Chapter 3

Bri watched Beverly gracefully accept Marco's inviting hand as the two made their way to the middle of the impromptu dance floor in the middle of the Lopez backyard for another dance. She had watched them dance a couple of other times since arriving, and she couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy at the way the couple seemed to speak with their eyes. It was obvious that they were happy when they were together. Would Bri ever find that kind of happiness? As the music built to the crescendo, she found her fingers tapping against the side of her thigh, her voice humming to the catchy tune. Suddenly, there was an inviting hand reaching towards her, and it was attached to the same arson investigator who had been treating her so kindly since helping her escape from Hunley's grasp. Her dark eyes looked up into the eyes of Samford Bennett, whose bright smile lit up his face.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, blushing slightly as he went on to confess his embarrassing weakness. "Although I should warn you that I'm no Fred Astaire."

"Ahaa," Bri cackled, feeling more comfortable around Sam as the night had progressed. "I, uh… I don't really know how to dance very well, either."

"Good, then maybe I won't embarrass you too badly," he snickered, feeling a little lighter on his feet when she accepted his proffered hand.

The two stepped out among the crowd, mimicking the motions of twirling bodies and pointing fingers. Laughter and smiles seemed to fill the entire backyard. As the music continued to play, the two youngest dancers found each other. They watched the older dancers, and began to copy their movements. Antonio jutted his hips from side to side while Corrie remained a couple of counts off beat as she spun around, flaring her dress out around her knees. The two youngsters were oblivious to the fact that they had become the entertainment for the evening's festivities. As the last notes faded away, the two preschoolers clapped and squealed with delight, feeling as grown up as the adults who were watching them.

"Way to go, Ladybug!" Chet laughed, swinging the precocious little girl onto his shoulders once more. "I think you're ready for American Bandstand." He laughed at the way Corrie grabbed two handfuls of his curly dark hair, holding on as he turned to the side to speak to his partner. "I hate to be a drag, but I guess my girls and me better split. We do have to be on shift in the morning, Marco, and it's getting late for this little princess," he remarked, shifting his eyes upwards to the grinning little girl.

"True, and you better not be late," Hank remarked, overhearing his linemen talking.

Beverly joined in the conversation with her own remarks about the lateness and the need to get Bri settled into The Wellhouse.

Marco felt Beverly's nearness, wishing the night didn't have to end. "I'll walk you and Bri to your car."

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to clasp Maria's hand as she walked by. "I had a wonderful time, Mrs. Lopez."

Maria returned the gesture, cupping Beverly's hand in both of hers. "I'm glad you and Bri were able to make it. We've got a room ready for her when you feel she's ready."

Before Beverly could respond, Alexia stepped up beside her mother. "Thank you for coming and for bringing Bri."

"You're welcome, Lexi. Thank you for being one of my success stories," the counselor responded.

"And Bri will be the next one," Sam said, walking up with Bri beside him.

"We're certainly going to give her all the support we can," Beverly commented, "and I know she'll do well." She reached out, patting the back of her newest rescue. "You're a strong young woman, Bri."

Bri's blush was obvious. She didn't feel strong; she felt nervous. But she also felt ready to move on with her life – off the streets.

Marco caught Roy's eye, mouthing to him that he needed to speak to the paramedic before he left. Roy nodded his agreement, then turned in search of his wayward daughter who had been last seen running with Marco's nieces through the back door of the Lopez home.

Beverly and Marco headed for the gate that would allow them access to the sidewalk. They were a few steps ahead of Bri, but they both overheard the brief exchange between her and Sam as they headed for Beverly's car.

"Um, I don't know if you're allowed personal phone calls while you're at The Wellhouse, but if you are, may I call you sometime?"

Bri sucked in her bottom lip, still feeling a bit apprehensive with such a personal request. "I don't know if I can or not, but… Why don't you give me your phone number and if I'm allowed to make calls, then I'll call you?" She suggested, knowing that this would give her time to sort out her feelings, giving her control of the situation.

Sam wasn't sure if he was being brushed off or not, but he decided to give Bri a chance. He pulled out his wallet, withdrawing a business card. "Um," he patted his shirt pocket. "I don't have a pen."

"There's one in my car." Beverly tossed the comment over her shoulder, sure that she had caused the investigator to blush, knowing that his conversation with Bri had been overheard.

