SEASON 2 FINALE

Christopher still remembered when Trevino came to Southfork, the day Elena had been whisked away by the CIA. He showed up at 8 pm saying he couldn't get her on the phone and that Carmen wasn't answering her phone either.

When Bobby told him Carmen had asked permission to visit relatives and that Elena had dropped her mother off at the airport he didn't believe it. He insisted on seeing Christopher, even though they told him he was sick in bed.

Christopher had put on sweat pants and gone downstairs shirtless.

"Where is she? I know you've done something with her." Trevino said through his teeth.

"Oh yeah? What reason could I possibly have? I haven't run away with her. I'm standing right here."

"I know you two have a past together. If you think I am going to stand for-"

"You said it. We had a past together, as far as I know the past is over. I thought you two were like two love birds, but now I'm starting to get suspicious. Did you beat your girlfriend Nickolas? What possible reason could she have for running away from you? Maybe we should get the police involved here."

Nicholas started backing away to his car. "I'll call them myself. Maybe she's had car trouble, or phone charger trouble."

"Yeah, I know. If you hadn't wasted time coming out here to make stupid accusations you might have located her by now."

The following day when he asked Trevino if he'd found her, he mumbled some excuse about her being with her mother. But the tension was always present in Trevino's demeanor, and he felt his dirty looks on the back of his head and in the hairs standing on the back of his neck.

Pamela was in the restaurant, handing Mama Joy a check for her share of the proceeds from the sale of her cook book and the monetization of her web site.

"Woooh!" she yelled. "How is this possible? Look at all the zero's on that figure. Girl, did you steal a bank?"

"I told you there was money in your brand, Mama." Pam was fanning the sleeping boys in their double stroller. The heat today was oppressive and they were sleeping out of sheer heat exhaustion.

"You sure did, honey. But I must admit, I thought you were a little bit crazy."

"Then why did you let me do it?" Pam asked in surprise.

"Because you needed something to do."

Pamela looked at her long. "I was kind of drowning in self-pity, wasn't I?"

"No more than I did, when my children's father left me."

Pamela too a sip of her drink, "How did that happen?"

"I still don't know, till this day. He was the love of my life. But he always had this unquenchable thirst in him. He hopped a boat for Trinidad and Tobago one day, and we never heard from him again."

"Oh my God." Pamela was gripped by a primal fear. "How…how do you live with it?"

"Well, I long since lost my love for the man. I put him in God's hands. If he's dead, then it's too late. If he's still alive, then God forgive him. Either way, it wasn't my doing. I'm not at fault."

"But how did you survive…"

"I worked my hands to the bone. I had two children to raise. I focused on them. There's a whole world of disillusioned women out there. We live for our families. Men can be a liability."

It seemed she was done sharing something so painful. "Let me get you some lunch, honey."

Pamela looked after her retreating figure. Mama was not a figure to be pitied. She saw life in clear strokes. Like a painting with sky and mountains and waters, where one was only a small figure in a bigger picture. Pamela wondered if she would have to live her life like that too, the self receding to a small size, while unknown currents took charge of your life. This was something that connected them.

Her cell phone ring drew her outside of her reflections. "Hello?"

"Pamela, it's Suellen, dear."

"Suellen, this is a surprise. How are you?" She had a sharp intake of breath now, "Have you heard from him?"

"No, darling. We haven't. I'm calling to give you some news. It's not good news, darling. So brace yourself."

"What is it?"

"It's Christopher. He's been shot."

"Oh my God. Oh my God. What should I do? What can I do?"

"Nothing, darling. He's in the doctor's hands. They're working on him. There's nothing you can do here. Just stay safe where you are."

"But who did this?"

Suellen told her about the CIA, and Elena's giving evidence and then being sent off to witness protection. "They suspect that somehow, Trevino found some evidence of Christopher's involvement."

"So this was a hit? Oh my God."

For the first time she was glad that John Ross was a-wall from Dallas. It could have been him. Oh, how she wanted him home, safe and sound. Not wandering out there in the world, where something similar could happen to him.

"Suellen. Send me a picture of Christopher in the hospital. Just as soon as he's out of surgery."

"A picture?"

"Yes. Send it to me immediately."

She had barely hung up with Suellen when Mama Joy came and offered her another phone. "Got a call from that girl of mine. She's knee deep in cadaver dissections but she still finds time to bother me every day," she said with mock impatience. "She wants to say hi to you."

Pamela was still in shock but she extended her hand and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey. How are my boyfriends?"

"Regine. Oh." Pamela whimpered.

"What's the matter with you?"

"I…I just got a call from Dallas."

There was a slight pause. "Christopher? How…how is he? Haven't heard from him in months."

"He's been shot."

"The cartel?" she asked.

"How…how do you know about that?"

"He told me the danger he was in. I pray for him every day. Is he…"

"He's in surgery," Pam hastened to add.

"Listen to me, Pamela. Tell your family I'm coming. So they know who I am and don't think I'm some agent for the cartel."

