"But, Daddy, I should come home."
Shane leaned against the edge of his bed, lowered the phone from his ear and took a deep breath before he tried again to convince Eve to stay in Africa. "I understand, sweetheart," he said wearily. "And I love that you're worried about me. But I'm telling you . . . you should stay with Frankie. There's nothing you can do here in Salem."
Nothing you can do but add another target for the ISA, Rachel Knight, Jericho or whoever is threatening the family. I have enough to worry about already.
Eve protested again, but Shane was resolute. "Look, Eve, you can't understand what it's like here," he said sharply. "I don't want you coming back and having some sleazy reporter dredge up your past like they did with the rest of the family. Do you really want the entire world learning that you were a prostitute? Because that's what will happen. You'll be able to read in every newspaper in the country how Eve Donovan was a hooker who was tried for killing her pimp. I'm sure they won't have a problem finding one of your mug shots. They have plenty to choose from."
The other end of the line fell silent and it took Shane a moment to register what he had just said.
"Oh, God, Eve . . . I didn't mean that. . . . I'm so sorry."
The line stayed silent and Shane mentally kicked himself. How could I have said that?
"Eve, please. I really didn't mean it."
He heard Eve sniffle over the phone.
"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
Eve sniffled again. "How could you say something like that? I thought you loved me."
I can't handle this, he thought, feeling the guilt flood him. "I do love you, Eve. You know how much I love you. I'm really and truly sorry . . . . I didn't mean to lose my head. . . . ." He almost tried to excuse himself by saying how hard the past few weeks had been, but Eve did not need to hear excuses. And if he suggested he was feeling stressed, Eve would probably be on the next flight out of Johannesburg. "Please, sweetheart, forgive me. I just want you to be safe and, right now, you're a lot better off in Africa than here."
After another silence, Eve finally said, "Okay, Daddy." Then she said, "I . . . I'd better go before I wake Frankie."
"Of course, sweetheart," Shane said. She said a hurried and not-too-convincing "I love you" and hung up before he could say the same.
Shane stared at the phone for a moment before he hung it on its cradle. Utterly brilliant, he chastised himself. Eve and Frankie had traveled for hours to reach a phone and she had woken at 6 a.m. to catch him before Shane went to sleep - only to have him throw her past in her face.
Sighing, Shane stared around the bedroom and rubbed his tired eyes. So now he had hurt his daughter, just like he had pretty much messed up the lives of nearly everyone else he cared about. Why should Eve be any different?
He looked over at the bed and wondered if he would be able to get any sleep that night. Maybe he should have taken Kayla up on her offer to give him something to help him sleep, but then he reminded himself that his family was in danger. What would happen if someone tried to hurt them while he was drugged?
Still, Shane was beginning to forget what sleep was actually like. Most nights, he had barely slept at all; his mind kept racing, refusing to let him actually sleep. It seemed like only when he was near total-exhaustion that he could even manage to doze for a few restless hours.
It was a vicious cycle. The more Shane worried about the future and protecting his family, the more his mind raced. The more it raced, the less he slept. And the less he slept, the harder it was for him to focus on catching the man after his family.
Maybe tonight, he thought, as he began unbuttoning his shirt. He was truly exhausted after yet another day of frustration. After dealing with Rachel Knight's article, Neil and Kayla, Shane had spent most of the day going back through his notes on the deliveries Kim had received. He knew he was missing something, but he just could not get his head around it.
The first two attacks, Shane was convinced, were directed at Andrew. Until the photos, however, the deliveries had no specific threat against Andrew, and the photos threatened Andrew, Kim and Jeannie. That inconsistency could not be overlooked.
And the other conundrum . . .
Shane had to force himself to focus. It was a struggle to think right now. He was so tired, yet his mind refused to stop. He kept seeing the pictures with the red "X" and he heard the gunshots as Roman shouted for everyone to get down.
Focus!
Okay, okay . . . The other conundrum. The initial attacks did not indicate anything to do with Jericho. Neither did the photos. The delivery of Shane's keys and his old shirt pointed to Jericho, but nothing else did. And there was the why - why did his adversary switch from direct attacks to playing mind games? The photos proved he could have killed Andrew, even after Shane had moved him to the supposed safety of the mansion.
None of it made sense and, damn, he was getting his mind worked up again when he needed to calm himself. "You just need to sleep," he told himself. With some sleep, maybe the fuzzy pieces would come into focus.
