going to be sooner rather than later.

"Jeff – "

That's Tonto. I 'look' in his direction. I'm really not up for dealing with him. I just want to sit with my girls a while, maybe curl and go to sleep for a real, real long time… wake up on the sofa to find out that this was just really one Hell of a fucked up dream… wake up to find Beth sitting next to me…

"About what I said earlier – " he begins. No, I didn't actually expect to get any peace, it was just wishful thinking.

"Let's keep the particulars between us," I favour him with one of those chilly little smiles. I have mentioned that I don't want to deal with this, right?

"Huh – oh no, of course. No, I just wanted to say that the offer's still open, that's all."

And – and if I'm feeling this drained, I can't begin to imagine how exhausted the girls must be. "Let me run it by these guys– "

"Run what by us?" Emma wants to know. Yeah, she sounds a wee bit suspicious there…

"Ryan's offered to let you guys go home with him for the night – "

"NO!" That's Cicily (bet you needed me to tell you that, huh?) And I didn't really need that eardrum anyway – hearing's seriously over rated. So's breathing.

I manage to dislodge Cicily's arms from my neck just enough so I can speak, "It's just for one night, Sweetheart – "

"NO – you promised, you said you wouldn't leave us alone! Sheldon, please – you promised." That last is more of a whimper, "Please," she says again, burying her head into my shoulder. I don't really hear the crying – but she's shaking.

"I'm not leaving you, Sweetheart, I promise. I just need you to go with Ryan so I can – so I can sit with your mother while she sleeps – "

"Then I'll sit with her too."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

Good fucking question. "Because a hospital just isn't a good place for a little girl. But Ryan will take real good care of you." (And if you think that last statement might have sounded maybe a wee bit like a threat aimed in Tonto's direction – well, you're not imagining things there, amigos.) "You can come back tomorrow – after breakfast," I add, because I really don't want Cicily waking Tonto up at four in the morning because that constitutes 'tomorrow.'

"I don't wanna leave – I wanna stay with you – please, you promised – "

"Shhhhh, I know," I shift us both a little so I can wipe her cheeks – yeah, she was crying – and brush the hair out of her face.

"Hey, you guys must be getting hungry," Tonto pipes up – he might think he's good with kids, but he's got it all wrong, at least for these two. "And I make some pretty mean chili dogs," he tells them in a sweet, nearly-condescending tone.

"I don't like chili dogs," Cicily informs him.

"Plain hot dogs are always good – "

"Do you have any idea what hot dogs are made of?" Emma inquires, proving to me that she is at least half her mother's child. (I had to hear more than one lecture on the evil of nitrates when Holly and me were together.)

Tonto, however, is undaunted, "We could always grab a pizza – you guys like pizza, right?"

"Yeah," says Cicily. "But we don't like the same things on it."

"I think we can work around that – " Tonto begins. "How about it – you can come back to my place, we'll order a pizza – and you guys can get some sleep – then I'll bring you back up here tomorrow morning, right after breakfast."

"But my pajamas and toothbrush are back at the house," Cicily says – I'm not sure if she's talking to me or Tonto. "And I don't wanna go back in there – and I can't go to sleep without brushing my hair and teeth. And we were just about to start a new story tonight," that last of course was aimed at me. And I swear if Tonto says one word…

"We can swing back by the house – I'll run in – " he begins.

"I'll run in," Emma tells him.

"Em – " I really don't think I like that idea.

"I can't just leave Iggy, Bela and Erasmus."

"Emma – "

"Shelly," she retorts. "I can't leave them. Please – "

I turn my head towards Tonto, "Hope your landlord doesn't mind pets," I smile just a little. I wonder if he's starting to regret the offer – but I really can't separate my kid from her little zoo.

"It's – just for a night or two – it'll be fine," he says.

"I still don't wanna go," Cicily continues to protest, although it sounds like she knows she's beat.

I rearrange us both so I can wipe the moisture from her cheeks and brush some of the hair out of her face, "I know – but you have to. You can take Spencer with you," because they're not going to let me keep him here anyway. "Ok?"

She just sighs. I've won, but it doesn't feel like much of a victory. "I'm going to go put on that clean shirt Em brought me," I say to Cicily. "Then you're going to go home with Ryan and you'll see – it'll be better in the morning." Oh yeah, and every time I call him 'Ryan' it just sounds wrong. He's a fucking Tonto – but I really don't need the girls picking that up… Emma takes Cicily from my lap and I stand, motioning Tonto to follow me to the men's room.

After being assured that the coast is as clear as it sounds, I tell him to stand in front of the door so no one can come in – hey, have you ever tried to take off a shirt (a turtle neck no less) with glasses on? Thought so. And – as much as I hate this part, he's already seen, he knows… just the same, I tell him that he might not want to look.

"I meant it about being sorry for the way I reacted. That was totally out of line."

I just shrug, "It's not every day you see a man with no eyes." I give it another couple of seconds before reaching for the glasses – if Tonto looks away, he at least does it inaudibly. Just the same, I make the switch as quickly as possible, wondering if he's watching – or if maybe he averted his eyes so he didn't have to look at my face. Guess it doesn't really matter… "Ok, so a couple of things," I tell him. "The first of which is that you can stop patronizing Cicily."

"I wasn't – "

"You were. Just pretend she's not seven – that's how I manage. Most of the time she's kinda quiet anyway. So's Emma – unless she gets into a mood – which isn't likely to happen, but if it does, you don't have to put up with it." And my Christ, I sound just like a parent… oh this is too fucking scary… "There's one other thing you should know," I tell him in a more serious tone. "It – probably won't matter but – Beth has a husband who just might be looking for her – or Cicily. By all accounts, you do not want to tangle with the guy."

"She's – married –?"

"It's a long fucking story that I'm not going to tell you. Cicily barely remembers him – but – you just never fucking know, so don't sweat the details, just be advised of the situation."

There's a few seconds of silence before he answers: "I live in a secure building – no matter who tries to get at either of them, they'll be safe."

"Good man, that's just what I like to hear. But get Eddas to put a couple of people on your place anyway."

"I will – and – Jeff – "

"Don't start."

"I just – I don't even know what I want to say, I just feel like I should say something."

"How about you just say nothing and we call it good."

"Is it really good?"

"No." But I guess I appreciate what he's doing for the girls – I'm just not ready to tell him that… "However you can make it just a wee bit getter if you get someone to bring me my Vicodin."

"No problem."

…………………………………………………………….

Ok, so I know the issue of Beth's recovery is still in question… and yeah, what a bombshell… it's been planned from the beginning, it was just a matter of timing (I write without any kind of real outline, just a rough idea of what's going to happen…) I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.

Cheers and happy weekend!

Helen