Mr. Brightside
Shane's apartment – downtown Washington
4:05 PM
Jeff stood at the island of the kitchen, sipping at a beer and listening to Shane, at least attempting to. She was mumbling about all of the consequences of her bringing him along, all of the reasons why it would jeopardize not only her promotion, but all of their lives. Yet he knew why he needed to go, and it wasn't to fire empty rounds into the sky or get himself shot a dozen times by invisible guns and men. He needed to go to be at the source of the plotting, to have first hand pride in helping Shane to get rid of Tuzla once and for all. He just needed redemption for Tommy.
"Jack is going to kill me if I bring you…I'll never hear then end of it. I mean Jesus, you're supposed to be in a debriefing in twenty minutes, not here with me…"
"Fuck the debriefing, I'm going to Florida."
"Jeff, come on…you can't see anything. I can't hold your hand through a show down, ya know."
"Then don't, but I'm going to take care of this…" Pushing back from the countertop, he tossed his empty bottle in the trash can and with his hands grazing a number of surfaces, moved off towards the office of her apartment.
"Where are you going, we have to talk about this?"
"Well…I need a first class ticket to Tampa for tonight. Are you gonna help or what?" Shane rolled her eyes, grabbed her wine off the counter and followed behind him, not wanting to give in to the idiocy of the scheme, but also knowing that with Jeff, there was only one appropriate response for any of his ideas…fine, what the hell.
After ten minutes on the computer she had gotten him a seat on the same plane, just behind her and Carter, and packing would be next on the list. They only had an hour or so before Danny and Miles would show up with the airport taxi, expecting to pick up Shane alone. Jeff had spent enough time over at her apartment lately to know that he had at least two weeks worth of clothes scattered around, and after doing some searching, some yelling, and stubbing his toe twice, he managed to fill a duffel bag. Usually his cases were more specific to him, he would have gone through an array of hats, glasses, shirts, all kinds of memorabilia. But now it didn't seem so important to play dress-up, it only seemed important to get the job done, and part of him wanted Jimmy Tuzla to recognize him and Shane, so that the bullet that killed him, would sting twice as bad.
Shane on the other hand spent almost an hour packing, going the more feminine route of picking out the right bathing suits, and dresses, shoes, whatever else she needed to fit in with the Florida crowd, the wealthy and dirt cheap all the same. It wasn't that she was ever particularly worried about how she looked, but that was always the difference between her and her brother when it came to the job. He could walk into a bar with an I Love Lucy shirt on and take care of whoever needed a shot in ass, while she, found herself forced to conform to the situation, be it a lady or a whore, whatever it would take. And indeed it always did for her, and this job, especially this job, would be nothing short of 'taken care of'. Closing her suitcase and carry-on, she heard the shower running from the guest bathroom, then a bottle of shampoo slam against porcelain and Jeff yell and stumble. It was the little things like that which had begun to break her heart slowly, the things that most people took for granted every day, the things she had as well as her brother. She knew he needed more help than what he was allowing people to give, he needed someone who could take care of him until he could fully take care of himself again. But Shane just didn't know if she was that person, or if maybe there was someone else better equipped, someone more willing to give themselves to him completely.
"Shel…you ok?"
He growled at her as he turned the knob on the shower and jumped out to reach for a towel. He hated her treating him like a baby, just like everyone else was, but at least he trusted her judgment and allowed her care. "Yeah fine," he replied, drying his face and neck, the patched skin over his eyes numb from the heat of the water. Leaning against the counter with his towel sloppily tied at his waist, he tried to imagine his reflection as he ran his hands over his eyes, his nose, stubbly chin. He didn't want to shave, he liked the short crop of hair that hand grown on his jaw line and across his upper lip, it suited his mood since Mexico. Rough, rustic, and especially intolerant. He found the toothbrush Shane had lent him, dropped the tube of paste at least four times before actually applying anything, then brushed until he could feel blood on his gums. It was near masochism the way he treated his body now, tearing here or ripping there, shaving until he could feel the blade cut his skin, showering until the water was hot enough to melt his back right down to his spinal cord. He enjoyed it strangely, as if abusing himself would give the world something else to worry about than his eyesight.
