I'm sorry for the lack of an update last week, but I had a beach that was calling my name, if only for a little while :)

I realized that I haven't given the usual disclaimers, so...

I do not own these characters or their histories. ABC does, or at least I think they do. Not that they des...(cough)

Sorry about that. Onto the next installment...

####

Watching the girl currently draped on the bench made him appreciate life's little ironies. At one time, his whole world – or a significant portion of it – would have hinged on whether or not she opened her eyes. A greater part would have hinged on the words that came out of those small but spicy lips afterward…

"What the hell?"

Well, nobody would ever mistake Greenlee Smythe for a fairy tale princess with fairy tale words. She emerged from her little nap not with a dainty sigh and a kiss for her nearby prince, but with a scowl and a pair of puppyish wide eyes that looked like they could kill a puppy.

Jake just smirked while the dutiful prince assumed his position and stated, "You fainted, Greens."

Truth be told, Jake had never cared much for Ryan Lavery, his knight suit with the rusty armor, or his blatant habit of stating the obvious.

Greenlee rubbed her head. "The memorial, I was –"

"It's been over for an hour, Greens. I found you outside a little while ago, and got the doc over there to check you out." He was doing that whisper-thing of his that aimed for sincere but somehow just made the recipient want to gift him with a firm head-thwacking, or at least a sound punch in the face.

Greenlee did neither. Instead, she just gave her fiancé a glare that neatly accomplished the same effect. "Why did you leave?"

"I've been here the whole time since I found you. Jake knows that."

Jake knew a great many things about Lavery, starting with his penchant for snaking other men's wives and ending with a favored pasttime of playing dead when it mattered, both in the figurative and literal sense. He nodded.

"Not the whole time," she emphasized.

"I told you I had to –"

"Just save it," Greenlee huffed in her uniquely Greenlee way. Good girl. "I saw you during the service, and then you left."

Ryan reached a hand out. "Greenlee, I think that you hit –"

She swatted the hand away. Really good girl.' "I saw you," she firmly restated.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a step back. "I just got here, Greenlee. If you saw somebody, it wasn't me."

Her expression took on a form that made Jake want to warn Ryan about possibly taking another step back. He resisted the urge.

"Dammit, it had to be –" Just as quickly, that animated face went through a few more phases, finally settling on an impressive double eyebrow lift. "The cloth, I need to –"

And with that, she was nearly off to the races. If Jake hadn't taken the opportunity to finally assert his forgotten presence, that was. "Woah, there, Speedy. Hold up a minute."

Greenlee struggled in his deliberately light grip. He knew from personal experience not to let the size fool anyone. Chihuahuas had the biggest bite.

"Let me go, or I'll –"

"Easy now. Just tell me what it is that's got you jonesing to get out there, and I'll check it out. You need to -"

"If you say lie down, I'll…stomp your toe."

His quick appraisement of her heels made a believer out of him. "I was gonna say rest," he offered with a grin and a shrug. "Just tell me," he said.

Greenlee crossed her arms. After the proper silent treatment, she muttered, "A piece of cloth, on the table near the door. "

A quick round trip garnered a fruitless search. He relayed the news to a none-too-pleased little fireball.

Ryan chimed in. "Greens, I don't see why that matters when this happened again." This time, he couldn't deny the genuine concern in the other man's voice.

"Again?" Jake asked.

"It's nothing," she affirmed a little too emphatically and a little too quickly. "Probably just low blood sugar."

"Like the last –"

"I'm fine," she said between gritted teeth, her gaze never quite breaking completely from the empty hallway.

"That's probably true," Jake said. "All the same, I would feel better if we took a quick trip to the hospital. Amanda and I are going there tonight anyway."

This did get her attention. "For –"

"Yes." And that's all he could say on that subject. "So please, come with us."

He didn't think she had a concussion and he knew when to back down, but he also knew he'd seen too many faces that were the picture of fine one minute and anything but just a split second later. Today, more than any other, had brought those faces forward. And he damn sure wasn't going to add another face he cared about to that particular memory file.

She appeared to be considering it. That, at least, was progress. "It's late," she finally offered. "I don't have to be at Fusion early tomorrow. So, first thing in the morning, I'll let you fondle my…wrist," she said, giving him a wink and a smirk as well. "I warn you, though, needles and I don't get along."

Jake grinned in return, admittedly enjoying the rise she was surely getting out of Ryan. "It's a date. And luckily for you, needles and myself are on the best of terms. I'll introduce you."

"I'll take –"

Ryan never got a chance to finish that thought.

"I'll take myself, just like I did tonight."

Jake gave the man a semi-sympathetic shoulder pat as he prepared to follow his fiancé through the door.

Before she reached the opening, though, she faced him again, speaking more softly this time: the voice of the other Greenlee he knew, the one behind the bluster. "How was it?" she asked.

"The service was simple, but it was beautiful." He paused. "It mattered."