"Regine, you can't. It's too dangerous. They…they'll trace you back here. Back to us."

"No they won't. I'll take every precaution. If he came to St. Kitts without leading them to you, then I can go there. I have to." She said, firmly.

"It's like that, huh?"

"Oh. You have no idea how I feel about this man."

"I'm glad he has someone like you, Regine. Don't worry, I'll let them know you're coming."

John Ross' lease was in the county of Beechey Point in the basin of the Northern slope. They did all their due diligence with the seismic studies so as to be very accurate in the drilling phase. He struck oil with the first and only well he put in.

The lease was located in the easternmost corner of the Alaska Petroleum Reserve so when they hit oil the plan was to ship the crude out by tanker trucks to the Prudhoe Bay refinery due east. From there the oil would travel through the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System down to the Anchorage region to be shipped out from the southern Port of Valdez.

When he left with two of the guys to drive the first load of Alaskan crude to the refinery, John Silver gave him instructions about avoiding the wolves during the trip. "You don't get out of the cab. You piss off the cab step. 'Cause you won't know when you are passing through a coven."

"Shit. You're serious." John Ross had heard the campfire stories about wolf coven territoriality so he didn't question his instructions.

A lone wolf on the hunt was something that could be managed. Silver had killed a number of single wolves intent on eating his men, and earned his pay. But if your lease happened to be within the boundaries of a coven then God help you. Silver had told him of one driller that had refused to heed his advice to abandon the site once they'd discovered they were in coven territory.

"He didn't live to tell about it," he put it succinctly. "And neither did his crew."

Arriving at Prudhoe Bay after a grueling eight hour drive, John Ross and the crew members he'd brought with him took rooms. He would be leasing two oil tankers tomorrow and they would be driving them back. From now on the work would consist of pumping and hauling. He was on his way to making his fortune.

He wished he could have celebrated this with his family somehow. But he hadn't talked to anybody in nearly four months. Tonight he would have some privacy to look at his picture gallery, and that was all the comfort he would get. To see his boys growing up, to see their mother happy.

He was rudely shocked when he opened the cloud drive, therefore, and saw the picture of his cousin Christopher in a hospital bed. Underneath it was the caption "Christopher was shot. Call home."

He didn't waste one single moment. He wasn't thinking about his own feelings now. That didn't matter.

"Hello. Pamela, it's me."

"John Ross? John Ross? Is that really you?" She was crying.

"Yes, ba… Yes Pamela, it's me. How…how are you doing? Tell me about Christopher. Is he still alive?"

He had to wait through her crying for his answer. He wanted to say soothing words, words of love. But he held them in check.

"Come home. Please come home. We need you," she pleaded.

"I will. I'll get the first flight out."

"Tell me what's happened, dar…Tell me."

"We don't know. We think it's the cartel. He was working with the CIA. He had helped get Elena into witness protection. Your uncle Bobby thinks Trevino might have targeted him out of revenge. He's out of surgery and in the ICU. They think he's going to be alright."

"Damn."

"Listen Pamela, don't you worry about a thing. I'll go straight to Dallas. We'll get to the bottom of this. I promise you."

"No. NO! You can't go to Dallas! I want you to come home. I need you here, with the boys."

Now he was on alert. "Pamela. As much as I can…understand your wanting to be there for Christopher, I don't think you should go to Dallas."

"I'm not going to Dallas! I want you to come home. Do you hear me?"

"I…"

"John Ross. I love you. I want you to come home."

"You…" His heart loosened it's death grip, as if it were melting. But he couldn't speak.

"I am so mad at you for leaving me. I was not well. I…there's so much I have to explain to you. When you sent me divorce papers, and ABANDONED me, I collapsed and went into the hospital."

"What?"

"My sanity was threatened and we…we discovered I had been functioning…with multiple personalities."

"I don't understand."

"Well, apparently there are three parts to me. One which endures my pain, one which suppresses my anger, and one which defends me."

"So. Is there one of those parts that hates me?"

Silence.

"The greater part of me loves you. But there is some of me that harbors some anger and resentment. Can you deal with that?"

"Baby, so long as there's a tiny part of you that loves me…" he spoke with a breaking voice.

"John Ross, where are you? How could you leave me? Do you have somebody else?"

"No, I don't. And I never will. Baby, the reason I left was I was trying to do the right thing. Set you free."

"I don't want to be set free! Get that through your head."

"Pamela Barnes. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. The only unselfish thing. But as usual I made a big mess. Please forgive me, baby."

"I love you. Now tell me where you are," she was still not sure she could get him back.

"I'm in Alaska, baby. And I just made us a fortune."

"Alaska? Oh my God. Why didn't I think of that? Tell me."

They talked of his find, of the months of grueling work. "Now it's a race against time to get it pumped, but this well promises to deliver at least half a million barrels over time."

"And, and the lease is yours, clear and free?"