Tapping the toothbrush, he returned it to the holder, ran his hands through his wet hair, and left the bathroom to get dressed. As soon as he opened the door to the bedroom though, he felt dizzy, a universe of whites and grays darting out in front of him, the imaginary view of something. His head was pounding, but with little reason. He could hear Shane in the kitchen again, cooking something or other from the aroma, and pushing his way into the room, he threw on a beat up old pair of Levi's and black t-shirt, he came out carefully and light headed to further sniff at what he couldn't see. Shane was sitting at the bar with a bowl of microwavable pasta and when he tilted his head in her direction longingly and hungry, she only laughed and handed him a fork to share hers.
"Jeff, swear to me you aren't going to try to kill yourself down there. That is seriously the last thing I need to worry about right now."
"You shouldn't worry at all. You do it too much actually, makes for a terrible agent ya know."
"Never got in my way before." Her tone changed as he formed a pile of spaghetti and shoved into his mouth with more beer. Shane seemed serious this time, not so fleeting with her words, honestly wanting to know that Florida wasn't going to include an unwanted or unexpected funeral.
"I'm not going down there to get killed, okay? Happy?" As he finished trying to convince her, there was a buzz at the door.
"I'm not completely satisfied…but they're here."
"Good, let the little fucks up to get my bags." She smiled but only out of humor for his wit, not so much for his reassurance. Carter and Andy were buzzed in a few minutes later, rode the elevator up three flights and walked in through the open front door to find Sands sitting at the kitchen bar with a haughty grin and a beer.
"Hey man…" Carter chuckled, coming in further to pat him on the back. "How's it going?"
"Danny-boy?"
"Yeah, man. Fruit Loop's here too."
He laughed at the name he remembered from before Mexico, their resident rookie. "Hey Fruit Loop…they put you on the Tuzla gig?"
"Yeah, Sands they did."
"Hey, hey hey…that's Agent Sands to you rook."
Miles, a good ten years younger than both Sands and Carter bowed his head slightly and coughed before trying to respond, "But you're not a--"
"Yes I am." Sands interrupted, knowing the purpose of the statement. They assumed he'd been debriefed that day, everyone did, and of course they never expected to hear that he was in actuality packed to join them in the sun for a few weeks. Taking a final sip of his third beer, he dropped it into the trash can with a cracking of glass and smiled as he tucked his aviators on again. "I'm always gonna be an agent."
They didn't respond, and instead the nervous looks were interjected by Shane's return from the bathroom. Her perfume alone announced her entrance as both Miles and Carter darted their eyes from Sands to her, the agency's Cover Girl if ever there was one. Shane was beautiful, Jeff had always known this, which is why protection was constantly ensued. He sensed she looked good to them by the mere silence, and moving aside to stand in front of her and face the guys again, he only smirked before speaking his ever serious mind on the subject.
"How does she look boys?"
Shane rolled her eyes while Carter choked back on his tongue and smiled, "G-great….I-I mean, same as always…"
"Carter, I might not have the eyes to see you…but I still have a gun, and it will blast that look right off your face just the same."
"What look?"
"The 'I wanna fuck your sister' look. Trust me…" he began, sliding away from Shane and moving his face towards Danny's, "I know exactly what it is."
"Go on and say it."
"Say what?"
"Say you wanna screw my sister."
Jeff laughed at the ridiculousness in Tommy's voice, while they sat down at the pier with a six pack. Lily and Mrs. Hanson were inside the house doing dishes, and Jeff could just make out her silhouette from the kitchen window down the shore a ways. He'd been immediately drawn to her, but out of respect for the family he'd just met, and the brother who was his best friend, only friend, he gave nothing more than polite gestures to Lily. She was much younger than they were, only seventeen, and he wouldn't dream of trying to do anything he would regret without the right consent first.
Tom sat across from him grinning and looking out at the boats, "It's no big deal man, every guy in town does."
"Really? I mean…she's nice, but you know…she's your sister."
"And…?"
"And…isn't that kind of thing usually, a "hands off'?"
Tom smiled once more and thought about the conversation he'd already had with his sister while they cleared the table. "Jeff, that's up to you and her."
Shaking off the images and sounds in his head, he could sense Carter still staring at him while Shane and Miles moved to grab the bags from the living room. There was movement and laughter all around him in seconds, joking, questions, things he tried to ignore. It was Andy who finally broke the mode and seriously questioned Sands point in being there at all.
"Are you house-sitting for Shane or something?"
