Author's Note: I'm a little late posting today. Sorry about that — I've been sick since last night, and that kept me from finishing up when I usually would have. Just to let you know now, I'm heading off to a conference on Thursday, so I might not have a new chapter to post next Sunday. I will try, though.

Thanks, everyone, for continuing to read! And thanks to katbybee and Piscean6724 for beta-reading and for all your encouragement!

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By the time the Bone Man reached the ranger station, Jess had passed out. The Bone Man clambered up the stairs and pounded on the door. He wasn't prepared for a woman to answer that door. He froze at the sight of her and dropped his eyes to the floor. His mouth wouldn't work, so he just stood there with Jess on his shoulders.

She gasped and then pulled them inside. "Lay him on the cot there!" she ordered. "I'll call for help!"

The Bone Man wanted desperately to escape. Would she send him back to the Farm? He didn't trust her not to, but he couldn't go. He had to stay, make sure he was going to be all right. That's what a medic did, wasn't it?

He laid Jess gently on the cot and then checked his wounds. They were seeping a bit, but the tourniquets had mostly stemmed the bleeding. Jess wasn't in danger of bleeding out, at least. Once the Bone Man had satisfied himself on that score, he started pacing the room, mumbling.

The woman disappeared into another room for a moment, but soon she came trotting back. "A MedEvac flight is on the way. What happened?"

"Found him. Boulder pinned him. No choice." The Bone Man kept pacing, his gaze glued to his feet.

"Hey," she said, her voice going soft. "It's OK. I believe you." Then she touched his shoulder.

He stumbled back against the wall, hands out to guard his face. His brain was racing, panic building inside him till he felt like he was going to explode with it. "No. Please no. Don't send me back. Don't wanna go back." He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Elbows on his knees, he rested his forehead on his palms. His fingers curled in his hair, tugging so hard it hurt. His heart was just about pounding out of his chest and his palms were sweating. He could hardly breathe.

He felt her studying him for a long moment, but his heart was thudding too loud for him to hear anything she might have said. He couldn't look up, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. What was wrong with him? He hadn't been under the influence of the Sustenance for years. He knew what Hera was selling was a load of hogwash. Why couldn't he handle speaking to a woman?

Next thing he knew, a fireman was kneeling in front of him, shining a bright light in his eyes. He batted the light away, but the fireman grabbed his hands and held them. "Hey, I'm here to help, pal," the fireman said. "You gotta let me do this."

"Help Jess," the Bone Man said. "I — I ain't worth much." He'd briefly thought that maybe he was, but then he froze when that woman showed up and he couldn't do anything. He was nothing, just like Hera said. Still, he settled down, remembering the advice he'd given Mike. Firemen will help. He believed it for them, and he believed it for himself.

"You're worth plenty in my book," the fireman said. "You saved Jess's life. He woke up and told us about it. Now, I know it was traumatic and you're probably second guessing yourself, but you did what you had to do. Anyway, he's getting plenty of help. I'm here to help you."

Then the fireman lowered the Bone Man's hands to his lap. He looked down at those hands for a moment, then up, and the two men met eyes. "Tell me something," the fireman said. "I noticed those tattoos on your fingers. Are you one of the men from Hera's Farm?"

The Bone Man tightened his hands into fists. Tears welled up in his eyes and he shook his head side to side. "I don't wanna go back. Please, don't make me go back. They released me. Thought I'd die, but I got out." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "If I go back, they'll kill me."

The man touched his cheek. A gentle touch. Kind. He wasn't sure what to do with that sort of touch. "Listen to me, you aren't going back. Ever. The Farm has been shut down and Hera's in jail. You're free and we're going to get you home."

"Home?" He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Then he blinked his eyes open again. "September 7, 1957. Gettin' married. Gotta be there." But then he groaned and rocked back and forth. "Gracie won't want th' Bone Man. Filthy… stink like death."

"19… 57?" The fireman looked at him all confused with his eyes big and his forehead all puckered up, but then it smoothed out and he shrugged. "Well, I bet you'll clean up just fine. Can you tell me your name? I don't wanna call you Bone Man. That's behind you now."

The Bone Man gave his head a slow shake. "Don't remember. Everything's gone. Everything but Gracie and September 7, 1957."

The man looked at him for a moment, his forehead wrinkling. " 'll figure that all out later, but for now… well… you look like a Joshua to me. Mind if I call you Josh?"

