The sorrow gave way to rage: rage that snapped and snarled and seemed unending.

"What?" Murdock had croaked out, still stunned by the news. "But . . . how?"

Face had shoved him away then, away from the embrace meant to be supportive.

"How?" he spit. There were still tear tracks on his face; the tears in his eyes magnified the blue but didn't make them beautiful. They were the brilliant bright of anger, Lucifer's eyes when his Father cast him out of heaven.

Murdock ducked away from the force of them.

"How? Because I made a mistake, because I couldn't keep my dick in my pants, because accidents happen, because—because . . . what do you mean, how?"

Murdock, crazy by most standards and braver than people gave credit for, stepped up beside the man now trembling with the force of his fury and hugged him again.

Hannibal tried to get information too. He waited until his Lieutenant was able to sit instead of pace. He waited until the room was out of tissue and his Lieutenant was using the hotel's washcloths as snot rags before asking the questions that swirled inside his head.

Neither B.A. nor Murdock had left. Murdock refused; he fretted by worrying all ten of his fingernails down to bleeding as he watched Face move endlessly around the room. B.A. swatted at him to stop, once or twice, but gave up when it was obvious Crazy needed something to focus on besides the maelstrom.

B.A. himself was stoic and taciturn as he often was in situations that caused anguish for the other three. His presence was solid and grounding.

When Face was finally exhausted enough to sit—not relax, but sit—Hannibal cleared his throat and said with as little accusatory tone in his voice as possible,

"So Charissa Sosa had a baby, and says it's yours. How do you know?"

"Why in the fuck would she lie?" Face retorted. "Why in the name of all that's holy would she find me to tell me something like that, if it wasn't true?"

"I don't know," Hannibal answered honestly.

"Because it is true! It is true! I slept with her three, four years ago—don't look shocked, Murdock, you knew about it—and she said she hadn't been with anybody else. So . . ."

Face let his sentence die.

Hannibal tried a different route. "Then what does she want? She had a baby, she says it's yours—why wait so long to tell you? What does she want from you?"

Face shook his head.

"Money? Child support? I can't imagine she wants you to 'do the right thing' and marry her—why would she give everything she's ever worked for? There has to be an angle, Face—"

"She said she felt guilty," the conman muttered.

Hannibal stopped and leaned forward. "Excuse me?"

"She said she felt guilty. She felt guilty that I never knew. That I never had the opportunity . . ." His voice, which had gotten slightly louder, faded again. "She'd been placing those ads for years. It was the only way she could think to try and get in touch without someone finding out. It was a surprise to her that I showed up at her door."

"She felt guilty about not telling you she was pregnant and having a kid," Hannibal reiterated. Now he couldn't contain the bite of anger in his voice.

Face nodded despondently. "Yes."

The older man sighed. "Then what does she want now?" he asked again, more loudly.

Face shook his head, with the same misery. "N-nothing. Nothing. She just wanted me to know."

Usually Hannibal could keep opinions to himself. This one he couldn't. "That's a pretty shitty, catty thing to do."

Face flinched. Murdock glanced over at the ex-Colonel to cow him—didn't they all think that? Was it necessary to say it out loud?—and moved to Face's side. He slipped a bloody-fingered arm over his friend's shoulder.

"Did she let you meet . . ." he started to ask quietly, then was stuck. ". . . him? Her?"

Face didn't lean into the comfort offered, and continued looking at his hands lying limp in his lap.

". . . a boy. It was a boy."

Murdock squeezed him.

The room became very still.

"Sh-she said his name was Devon. Devon," he repeated, as if to solidify it, to make it real. His voice was barely above a whisper. "My son's name is Devon."

"So you met him?"

The pervading sadness that Face succumbed to disappeared in a blink.

"No!" he shouted. This time Murdock weathered the storm and didn't let him go. "No I didn't get to meet him! Charissa had my baby, had my son—and she fucking gave him away!"