"Do I look like the house sitting type?" He replied instantly, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for the truth to come of the questions, while Andy began to wonder on the number of bags and a guitar case Shane had set out as he carried them to the door.
"We're only supposed to be gone a week and a half. What's all this crap?"
"Well actually it's-"
"That's my crap, Loop." Sands concluded as he threw open the fridge door to grab another beer. "Don't screw with it."
"Uh…why do you need a bag?"
"You really are the poster child for brain depravation aren't you?" Just as he managed to rip the cap off of number four and lift it to his lips, Shane stepped into the kitchen and pulled it slowly away from his lips.
"That's enough for now, they won't let you on the plane drunk." Wiping the spilled liquid from his chin he scowled at her as he heard her pouring it down the sink, and then only walked away carefully with counted steps to the front doorway. Andy and Carter stared in confusion, begging Shane for an immediate answer.
"He's not seriously on the case is he?"
"Yes."
"Shane, come on…if Jack finds out…"
"Jack doesn't need to know." Picking up her purse and slinging it over her chest, she listened to Carter still, and only shut him up by walking to the door and taking Jeff by the arm to lead him out. Looking back inside while she dangled her keys, she glanced fiercely at the other guys, "Let's go."
O'Hare International Airport – Chicago, Illinois
February 16th, 1994
A funeral had brought them here together, and now they were headed home. At least, to the only place Jeff had ever considered home. His dad had moved Shane and him around so much as kids he never truly understood the definition of a home. If it had room service, Tom and Jerry cartoons, and a turn down each night, he considered it such. His mother didn't need to be alive to tuck him in, or cook him dinner, and his dad didn't need to be around to play catch, he only needed his sister and the emergency funds. This of course had eventually changed as he got older, as he met people through his final year of high school in Boston, in college, and eventually meeting the Hanson family his first semester in the Academy. It was then that he realized what a home was, and even without their father there to be an example, he understood through their stories of what a task like fatherhood was meant to be. Congressman Sands, Sergeant Major Sands, was not this form.
Their flight left for Boston at two, and it was 1:30. Lily had gone to the restroom while Shane and Tom went to get something to eat on the first floor of the airport. And Jeff, he only stood at the large glass frame of the hanger, watching the planes fly in and out over the distant runway. It was raining, cold, windy as usual in Chicago. He tried to remember the last time he had been there with his sister and dad, another congressional meeting, another trip to hell. There was never anything to do but get in trouble, piss his dad off, and eventually learn the consequences with a belt or shoe or whatever was available to the still ranking officer who controlled his life between the hours of eleven PM and five AM each day. The man who had at one time been gentle, loving, in love. But through childbirth and death, had managed to grow callous, ignoring the lives he'd help to create, and only giving attention when rights had been wronged in his daily absence. Breathing in deeply one last time he counted the torches as they ran the length of the strip out of boredom, curiosity, and in a pure effort to erase his mind of its real problem.
Coming out the bathroom from the other side of the flight gate, Lily brushed her wet hands against her skirt and looked up to see Jeff far away at the window. His silhouette swayed loose, hands in his pockets, ball cap tugged down onto his messy hair. She knew only part of what he was going through, the acceptance of loss, death, his only father. But at the same time, she only knew of Congressman Sands from what Shane had spoken of, and what she had torn from Sheldon a few times. It was a soft spot for both of them, especially him. Pulling her hair back around her shoulder, she walked slowly in his direction, noticing how the rain on the windows paralleled with his body and mood so ideally. He was lost in a sense, as if he didn't know where to be, or who to be, but Lily at least knew partly where he belonged, where she wanted him. She stepped in behind him, a whiff of his dried cologne from earlier in the morning carried to her nose, his back sighing heavily and boots tapping the carpeted floor. Bringing herself to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist so that they came up to rest together on his chest, her cheek pressed into his hoodie. Almost instantly his body jumped at the scare, but stilled and eventually numbed itself under her touch. He brought one hand from his pocket to cover both of hers, breathing deeper, richer as he continued to watch the planes. She didn't need to say anything to him, he just needed to feel her, the warmth of another human being, the care of someone. It had been a long time since he had just let someone truly care, and Lily it seemed, had been that breaking point.
After a few minutes though, he tired of the silence and spoke to her over his shoulder, "I'm sorry about Valentine's Day."