"DADDY!"
Shane was just pulling off his shirt when he heard Andrew's scream.
"Andrew!" Shane shouted. Instinct taking over, he tossed his shirt aside and raced into the hall. Without hesitating, he burst through the door to Andrew's room.
"Daddy! Don't take my daddy!" Andrew was tossing and turning in his bed.
Shane's panic subsided, but it was replaced with the same shame that he had felt when he was arrested. Why didn't they just wait? he asked himself. Just a few minutes and Andrew would never have had to witness that.
Andrew cried out again, still in the throes of the nightmare, and Shane set aside those thoughts. The past was the past. All that mattered now was Andrew.
Crossing the room, Shane crouched next to Andrew's bed. Softly, he said, "It's okay, son. It's just a nightmare." He brushed back a lock of his son's hair and Andrew jerked awake.
"Daddy!" he yelled, flinging his arms around Shane's neck. "I . . . The bad men-"
"It was just a bad dream," Shane whispered, holding Andrew tightly. It had been the first time since the day he had come home from jail that they had hugged. Still holding his son, Shane rose slightly and perched on the edge of the bed. "Just a bad dream," he repeated.
"They. . . . They were hurting you," Andrew sobbed as he began to cry.
Shane felt his chest constrict as he heard the pain and fear in his son's voice. "Shhh. . . ." he murmured. "Nobody hurt me. I'm here and I'm okay."
But for how much longer? he asked himself.
"It was just a nightmare," Shane said, even as he wished it truly was just a bad dream. The reality was just as bad. "It's okay, Sport."
He had no idea what else to say. He could not promise Andrew that he would not go away. That was going to happen. He had promised Andrew once before that he wouldn't leave, and he had already broken that promise. Shane closed his eyes, stifling the tears that were threatening, and tried to stop his body from shaking. He would not break down in front of Andrew. He had to be strong.
For a long time, he held Andrew close as the boy continued to cry. Shane said nothing, afraid his voice would break if he tried to speak.
How did I do this? he wondered. How did I make such a mess of things? All his efforts to protect his family had failed.
I've failed.
The last ten years of Shane's life had been centered on being a good agent, a good husband and a good father. Now what did he have to show for it? Years in prison, apart from the only people who truly mattered in his life.
He swallowed hard, trying to hold back his anguish, and focused on his son. Andrew was the most important thing right now. The boy's sobs were quieting now, and his breathing was growing steady and regular. As Shane continued to hold him, rocking slightly, he felt Andrew relax as he slowly drifted to sleep.
"I'm sorry," Shane whispered once Andrew was asleep. "I'm so sor-" His voice broke off and his eyes stung. Apologies were worthless.
Slowly, taking care not to wake the sleeping boy, Shane slid off the bed and lowered Andrew's head onto his pillow. He found Andrew's teddy bear and slipped it under his arm. Then Shane watched his son sleep for a few, precious minutes.
Shane wiped his eyes and backed out of Andrew's room. He closed the door carefully, making no noise that would wake the boy.
"Shane?"
He turned suddenly, surprised to see Kim only a few feet away. Her light eyes were sad, and he could see the trails left by tears on her cheeks.
"It was just a nightmare," Shane said, forcing his voice even. "He'll be okay."
"Don't." Kim's voice was soft. "I know how hard this is for you. You don't have to pretend in front of me."
"Kim. . . ." Shane flushed, realizing she had probably seen him with Andrew. He started back toward his own bedroom
"What? Are you embarrassed that I saw the great, stoic Shane Donovan show emotion with his son?" Kim stepped in front of him, stopping him before he reached the door to his bedroom. "Remember . . . there was a time when you showed me that side, when you let down those walls."
Shane shook his head. "Kim, I can't do this right now." He stepped around her and walked back into the bedroom.
"Why not?" Kim demanded. "Why not now? You're not some superman without feelings, Shane. Look at you? You're so exhausted you can barely think straight. You don't have to pretend this isn't taking a toll. You don't have to pretend this is easy."
"Easy?" Shane's voice rose dramatically. "I never claimed it was easy. I know it's not-" His voice faltered. He realized his heart was pounding mercilessly against his tightened chest. "There's nothing . . . nothing easy."
Kim stepped toward him and Shane did not pull away when she took his hands. "Come on . . . sit down," she said, softly.
