***Warning - violence

Chapter Twenty-Five

"There's just a little more," Steve prodded carefully, when Jaime had settled down. He had been around the corner, blessing their luck at the fact that Oscar was so thoughtfully – and completely unknowingly – keeping the guards out of their hair. Michael's cell was sound-proofed, so Steve had no clue about the life and death struggle going on inside. But the conclusion Jaime had just come to was not the way he'd found either of them when he finally opened the door. "Try and remember," he said gently.

"I can't...." Jaime pleaded. It was too much to bear.

"You have to, Sweetheart," he said, rubbing her forehead to keep her at least somewhat soothed. Reluctantly, Jaime closed her eyes and let the final ugliness seep like black ooze into her mind.

Jaime woke solely by instinct – Michael was crawling across the floor, badly injured but coming for her just the same. Jaime's head was spinning wildly and she could barely see as she scrambled toward the door. She almost made it, her fists pounding the door in frustration as Michael's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against him.

"I told you that you weren't going to leave me," he growled. "I wasn't kidding." His hands once again closed around her throat and Jaime took one more desperate lungful of air, fearing it would be her last. She was just about to surrender to what seemed to be her fate when the door flew open.

"Get your hands off of her!" Steve demanded. Michael's grip only tightened. Steve didn't take the time to try and pry his his hands away. Instead, he grabbed Michael by the collar and slammed his head into the wall until his grip on Jaime loosened.

"Steve..." Jaime whispered, her strength completely gone. "He was gonna...."

"I know," Steve said, scooping her into his arms. "We need to get you out of here – and back to the hospital so Rudy can take care of you."

"But...Michael..."

It was obvious to Steve that Michael was now beyond medical help. The guards had just left out the front, still conversing as they walked Oscar to his car, so Steve silently closed the cell door and carried Jaime out the rear exit, setting her gently in the back seat of his car and covering her with a blanket. After forcing the latch, he drove slowly out the back gate and pulled over once he was a few miles away, on an isolated county back road. Steve got out of the car and leaned into the back seat for a closer look at Jaime. She was dazed, only semi-conscious, but wasn't bleeding and didn't appear to have any broken bones.

"I'm...okay...." she said very quietly, sensing his eyes looking her over. "Just really...really....tired."

Steve tucked an extra sweater under her head and got back into the driver's seat. "You'll be okay," he assured her. "Everything will be alright."

"Steve...?"

"Just rest now, Sweetheart," he told her, pulling back onto the road.

"We...can't tell anyone....what happened....please don't tell them..."

Steve didn't answer – because a car had pulled over on the opposite side, a little further up the road. "Rudy? What's he doing out here?" In his mind, this was perfect; he'd help Rudy with whatever the trouble was and Jaime would be back under her doctor's care that much sooner.

"You can't tell him, Steve!" Jaime pleaded. "Please....don't tell him..."

"You need help, Jaime." He looked back as he pulled the car to the side of the road. Jaime had covered herself completely with the blanket.

"Just....take me back to my bed...when you're done here...and he'll never know..."

- - -

Jaime's eyes filled with tears that Steve tried to brush away. "So you see," he summed up for her, as gently as possible, "you didn't kill Michael – I did."

- - -

"I'm telling you it just isn't possible!" Rudy fumed at the three 'suits'. "You people have put her through enough today as it is – she just lost her husband!"

"Which is precisely what we need to speak with her about," Trudeau insisted. "Now."

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