MarianaTeresia, ELM-Tree10, & pitaqueen: Thank y'all for the support.

SpiritoftheBlackRose: Here's a cold compress. Put it on your forehead and elevate your feet. Fainting is not fun.

Nevermindthebuttocks: Thank you! I'm not sure if I'll put more of #2 in here, I've only been able to watch it once before turning SportsCenter back on.

Thanks y'all for being so patient. I've been accepted at college so I can get back to writing. I've got another new chapter ready to go by 1/30.

Machines surrounded the bed. It had taken them three hours to stabilize Gracie, and she wasn't entirely out of the woods yet. Most of her ribs were broken, and both her wrists were fractured and she had a moderate concussion. But bone fragments had punctured her right lung, liver, and stomach. She'd been unconscious for the trip, and woke up in the ER scaring the shit out of everyone including herself. The only way to calm her down was to put her in a medically induced coma. They'd operate in 36 hours.

Vic was keeping the nighttime vigil at Gracie's bedside. Eric and the rest of the FBI camp were back at the hotel; same with the newly crowned Miss United States and the remaining contestants. MacDonald refused to let anyone leave until everything was sorted out. Even Stan was back at the hotel, and Vic was thankful he was at Gracie's bedside. There were a handful of reporters lurking the hospital, yet MacDonald was adamant on giving them wrong room numbers.

It was funny, Vic thought to himself as he stared down at the still body in bed; he thought he'd seen everything. Girls' tearing each others dresses onstage; girls throwing up the second before heading out in the bikini; sprinkling cayenne pepper and paprika on others' lipstick. Heck, one gargled Clorox to whiten her teeth. Bu he'd never seen anyone get torn apart. Her cry of fury as she threw Eric to the ground reminded him once again how no one messed with her, same with the glare she gave him as she held a cocked gun to his head. Morningside and Frank would be added to a long list as soon as she got out of here. His eyes glanced down at the red on his clothes; he hadn't had a chance to change. Gracie's beautiful dress had to be peeled from her torn body. He was glad he hadn't had the chance to see that.

He glanced up as the door opened and Eric walked in. There was an immistakable deadness in his eye, the exact oppose of the one he glared as he ran back to the convention center to do his job only hour before. Now he sat over Gracie, her bandaged hand in his, staring at her.

"I didn't think they were going to let you in." Vic said, trying to break the monotonous beeping of the monitors and machines.

"I can get in almost anywhere with the badge." His eyes never left Gracie's heavily bandaged face.

"She's going to be all right, won't she, Matthews?" Eric sighed.

"Yeah, she's a fighter, just like Mom."

"Her mother was an agent?" Vic was suddenly horrified with the idea of another woman just like Gracie: quick to fight, never to brush.

"Yeah, Harte was amazing. Broke every barrier for women in the FBI. Won every award and honor they thought of. Courage, Gun Accuracy, Neatest Office, you name it. Big shoes for her little girl to fill. She was killed in action about nine years ago, when Gracie was in college. Gracie joined the day after she graduated." He hesitated. "She's as smart as hell and as tough as nails. A bit quick to react, but it's all instinct."

Vic sat back in the plastic chair. Eric continued to massage Gracie's bandaged hand. Vic smiled to himself as Eric leant forward and gently kissed the little patch of exposed skin on Gracie's face. "Gracie Lou…" he whispered.

Vic stood up and left. He knew she was safe now.

Besides, a quick change of clothes would do him good.