He tried out the syllables on his tongue. "Joshua. Josh. I like that." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, which was a strange sensation and made his muscles ache. But it felt good to have a name. He stuck out a hand to the fireman. "Name's Joshua. Put 'er there, pal."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Agent Owens knocked on the door to Johnny's ICU room. Roy turned the volume down on the television, then beckoned for him to enter. He'd met the man at the hospital in Idaho when he had to make a statement about the altercation with Dr. Lloyd. "Hello, Agent Owens."

"Hi, Mr. DeSoto." He gave a friendly nod. "I hope you're healing well. I'm actually looking for Susanna Levin. We never managed to connect back in Idaho. I was told she might be here."

"I'm OK, thanks. Susanna's gone shopping and to lunch with my wife." Roy shook his head. "Poor kid got out with nothing but the clothes on her back." He checked his watch. "She should be back in about half an hour. I know she wanted to be here before Dr. Brackett takes him to surgery to repair that broken cheekbone."

"How's he doing?" Owens sat in the empty chair next to Roy.

"Better physically. He's going to live. It remains to be seen how much he'll recover, though." Roy nodded toward the television. "This show seems to help."

John's eyes were open and for once he was quiet. His gaze was fixed on the television screen. Other shows Roy had put on had freaked him out whenever a woman came on screen, but then Roy had switched over to PBS right at the beginning of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. A kiddie show, yeah, but the soft-spoken host had captured John's attention immediately. He'd ceased his heart-rending litany and seemed to be soaking in Mr. Roger's more palatable message.

In the DeSoto home, Mr. Rogers was standard fare. Chris and Megan loved him. Roy could get tired of him pretty fast. Now, though, knowing what Johnny had been told over the last few months, he was grateful for the soothing voice and the uplifting words. The man's message wasn't only important for kids. It was for everyone.

"My kids love this show," Agent Owens commented. "Good idea, playing it for him. It's a great antidote to all the negativity he absorbed at that farm."

The door creaked open just then and Susanna stepped in. She was dressed in a pair of jeans now and a pretty blouse now, and her dark curls had been cut to shoulder length and fashionably feathered back. A world of difference from when Roy had first seen her in Idaho, still wearing the dress she'd been required to wear at the Farm. She nodded to Agent Owens and Roy. "Hello. Roy, JoAnne is waiting in the hall to talk with you."

The agent stood up. "Hello, Miss Levin. I'm Agent Ben Owens with the FBI. Um… I understand you prefer Levin to Lloyd. Am I right?"

"Marginally." She stood with hunched shoulders, one hand over her scarred cheek. "It is better than Lloyd."

Levin… it would have been her uncle's name. The name of the man who hurt her. Her father's too, but as far as Roy understood, she'd never known him. For her, that name was a reminder of her abuser.

"Well, Miss Levin," Owens continued. "I need to talk with you about your experience at the Farm. Could we talk privately?"

She glanced from Agent Owens to Roy, panic in her eyes. Roy understood. She didn't want to be alone with a man she'd only just met. After what had happened to her, he didn't blame her, even though he didn't believe the agent was the type to take advantage of a young woman. "Susanna, why don't you ask Jo to go with you. I'll stay with Johnny. You've still got about twenty minutes before they come to get him."

She nodded, and he watched the panic recede. "Yes. Of course, I'll talk with you, Agent Owens, if JoAnne can be there. But I can only do it once. I want to put that place behind me and never have to think of it again."

Agent Owens scratched his head. "We may ask you to testify at Myra Lloyd's trial. Do you think you could do that? Help us put her away for good?"

Susanna looked down at the floor, her shoulders hunching upward. But then she straightened up and looked him in the eyes. "Yes. That I can do. She can't be allowed to hurt anyone else."

Roy felt a surge of pride. This young woman was stronger than she realized. With the right support, she was going to be all right. She needs a family, Jo had said. Roy knew now that she needed more than that. She needed a new name. After she had followed Agent Owens into the hallway, where JoAnne was waiting, he picked up the phone and dialed his mother's number. She'd come home from Egypt just over a week ago, bursting with stories of her trip and wearing an engagement ring. All she and Merritt Stirling had to do now was set the date. Roy hoped his plan could be put into action before any wedding, while Mom's name was still DeSoto.

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Harold Laska hadn't expected when he discharged Clayton Orwell that he would end up in charge of the hospital until the boss's return after New Year's.

