A/N: Thank you to my readers, in particular my awesome reviewers KennaC (I could never kill Frank off in the first chapter!), Caranath (If Nan and the boys have taught me anything it's that threatening notes mean I'm doing a good job lol), bhar, leyapearl (Unfinished business is right...), supernaturalsam (No I don't call it resolution, I call it rising action! Stay tuned for the climax my friend ;P), J, SC15 (I guess when someone points a gun at you and pulls the trigger a little bit?), Stork Hardy, and max2013. You are all wonderful, and I love reading your comments!

The office door swung open to reveal Buck leaning against the doorframe, knocking at it lazily with his gun. "Knock knock, what's this? A private party?" Again, it seemed to Nancy as though he was leering straight at her.

"Leave the girls alone. They're just trying to save the life of the guy you shot for no reason." Joseph said, standing up to his full height, a rather unimpressive five foot six or seven, but Nancy appreciated the thought.

"So my finger got itchy." said Buck with a shrug. "Anyways, I'm already taking Sal's crap about jumping the gun—" he grinned. "Jumping the gun. That's pretty good, huh? Point is, I don't need anyone else getting on my case, so shut up, old man."

"What do you want from us, Buck?" Theresa said.

"Glad you asked." Buck said. "See, Red's friend made a big mess out there, and Sal wants the place to look presentable for company, ya get me?" The look in his eyes told them there would be no arguing with him.

The thought that Buck was taking her away from Frank's side while he was injured to clean up his blood made her own blood boil, but Nancy reined in a burst of temper that would only make things worse. She rested a soft hand on Frank's abdomen and said, "Frank? I'll be right back, okay?"

His eyelids fluttered, but didn't open.

"Someone has to stay with him," she said, electing Joseph. "Try to keep him warm, and if he needs me, you come get me."

Joseph nodded and moved to take her place by the side of the couch.

Nancy passed by Buck without acknowledging him, even when she felt that cold hand slide down her back.

The dining room was quiet, everyone still sitting in frightened silence. The place where Frank had been shot still looked like what it was: a crime scene. Sal had plenty of hands to clean up the restaurant if he wanted, Nancy realized, he just didn't want to leave them alone together in the back.

"Is your friend okay?" Joseph's wife spoke up quietly.

"He's still alive." Nancy said with a cool glance at Sal. "Barely." She folded her arms across her chest and spoke frankly to him. "I know what you're up to, and it's never going to work. Buck fumbled it the moment he pulled that gun. All these people, all these witnesses. If you were smart, you'd get out of here while you still can and find a way to get Vic Leonetti some other day. And maybe, maybe if we get Frank help soon enough, you won't be looking at murder charges."

Once again, Sal looked grudgingly impressed, but he dug his heels in. "Just clean this up," was all he said.

While Theresa grabbed a clean tablecloth and replaced the one that had become Frank's bandage, Nancy wet a towel at the bar and got to her knees on the tiled floor. The blood had already started to congeal, and it made her a little queasy just looking at it. But it only took a few minutes to erase any trace that Frank had ever been there, and somehow, that was worse.

Theresa picked up the fallen candle and placed it back on the table, lighting it. Nancy gathered the scattered silverware. Keeping her back turned to Sal and Buck, she slid one of the steak knives into her shirt sleeve. One knife was nothing compared to two guns, but it helped to feel like she was doing something.

Joesph came out of the back room and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Nancy, I think he needs you."

Her heart froze in her chest and she dumped the rest of the silverware on the bar, heading immediately for the back office. Once again she was stopped by two words and a gun, this time aimed by Sal.

"Hold it."

She rounded on him. "Don't tell me to hold it." she said in a voice she barely recognized, a dangerous voice that wasn't her own. She glanced up at the clock. "If you're gonna shoot me, shoot me. You'll have fourteen minutes to clean up the mess. But don't you dare tell me to hold it."

She spun on her heel and stalked towards the office, muscles tensed, ready to hear the shot, feel the bullet in her back... but it didn't come. Her hand closed around the doorknob and she was safe in the back office. At least, for now.

Frank's face was creased with pain, but his eyes were open, and he smiled at her when she came in. "Hey."

She swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. "...Hey."

"I was... worried about you."

"You were worried about me?" she repeated softly, taking a seat on the couch next to his hip. "Don't be silly."

He smiled and found her hands with his. "What's... what's going on out there?"

His fingers were cold and clammy, and she rubbed them, trying to bring back the warmth. "It's not great, Frank. Those guys, Buck and Sal, they're waiting here to take out some big time hood named Vic Leonetti. He's supposed to come in about thirteen minutes and if we don't do something we're probably going to find ourselves in the middle of a shootout."

"Great." Frank's head rolled back to lean against the arm of the couch. "What can I... how can I help, Nan?"

"Frank..." For as long as she'd known him, Frank had always been the brilliant one, the man-with-the-plan. But tonight he needed her to come up with one, and even if the situation looked hopeless, how could she let him down now? "I've been thinking of something. You'll think I'm crazy, and it probably won't work, but we have to try something." she improvised. "Here, lean forward a bit, let me check your shoulder."

"...Sure."

The wound was still bleeding, the tablecloth soaked through. A lot of blood, she thought. More than he can afford to lose.

He's dying.

Despite the things she'd said to Sal and Buck, that thought still hit her hard, like a punch in the gut, like a sudden sensation of drowning.

"Well, I'm thinking, you could cause a diversion back here, maybe throw something or break something." She grabbed another couple of cloth napkins and pushed them in under the makeshift bandage while she talked, anything to increase the pressure. "Sal will tell Buck to come check it out. While they're separated, that's when I make my move."

"Too dangerous." Frank grunted. "Guns."

Typical Frank: not even two bullet holes could distract him from the fact that her plan wasn't much of a plan at all. "It's all we got, Hardy. We're running out of time. Besides, I'm not totally helpless." She shook her arm just enough to show him the shining tip of the steak knife in her sleeve.

"You're crazy. Didn't anyone ever tell you... not to bring a knife to a gunfight?" he moaned as she helped him lay back down.

He was breathing like he'd run a marathon just from the exertion of simply sitting forward, and it broke her heart, but she laughed anyway. "Yeah, I might've heard that somewhere. But you know me."

"I... know you." he agreed fondly. "...When do you want... the diversion?"

"How about... three minutes? Give me a few minutes to get out there without them expecting something." Nancy said. She picked up his left hand and propped it in front of him so that his watch was visible. "9:52."

"Yeah." he nodded, and she made to get up, but he grabbed her hand. "Nan?"

"Yeah, Frank?" God, he was giving her that look again, the one that made her want to forget the rest of the world and stay right here with him. He looked weak, faded, in a way that scared her. Please don't say it, she mentally begged him. I can't say goodbye to you, not now, not like this.

"I just wanted to say... sorry I invited you to a mob hangout for dinner."

She choked on a laugh. "Don't be sorry; you know I love the excitement. ...In fact, this is the best date I've ever been on. Getting shot was really going above and beyond though."

"Hey..." he said, "Is that what this is? …A date?"

It took everything she had to keep her face from crumpling. Even so, her voice came out more watery than she'd have liked. "Well, yeah, I think so... Don't you?"

"Yeah."

Overwhelmed, she rested a hand on the side of his face and pressed a kiss to his pale, cracked lips. The contact echoed through her like a tolling bell, just like it always had—like she hoped it always would—and she rested her forehead briefly against his. "I'd better get out there."

"You better. 9:52." he said bravely, watching her as she got up and went to the door. "You know... I'm gonna have trouble topping this... for date number two."

She laughed and closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it just for a moment to let the tears fall.