"Oh… Okay, thanks."

As they walked down the sidewalk beneath the glow of the street lamps, Marco's hand brushed the back of Beverly's softer one. He felt his heart flutter when she didn't jerk it away. They continued their strides, walking closer to each other than they ever had before. Her closeness encouraged him further.

"Would you like to go out with me again, sometime?"

Beverly smiled up at the man beside her. She wasn't ready to admit to him that she had rearranged her work schedule to coincide with his shifts, hoping that this would allow them to spend more time together. "I'd really like that. I'm working tonight and tomorrow, but I'm off on Sunday." The inflection in her voice let him know that it was more than just a statement – it was a suggestion.

"That's perfect," he said, the excitement in his voice evident. "Decide what you want to do, and I'll call you after Mass on Sunday."

"Oh yes, this will be the first one for Lexi in a long time, right?"

Marco squeezed her hand. "Yes, and our family is going to attend together – if I get off shift in time," he said, knowing that the possibility always existed for a last minute run just before shift change.

"Then we'll pray for a quiet shift," she stated, turning to face him as they reached her car. Had Bri and Sam not been walking behind them, she thought he might offer her a tender kiss. She had grown much more comfortable in his presence, feeling as if she could actually lower her guard completely with him at some point in the not so distant future. Yet, he simply smiled at her as he reached to open her car door.

Sam followed suit, opening the passenger's door for Bri. "I enjoyed talking to you and, uh, stepping on your toes," he laughed.

"I enjoyed it, too. It was a great way to start my new life."

Back at the Lopez home, Roy was helping Joanne corral Jennifer and Chris. He wondered what Marco had wanted to talk to him about, but seeing that Johnny had made an early exit, he thought his partner might be the topic of conversation. When he saw Marco returning to the back yard, he relinquished his search for his daughter to his wife, heading towards his shift mate.

"Something wrong?"

Marco cast a concerned look at Roy. He cut his eyes from side to side to ensure that their conversation would be a private one. "I don't know, Roy. Did Johnny seem, uh, distant to you?"

With that comment, Roy knew that Johnny's unusual behavior had been noticed by someone other than himself. "Yea, he's been acting like that for a couple of shifts now, but…" Roy hesitated, wondering how much he should admit to Marco. Deciding that they all trusted each other with their lives on every shift, he chose to press forward. "Tonight was worse than when he's been on shift. Something's up, but he won't say what it is."

Both men stood with their arms crossed, neither one looking directly at the other as they contemplated the behavior of their crew mate. "Well, if he hasn't told you, then he hasn't told anybody. Do you think maybe you should talk to him?"

The innocent comment felt like a slap in the face to the worried paramedic. "Don't you think I've tried?"

Marco, realizing that his question had struck a nerve, tried to smooth it over. "Roy, I didn't mean to imply anything by-"

"Oh, I know what you meant, Marco, but Johnny's a grown man. He can take care of himself. If there's something wrong with him then it's not my responsibility to find out what it is and fix it. I'm not my partner's keeper." Roy knew he wasn't being fair to his senior lineman, but he felt frustrated by his partner's behavior and the way his shift mates seemed to assume that he could fix whatever Johnny's problem might be.

"That is NOT what's going on, Roy, and you know it." Marco's dark eyes were seething. He had merely been concerned about a friend; he hadn't done or said anything to Roy to deserve the response he had gotten.

Hank overheard enough of the heated conversation to know that he needed to try to diffuse it. He stepped over to the place where his two men were standing, facing each other. "Hey… Everything alright?"

"Fine, Cap," Roy stated flatly. "Just letting Marco know that we had a good time, and I'll see you both in the morning."

Marco and Hank briefly locked eyes as Roy stormed off to round up his family. Marco exhaled a sigh, not knowing what he had done to upset Roy.

"I'm sorry, Cap. All I did was ask him what was wrong with Johnny, and he went ape on me."

"I take it he didn't have an answer for you?" Hank asked worriedly.

Marco merely shook his head, then nodded quickly to let his superior know that someone was walking up behind them. Hank turned around, meeting the gaze of his engineer. The fire captain reached out quickly to shake Mike's hand.

"See you in the morning, Mike. Go get a good night's sleep so you'll be well rested."

