Well, the day was kind to some Ravens out there ; ) Congrats to the team and its fans. PV's citizens are a little preoccupied for Super Bowl festivities, but that doesn't stop the hard knocks from coming...

####

"So my sisters, neither of whom I've seen for at least ten years – neither of whom, as far as I knew, would ever be in the same hemisphere – are now in the middle of some epic 'War of the Makeups.' You do realize this could only happen to me, right?"

Randi hunched her shoulders, an exaggerated shrug. The innocent gesture brought back so much.

"What about the fact that I end up working for some spoiled princess – no offense intended – and every time she happens to mention her brother Reggie, I never know she's really talking about one Reginald -"

"Drop the Reginald, Sis." Reggie playfully tipped the slicing knife in her direction. "We really shouldn't be surprised, though. This town is like a mecca for long-lost parents, siblings, and second-cousins-once-removed. Heck, the whole mixed-up family reunion thing is how Greenlee got to be part of our family to begin with."

"Yeah, Erica Kane wedding #10, right, or was it 11? I definitely want to hear that story sometime."

"I really don't think you do." Reggie gave her a one-armed squeeze. "I missed you, Sis."

"Ditto, Reg."

He maneuvered behind the counter, palmed one of the numerous brown lumps. "I see time hasn't killed your enthusiasm for some things." He tilted a brow while dangling the puffy vegetable before his smirking sister. "Remember Tater-Gal? You carried that thing around like a real, live doll. Certainly saved Mom some toy money."

She blushed, and God, he'd never realized how much he missed it.

"I remember you standing tip-toes at the counter when she peeled them. You'd plop your chin on your knuckles and just watch, offering an instruction - no, a command every now and again." Reggie easily captured the rogue potato sailing towards his shoulder. "Always had to be princess of the castle," he added with a wink.

"Queen," she corrected.

Randi slid him a knife, the command apparent.

"So this is dinner, huh?"

She grinned and nodded, and in time, they established a harmony: peeling beats and slicing choruses. The pile of brown curls crowned a mountain, and he chanced it. "You should be proud of where you are. I know I'm proud of you."

"Why? Because I have the perfect picket fence life now? Honest truth, I keep expecting to wake up one day and find out none of it's real."

"No, because you wanted something, and you didn't back down until you got it. Precious few can say that."

Her slicing sped up. "No, that was you, Reg. You're the one who listened to yourself, damned the consequences." She winced, dropping the knife with a loud clack. "I'm sorry."

And there it was. The guilt he'd read since the moment he'd seen her again. "For what? It wasn't you. It wasn't any of us. It just was."

They couldn't stop their brother from being gunned down in the middle of the street, any more than they could stop Mom from dying. More peacefully. No less painfully. Any more than they could stop the great foster home sweepstakes that had become most of their teen years. She nodded, and the red river pouring down her fingertip glistened.

"Damn, Sis." He snatched a paper towel courtesy of the rack brushing his left arm. It quickly soaked. He took the knife from her steady hand and grabbed a rag, but she stopped him.

"We need to stop the bleeding. I'm sure you've got more -"

A stinging spark lanced his finger. Before he could respond, she joined his pulsing finger with hers.

"Blood promise, remember?"

Of course he did. Memories had been his bread and butter.

Randi wrapped her uninjured hand around their bleeding ones. Sealed the oath. "Promise me we'll find her." She tightened the cocoon. "It's not anything new, you know? Thinking about him. Where he is. Especially with Frankie; it's just brought up a lot of stuff."

"We're gonna find him." This time, he tightened their hands.

"That's what Frankie said."

"So he knows?"

"Yeah. And we made a vow we'd do this together. See his son. Find our brother."

"And you've got backup now."

"The best."

She offered a surer smile, and, joining their hands in a towel, she led them from the mound of shredded skins.

####

"They don't have an official position on this. It would be a hard sell. Who would be -"

"Me." His prospective client's face visibly tensed, and Jack immediately regretted the question.