"No one on the Board can do it, Harry," Orwell had said. "And with Merritt gone, I choose you as my second in command." And then he'd waved goodbye, said, "Merry Christmas," and strode to the door, his discharge papers in hand. Then he'd turned around at the door and added, "If you need to fire someone, do it. I trust you."

Of course, being in charge of the hospital didn't mean Laska was going to skimp on caring for his patients. Maybe he could have pushed them off on another doctor, but that wasn't how he did things. If he was in charge, he had to set an example of what he expected from everyone else.

And so he tugged the chart out of its holder just inside his newest patient's room. At first he was a little startled. The bed was empty. But then he saw a tuft of grey hair sticking up on the other side of the bed. His patient was sitting on the floor, cocooned in a blanket. He glanced over the chart, then moved around the bed and pulled up a chair. "Hello, Mr..." He glanced at the chart again. No surname listed. He'd told the staff to avoid tagging patients as "John Doe." This man just went by Joshua, and it might not even be his real name, according to the paramedic's notes. "Hello, Joshua. I'm Dr. Laska. So, you're the hero I've been hearing so much about." His knees couldn't take getting on the floor these days, but sitting would bring him closer to eye level with the patient.

The man lifted a shoulder in a slow shrug. "I ain't worth much."

"I beg to differ, as does the last patient I visited. Jess Gilbert is alive because of you." He checked Joshua's vitals and noted them on the chart. "Joshua, there are some men who would like to talk to you. May I bring them in?"

Joshua's forehead puckered up. "What about?"

"They need to know what happened to you at the Farm." The heart monitor registered that Joshua's heart rate was increasing. Talking about the Farm was triggering panic. Dr. Laska put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Take deep breaths. You're safe. You will never go back there." He waited until his patient's heart rate had slowed again. Joshua looked calmer now. "You see, it's important to know as much as possible about what happened there. They called you the Bone Man, right?"

Joshua shuddered. "That's the past. Th' medic said, no more Bone Man."

"That's right," the doctor soothed. "You're Joshua now. But my friends might be able to help you reclaim your old name. And if you can answer their questions, you will help make sure that Hera and her women can't hurt anyone else."

Joshua was skittish, but Laska could see that he was alert and aware. Even if he didn't remember his name, he had been off the drug long enough that it no longer affected him. He might not remember much about his life before the Farm, but his testimony would be invaluable in building a rock-solid case against Hera and her minions.

"Let me explain what will happen," Laska said. "Two men will come in to interview you. No women. I've made sure of that. They will want pictures of the tattoos on your hands. Is there one on your chest, too?"

Joshua nodded, frowning.

"May I look at it?" Laska knew that it had been years since anyone had cared to offer Joshua a choice.

Joshua stiffened briefly, then relaxed. "Yes."

Laska pulled back Joshua's hospital gown and examined the tattoo. It was slightly different from John Gage's, which had just said "HERA" in Greek script. Laska's college Greek class was long behind him, but he remembered enough to manage a translation. This tattoo read, "Property of Hera." More than anything he had seen so far, this made Laska's blood boil. They had not only robbed this man of his identity, his memory, and his freedom; they had attempted to deny his humanity. He pulled the gown over the tattoo again. "Listen, um… I've heard about methods of removing tattoos. We'll find a way to make that happen." He would, too. Even if he had to pay for it himself. No human being should have to live with a mark like that. "Will you talk with my friends, Joshua? Your story is important."

"Yeah," Joshua said after a long silence. "Yeah, I will."

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Before suppertime, Mike was settling into a comfortable room at the Bennett Center for Recovery. He'd been introduced to several therapists — all of them, thankfully, male. For the most part, he would have regular sessions with Dr. Hennessy, and he would also work closely with an intern named Jake. It all seemed rather overwhelming.

Jake stayed behind after the others had left to ask him some questions and fill out some paperwork. Mike forced out one-word answers. He could tell it wasn't really what Jake wanted, but he wasn't able to give anything more than that. What he really wanted to know was when he could see Johnny again. He felt responsible for his friend. In fact, he was convinced that the only way he would get better was if he could see Johnny getting better.

When Jake put his papers away, he looked Mike over. "All right. I need to get your vitals before the orderly brings your dinner tray." Mike steeled himself. He didn't like having a stranger touch him, but he'd agreed to the treatment program. He wanted to get better. And so he allowed Jake to take his wrist and get his pulse. Next came the blood pressure cuff. Mike's stomach squirmed and his hands were sweating. He felt on the edge of a panic attack.