Mike grinned, his face seemingly much more relaxed than it had been for a few weeks. "A good night's sleep is something I've been missing," the engineer admitted. The previous day's exoneration had left him too excited to sleep last night. He had really enjoyed himself at the Lopez cookout, and was beginning to feel a sense of normalcy. "But after this party, I think I'll sleep just fine."

Thankfully, Alexia had seen Mike shaking hands with Hank and Marco, and knew that he was preparing to leave. She couldn't let him go home without thanking him for attending the celebration. She gently tugged on his elbow. "May I speak to you, Michael?"

Mike's toothy grin seemed to get just a little wider. "Excuse me, fellas. I'll see you both in the morning."

Marco and Hank returned to their previous conversation, each one concerned for the welfare of both of their paramedics. The worried fire captain agreed to speak to them privately while they were on shift, if the klaxons allowed it. Hank began to pull his family members together so that they could head home.

Mike and Alexia walked around the house, stopping along the side of the porch.

"I'm so glad you were able to join us tonight, Michael, and I'm really glad that you can go back on shift tomorrow." Alexia felt inadequate, unsure of how to carry on a meaningful conversation with a man like Michael Stoker.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Besides, where else could I have gone for such great food, not to mention the company?"

"And the dancing?" She laughed, remembering how Mike had been reluctant to dance, but once she had gotten him moving with the rest of the crowd, she discovered that he was a really good dancer.

He rolled his blue eyes at her, flirtatiously. "And the dancing… If that's what you want to call it."

"You're a wonderful dancer, Michael." The compliment was followed by an uncomfortable silence.

Mike cleared his throat, unsure if he should ask her what was on his mind. When she didn't volunteer any more conversation, he chose to speak up. "Ahem, would it be okay if I, uh, if I call you sometime?"

Alexia felt as if the ground had just shifted beneath her feet. Had she heard him correctly? "Call me?"

"Yea, you know… On the telephone?" He laughed, feeling as if he were about to be rejected. "If you'd rather me not, then don't worry. I understand that-"

"Of course. I'd really like that," she interrupted, her voice light and her eyes beaming with excitement.

"Good. That's good. Um, well… I've got shift tomorrow, so it might not be until Sunday afternoon, if it's a really busy shift. But I'll, ah, I'll call you," he stated, feeling ridiculous for repeating himself like a nervous teenager.

"Okay."

"So, ah, good night, Lexi," he said, unsure of whether to give her a hug, or simply walk away. He decided to take things as slowly as possible, and gave her a simple nod of his head as he turned to walk to his car. Perhaps he was reading too much into how she was acting and what she was saying, but he had the distinct impression that she really did enjoy spending time with him. He certainly hoped that was true. Because ever since he had stopped spending time with her as a part of her rescue, he had been missing her company, more so than he wanted to admit.

E!

Johnny made several unnecessary turns on his way back to his apartment, lengthening his commute considerably. His mind was reeling with worry, and he wanted to ensure that no one was following him. He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, parking in a place far away from his usual spot. He turned off the engine, but simply sat in his Rover, glancing in all the mirrors, making sure that he was still alone. Then, as if realizing just how paranoid he was being, he slammed his right fist against the passenger's seat.

"Damn it!"

He stepped out of the vehicle, slamming the door, and loped up the stairs to his darkened apartment. He needed to think, needed to see if there was any other way to cope with his predicament than what he was thinking. Dropping his keys into the bowl on his coffee table, he turned on a small lamp and took a seat on his couch. He exhaled hard, leaning his head against the back of the couch as he stared at the ceiling. He had been trying to find another way out of his situation, but his tired brain seemed to have given up. For nearly an hour he thought about all that had happened during that month back in 1965. Ten years was a long time, but not long enough for the images to be forgotten – an eternity wouldn't be enough time to erase the horror.

E!

On Saturday morning, Marco pulled into a parking space behind the station. Seeing Roy already there and sitting in his gold Porsche convertible reminded him of the heated exchange between the two of them at the cookout. He pressed his lips into a thin line, grabbed his duffle bag from the passenger's seat, and stepped out of his burgundy sedan.

"Marco, can I talk to you?"

Marco wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he walked over to Roy's car just as the paramedic was getting out of it.