"Why are you sorry?" She asked quietly, releasing her hands and stepping around to land between the window and his eyes.
"We didn't do anything special, and I really wanted to."
"Jeff it's not a big deal, this was more important."
"No, no it wasn't."
"What are you talking about? It was your dad's funeral, of course it was." Stunned at his remark, she furrowed her brow as he took her hands in his and bit his lower lip the way he always did when he was being completely honest about something. She couldn't understand it.
"Nothing, is more important to me than you are. Especially not my dad."
"How can you say that?" He noticed small teardrops forming at the corner of her eyes and when he moved his hand up to brush them away, she stepped to the side and threw herself down into a chair by the window. He stood for a moment watching her, not sure whether he was ready to explain all of the details his memory had scarred him with, or if he wanted to upset her more or less with them. Lily was sensitive to the subject of dad's, especially now the subject of fatherly death, and it wasn't going to be easy to tell her the reason why his dad wasn't a priority to him. The funeral was only met with required attention, not love. And however harsh that might have seemed to the outside world, for Jeff, it suited perfectly fine.
He eventually moved down to sit beside her, his hand pulling her body towards his, and eventually her face with tears streaming down. "Lily, I'm sorry. I know that you were close with your dad, I know how much you loved him, but my dad…" He stopped once to look out over the airport terminal, catching his thoughts in a tight net and then continuing, "…I never had that."
"Then tell me what you did have, Jeff."
Reagan National Airport, Washington D.C
8:46 PM
"Any jewelry sir?"
He shot himself out of a thought process, drawing away from 1994 and everything connected to it, and back into the realization of where he was. From a short distance he could hear continual beeping, the clanking of silver and gold into plastic, and the voice of an unruly crowd.
"Huh?" He asked in need of repetition, still not sure what had been said in between blank out points.
"Do you have any jewelry?"
"Uh…my watch…" Sands replied, unwinding it from his wrist and reaching out to where he imagined a bucket would be waiting, and it was. As he dropped it in the bucket and stepped forward to the woman's voice, he was stopped by a hand on his chest and the sound of buzzing as the security guard scanned his body with a wand. He tried to hold back any unnecessary comments or laughter, but in his mind he pictured just how vulnerable he looked, how much he looked like so many of the women who had succumbed to him before. And now here he was, surrounded by people and noise, an airport audience, and the hands of a woman falling over every inch of his deprived body. It was humoring.
When there was a beeping gesture just over where the lady scanned his chest, Sands stopped his thoughts as he was burdened with further questioning, "You sure you don't have anything else, sir?"
"Do you see anything else?"
"Sir…any more jewelry or electronics?" He could sense the woman growing disturbed by him already, and decided it was best to relax and submit himself for now. Shane and Carter had finished and were returning their shoes when they looked over to see the problem ensuing, and rolling her eyes sharply, Shane felt she knew the basis of what was about to come.
"I have my nipples pierced, does that count?" Indeed she had been right, her brother the cynical stand up.
"Sir, there's a long line…"
"That's okay baby, I'm sure they'll enjoy the show. Go ahead, frisk me." Stretching his arms out further, he could feel the woman's breath against his cheek as she stepped aside, and in only a matter of seconds felt two hands on his shoulders holding him still. He twitched at the fingers and beeping grazing the insides of his legs, and only tried to remain as calm as possible. Shane immediately started laughing, and hearing this he immediately began to wonder why the hands were less gentle than before, and there were no sounds, or warm breathing. His jacket was ripped out in a matter of seconds, his shoes, belt, more wand beeping, more people laughing, and then finally the sound that would disturb his mind for the rest of the trip, the sound of a man.
"A cell phone. Stop screwing with our security, sir." He stammered with a crude grumble as he handed off Sands phone to the female security guard, and pushed him through the metal detector. Once on the other side, he could hear Shane, Carter and Andy directly in front of him, laughing their asses off.
"Will you all shut the fuck up?"
"Hey man, you wanted to come on this journey." Carter grabbed his belt and boots and handed him to them one by one as the crowd continued laughing and he replaced his disheveled clothing. Pinning his glasses back on, and dropping his cell phone into his pocket, he waited until Shane came to take his arm and they began walking away as she giggled,
"Bet you never thought you'd get a hand job from Bernie Mac, huh bro?"