"Hey, close your eyes, Mike," Jake soothed. "Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Deep, calming breaths. You can do this."

Mike did as Jake suggested, and it got him through the blood pressure check. Jake scrawled the information on the chart and then gave him a smile. "There, you got through it. Now, dinner should be here any minute. Tonight, you'll eat here. Starting tomorrow, you can choose whether to take your meals here alone or in the dining hall with your therapy group. Do you have any questions for me before I go?"

Mike did have a question screaming inside him, but he couldn't bring himself to voice it. Finally, he gestured for Jake's pen and a sheet of paper. Then he wrote, Johnny. My friend. Is he here?

Jake shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stoker. You're the only new patient we've had this week. I can ask Dr. Hennessy about him, though. I'll let you know tomorrow morning what I find out. Eat your dinner, get some rest. Tomorrow you'll start the program in earnest."

Mike nodded and offered Jake the pen and notepad back. Jake shook his head. "You keep it. I've got plenty. It might come in handy for you."

A knock at the door announced the orderly with dinner. Jake made sure Mike had everything he needed, and then bid him farewell.

At last, Mike was alone with his meal. He stared down at the plate. Someone had worked hard to make the meal look appetizing. It even smelled good. The aromas from his plate made Mike's stomach grumble. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten real food. At the Farm, he'd had the Sustenance until he quit taking that. He couldn't remember what he'd eaten afterwards. There had to have been something, but he couldn't think what it was. In the hospital in Idaho, they'd fed him through a tube. Another liquid diet.

Hera was screaming in his head. Food like this shouldn't be wasted on the likes of him. He wanted to eat. He was starving. And yet he couldn't bring himself to put a single bite in his mouth. He did fumble about opening the milk carton and he drank it down, but he pushed the food away. The milk was enough. It soothed the hungry ache in his stomach.

When he had finished the milk, he considered the meatballs and vegetables on his tray. He had to get rid of them somehow. They were too tempting, and he wasn't worthy of them. And so he carried them into his small bathroom and flushed them down the toilet.

Back in his room, he stared for a long moment at the bed. In his head, Hera told him he should sleep on the floor, not a mattress. He hadn't really had a choice in the hospital. They'd put him in a bed, and he'd barely been aware of it. But now he would do what felt right. He grabbed the pillow and blanket and arranged them on the floor. That was enough of a bed for the likes of him. He lay down, clutching the pillow in his arms, and soon was dreaming of Beth.

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"Hawaii?!" Marcy squealed with glee when she and Marco were all checked in and the big secret was revealed. "I've never been to Hawaii!" She bounced a few times, then threw her arms around her husband and kissed him.

Marco grinned. Her kiss warmed him all the way to his toes. He twirled her around and kissed her back. "Of course, Hawaii. Nothing but the best for my bride."

"Jean packed for me. She wouldn't let me see anything she put in the suitcase, so I hope she didn't forget anything."

"Anything you need, we can get there." Marco chuckled. He offered her his arm and together they walked to the Security line. "You know, I'm going to need a whole wardrobe — all I've got with me are winter clothes."

"Ooh, I look forward to shopping with you." As they got in line, she looked him over, her head tilted to one side, one finger tapping at her cheek. "You need a Hawaiian shirt. Red, I think. No, blue. And green. OK, you need several Hawaiian shirts."

Marco suddenly remembered the jewelry box in his pocket, the one with the crucifix. He'd noticed her admiring it in the jewelry shop and had instructed the jeweler to add it to the order when she wasn't looking. The jeweler had thrown in a matching pair of earrings as a gift. She would see the box and wonder about it when they emptied their pockets for the security check, so he decided to give it to her now. He fished it out and presented it to her. "A special gift for you, Mrs. Lopez."

She looked up at him, eyes widening. "You didn't have to give me anything else, Marco. You've already done so much."

A gentle smile on his lips, he caressed her cheek. "Mi Corazón, it's my joy to make you happy." And he thrust the box into her hands. "There's a little something extra in there, a wedding gift from the jeweler."

Marcy opened the box and gasped. "You noticed!"

He grinned. "It's my job to notice." He fastened the necklace around her neck, and she switched out her earrings.

"But I don't have anything for you," she said, her smile fading as she placed the empty jewelry box in her carry-on bag.

He wrapped both arms around her, grateful that the line was a bit slow at the moment. "Marcianne Lopez…" He paused to kiss the tip of her nose. "...you are the only gift I need."