Roy saw the frustrated look on his friend's face, confirming that his remarks the previous night had been out of line. "I owe you a big apology for what I said last night. I'm really sorry. I know you're just concerned for Johnny, and I've been worried about him, too. That's no excuse for how I reacted to your comments, though. I hope you'll forgive me."

Marco swallowed hard. He could see the sincerity in Roy's blue eyes, seeing that the paramedic was feeling guilty. He knew that the heart-felt apology had to have been difficult for Roy. He cut his eyes down at the cement parking lot for a moment, then back up at his friend. "It's okay, Roy. I know you're worried about him, same as me. Apology accepted."

Relief washed over Roy, and a slight smile crept across his face. "Thank you… I mean it," he said, extending his hand.

Marco returned the strong handshake, also feeling a sense of relief, just as Chet drove up. The two men stood in their places, ready to greet their shiftmate. Chet was in a different frame of mind as he got out of his van, slamming the door hard. He shouldered his bag, stomping off towards the locker room without even acknowledging the presence of Roy and Marco.

"Uh-oh."

"Yea," Roy agreed, raising his eyebrows in Marco's direction. "Looks like my partner isn't the only one having problems."

E!

Johnny glanced at his watch, hoping that the deity in charge of the 405 would smile down on him, otherwise he was going to be late for roll call. He had spent most of the night trying to figure out a way to keep his past from ruining his future. Yet, he hadn't been able to figure out a way to salvage his present life. He had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the only thing he could do was leave behind those he loved the most. More than anything, he wished he could sit down with his brothers at 51's and explain to them what had happened all those years ago, but he was too ashamed of his past to share it with anyone, even his best friend. He knew what William Waite was capable of, and the man's threats still rang loud and clear in Johnny's memory. He had no doubt that Waite would carry out those threats, and that his surrogate family would try to help him if they knew the he was in danger. Johnny couldn't allow his friends to become Waite's next victims. There was only one way to prevent harm to his friends, and that was to remove himself from their lives, permanently.

Johnny used his free hand to wipe the moisture from his eyes as he approached the exit ramp that would carry him to Station 51. He wasn't prone to tears, but what he had to do over the next few days and weeks would be as difficult as leaving his parents had been. He remembered hearing Marco explain that his sister had suffered by remaining in prostitution in order to keep her baby safe. Johnny had understood that better than anyone, although he had been unable to explain to the other men why. He had been forced to do the same thing, leaving behind his parents in Montana. Now, he was about to leave behind the closest friends he had ever had, all because he wanted to keep them and their families safe.

E!

Back inside 51's locker room, Chet dropped his duffel bag on the bench in front of his locker. Using his left hand to support himself, he leaned against the wooden cabinet, staring at the floor. He had anticipated a romantic interlude with Caroline after they had returned from the cookout and put Corrie to sleep. Instead, the night had ended in an argument between the engaged couple. When he heard the swish of the opening locker room door, he straightened himself and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Good morning, Chet."

"Mornin', Marco," he said flatly, discarding his shirt with a toss into the back of his locker.

Marco and Roy exchanged knowing looks as they, too, began to change into their uniforms.

"You okay?" Roy asked.

"Swell," Chet commented sarcastically, toeing off his sneakers and removing his jeans. He huffed, shoving his civvies into the locker recklessly, not caring that they would be wrinkled when he changed back into them after shift.

"Just say it, Chet. I know you want to."

The Irishman looked up at his partner, noting that the older man was being sincere. He pulled out his light blue shirt, threading his arms through the short sleeves, leaving the shirt flopping unbuttoned as he pulled out his navy blue uniform pants. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell his friends what had happened between himself and his fiancée, but he did need to talk to someone. Unlike Johnny, Chet had never been the kind of man who could keep his worries hidden.

"Caroline, right?" Roy asked, recognizing the frustration he was seeing in Chet. "Only the woman you love can upset you like this."

Chet sighed, buttoning up his shirt and tucking it into his pants as he thought about how to answer the question. He plopped himself down on the bench, pulling out his work boots. "Yea…," he sighed, hesitating before continuing. "DeSoto, when you and Joanne got engaged, was she ashamed of you?"

