-1"She's beautiful," Jill commented looking at Lindsay. "Look at all of that hair."

Max smiled despite everything. "She is. What's going on with you?"

"I could ask you the same question. Are we both that transparent?"

"Sometimes," Max agreed. "Um, I heard what happened at the hospital and all. I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. We're taking him to court over it, although with his son being investigated . . . it's going to be complicated. I don't know what to do with myself, and my patients haven't been coming into my office as much now. I don't know what's happening."

"They'll be back. Once they figure out what an ass this Bradshaw is," Max countered.

"Have you met him? I know you've been in and out of the hospital a lot lately."

"Unfortunately," Max sighed, as she filled Jill in on her confrontation. "What do you think?"

"You handled yourself pretty well. Did you tell anyone else?"

"Kenny knows," Max trailed off, thinking of their fight this morning.

"He didn't take it too well?"

"We're fighting all of the time. Over everything. I don't know what's happening with us, and it scares me. This morning . . . he said that maybe we were a mistake, and I agreed with him."

Jill fell silent at that, as looked at Max in astonishment. "Did you mean it? Every time I see you two, you both have seemed so happy. Even through the rocky times you've been solid. What has changed?"

"What hasn't changed would be a better question. We've had our battles since we first met, but this is different. I wish we could go back to the way we were."

"You can't go back, only forward," Jill cautioned. "I know there has been a lot going on lately, and having a new baby can be tough. Especially after taking in your sisters kids, and dealing with what happened to her, your family."

"And Josh," Max finished softly, thinking of their dead son. "You can say it. It still hurts, and I'll always miss him. It's better though."

Jill nodded slowly, "Do you two talk about him?"

"Not a lot," Max trailed off, "After I went to Boston, everything changed so fast . . . we haven't."

"Maybe you should," Jill offered, "And take some time just for the two of you. Relax, go on a date, and forget all of the bad stuff for one night."

"We do need to talk," Max agreed, "Without arguing with each other. I miss him Jill, and I hate this wall we put up between us."

"Then tell him. Sometimes it's that simple."

"I don't know is he'll listen. We weren't a mistake. I know that, and he does too."

"So do I."

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"Jordan Bradshaw died of multiple stab wounds," Carter declared, waltzing into Jimmy's office. "At least that's what my preliminary analysis is. Serrated edges like the knife used on the girls. He got to keep his skin though."

"That was generous," Kenny replied, trying to focus on the case instead of the feeling that his marriage was crumbling. "This narrows the list of suspects down."

"We're going to start looking more at his friends. The ones that like to bully and harass the younger girls," Jimmy interjected. "I want to know everything about the knife wounds as soon as you do Carter."

"I'm on it," Carter replied, heading back toward the morgue. "I'll get back to you in a few days."

"Close the door," Jimmy told him on his way out before turning back to Kenny. "Sit."

"What's going on?" he asked, trying not to squirm under Jimmy's gaze.

"You tell me. Everything okay?"

"Of course it is."

Jimmy paused and knew better. "How is everything at home? Is your niece holding up okay because I'm sure she heard the rumors about Jordan before his death. It was all Zach could talk about the other day."

"She's doing okay, or at least she says she is. I believe her though," Kenny trailed off.

"Good. Lindsay is getting older too? What two and half months now? I know that Max is scheduled for a physical after her maternity leave is up. I haven't seen her for a while, how is she holding up? Last time I talked to her she seemed kind of distracted, and all of this must be weighing on her somewhat."

"Jimmy, I really don't want to talk about this. Max and me are having some problems. Can we just leave it at that?"

"For now," Jimmy conceded, not liking the look in his eye, as he changed the subject. "I want Jake Forman and Philip Stock brought in. They were Jordan's best friends."

"I'm on it."

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"Hey Samantha, wait up," Zach called, running down the hall after her. "Hi! What's going on?"

She shrugged. "Not much. I'm just going to math, and wishing it was still the weekend."

"Did you have a good one?"

"I guess so. I hung around with my family and stuff. We had fun," she trailed off, thinking of her aunt and uncle's fight that they had walked in on. I don't care what Aunt Maxie said, she thought, it seemed really serious to me. I don't want to move again. Even though I hate this school right now, home is pretty good. "Zach? Do your parents fight?"

"Yeah. Sometimes."

"No, I mean really fight. My aunt and uncle looked like they were going to kill each other. I don't know what it was about, but they both seemed really mad. I think they made up, but they seemed kind of pissed off again this morning."