"And everyone that is willing to join me," Liza added, her voice aiming for the persuasive lawyer despite its compulsion to take on another, more personal role. "Look, I could make this case on my own, but your influence, your involvement – their involvement – would make it -"

"More visible?" he guessed.

Harder to ignore.

Liza gave a silent nod. It was ironic, in a way. They had both taken on the mantle of the DA job, and each had spent as much time fighting against the system they'd taken a vow to preserve and protect as they had fighting for it. And he couldn't truly say either one of them had emerged victors.

When she opened her briefcase, Jack expected neatly lined stacks of case files and official reports. He had expected the legal shark to make her case logical bite by critically analytical chomp.

The prolonged rummage –evidenced by several errant and haphazard slips of paper harshly mashed together – only resulted in a single untouched, unmarked document, however.

He briefly wondered at how it had survived its current occupancy, but when Liza gently slipped it into his hands, he knew the answer.

"I'm just the executor, you see." Legal terms, and the lawyer's voice was still there. But something else was, too. "For her. For them. For everyone who can't make a speech or advocate for a law anymore. They have the most to say, but they can't speak. I want to be their voice."

His thumb traced the chin, the nose, the smile. He looked to the side of his desk at his own family picture. His center. Different features, different lines and curves, but, somehow the same.

"They may not have an official position, but it's ultimately your stand to take."

He knew she wouldn't ask, yet when Liza Colby closed her briefcase and walked out the door, Jack knew that the phone call he would soon make was just a formality.

####

"I feel obligated to do the whole overprotective brother thing, but Frankie actually seems cool."

"Don't let him hear you say that. We were just having an argument the other day about these completely Poindexter glasses he refuses to throw away. He hears the word cool in association with him, and I'll never hear the end of it." She drew in a breath. Long, peaceful. "It's crazy, because even now we're still learning, you know. Favorite colors, foods, blogs, all of it. She mashed a palm against her forehead, willed the stumbling little girl to let up a bit. His grin must have encouraged her forward. "He taught me never to settle. He showed me other realities were possible, and he's reintroducing me to somebody I didn't know existed." She walked over to the kitchen's only picture, gazing at the star of nearly every photo in the house. "I'm not exactly mother material. I've made too many mistakes, too many bad choices to count."

"That's called life, Sis."

"Frankie and I, we were getting to that 'settling in' place, you know? And you may remember how high-strung I can be."

He remembered, all right, how untrue that was. He remembered the tug of her hand when the social services people were leading them out the door, in opposite directions.

"Sometimes I look at her and I -"

Enough.

"I don't think you're a great mother, I know." Reggie took the picture from the wall. "And I don't need this or the hundred other copies in this house to know that. I don't need to have been here for the birthday candles or the forehead kisses." He coated his dry lips. "I always felt incomplete. Always. No matter where I went, what I did, how many bad hairstyles I mangled." He nudged his shoulder with hers. "No matter what, I always felt out-of-focus. Like one of those old photos where everything seems right, all the objects in their right place - hell, even the trees are shiny green - but when you look closer, when you really see, it's all just a little off-kilter. And maybe nobody else notices, maybe they would stick that sucker front page of their album, but for you, it drives you -"

"Nuts."

"Yeah," he said, letting out a breath. "Yeah. I was lucky enough to find a new family, new people I'd lay down my life for, but they were never replacements. They never could be. My family, it's just a little bigger." He let his eyes settle on her. "And now, a lot more complete."

With time, they'd find their one missing link and make it complete. "I'm in focus now."

The quiet thank you lightened her eyes, and managed to lift a few weights inside of him too.

"Look at you, all domesticated."

He grinned. "Both of us. Who'da thunk it?"

Randi was watching him now, and she had this annoying habit of making him squirm like a flea under a microscope. "You know, I've only talked to her once, but Yasmin seems great too."

"She is."

"I've never heard the grand 'meet cute' tale though. Us big sisters have got our vetting process too. So spill."

"It's…a long story."

And then some. Thankfully, a certain little girl had decided that she would like her own bedtime story.