Assuming that the younger lineman had overheard his exchange with Marco the previous night, Roy dropped his head. Was Chet trying to infer that Roy had embarrassed Joanne at the Lopez cookout? The senior medic wondered if perhaps his uncharacteristic behavior had somehow resulted in an argument between Chet and Caroline. Roy cleared his throat; he hadn't anticipated the need to apologize to someone other than Marco, but now it seemed he should. "Look, I'm sorry you overheard what I said last night. I was wrong, and I apologized to Marco as soon as I got here, so can we just drop it?"

The curly-haired man looked back and forth between his two colleagues, his bushy eyebrows crawling together between his eyes. "Huh?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, Chet. Nothing for you to get all bent out of shape over," his partner explained, looking over at a contrite Roy, thinking he understood where the conversation was going.

"What the hell are you two talkin' about? You asked me what was wrong and I'm tryin' to tell ya."

Again, Marco and Roy exchanged glances, even more confused by Chet's remarks. Marco's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Let's start over. What has you so pissed off this morning, Chet?" Marco asked.

Chet shifted his gaze between the two men once more, feeling the beginnings of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Caroline," he grunted, bending over to tie his boots. Once that task was completed, he leaned back against the locker, realizing that his friends were waiting on him to elaborate.

"What did she do?" Marco questioned.

"What did YOU do?" Roy asked at the same time, his years of marriage had taught him a thing or two about relationships with women. It didn't matter who was right, or who was wrong in an argument. If the woman in the relationship wasn't happy, then neither was the man.

"I didn't do anything," Chet shot back. "And neither has she, for that matter," he mumbled, looking back down at the floor.

"Ahhh, no action in the bedroom, huh? It happens, Chet. And it'll get worse after the wedding," Roy added with a snicker, turning to face his open locker. He needed to get dressed, and he knew that Chet was about to begin a tirade about his fiancee.

"That's just it, DeSoto," Chet said, his crystal blue eyes becoming reddened. "She won't even talk about the wedding. But that isn't the worst part." He ran his hands through his hair, then leaned over resting his forearms on his knees. "She hasn't even told Greg and Mim that we're engaged. I'm wondering if she's ashamed of me."

"Why would she be ashamed of you?"

"I dunno, Marco. Maybe 'cause I'm just a fireman."

Roy, who had always seemed to have more insight into human behavior than the rest of the crew, spoke up using his most compassionate voice. Now he understood why Chet was worried. "Look, it sounds like maybe she doesn't quite know how to tell her former in-laws. I mean, she was married to their son, her daughter is their granddaughter. Maybe she feels like they wouldn't approve of her remarrying, yet?"

Seeing where Roy was heading, Marco added to the conversation. "Or are you thinking she might still be in love with Corey?"

"No, no… She was never in love with-," Chet gulped, realizing he had revealed far more than he had intended. "Let's just say… that isn't it, alright? Besides, Greg and Mim have already given me their blessing, so why would she be afraid to tell them she accepted my proposal?"

"Wait, you asked her former in-laws for her hand in marriage?" Marco questioned, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his dark mustache.

"Yea, what of it, Marco? I don't intend on doing this but one time, so I wanted to… You know," he shrugged, "do it right."

"I think that's great," Roy offered. "Joanne's father died before I proposed, and I sure wasn't going to ask her mother," Roy chuckled, "or I'd still be single."

"Does Caroline know?"

Chet looked at Marco with a questioning look. "Know what?"

"I know you said that they pretty much raised her so she's more like a daughter than a daughter-in-law to them. So, does she know you asked them for their blessing?" Marco asked. "And that they approve of the marriage?"

"I guess not," Chet replied, stroking his bushy mustache as he stared into the nothingness in front of him. "I never said anything to her about askin' them." He thought for a moment while his friends finished getting dressed. "Maybe that's it. Maybe she thinks they won't approve, and-"

"And she's afraid of losing another set of parents," Marco spoke quietly.

"Do you think I should call them, and let them know what's goin' on?"

"That's up to you," Roy said, patting Chet on the shoulder, "but you don't want to end the engagement without a wedding, do you?"

"No way, man. I nearly died askin' her the question. I want to make the most of it," he grinned, remembering his panic attack at the restaurant. He considered the possibilities as well as his options. It all seemed to make sense. Perhaps he could call Mim and explain his concerns, and maybe Mim could reach out to Caroline. It was worth a shot. He decided to make the call after roll call. Then, the thought of roll call led his mind to ponder chore assignments, which led him to look around the room.