Ryan looked away quickly. Greenlee only had a ghost of a smile. "I'm sorry I missed it," she said.

The faces were flashing before him again, not in a nice slow montage set to music, but fast and furious. When a less defined face flashed past the window's pane, he attested it to now-flickering, mercifully fading images

After the final, too-familiar face took its temporary leave, he realized he'd been left to an empty room.

####

Mom's tiger protected her every night, and she had tamed him with ease. When confronted (and drooled on) by the sweet face with the trademark dimples, who wouldn't be reduced to a kitten?

She certainly had that effect on her mother…and even more on her father, although he prided himself on claiming he was the 'authoritative' one. Hard to claim that honor, though, when said authority figure was firmly wrapped around one tiny but powerful finger.

She certainly made it easy to forget. Frankie used to feel guilty about that, but as his daughter shifted slightly and let out a small yawn and dreaming smile that made full effect of her dimples, he realized again that she would likewise make it impossible to ever truly forget her grandmother.

He had no doubt his mother would be flashing those same dimples right now, reminding him that she was never going anywhere: half-joking, half-threatening, and completely serious. Her faith had carried her through so much, and he knew it helped make her the strong woman she was…

Was.

That word: he caught himself unconsciously, or maybe consciously, abandoning it in conversation sometimes. Even in his most private thoughts, it still felt…forced.

He'd tried to grasp onto the same faith that had sustained his mom. Every Sunday, he and Randi would bundle up little Angie faithfully and arrive early at the church.

It had helped. He did find a degree of peace, and the secure presence of his family did make the tight lump in his throat loosen just a little more every day.

Secure arms wrapped around him now, and soft lips brushed his cheek.

He told the owner of those arms that it was never some higher power that he talked to every night in Iraq. It was his mom's voice reassuring him. It wasn't a bright light he saw when lit-up skies and booming explosions made him think not of the Fourth, but of Memorial Day. It was his mom's image encouraging him not to give up.

He told her how the lump was there by necessity because this time was supposed to be different. He wasn't supposed to cry hysterically or scream, because he wasn't that little kid that didn't understand why his parent wasn't coming back. He was supposed to reassume his long-held role of the man of the household. The rock. Meanwhile, the smaller rock that represented everything he wasn't supposed to do or feel had settled securely in his throat.

He told her that it was different. The grief. The pain. It had just been them for so long, against the world. As much as he loved his father, he wasn't there for the hastily hidden report cards or the burnt but lovingly made cupcakes that signaled a good grade. He wasn't there for 'the talks,' or the admonishments quickly followed by hugs when the lessons peppered through those talks were sometimes forgotten. Frankie had learned to survive without his father, but his mother had been his lifeline. And now, that lifeline was gone.

He told her that she and his daughter made him remember that breathing could be easy. He told her that they would always be each other's lifelines.

He told her all of this silently, with a returned hug.

"I've been thinking." These thoughts did find a voice.

"Always a dangerous proposition." Frankie felt his wife's smirk against his neck as she nuzzled it, no doubt keeping one watchful eye on their sleeping daughter.

"Ha, ha." He turned around so he could face her. Even in the darkness, he knew every feature. Lacing their hands, he pulled her into the remaining seat. "I'd like to get your opinion on something."

She began massaging his knee, a familiar Mother Hen trait. She did know him.

"I know things got a little tense between Adam and your dad, but I think he's just dealing in his own way. We'll take Angie to visit him tomorrow."

Frankie sighed. Despite everything, he did understand Dad. Although he didn't share his father's anger at Adam Chandler, he understood the need and the compulsion to blame the easiest available target. Chandler Junior wasn't exactly available, so his father – his mentor – was the next best thing. He also knew that he needed to respect his father's process. His anger phase was just a little longer than most. That, Frankie once understood all too well.

"I think that's a good idea," he said. "We'll always be there for Dad and Nat, but they're not what I wanted to talk to you about." He hesitated, because even though he'd mentioned the subject in the past, he was never entirely sure how Randi felt about it. "It is about family, though."

He indulged in the lightness her wide-eyed and ever-so-slightly gaped-mouthed look brought for a moment before reassuring her. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not thinking about a new round of diaper duty this soon."

The relief etched on her face that she quickly tried to cover with a poker face made him chuckle. She swatted at him lightly, but he artfully dodged it. He'd become an expert at anticipating that particular move. "I love our little girl, but I think we should just enjoy her for a while."

That was partially the truth. The other half, the one he had to share with the person that mattered most to him, was how that little girl and her grandmother did make him think of another little face. Except it wasn't so little any more.

With a deep breath, he just let it out. "I want to find my son." Randi had achieved the poker face for real now. "Not, not to cause trouble or anything," he rushed forward, stumbling slightly over his words.

The reassuring squeeze put the steadiness back in his voice. With a glance over to his daughter, he whispered, "I just want to see him, to make sure that he's okay. Happy, you know?"