Zach shrugged. "Adults are weird. Do you know that my mom threw my birthday cake against the wall one time? Then she and my dad screamed at each other for a good hour in the kitchen? I think that they need to do that sometimes."

"Maybe," Samantha conceded. "I don't like it when they fight."

"Me neither," Zach agreed, shooting her a thoughtful look. "Do you want to come over sometime or something? We can hang out and stuff?"

"I'd like that," Samantha trailed off. "Um, I'd have to ask my aunt and uncle though. You know, with what happened last time I went off with a boy. An older boy."

"I've known them since I was a little kid. They'll be fine with it. I promise."

"Okay. Maybe sometime later this week? Or next weekend?"

"Cool. I've got to get to class. I'll see you later?"

"Bye Zach."

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"The team finished going through the computers," Skeeter announced. "And all four victims received emails and chatted with this Venom. Who was traced back to Jordan Bradshaw's computer. Not that it does much good now, with the kid being dead in all."

Jimmy nodded thoughtfully, "If he was part of this cult, and it looks like he was he didn't act alone. He was a 15-year-old kid, and was probably good at attracting pre-adolescent girls."

"His two cronies are in the interrogation room," Skeeter added. "And none too happy about it either. Their parents are on the way, and Wambaugh is talking to them now."

"Of course," Jimmy replied. "Let's get to this before he pulls one of his stunts."

"Who do you want first? Forman or Stock?"

"Let's start with Forman," Jimmy said rising to his feet and following Skeeter toward the other room, as Wambaugh came in. "I want them separated."

"This is unconstitutional," Wambaugh declared. "They're children Jimmy! Just children!"

"Children who may know something about four murders," Jimmy countered, "Possibly five with Jordan Bradshaw's death."

"Oh, so you just shift the blame for the murders. I see."

"Doug," Jimmy seethed. "Their friend was just killed. Let us leave it at that for now!"

"If you like. Should we go in?"

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My limp is getting better, Max mused, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as she listened to the noise in the other room. I'm starting to feel like I used to, although this upcoming physical is starting to scare me though. What if it isn't enough though?

"Aunt Maxie," Samantha called, skidding into the kitchen with a giggle. "You have to come see this! It's funny!"

Max smiled despite her dark thoughts. "I'm coming . . . Let me get the door first though."

"Okay," Samantha said still giggling, as she went back into the other room, "Nate! Em! Keep going! She's coming!"

She seems so much happier, Max thought, as she threw the door open. I'm glad about that, and she deserves to be. "Oh. What are you doing here?"

"Do you know that my son is dead? You people, all of you, killed him! Just you wait," Jackson Bradshaw growled. "Your little bitch of a niece is going to pay for putting my son is this position! All of you!"

"What?" Max asked numbly. "What? Your son? When?"

"Why should you care? You people caused this! You'll all pay for it!"

"I know what it's like to lose a child," Max began before he cut her off.

"You don't know what I'm going through! He shouldn't have died like this!"

"Aunt Maxie?" Samantha asked, walking back into the kitchen at the voices. "Are you okay?"

"Go upstairs. Take Nate and Em with you," Max said quickly, keeping her eyes on Dr. Bradshaw. "Now Samantha."

"You little bitch," he spat, shoving Max to the side and lunging at Samantha. "I'll kill you!"

Max winced as she crashed into the counter, and hit the tiled floor. Scrambling to her feet, she saw Bradshaw with his hands wrapped around Samantha's neck. Shit, she though, shit!

"Aunt Maxie! Help," she heard Samantha gasp, as she was pushed against the refrigerator. "Please! Help me!"

Ignoring the pain running through her side and head, she grabbed the glass bowl from the counter. Raising it above her head quickly, she smashed it on top of his head .

"Aunt Maxie?" Samantha whimpered, watching the six-foot five man fall to the floor with a thud.

"It's okay," Max replied softly, pulling Samantha into her arms and smoothing back her hair. "It's okay. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No . . . Yes. My neck . . . he tried to choke me."

Max pulled back slightly, to examine the red marks on Samantha's neck. Sick bastard, she thought, I see where your son gets it from. "Let's get some ice on that."

"Is he dead?"

"No," Max promised, watching his chest rise and fall, as she put the ice pack on Samantha's neck.

"What happened?" Nate asked, rounding the corner and seeing the collapsed man in the kitchen. "We heard a crash."

