He supposed some small part of him knew it was going to end up like this. That she would never return to full sanity. He watched as the young lawyer with brilliantly soulful eyes assisted the gently silent blacksmith in laying Celina's body out on a jail cot.

"Thanks, Robert E.," Matthew spoke gratefully while making sure the white cotton sheet covered Celina's face.

He nodded in return, turning to face the small man lingering in the threshold of the open cell. Graciously, he removed his cap twisting it at his chest as he addressed Eli Marrow with an expression of condolence. Knowing the state of the deceased when she was alive and the havoc she had wreaked on the Slicker family, left him with a conflicting feeling. However, the crestfallen but appreciative softening of the old man's face made Robert E. feel words were not necessary. Eli knew what his niece had become.

"Matthew… if yah need me I'll be at the livery….gettin' things ready," he sighed making his way out of the heaviness of the jail.

Matthew stuck one hand in his front pant pocket and gestured in apology with the other. "I'm really sorry Mr. Marrow. But the family's at the clinic waitin' to find out if—"

But Eli cut him off by holding up his weary hand. "I'm aware….I'm aware of much... You know, she weren't always like this." He sidestepped Matthew sitting on the cot parallel his niece. Frailly he reached out his hand as if he might peer under the sheet, but only let his hand drop onto his thigh. "She was sweet and naive. Bit too naive for her own good. Suppose that made her too soft for this world." Eli turned to look up into Matthew's eyes finding a sympathetic audience. "Once that man got his hooks into her," he held his hands as fists before him, "he twisted her into THIS!"

"She uhhh," he began sliding his hand off the back of his neck. "She seemed real normal…" Matthew's voice dropped off as he recalled Dr. Mike sharing her concerns about Miss. Marrow's behavior towards Jake and Izzy. Yet, the small stature of the man before him and the innocence of his bearing had him wanting to apologize profoundly for the jailhouse accommodations. However, just as he was about to open his mouth a cynical voice made itself known from the doorway.

"Jail's too good for that," Hank spit out the words. "Might wanna lock the door...never know with them crazies. They always come back."

"Hank!" Matthew jumped, angrily shoving Hank out into the street. "That man's greivin'!"

"Them girls are grievin' Matthew!" his throat was tight and he was using his rage to mask his fear.

"How is Jake?" Matthew asked softening up on Hank. The aftermath of the situation was not so clean and cut. No matter what, Eli Marrow appeared to be a good man, and a likely target for those looking to place blame on a live body.

"Yah Ma's still operatin' on him…." Hank seemed to be considering something quite heavy in his mind. "Loren said his hand was all sliced up….You think," but he stopped himself. Shifting back to his usual mask, Hank smirked, about to slide a snide remark Matthew's way when he heard a soft murmur round the corner from the clinic. Without preamble Hank severed his conversation with Matthew and followed the wilting sounds of Lucy's voice.

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If he hadn't been anchored to this world before, he certainly felt he was now. His fingers burned under a galling aching numbness. Vaguely he recalled Dr. Mike's worn but even voice telling the room that he'd feel a tightness in and around the stitches. Even with the annoying throbbing, Jake badly wanted to make a fist, but the thin board she had splinted his hand with prevented him from botching her work.

It was softly quiet around him; and though his eyes were closed he was aware of his surroundings. Jake wondered for a moment how he had managed to forget the trip up the stairs to the recovery rooms. He knew he had been awake for most of the procedure, as he had been twining in and out when the pain became too much. His head was aching, causing strange percussive jolts around the back of his head towards his temples. The entire mess was reminiscent of some of his worst hangovers. Still fighting it's way from the floating mass of cobwebs that were his peevish thoughts was something… Something he needed to be doing. He'd had it before. Holding the thought strong inside himself until Dr. Mike had begun his surgery.

Very slowly his eyes crept open, attempting to brush passed the golden strands of stretched light. Jake's line of sight swept down the length of his body laid out on the narrow bed. Who stole my boots! His confused mind demanded at the sight of his stocking toes protruding from the bottom of the too short gray blanket. But after further investigation he spotted them neatly coupled, up on the plain bureau by the bureau which no doubt contained his vest, and gold watch.