Randi smirked. "Saved by the cry." As she put down the nursery speaker and left him with clean-up duty in the kitchen, she offered another observation over her shoulder: "I would never make you choose sides, but you should know that I'm totally gonna -"

"Whoop Greenlee's ass?" he ventured.

"No, no."

Now, that smile, he knew.

"I'll be content with just kicking it."

####

He had every intention.

He had every intention of walking out the door, and meaning it this time.

He had every intention of making that touch, that word, that smile, this feeling sustain a lifetime.

He had every intention of letting go.

But that renowned road, it's always well-paved.

Because when she touches him like that, when she digs in like that, like it was yesterday – and, crazy thing, it was – he can't quite remember the intention or the definition of the intention. He can't quite remember anything, but… This.

He tries to pull away, because that's his new normal, or his old familiar.

"Leo DuPres., if you move another muscle, you're gonna be the one sprawled on this table."

And he knows – the only thing he knows right now, really – is that she means it. So he obliges.

He thinks it might be easier. To just stand here, eyes locked, frozen in this moment, because what comes after - what happens when the paralysis, when the OMG moment has broken and shattered - that is what terrifies him. And he can admit it. Admit to being most sincerely, most righteously…afraid.

But he doesn't have to worry, because she's never been one for peeling the band-aid off slowly. She's a ripper, and she's doing it now. With everything she has. With everything she is.

She's ripping his heart out of his chest and stitching it back together; she's ripping away every would, could, should and shredding it at his feet.

And she's doing it all in one breath: one breath they're greedily sharing like it's the last bit of air, or the last evidence of life, left on earth.

And maybe it is. On his earth, his world, anyway.

She detaches her lips and nothing else. Ten years, more dream-filled nights than he could ever count, and she was still, undeniably, the best damn kisser he'd ever have the pleasure of knowing. Of feeling.

He still hasn't seen those beautiful eyes. Right now, he's debating whether to open his own. To confirm….or deny.

But those lips, those lips that are teasing his ear now: there's no denial. Only truth.

"Don't you dare tell me that was a dream," they whisper, yet still command.

She still hasn't let go, and he knows she won't. That's the thing. Even though the next words whispered into his ear are more broken, more soft, he can feel the determination tightening them as much as it is tightening her grip on him. And his on her.

"Tell me."

With that, the last intention goes strolling merrily down that well-paved road. "I'm here," he says. "I'm alive." And for the first time in so very long, he means it.

They are still cheek-to-cheek. Heartbeat to heartbeat. The confessionals so warm. So close.

"Why?"

"You were happy. That's all I ever wanted." The callback. The one through-line.

"I could be happy because of you. And I know you. There's more..."

"Not now." Not now, because now... "I just want to feel this," he whispers.

There is no reminiscing about bologna sandwiches and champagne bubble baths. No light teasing to ease the heavy air. To unmagnetize. There is just them.

"I felt you, every night, since.."

She shifts, pulls away, and it's no longer just them. Melted minutes have solidified. Brought them back. He considers the wisdom of holding her back. He'd paid for it once before, in a long-ago park. He wouldn't again.

Greenlee approaches David and he doesn't wince. Leo is doing enough of that for the both of them. His brother seems to be almost…steeling himself. And when she draws back and wallops him with all the steel in her, he doesn't rub his chin or take a staggering step back. His face remains blank. Perfectly blank…

When she abruptly launches forward and wraps him in an equally strong embrace, although his eyes widen just a fraction and his lips part, David still holds out.

Until she raises up and utters two low words that still manage to echo across the room.

"Thank you."

Only then does David's face move. Only then does it say everything without ever saying anything.

We're in this together.

####

"So, how's the day been?"

"Well, I kicked it off with Liza Colby."

"My apologies."

"It's okay, or I think it will be. She has this case that might require my assistance. I know it'll be a powderkeg."

"Which is exactly why you'll take it."

"Maybe. How's my girl?"

"Lily's currently enjoying a brown bag lunch with my brother."