"Go upstairs," Max demanded. "Take Em, and stay there."

Nate nodded at the tone of her voice and took off, as Samantha said. "What happens now?"

"Go in the other room," Max replied, reaching for the phone. "Keep that on your neck."

"What are you going to do?"

Max bit her lip. "I'm calling the police. He needs to go to the hospital. I hit him pretty hard. And we need to file a report about what happened."

Samantha merely nodded at the official sound in her voice.

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"They're certainly adamant in their views," Kenny commented, following Jimmy out of the interrogation room. "And awfully convenient that they were each others alibi."

"They didn't seem that torn up over their friends death either," Jimmy added. "Or surprised by it."

"His Dad didn't take it too well."

Jimmy shook his head. "Of course he didn't. Losing a child . . ."

"I know," Kenny finished, as Jimmy trailed off. "It sucks."

"I didn't mean to bring it up," Jimmy added, knowing that after seven months it still hurt.

"I know. Sometimes it seemed like so long ago, and other days . . . I can still picture that night," Kenny said distantly. "No one should have to go through that. Not even a jerk like Bradshaw."

Jimmy sensed his deputy's melancholy mood and treaded carefully. "No they shouldn't. I wish we could have brought him home. For both you and Max."

"You did everything that you could," Kenny insisted, as he wondered how different things might be if Josh had lived. "And now we've got to do that for the Bradshaws, Meades, Roberts, and the rest."

"Hey," Pete called, rushing around the corner. "I've been looking for the both of you. You won't believe the call I just took."

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"You can't keep me locked up here," Bradshaw sneered, eyeing the radiator Max had cuffed him to. "Someone will find me here."

"That's the plan. The police are on their way," she countered, fighting to keep her voice even, as she placed the ice pack on his head. "So are the paramedics."

"No one will believe you. Do you know who I am?"

"Someone who likes to attack children?"

"Bitch," he hissed, as she backed away slowly. "You don't know what you're in for."

"That's what you keep telling me," Max retorted, as she walked back to Samantha in the other room. "How are you doing?"

Samantha shook her head, as Max sat down next to her. "It hurts. Why do people keep trying to hurt me?"

"No one is going to hurt you," Max promised, wrapping her arms around the girl and ignoring her own pain. "I won't let them."

"You hit him. For me?"

"Yeah," she replied. I would have shot him if I had a gun, she thought. Oh Caroline, I want to keep them safe for you, but it isn't working. I'm so sorry. "He's awake, but he's not going anywhere."

"Is that the police?" Samantha asked, as the sirens blared around them. "Are they coming to take him away? Do I have to go too?"

"You're not going anywhere."

"I'm scared."

"Max," she heard, as she pulled Samantha against her side as the girl began to cry. "Max? Are you here?"

"In the living room," she called back hoarsely, as she smoothed Samantha's hair back soothingly. "Its okay sweetie."

"Max," Kenny said, pausing as he looked at them, and he wasn't sure what her reaction would be to him after their fight this morning. "What happened?"

Max looked up at him, as Samantha buried her head deeper. "Um. Nothing good."

"Did he do this to you?" he asked, walking briskly over to her and examining the bruise on her cheek. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, I promise," she insisted quietly, trying not to flinch when he touched her bruises, and gestured toward Samantha. Kenny just looked at her for a moment, and wanted to hold her close. "Don't worry about me."

"Samantha," he said carefully. "Hey. Don't cry. You're going to be fine."

"Why do these bad things keep happening?," she whimpered. "I want my Mom."

Kenny cautiously joined them on the couch, and met Max's eyes before replying. "I know you do. We wish that she was here too."

"Kenny," Jimmy called reluctantly, after observing the threesome on the couch, "I don't want to interrupt, but we need to ask Max some questions. And Samantha."

"You up for that?" he asked Max softly, hating the bruises he could see. "You're kind of . . ."

"Banged up," she finished, as she glanced down at a trembling Samantha. "Could you?"

Kenny nodded, wanting to hug her but he didn't dare after that morning. "Yeah. Go. He's gone now. Someone hit him pretty well, but he'll live. Have a hell of a headache in the morning."

"You can't hold me here," Jackson insisted, "My son just died and that crazy bitch hit me with a bowl."

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"You assaulted a 12-year-old girl and tried to choke her to death," Jimmy said calmly, "And shoved a woman, who just had a stroke, and gave her several contusions. You're staying put."