The sharp jerk of his head in this direction stirred him to the point of deep confusion. His skull felt swelled as a pin prick of memory was working it's way through the agonizing pain that misted around him. Then at the sudden rushed sounds below him, Jake tensed. Murmuring voices padded through the floor, connecting familiarly with his heart. There was a definite blushing flutter within his chest as he realized it was the sound of his wife. Teresa! All at once the blocks around his caged mind tumbled like so much rubbish, releasing his memories in scattered pieces about him. Her soft voice was closer to the door now, beckoning in a hushed tone for someone to be very gentle and quiet.

"Your Papa isn't feeling well. We must be very quiet," she whispered.

Papa! My girls! They were scared…His mind faltered once again. But there was no time to attempt to start it up as the door lightly crept open. He watched as her small hand, which was swimming in a rather large coat rounded the slab of the door. Her black curls although tucked beneath the adult sized collar, set free as Lucy poked her head out of the dimly lit hallway. Eyes blue as the depths of the ocean, traveled straight up to his own, connecting with an unending circuit of love. Before he knew it she was climbing up clumsily over the folds of Matthew's coat and his bed. There she bundled herself into his side where his arm instinctually embraced her.

"Are you alright Papa?" her warm breath murmured close.

Jake frowned attempting to sit up while still keeping his daughter canopied to his good side. He still wasn't quite sure what had taken place. So far, all he was certain of was that he had hurt his hand and it had something to do with protecting his family. As these thoughts cycled with a slight touch of alarm, he heard her voice again, like the warm flame of a candle through the cold darkness.

"Jake?" Teresa hurried to his side. Her hands gently cupped his bandaged hand laying it gingerly in her lap. "My heart …. How do you feel? Dr. Quinn says you are still a little confused?"

"I...uh…" his brow furrowed as he looked foggily from his daughter to his wife. "I ain't too sure what I did to myself…"

"You do not remember?" Teresa raised an eyebrow. However, in an attempt to soothe she rested her hand lightly on his chest, feeling the steady and strong beat of his heart. "Do you not recall … Celina?"

"Mr. Bray saved me and Izzy, Papa."

"That is how you hurt your hand. You grabbed the blade of the sickle before she could…" her voice trailed off with a wince.

"Izzy?" Jake asked worriedly.

Now Teresa smiled, "She is with Mr. Bray. I'm afraid she has grown smitten with him. We may be forced to find a room for him in the house."

Just the thought of Loren and Cloud Dancing having to remain under the same roof together for any amount of time curled the corners of Jake's mouth. At the sound of a hushed knock at the door the room grew silent..

"Teresa?" It was Dr. Mike. "May I speak with you?"

Reluctant to leave, she scrunched her brow as she turned back to look at Jake. He still hadn't mentioned Celina, the struggle, or inquired where the dreadful creature was at the moment. Her eyes flashed between his bandaged hand on her lap to Lucy curled up under her father's arm. Finally, she settled on Jake's face. His eyes were far more alert and less searching now that Lucy was tucked securely to him. He even seemed oblivious to his injured hand, instead focusing on his daughter and wife.

"I will only be a moment," she assure him pressing her hand to his cheek.

"I can take care of Papa," Lucy sat up and Jake smiled warmly.

xXx

A cool draft swept through the dimly lit hallway causing Teresa to wrap her arms around herself. The movement tugged at the jutting pain beneath her ribs where Celina had dug in the sickle blade. Inwardly she promised herself she would tend to it as soon as she was positive everyone was safe. However, now Dr. Mike was ushering her towards Randall's recovery room, just down the hall.

"He was in a massively concussed state when he was brought in," Michaela spoke in a hushed tone. "The rock did some damage to the back of his head… He's confused… We had to strap him down so that he wouldn't hurt himself any further. My hope is that he'll recognize your voice...perhaps calm him?"

Teresa stared at Michaela, her round dark eyes seeming to express her question more fully than her tired words could at this point.

Michaela's face softened under the yellow glow of the lamp sconces. Touching Teresa's elbow for a moment she continued, "He was trying to get to you and the children. Horace said he was still fighting to reach you when he finally just collapsed."

"She told me he was dead," she wavered feeling a little light headed herself. It was slowly seeping into her mind, and into her heart. Celina was dead, and she had played a role in that. There would be no do-overs, no excuses. Whatever that woman may have been, she could never speak out, never ask forgiveness, never fully understand the scope of what she had done, or the fear she had instilled in her victims. But this man who hardly knew her or her family, had placed himself between them and danger. That thought pushed down her guilt for the moment. Without waiting for a reply, Teresa quietly opened the door.