Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.
A/N: Yeah. I was a stinker with the last chapter.
Wanting nothing more than to be left alone, Hellboy stared at the woman before him, unsure if he was insulted or amused by her poise. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her hip was braced against the doorway. She seemed to be studying him, her eyes scanning the full length of his body several times over, but it wasn't out of fear – there was a curiosity in her expression. It was hidden underneath a pallor of sadness, but there was no apprehension about being in the same room as Hellboy that most women had.
But it was precisely because she wasn't scared of him that so enraged Hellboy. His world was falling apart and there was a hint of a twinkle in her eye. That made Hellboy want to pick up a chair and hurl it across the room before punching his fist through a wall – or worse.
But she called him Sam, something no one besides Torie ever called him.
Maybe… maybe she knew something about Torie.
Shaking his head in a vain attempt to collect his bearings, Hellboy muttered, "I'm not having the best morning, lady, so I'm gonna ask nicely one more time before I have you thrown out – who the hell are you?" Just go the fuck away and leave me the hell alone.
Her lips curved into a smile, despite sadness tugging at the corner of her eyes. "Monica. Monica Gorman. I'm a friend of Torie's." She made no effort to look cowed by his gruff tone and instead pushed off the doorframe and took a step forward into the room. Her arms remained folded across her chest.
Monica. Hellboy wracked his brain over the name and finally remembered that it was Monica that Torie had been talking to on the phone when the name Sam was originally coined.
The mere act of standing became too great to bear, so Hellboy sat collapsed into a chair, gesturing for Monica to do the same. The overhead florescent lights swayed as the room vibrated from the impact of Hellboy falling onto the seat. "I know who you are. You're Torie's friend who sent her care packages and wanted her to date and meet new people. However, and pardon my French, but how the fuck did you get in here?" His head arced up for his forehead in an attempt to massage away a blinding headache, his fingers touching the base of the damn horn stumps.
Sliding into a chair across from Hellboy, she rested her folded arms on the table. Finding it impossible to resist, Monica replied impishly, "Through the hospital tunnel."
An underground tunnel existed between the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense and Saint Joseph's Hospital as a means to allow high profile patients to receive government protection while recuperating. It also allowed more Bureau agents than anyone cared to count immediate access to the hospital when mere seconds meant the difference between life and death. A series of doors throughout the length of the passageway that were unlocked by various keycards acted as security. That meant that Monica had been escorted to Hellboy, but he would deal with the implications of that once he sorted through everything else.
His voice was thick with emotion when he admitted, "If you came here to give me the bad news, I already know." Suddenly, Abe's suggestion of going back to bed didn't seem like such a bad idea. Admitting that Torie was gone zapped all his strength.
"Actually, you don't." Monica shook her head in the negative, perking up slightly.
Hellboy held up the newspaper. "As I said, too late." Bitterness tinged every word.
Taking pity on him, Monica leaned forward and touched his arm. Her voice was soft, but her words roared in his ears. "Torie's not dead."
Feeling like a proverbial ton of bricks came crashing down upon him, Hellboy gulped for air and slammed against the back of the chair. I want to wake up. Wake up with Torie laying next to me. "What? I don't think I heard you right. One more time, lady." Suddenly, he wished his coffee was a beer.
Taking a deep breath, Monica leaned forward and locked gazes with Hellboy. "Torie. Is. Alive." Squeezing his hand, she continued, "She's hurt. Hurt bad. In fact, she's in surgery as we speak. Torie was shot, three times – just like the article says – but as of however long ago when I came over here to see you, she was alive. I want to tell you a few things before I take you over to wait with me. I promise it won't take long."
The room started to spin. I'm getting too old to be riding emotional roller coasters like this. "What are you talking about? Why is there a story in the paper that she died if she… didn't?" The one hope he wanted to latch onto like a life preserver in the churning ocean, Hellboy was actually afraid of – he couldn't take it if he started the mourning process all over again.
Monica sighed, suddenly looking very tired. It was being clear that Hellboy wasn't the only one in need of sleep. "The story was a plant, meant to lull her would-be murders into a false sense of security. We're hoping that they think that without her around to identify them, they might not go back underground immediately. The media was just reporting what it was told."
"'They?' There was more than one assailant? Have… have they broken into her apartment yet? Is the totem still there? Do we even know that?" The walls were closing in and Hellboy wanted nothing more than to spring from the room. He had so many questions and no patience to sit, listening to the answers. Hellboy wanted to see Torie, touch Torie, then go out and find the assholes who put him through the torment of the last hour or so – and the pain Torie would be experiencing in her recovery from the incident.
We. Well, he was willing attach himself to the situation with complete devotion. Of course, Monica expected no less from Hellboy. Not the way he and Torie cared for each other. "As soon as you left Torie this morning, she called me. The totem worried her. She was so glad to have it back because it meant so much to her, but she wanted to get away from it. So she headed into work. But Torie was followed…"
Gripping the table so hard in an effort to keep the room from spinning out of control, Hellboy grimaced slightly when the Formica top crumbled beneath his right hand. "So tell me what happened, okay? I am… so… fucking… confused. Where's Lance? Wasn't he with her? And you! Where do you live? How did you get here so fast?" Focus. Torie is alive. Get your answers and then get the hell over to her. Although if Monica doesn't own up in about five seconds, I'm outta here anyways.
Running her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, Monica looked down at the tabletop. Each question was going to snowball into another and all she wanted to do was get back Torie. But better to answer them now before they got distracted by hospital staff and medical jargon. "Lance was with her. He has been taken in by animal control. I'll be getting him this afternoon. And me? I live in New York. I know you know about Torie's organizations. I am the president of the umbrella group that they all run out of. I was here within the hour, as I'm her emergency contact. Short plane ride. Now, to answer what happened to her, I'll tell you what I know, but it ain't much, big guy. But that totem? Her parents were assassinated by an evil man who wanted it. The shooting today was not random, but rather an assassination attempt on Torie."
"Lady, I got no sleep, so spell it out for me… Someone wants her dead because of that piece of wood? I… brought someone who would… murder… to her doorstep?"
Monica slowly nodded her head, knowing what she was about to say would sting. "I… I know that you're the world's greatest paranormal investigator. And it's obvious the claim is true – you were able to track down that totem when no one else was. Not only track down, but retrieve the damn thing. But bringing it back to Torie? It's like a beacon signaling out to those who want it. Long story short… Well, that totem nearly got your girlfriend killed."