They talked of it some more. When he was recounting his maneuvers she realized how attracted she was to this side of John Ross. The side that could scheme so expertly, the Taurus that could put down his head and push through a cold and untamed forest, the man that had such an excess of energy he could take down any obstacles. His drive was what she loved about him, what made him sexy.

"It's also what eclipses you. Makes you a mealy mouthed rag doll in his presence," a voice in her head taunted her. "Are you sure you want him back?"

"Well, I've been making a modest fortune here too," she said.

"Ha ha ha ha," he laughed in sheer enjoyment.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked, wary.

"Well, you're the woman who bought and furnished the perfect house from a hospital bed, ha ha ha ha." He seemed to be rolling in his myrth, "I wouldn't expect you to do any less from a psych ward. Ha ha ha ha."

Now that she knew she wasn't being made fun of, she told him all about how she had worked with Mama Joy, to document her recipes and everything about her restaurant. She had published it all through the self publishing industry and then started sending copies of the finished book to marketing firms. She'd hired a marketing firm. She'd made a book trailer, a video of Mama Joy preparing her amazing food and it had gone viral and boosted book sales. "It's a whirlwind of activity, all from my kitchen table, I'm building an empire from the Mama Joy brand."

"Baby you're amazing, you know that? Only you could be such a hot, ass kicking mama."

"I love it. I love everything I'm doing. The only hole in my life is you. I miss you. The boys miss their daddy."

"Tell me everything about them."

He had to plug his phone in because he was running out of batteries. The same happened with her. They were interrupted by the babies needing their mother. She put him on speaker phone. It was hours that they stayed on the phone. They caught up on every minor detail of their separate lives. Nothing was too trivial to be shared. It was as if they drank from each other's cup.

When Bobby picked Regine up at the airport he had a sign with her name on it. He had no idea she would be black. Pamela had completely neglected to mention it. Being a gentleman, he didn't let his surprise show.

"Hi, Regine. Welcome to Dallas."

"Thank you for fetching me, Mr. Ewing."

"I understand my family has a lot to thank you for," he said to her, as they walked through the parking lot. "That you and your family have been there for my family when we couldn't take care of our own."

She didn't accept or decline the thanks. "How is your son?" she asked.

"He's a strong man. He's holding his own. But he hasn't opened his eyes yet."

"So you really can't tell how he is yet. Where exactly is his injury?"

This woman was more straightforward than any he had met. She did not seem to be extremely sentimental. He wondered how that worked, with Christopher being as sensitive as he was.

When they got to the hospital parking lot, she said, "I've been thinking about this, Mr. Ewing—"

"Please, call me Bobby."

"I think it would be best, if I'm not seen to be with your family, if I just come and go as a member of the staff."

"How will you do that?"

"I brought my lab coat and my stethoscope to put around my neck. I think I can keep a low profile."

"So you're a doctor?" Bobby now thought that perhaps he'd misunderstood. He wished he could ask some direct questions without being rude. The words "friend of Christopher's" had a whole lot of vagueness about them.

"Not yet. I'm a third year medical student."

"Oh. Good for you."

Again, there was a terse silence.

"If I may say something about your plan?" Bobby said.

"Go ahead."

"You're too pretty to go unnoticed. You might want to buy some glasses in the giftshop, and cover your hair."

She nodded as she got out of the car.

Regine had a single purpose. To get to room 4370. Her heartbeat was elevated, she knew it, she could feel it. How could she have been so brazen as to come here? He'd probably already forgotten her. She was just his sister-in-law's nanny. How would she explain it?

On the other hand, if what she suspected, had suspected, ever since she'd gone back to Granada, was true, then it would be another matter. If Christopher had arranged for her scholarship, then Christopher was a generous, heroic being. More, he might have feelings for her that he'd expressed only through his financial generosity. She'd thought about it a lot. He'd been calling her pretty steady there for a while. They'd spent hours on the phone, deepening their "friendship." Every time she'd given him a chance to leave, he'd begged her to stay on the phone.

Then, very mysteriously, a scholarship had appeared for her, and immediately after that he'd stopped calling all together. Her intuition told her there was only one hadn't pursued her in order not to jeopardize her studies. He didn't want her gratitude. But what if he wanted her love?

She came out of the stairwell onto the fourth floor and followed the number signs. It was a busy floor. She passed a family waiting room and saw Mr. Ewing sitting in there. She knew she was close.

By the time John Ross got in a helicopter that day to fly down to Fairbanks to catch a flight home, he had tied up all the loose ends. He'd left instructions to the crew foreman for the pumping and hauling. He'd promised the crew a bonus for every tanker, to keep the incentive high. They wouldn't slack off if it was in their interest. The insulated modular shelter he'd provided would make the cold bearable, but once the ground was frozen they would be unable to pump any more.

John Ross Ewing's helicopter never made it to Fairbanks. Somewhere between Prudhoe Bay and it's destination, it went down in the Alaskan interior.

END OF SEASON 2