Randi brushed a wisp of tiny hair from little Angie's forehead. "I know," she said. When she looked back up at him, he could see the tenderness and love shining in her eyes, brightening the darkness. "I feel the same way, about my brothers and sisters. After we…got separated when Mom died, I was supposed to forget about them, but I never did."

She tried to lower those beautiful eyes, but he would have none of that. Gently, he reached out and tilted her chin until they were eye to eye. "Maybe we should both do something about that."

And there was that smile that made the lump all but disappear. Before he could do his best to get acquainted with that smile up close and personal, their daughter reminded them of her surefire future as a belting diva.

Sharing his wife's smile, Frankie took his her hand, turned to the new Angela in his life, and serenaded her with her namesake's favorite song.

Randi joined in for a duet. Just slightly off-key, but pitch-perfect.

####

If he knew anything, he knew that sound. It had become as known to him as a favorite song. He also knew all of the backfiring cars in the city couldn't erase its meaning.

Something clicked, it always did, and he ignored the smart thing, the safe thing, the 'save you're ass' thing some might call instinct. He'd never been a conformist anyway. Instead of diving down, he drove everything else out by necessity until all that was left was the sensor honing in on the source. No time to think about the loud-quiet sounds and what they might mean, no time to think about how close they were.

No sounds at all, except for the one he knew could make the others stop. Fire with fire.

The punching bag came back into focus. As did his hand, hovering in mid-air. It wasn't quite clenched into a fist,but...something else.

He had to get the hell out of here. Grabbing his jacket, he nodded to the man pummeling the other bag in the gym – Stuart Chandler – and pushed out the door.

The cool breeze ripped the moisture off his face quickly and he stripped the jacket off too, enjoying the icy bite as he walked. It was a hobby he'd picked up during a necessary time in his life, and he'd found it reborn again since –

He never took notice of signs or landmarks. Sometimes, the maze was exactly what he needed. And somehow, he always found his destination anyway.

Like now.

Jesse stepped over the fence, and for the first time today, his hand relaxed. It brushed a few fallen leaves from the spot. Red and yellow. The moonless night should've robbed them of their color, but somehow he could still see the bright tinges.

"Hey baby girl," he whispered. "I just wanted to bring something for you." He dug a tiny hole. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small teddy bear placed it in the loose dirt. Every little girl needed a teddy bear to sleep. He covered it with one of the yellow leaves. He had a feeling that color would've been her favorite.

"Say hi to your Mom for me. I know she's holding you in her arms tonight."

That thought was the only thing that could counter his other hidden wish. His first thought when he'd held his Angela's hand for the last time, when he'd kissed her closed eyelids, was how he wished that she'd still been blind. Maybe…maybe then her last image would've been something beautiful.

He used to hate himself for thinking it, until he'd talked to her about it, along with so many other things: the helplessness he felt every time he was in the same room with his daughter now; the guilt at the joy he felt when his granddaughter laughed for the first time, simultaneously making him forget for the first time; the hatred he felt for the Chandler family and their damn collection of antique guns; and the certainty, on the nights when nothing but the empty darkness kept him company that he'd taken the wrong path all those years ago. Maybe the kid with the street smarts would've been better served following his less proper impulses. Maybe Mr. Law and Order should've come to an untimely early demise.

Some nights, his wife's quiet listening was enough to make the thoughts go away.

Others, the quiet -

He hadn't even realized he'd been walking again until a clump of dead leaves crunched under his feet. It signaled the fork in his road tonight.

Right turn: bar. Drinks until dizziness. Maybe putting those boxing sessions to good use in an old-fashioned barroom brawl. Followed by more cold air. A hard pillow. The safe route.

He'd never been one for the right turn, though. He followed the dark maze until it led him to an equally dark house. No lights. No noise. He knocked on the door.

Puffed, reddened eyes greeted him. Some things, the dark couldn't hide. His lips voraciously sought the trembling ones before him, sending he and Liza Colby tumbling into the dark. The door slammed, shutting away everything else.

####

She was crazy-amazing, just like he remembered. He also remembered how she could cause that confusing but exhilarating mixture in him with just one look. The clear picture of her face never lost its sharpness even after –

Somehow, it was fading. Just a vague shape, moving closer, then further away. Tantalizing him, like only she could. He tried reaching out, because God, he wanted nothing else but to just touch her. Feel her again.

Feel again.

But he couldn't, she wouldn't… And somewhere in the distance, or in his head, an animal groaned. Maybe a wounded dog, hit by a car. No, not a dog. Something more -

And he must've been experiencing something he didn't think possible, sympathy pains, because the rips and tears of pain traveled – no, darted – here, there,…everywhere.

And that pathetic, pathetic whimpering, so...

Familiar.

JR wanted to ask her, to tell her to make it stop, to tell her…

He just wanted.

And his anchor that wouldn't anchor held something that was steady. Clear.

And sharp.

The animal must've been scared too. He wasn't whimpering anymore. He was screaming.