For an instant, Shane wanted to turn away, but their eyes met and he could see his own pain and sadness reflected in hers. Swallowing tightly, he followed her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Kim took a seat beside him.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said. "There's nothing weak about relying on people who love you."
"Kim . . . please . . . ."
"Please what? I know you're hurting. Let me help you. Let me help take away that pain."
If only it were that easy, he thought. If only the pain could just go away.
"Just talk to me," she begged.
"And what? Tell you how I've screwed everything up?" he shot back. "Tell you how I've failed? Not just you, but Andrew too. Look at the hell you're in right now. If it wasn't for me, your past wouldn't be front-page news, nobody would be threatening you, and you could just live your lives. Don't you get it? You would all be better off-"
Kim cut him off. "Don't you dare say it. None of us would be better off without you. You're Andrew's father and he loves you. And I love you. That's all that matters."
"No." Shane shook his head vigorously. "It's not all that matters. You being safe. That matters. You having a real life without my enemies trying to hurt you. That matters." Shane's chest was tightening and he had to force out the rest. "Just having someone who can be there for you. . . ." He could feel a sharp, stabbing in his chest. "I can't. Don't you see that? I-"
He could not finish. Kim reached up with her hand and brushed his cheek, and he realized for the first time that his cheeks were wet with tears. He was crying. The dam had burst, letting loose the pain that he had tried to seal off deep inside.
He buried his head against her shoulder, unable to control himself as the sobs wracked his body. The pain flooded him.
"I'm so sorry," he cried, as her arms wrapped around him. "I-"
Shane tried to find words, but he couldn't as he broke. He clung to her. He was so lost, so afraid, so confused.
"You deserve so much more." His voice cracked with emotion. "So much more." So much more than I can give you.
"But you're all I want, Shane Donovan," Kim whispered. "You're all I need."
Like he had earlier with Andrew, Kim held Shane as he let out the emotions he had been trying to bury.
"Let it go," she breathed. He felt her hand brush back his hair and then hold him close. "Let the pain go."
Shane had no idea how long he clung to her and cried. Years of pain came flooding through. Eventually, his sobs began to subside and he started to regain his breath. Still, Kim held him close. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.
Opening his eyes, Shane lifted his head from Kim's shoulder and looked at her. Her eyes stared back at him, a mix of concern and sadness.
"I wish it could be different," he said softly.
She smiled and pulled her hand forward. It traced the line of his jaw. "It can be," she replied.
Shane's eyes closed at her touch. It was so gentle, so soft. "Kim. . . ."
"Shhhh," she whispered.
His breath caught in his throat as she ran her hand down his chest. Kim smiled, her eyes shining, and she slowly traced a circle over his chest with her index finger. His muscles shuddered under her touch. Then she leaned forward and he was powerless to pull away as her lips touched his.
The kiss was long and slow. Her mouth opened slightly, their tongues met, and he savored the taste of her. God, he wanted her so badly. But when they broke apart, he felt a surge of panic.
"This isn't ri-"
Kim cut him off with another long kiss, holding him until he was almost dizzy. When they pulled apart, she whispered. "This is right."
She kissed his check and his neck, her teeth grazing lightly along his throat.
Shane's own breathing was coming faster and he knew he was losing the battle to restrain himself. "Kim," he pleaded. "We can't do this . . . ." A voice in the back of his head was dimly telling him this was wrong. It would be a mistake.
"I know you want me." Her voice was low and husky. "Don't try to deny it."
He couldn't. "I want you," he whispered, any resistance crumbling. Without conscious thought, his hands slipped to the tie on her robe and he undid it. The robe fell away, revealing only her thin chemise. What am I doing? he thought, but the thought passed as he kissed her again and the sound of his pounding heart drowned out the silent voices in his head.
As his hand slipped beneath the light fabric of her chemise, Kim brushed his cheek once more. She gasped as he caressed her body, then kissed him again along the neck, eliciting a low moan from the back of his throat, then followed it with a kiss full of passion and desire.
He looked into her eyes and he saw her love reflected in them. "Kim," he whispered, not sure what he meant to say.
"Shhhh, my love," she answered. "No more fear or hurt." She raised her index finger and ran it over his lips, then leaned forward for another deep kiss. "This is right," she repeated when they broke apart. "So don't fight it anymore and just make love to me."