The next few minutes was spent with Baby kicking around the bloody head with glee before she was reigned in by Angela, redirecting her energy into something more constructive, like cleaning up her swollen, throbbing face. Perhaps a visit to a plastic surgeon would be a good idea, shit she had the money for it. After that, she found Jessica still bound to her chair, and the younger female gasped when she saw Angela's beaten, crooked-nosed appearance. With one smooth motion she cut her free, stepping aside to allow her to stand. That Jessica did, eyeballing Angela for any sudden moves. She knew it was the hybrid entity from the motherly way she was gazing at her, and that was just as bad as having Baby staring at her she found.

"My offer still stands," Angela speaks at last.

"Huh?"

"You can come home with me. Let me take care of you."

The blonde considered this for a few moments, then turned sad emerald eyes to the hitwoman. "I'm sorry, Angela. I've thought of a way of making things even between us. You can't stop me." In less than a second the hypodermic was in Angela's arm, and she only had time to look down in amazement before her legs buckled and she met the cold, damp floor. Darkness crept in on her field of vision but she heard as if through a tunnel Jessica whispering to her, "Don't worry, she's young yet and won't remember much. I'll love her as my own. You owe me! YOU OWE ME!"

Roberta was playing with her toy horses, waiting for Freddy to return and tell her a bedtime story before he tucked her in. Glancing up she suddenly spotted the woman in the corner watching her. Scrambling to her feet the girl squeals happily "Mommy," and starts toward her. She was accustomed to her mother appearing with different clothing and hair colors, but she was brought up short. "You're not my madre," the toddler declared, looking up at the lady unafraid.

"No, sweetie. She sent me though."

"You know where she's at," the little girl asks hopefully. She missed her momma.

"Uh-huh," asserts Jessica, bending backwards to stand on her head. The little girl claps and laughs as the newcomer walks on her hands, then pretends to fall down. Roberta found this a riot, why nobody had played with her like that before! Then the strange woman juggled some bouncy balls and sank down to the floor to her level, looking at her intently. "Want me to take you to her?"

"Why can't she come an' get me," the child asks shrewdly.

"Did Freddy tell you what's going on?"

"He said that bad people are after Mommy, and to keep me safe she's leadin' them away and then she'll come back for me."

"Well, I'm somebody she knew from a long, long time ago and I told her I'd help her. I just wanted to meet such a smart, wonderful little girl like you."

"My mommy's too smart and tough for any ol' bad guy," sniffs the girl.

"Sometimes even people like your mother need help, you know," Jessica responded reasonably. "Give me your hand. Hurry, the mean people might be watching."

"Wellll...ok. You're funny and look like Mommy...are we related? Maybe we are," Roberta exclaims, then stops her advance to the woman. "But I want my horsies," she turns back to go retrieve them.

"Roberta, we have no time to waste! Let's go!" She grabs the small child's arm.

"Hey! I want my horsies, I won't go without my horsies," the girl wails.

"Shhh! We don't wanna scare anyone!"

The bedroom door swings open, revealing Freddy with a storybook in hand, his eyes growing wide as saucers. "What the hell?"

"You," he spat at last, reaching for the small pistol he kept with him at all times.

"No," squealed Roberta, stepping in front of the woman. "Don't hurt her Freddy!"

"Berta, she's an enemy. She tried to hurt me before, now stand away from her."

Hugging Jessica's legs she shook her round head. "I like her, she's funny."

"Roberta, she's trying to kidnap you! Please. Get away from her."

Looking back at him with tear-rimmed eyes the little girl sobs. "My mommy's dead, ain't she? That's why you're all acting so funny. I want my mommy," she wailed, latching back onto Jessica. "She--can--be--my--mommy," she says between hiccuping sobs. "Don't kill her, Uncle Freddy. I want Mommy! I don't have a daddy and I don't wanna be without a mommy."

"Mommy's here, sweetie," came Angela's voice, full of tenderness. Crawling through the window, battered, bleeding, and exhausted was Angela. Stumbling to her knees she caught the little girl as she flew into her arms. Soon both were weeping with joy and relief, and Angela sent a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening up there that she'd come home to her daughter, her only biological family left.

"Sweet Jesus," breathed the dark-haired Freddy at her appearance. "All right, you," he intones, remembering himself. "Hands where I can see 'em." He circles the intruder, and she moves fluidly towards the little bed. Before he could blink she rolled over the bed and hit the floor, neatly out of his sight. Jessica pulled her own handgun, checked if it was loaded, and prepared for an ugly mess.