"Ahaa-ha," Chet laughed. "I know who's got latrine duty, and for once, it ain't me." He headed out of the locker room in search of a cup of coffee. His sleepless night was beginning to wear on him, and he feared the next twenty-four hours might be sleepless, as well.

Chet exited the locker room with Marco on his heels. Roy was lagging behind, neatly hanging up his street clothes before getting his morning coffee. When the locker room door swung open again, he looked up into the serious face of his partner.

"Good morning, Johnny," he stated, missing his partner's usual greeting in triplicate. The only response he received was an incoherent mumble.

"What happened to 'mornin', mornin', mornin'?" Roy asked.

Johnny set about changing as quickly as he could, oblivious to Roy's question. Roy watched for a few moments, leaning against his own locker, crossing his arms over his chest. He narrowed his eyes at his partner, studying the younger man's rigid movements.

"Earth to Johnny."

"Hmm?" Johnny's dark eyes looked up at his partner. "Did you say somethin', Roy?"

Roy pushed off from his locker, walking around behind Johnny before leaning his forearm against the right side of Johnny's locker as Johnny continued rushing through his dressing routine.

Roy eyed his partner suspiciously. "I was just wondering what's going on with you. You don't seem like yourself. Is something wrong?"

Johnny stared solemnly at his best friend, searching the familiar face for some hint of understanding, some semblance of safety. He pressed his lips into a thin line, frustration and fear clouding his thought processes. He wished he could trust Roy with his darkest secret, but if Roy knew what had happened, would he still be his friend? Would he consider him a coward, or something even worse? He cut his sad eyes away, knowing that if Roy pressed him for information, he might not be able to keep what he knew safely hidden away.

"Nope," Johnny commented, buckling his belt then pinning his name badge onto his shirt. "Everything's right as rain, Roy."

"Don't lie to me, Johnny." Roy's blue eyes pierced Johnny's soul, making the younger man feel even more uncomfortable.

"Don't call me a liar," Johnny said curtly, closing his locker door and turning away from his partner, heading for the door.

Roy reached out, clutching Johnny's upper arm. "Wait," he asked, feeling the slight tremble beneath his fingers. He felt Johnny's body stiffen and saw his head bow, but the younger man made no move to get away from him. "Did I do something to offend you?"

Johnny felt as if his heart was slamming around inside his chest. He had to slow his breathing, willing himself to calm down enough to talk. This was it, the opportunity he had wanted to create. It was the chance to create a proverbial smokescreen to hide behind. He steeled his nerves, wishing there was another way out, but he had spent the last two days searching for alternatives. Nothing else would work. He had to do this – not so much for him as for his friends, especially his best friend. Slowly, he turned to face the man who had been more like a brother than a coworker, his best friend. They had saved each other's lives on several occasions since they had become partners. With lightning speed, he thought back over everything they had been through, both on the job and off. Now he had to do something that he would always regret, but it might well be that it saved Roy's life again, even if no one would ever know how, or why.

Johnny gritted his teeth, remaining stoic as he looked directly at his best friend, preparing to tell the biggest lie he had ever told in his life. "Yea…"

Roy was stunned by Johnny's proclamation, waiting for his partner to elaborate on how Roy had hurt him. "What?" The older man asked, his blue eyes searching for answers. "When? What'd I do?"

Johnny swallowed hard, wishing there was an easier way out. "Nothin', Pally," he offered, his lips dripping with sarcasm. "You didn't do a damn thing." He backed up, knowing his words were both confusing and hurtful to the one person he felt closer to than anyone else on Earth. "That's just it. Nobody did a damn thing… Including me," he stated cryptically, referring to his inaction all those years ago. He turned his back to his partner, realizing that his words and actions would further frustrate and confuse his best friend. "And I've got to live with that fact for the rest of my life," he added with recrimination. He pushed his way through the locker room door. He knew it was time for roll call, and he also knew that Roy was going to have a lot of questions for him as the shift progressed. However, he had just set his plan into motion, a plan to save those who meant the most to him. He was on a course that couldn't be altered. His only regret was that he couldn't tell his friends why.