Shaking his head with a grin of near satisfaction he replied, "What can I say…I like it rough."
After a twenty minute walk through the terminal, past gift shops, clothing stores, restaurants, and the voices of beautiful women he couldn't see, Sands heard Andy call out their gate number and then was helped to a seat by Shane. They still had a half an hour before takeoff, and she offered to get him something to eat while they waited. Having some strange craving for Mexican food, whether it be by the basis of his thoughts or just his gut, she nodded and took off to go find a Taco Bell. Miles and Carter went off to find alcohol, and as usual, the blind man was left to fend for himself.
"Oh no…don't worry about me. I'll find a dog to help," he quipped as he slid down further into the chair and shoved the ear buds of his iPod in. He drowned out every sound; let his sense take a break for a while, although his nose was still in full rounds. Catching a whiff of perfume as women passed by, or cologne with other men, even something that smelled distinctly adolescent to him, though he wasn't quite able to place it. He focused on the sound of steel guitars and Steven Tyler's big mouth for a few more minutes, scrunching his nose up as the aroma deepened, came closer. It was something sweet, something baked, something kid-friendly, and it was that alone that put him on edge. He scooted over in his chair a ways to remove the thought from his head, focused on the music, and after only a few more minutes of using his tactic, felt the soft jabbing of a fingertip in his upper arm. With a sigh of annoyance, he pulled one of the buds out and turned in the direction of the greeting.
"What?"
"Hello." It was a voice no more aged than his boots, five, six maybe, and distinctly female. He was already distracted by it, and nothing had even been said. Children were not something he understood, although once a child, it was the idea of a small person with only a quarter of his wit trying to match him that always left him uneasy with kids. They were way too smart most of the time, at least the ones he got stuck with. He gave a half-ass smile and turned back away to concentrate on the airport noises in one ear, and Bob Dylan in the other. But despite another attempt, he could feel the child's eyes on his, burning holes in his face.
"My name is Alex. What's your name, mister?"
She was still talking to him, pushing him for all he was worth, causing him to finally turn his head back and reply if only to get her off his case quicker, "Jeff."
"I know a Jeff…he's mean to me." Feeling her sticky fingers tap on the sleeve of his jacket, he narrowed his brow beneath his glasses, still smelling what he began to place as cookies in her hand. Her lips were smacking together as she spoke, her plastic shoes scraping against the chair she was more than likely standing up in, as midgets do…he thought. "Are you going to Florida too…huh?" She poked harder as he flinched with anger.
"Yeah kid. Go away."
"Want a cookie?"
"No, I don't eat booger chip."
"They're chocolate…" She emphasized with pleasure and leaned against his shoulder, "Here try one, my mommy made them."
"Well aren't you special." When he reached his hand out to take one and relieve his partial hunger, the little girl noticed his hand move around in circles just over and to the side of her Ziplock bag, and grew increasingly curious. "The bag is right here," She concluded, holding it closer to him, by which he only circled it again and huffed loudly in aggravation.
"I can't see it stupid, I'm blind."
"You're blind, Mister?"
"Oh you're a parrot too huh…just my luck." Quieting, she reached into the bag and took out two cookies, and then sitting down in the chair, reached over to where his hands were settled on his lap. Sands growled at her touch first, and then calmed slightly when he felt her place a crumbly cookie in the palm of each of his hands, which were three times the size of her own.
And just as he began to feel a smile cross his face out of natural force, there was the sound of an otherwise hot chick's voice calling out the girl's name, "Alex! Honey, come here…"
She jumped down from the chair with a hand on his knee for support and with a quick, "Bye," darted off with her cookies and left him alone again for another ten minutes or so until Shane came back with his food. He didn't tell her about the girl, although she did wonder where he'd acquired the cookies, she didn't press him for an answer. They ate together and waited for the call for the flight, and just as Carter and Andy came back with beer induced breath, a woman's voice came over the intercom system at Gate 22.
"Ladies and gentleman, Flight 361 for Tampa International will now begin boarding. All business class ticket holders to begin, business class please."
"Come on, that's us." The guys darted off to the attendant's desk, while Shane helped Sands with his stuff, and they walked over to meet them. When they got there though, Carter was fumbling with his jacket and bag, digging through it on the counter while the two blonde attendants looked on annoyingly.