Angela leaped into action, exchanging her daughter for Freddy's gun and bidding him seek cover. "No! NO," screamed Roberta. "Don't shoot her, Mommy! She didn't hurt me. Mommy, don't!" Freddy tucked the struggling girl under his arm and bolted out the bedroom door, raising the alarm.

Jessica shot from under the bed, not really expecting to hit anything but it drove Angela instinctively to the floor. The younger woman popped up and squeezed off shots--Angela kept rolling, coming up on one knee and firing. Jessica jerked like a puppet being pulled, in a split second regained her bearings and jumped backwards behind the bassinet that hadn't been removed from the room yet. Checking herself over she discovered a bullet had grazed a rib and another was lodged somewhere under her collarbone from the throbbing heat and feeling of something foreign where it wasn't supposed to be. Time to reload.

"Bitch I coulda killed you," declared Angela. "I give you quarter and this is what I get for my trouble? I can see why Baby and Otis always disposed of their victims."

"As far as I'm concerned you still owe me. You got a happy little family with servants and a child of your own, and what did I get? I got shit! YOU STOLE MY FUTURE, MY HAPPINESS!"

"So that's what this is about," gasps Angela, taken aback. "You blame me for Otis fuckin' you up so you can't have kids? Well, lil miss Homecoming Queen, YOU CAN'T HAVE MY DAUGHTER! I'll fuckin kill you!" And she lunged clear over the bassinet onto the supremely startled blonde, readying the gun to her head. A well-placed strike sent it flying, but Jessica couldn't bring the gun she had in her grasp to bear as Angela had her wrist in a vise grip.

Angela relinquished the hold over Baby and she came roaring and gnashing to the forefront, aiming to tear the younger woman's eyes out, to maim, to kill. Everything in Jessica screamed in fear and desperation: Fight! Fight! Angela's men appeared from all directions, weapons at the ready but unable to make a move for fear of hitting their mistress. The former victim's fingers scrabbled about, searching for something she could use on her assailant and found an economy sized bottle of baby powder, which she clocked Baby over the head with. A cloud of perfumed dust poofed out, engulfing both females and stinging Baby's battered face.

It was just the opening Jessica needed to pull her knife. "Ohh, no, bitch," coughed Baby, catching her wrist before she could strike and wrenching the knife away. then she head-butted her face. "I gotchoo now," she declares, breathing heavily and raising the blade high. She held it there gazing at the girl's face, accepting but defiant. Not beaten down and snivelling, but young and hopeful through all the shit that had been done to her. Baby hadn't been unaffected by the contact with Ellen's personality, and it was Ellen who came through now, pushing aside the momentarily confused and sentimental Baby. Ellen the mother and pillar of quiet strength. "Go. Get outta here, you stupid girl." Ellen got to her feet and allowed Jessica to get up. "Your scheme has failed; stealing my daughter won't make you whole again. You know that, don't ya?"

Jessica nodded, numb.

"Killing you won't bring Paolo or Kevin back," reasoned Ellen. "So, we're left with A: killing one or both of us and B: you gettin' the fuck outta my house while Baby's in a soft mood and makin' something out of yer sorry self."

At that moment the two women, whose lives were so strangely intertwined, understood each other for once. "Thank you, Ellen," she whispered as she darted past the astonished guards. "And Baby."

Little did each of them know the how outcome of their actions would help later on down the road, for Angela's daughter would need all the friends she could muster, growing up the daughter of one of the most powerful crimelords south of the border.

--2005--

The middle-aged, lanky man heard the front doorbell ring but let his teenaged son get it; after all, it was probably the boy's girlfriend come calling. He was putting together a scrapbook anyways and didn't want to be disturbed.

The man's son opened the door and his large dark eyes flew open. This wasn't Crystal at all, but she sure was a looker! Tall, lithe and very lean, she nevertheless gave off a very sexual feminine aura. Shoulder-length deep brown hair framed an attractive (albeit square-jawed) young face with sparkling dark grey eyes. Remembering his manners the lad greets her. "Hullo, can I help you, Miss?"

"Hi there! Yes, is this Lance Brockwell's residence?" The youth answers in the affirmative. "Could I please speak with him? It's really important. Please," she bats her beautiful, expressive eyes at him and he couldn't resist.

After a few long moments the man appears, wearing thick spectacles and a heavy mustache. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The young woman's face brightens immediately. "Daddy," she cries, jumping in his arms.