"That's wonderful, but I was actually inquiring about my other girl."

"This girl's got a long day ahead of her with merger meetings, but she's quite enjoying her own lunch date right now."

Even if she didn't have one of the most charming and altogether sexiest voices this side of the seaboard – even if she wasn't currently gracing him with that soft, only-for-him tone that assuredly never made an appearance in the boardroom - even then he'd still consider a daily phone lunch with his wife one of life's greatest luxuries.

"The sentiment is very much mutual, I can assure you," he said, releasing the stress ball he no longer needed. "I'm just sorry I can't be there personally to -"

"Hmm…."

"Wipe away that gob of ketchup that's currently -"

A pause, then a huff resounded through the speaker. "How did you? – I've got a napkin right now."

"Oh, but I wouldn't need the napkin."

"Getting rid of the evidence? How very unlawyerly"

"Never. Just providing my client with the very best service.'"

The current tone was one reserved for another kind of room entirely. "How about treating this 'client' to a dinner date later? With a full dessert menu?"

"Consider my schedule cleared." He cleared his throat in turn. "But first, I'm going to take another crack at wishing my other daughter a happy new year. I couldn't get in touch earlier."

"Greenlee probably just had a late night. I'm sure she's fine."

This assertion was accompanied by the entrance of his other wayward child.

"Well, at least I won't have to play phone tag with my very respectful son. Can we continue this later?"

"Oh, that's a guarantee, Counselor."

"Sounds…promising." Try as he might to maintain a show of professional decorum, he couldn't help the decidedly unprofessional grin that accompanied the end of his call.

His smile withered at the non-festive expression on his son's face. "Happy new year, and what can I do for you, son?"

Reggie, as expected, did not mince words. "Tell me we're one step closer to getting our lives back. Tell me we can save my wife's life."

Sighing, Jack reclaimed the stress ball and squeezed.

####

"Tell me."

They were the same words she'd said to his brother earlier. The same sentence she'd whispered right before she'd given David the biggest surprise of his day. And considering the day he'd had, that was saying something.

And he did. To his neverending and utter astonishment, David had found that telling the truth did, in fact, not have to come with a warning label. The words never even stuck in his throat.

And Greenlee had found her own honest streak as well. When she told him how the headaches had been going on for months, his concern deepened. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly surprised. He had to wonder if the others might be experiencing some of the same things. And Angie…

"What can we do?"

It was amazing, really. He didn't even think they realized it. Their hands just seemed to be naturally connected, second-nature. And the way they sat together across from him, on the table – like the couple just waiting for the doctor's diagnosis. For the next step…together.

Every bit the 'we.'

"It's a theory, just a theory for now -"

"David, you've never been cautious or courteous in your life. Get to it."

He smiled because this, this was the woman he knew. The fighter. And she's the one they all needed now. "I think we need a stabilizer, if you will. Something to dilute the admittedly strong effects my protocol can create. And I think the best chance of finding that stabilizer is through someone who's developed the necessary, shall we say, immunity to the more potent effects."

"Which could only be a former patient."

Leo was already ahead of him, and he guessed, halfway into the forest. The only problem was that his brother had no idea what lurked in that particular tangle of trees.

"David, if you need blood or, hell, anything, for some kind of serum, I -"

"No." It would have to be him to pull the reigns. "Leo, I'm talking about the kind of stabilization properties that would take more than a few years to build up. I'm talking decades."

Greenlee was watching him closely, her usually wide eyes hooded. "Maria Santos?"

David only shook his head.

"But she was your first patient…."

His silence halted that assertion.

He was an enterprising med student, but not a wealthy one. He was persuasive, though, and his 'enterprises' caught the attention of the right people…or so he thought at the time.

She had no name. His Patient Zero, freshly delivered to his doorstep from some unnamed near-calamity.

Her face, though, was beautiful. That he did remember. That, and the name of her hometown…

The town that, despite its citizens' best, prolonged efforts at ensuring his eviction, he now called home.