"Sir, if you could just step aside…"
"No, it's ok I've got it right here." Danny continued searching with the hope that he didn't leave it sitting somewhere on accident, all though they all knew he was prone to do such a thing. Sands stood with a twisted brow, still tearing into his taco wrap, and wondering on the situation, "What the hell is going on?"
"I think Carter lost his ticket." Shane replied, letting go of Sands' arm to walk over to Danny. "Where did you last have it?"
"I thought I remember putting the folder in my bag before I left…damnit."
"Sir, please if you could just-"
"Yeah, alright!" He shouted, moving away with the group, Sands laughing out of habit at Carter's incompetence and Miles and Shane still trying to help him look for the ticket. "God, damn. I thought I had it with me…"
"Well, maybe you should just book another seat, business class if never full." Zipping up his bag again and throwing it over his shoulder he looked to Shane for a moment, assuming it to be the best option, "Yeah, you guys go on ahead of me. I'll get whatever they have left."
"That won't be necessary Agent Carter…" a voice broke in to the crowd of them from the middle of the line, and before a face could be matched from behind the burly shoulders of an older man, they saw a hand outstretched and waving a ticket. Sands ears perked up at what was happening, and tearing the second ear bud from his head, listened intently to the voice as if by his body's own innate sense. As Shane and Carter moved in closer to where the voice was, they saw Lily poke her head out with a wide smile.
"Lily…what the hell are you doing here?"
Lily…Sands thought to himself with a gaping jaw and hardened brow, No way. "Lily?"
"Oh I just thought I cruise in and save Danny's ass. Here ya go," she grinned, handing off his ticket and case folder. He sighed and thanked her, while the group of them stepped even further off to the side, and Shane questioned her.
"You came all the way down here just to bring him that?"
"Sort of, I actually came here because this ticket…" she began, pulling out a slip from the back pocket of her jeans, "…says, that I am supposed to occupy seat…42 G, all the way to Tampa."
"You're on our flight?" Sands asked in shocked reverence as he came to stand closer beside where he could smell her Chanel perfume, still the same as it was in 96', only fresher. "Yeah…I'm on your flight. I'm also on your case."
"What?"
"Are you deaf now too? You heard me." Scowling with a short chuckle he moved his head in Shane's direction as she stepped in with a surprised expression, "What do you mean…on our case?"
"I mean, I'm going to help you guys. I'm going with you."
"Lily…I don't think-"
"No fucking way." Sands concluded, taking her arm slightly and pushing her back away from the boarding line.
"Yes. I am."
"Oh Christ," he groaned, holding her upper arm and stepping out further to where he could hear silence and sensed it was open grounding. Pulling her arm back she tried to fight him but he kept her in place until he forced her out onto the tiled lane of the terminal. "You really are just as stubborn as you were ten years ago."
"Eight years ago."
"Who gives a shit…it doesn't matter, you're not going."
"Why not? Don't think I can handle it…you're blind remember."
"But I'm also a trained agent, sweets."
"Only because you didn't go to the debriefing." He was stunned at her knowledge despite everything else, how she had managed to somehow come across Carter's misplaced folder, get all the information she needed, as well as that on his uniform condition, and end up at the airport terminal just in time to drive him crazy. The adventure seeping in her pores, genetic from what he had come to know, she wasn't afraid of anything anymore. It was so completely 'Lily Hanson,' that it scared him.
"I need to go Jeff."
"Why? Razor blades and vodka not getting the job done, you'll kill yourself."
"No I won't, I know how to fire a gun."
"Yeah!" He yelled out with his hands up in frustration as people around him began to stare, "You can fire a pistol off Morris Island in the middle of winter…not a 47' in a crowd of angry mob bosses."
"I know who you're after."
"Good for you. Now go home." Angered by her as she was by him, he turned to walk away with Shane standing somewhere nearby, and Carter and Miles already boarding. The terminal was empty save for the three of them, and as she stood with her backpack tied to her shoulders, lip pierced in desperation, and watching his back drift away again, she knew she needed to plead her case, the same case they all three needed to plead.
"Jeff…" He stopped out of practice with her, the sadness in her voice almost more than he was willing to bear again. Knowing that if he didn't turn back around it would only be a regret added to his already floor length list, he breathed in deep, exhaled and spun back in her direction. He couldn't see her, but he felt her in that moment.
"What?"
"I need to go. I need to help…for Tommy."