"This is all a conspiracy! It will never stick."

"Keep telling yourself that."

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"She's finally asleep," Max said, a few hours later. "So is Nate. It's hard to explain to a seven-year-old why there is a bloody . . . At least Em and Lindsay are too young to remember it."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied distantly. "Sore, but it'll heal. I've had worse."

"You really clobbered him. A concussion and 10 stitches in his head," Kenny offered. "He deserved it. Those marks on her neck . . . She's a kid."

"So were the four girls that died. And Jordan. There are a lot of sick people in the world," Max replied softly, as they eyed each other warily. "I wish I killed the bastard."

"I know you do," he replied, sinking down onto their bed. "It's been one hell of a day."

"I know," she agreed. "A lot happened. With everything. What's going on with us?"

Kenny shook his head, as she joined him on the bed. "I don't know. I was terrified today though when I heard that you called, and Bradshaw was here. If he had hurt you or one of the kids . . . I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you today."

Knowing he wasn't just referring to Bradshaw. "We said a lot today. The person who said words couldn't hurt was an idiot."

Kenny cautiously brought his had to her cheek again, and traced her jawbone. "Do you know how important you are to me? How much you mean to me? I don't know what I would do without you in my life, Max."

She nodded, as they began to scratch the surface of their issues. "It's not just about the two of us now. We've got four kids to take of. Samantha, earlier today, asked me if we were going to get a divorce. Has it gotten that bad between us? I can't keep fighting with you, Kenny. We make up, and then it just falls apart again."

"I don't ever want to lose you. Whatever is going on with us, we can fix it," he insisted, taking her hand in his. "You were wrong this morning, or I was all those years ago. I thought all I wanted was a woman who, as you put it, was a sweet, wholesome, homemaker. I thought I did, but I was wrong. You'll never be that, no matter what you do. You . . . you challenge me, Max, make me think."

Max regarded him thoughtfully. "That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

"I don't want some stepford wife," he insisted. "I want you, and all those things I said that night we got together . . . You're it. You look great, you're a fantastic mother, we have unbelievable sex, and you've held me when I cried."

"I can't believe you remember all of that," she said hoarsely.

"And you're more then that. If I had married someone like I had described to you, I'd be miserable. I don't want to make you into that. I want you home with the kids because you are a great Mom."

"Do you understand why I don't want to be a stay at home Mom? Our family means the world to me. Having kids is something I never thought I'd do, and I never knew how fiercely I'd love them," Max replied softly, as she studied him carefully. "Would you have expected me to quit my job if I had married someone else?"

"No," he trailed off, "I would have tried to talk you out of it. I know what it means to you."

"I know you want me to be safe," she replied. "And you always have my best interest at heart. I know how you feel, and watching that asshole try to strangle Samantha today made me want to hide her away from the world until it was safe to come outside again. We can't."

"And neither can I," he replied. "You really want to do this?"

"I do," she said softly. "I don't know how soon. This physical coming up worries me. Yeah, I can walk . . . but the other stuff. But maybe part-time? I have part-time after my maternity leave is up, and then…we'll see."

"You can do anything you set your mind to," he insisted. "I know that better then anyone. I can't believe that you knocked him out with a fruit bowl. Wasn't that a wedding present?"

"Hmm . . . I think it was from my parents," Max trailed off. "No great loss there."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed, running his fingers through her hair. "Do you think about them a lot? You haven't talked about them in awhile. Or the letter?"

"I don't know what to do about that," she sighed. "I want to ignore it, pretend it doesn't exist. Kenny? Do you ever think about Josh?"

"What? Of course I do. Every day. Why?"

"We don't ever talk about him. Not since before Lindsay was born. Why?"

"There has been a lot going on," he replied lamely. "I miss him, Honey. I always will. It doesn't feel like someone ripped my heart out anymore, but it'll always hurt."

"I know," she agreed. "Do you ever wonder what our life would have been like if he was still here? Do you think that we would be fighting like this?"

"I had that same thought earlier today," he replied, his fingers still tangled in her hair. "I guess we know each other pretty well? I think we'll always have something to fight over, but not like this. He was a great kid Max, and I couldn't believe it when you had him. He was so quiet compared to Emily. And especially Lindsay."

" I love you. Are we going to be okay?"

Max bit her lip, as she looked up at him. "I want to be, but we've been doing this fight, make up, fight thing for a while."

He hugged her close to him. "I know. We can try though. Right?"

"Right."