HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER. IM STRUGGLING A BIT WITH THE NEXT BIT OF WHAT TO DO. BECAUSE I HAVE SOME IDEAS, BUT ID LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK WOULD BE THE WAY TO GO NEXT. FEEL FREE TO REVIEW OR EVEN SEND ME A PRIVATE MESSAGE. BECAUSE SOMETIMES HAVING A FRESH PERSPECTIVE CAN OPEN UP THE CREATIVITY. ENJOY!

"And if anyone has a problem with that, they can take that up with me once I know my husband is going to live."

Stevie jumped at the sound of her mother shutting the door to her father's room with a force that matched her angry tirade. She had opened the door, unbeknownst to her mother, who looked unable to focus on more than one thing at the moment. And, in the previous moment, that had been on yelling at Russell.

Russell backed up, turning around and putting his hands on his head, as if defeat had never been on the table, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

And while Stevie could see her mother walking into the hospital room, taking her place in the chair recently vacated by Blake, grabbing her father's hand, and settling in, Stevie could do no such thing. Settling in wasn't an option.

"What just happened?" Those were the only words Stevie could muster as she took a step towards Russell.

Russell, startled by Stevie's presence, turned around and, for a second, didn't know what to say. He just took a deep breath.

The frustration welling up inside of her, Stevie tried to process. Tried to understand. "Did you just tell Mom that Emma needs help? And that the questioning isn't helping?" Russell started to say something, but Stevie couldn't stop, her mouth rattling off and try to pace what she knew about her mother and sister into what she'd just witnessed. "And did Mom just say that Emma should've thought of that before…"

And as her voice built, as her irritation with her mother grew, she looked into Russell's eyes, sensing his almost imperceptible nod.

And Stevie would have none of this.

She took the few steps to the door and threw it open, her mother and Blake jumping at the sound. Her father didn't move at all.

"Stevie!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "What's…"

As she looked at her mother, she could see the exhaustion written into every part of her face. Her glasses couldn't hide the circles under her eyes.

But that didn't stop Stevie, who loudly asked, "Who are you?"

Her mother stood to her feet, the surprise and confusion on her face evident. "Excuse me?"

Scoffing at her mother, Stevie pointed out into the hallway, "What was that? That's not who you are, Mom. That…"

"Let's take this out into the hallway." Her mother said, having walked toward Stevie. The feeling of her mother's hand on her arm, gently pressing her out of the room and the words, "Your dad needs to rest" was enough.

Stevie ripped her arm away from her mom's grasp, and loudly exclaimed, "No. You say what you did in front of Dad." Looking at her mother's eyes, she could see the hostility taking over. But Stevie pulled away from her mother and towards her father's bed. "You sit here and tell him what a monster you're being right now."

Her mother's jaw tightened, and Stevie knew the words about to come out of her mother's mouth would sting.

But then she saw her siblings behind her mother.

"You care more about Dad than you do about Emma."

And Jason's pointed words caused her mother to turn around, facing away from Stevie.

And Allison, in a quiet way that Stevie loved how she could relay her own pain, "Why wouldn't you tell them to leave her alone?"

And before her mother turned and looked at her, Stevie knew there would be one of two ways her mother would proceed. She'd sit and calmly try to rationalize the way she had been behaving. She'd try and talk her way out of it, quietly reasoning them through her twisted thinking.

Or.

And as Stevie met her mother's eyes, jaw locked, eyes full of fury and vengeance, Stevie knew it would be the other option.

"You guys need to go." Her mother's pointed words continued, "I'm not discussing this with you."

Stevie shook her head, "No. This is wrong, and you know it."

Her mother's eyes narrowed, taking a step back an standing tall. "You don't know the half of it, Stevie."

"But Aunt Izzie says…" Allison's voice didn't even break her mother's hardened gaze. Like it would've in the past. In the past, Stevie would've watched her mother crumble at the sound of Allison's voice almost on the verge of tears due to confrontation.

But this wasn't her mother.

And her mother snapped, "I said, we're not going to talk about this."

Stevie watched her mother cross her arms in front of her, still standing tall as if…

And she'd had enough. "Don't stand there all self-righteous like you're not enjoying this." Stevie spat out.

"'Self-righteous'?" Her mother asked, "You think me sitting here wondering if my husband will ever wake up is self-righteous?"

"You mean our dad?" Jason threw his hat in the ring, "We're sitting here watching our dad not sure he's going to make it. Don't make it all about you."

But Stevie wasn't done with her train of thought, "You pretend to be this great moral leader…"

"Don't talk to me about leadership, Stevie." Her mother threw back. "This isn't about leading. This is about making sure your dad is going to live."

"And what part of making sure Dad is going to live means torturing Emma?" Stevie facetiously asked. "Huh?"

"Torture?" Her mother's eyebrows rose, "You think her sitting in FBI custody is torture?" The sarcasm evident in each word was enough to turn Stevie's stomach. "That's protocol. I'm sorry you're too close to the situation to understand that."

Blood boiling at being dismissed, Stevie narrowed her eyes, staring directly at her mother, "You really want to play that game, Mom? You really want to go down the 'it's not torture, it's legal. There are provisions for it' rabbithole again, Mom?"

Stevie waited. Waited for her mother to break. Waited for her to realize that the anger was misplaced and that Stevie was right.

But that didn't happen. Instead, her mother said, "You need to leave" and pointed at the door. When Stevie made no move to do any such thing, her mother, now louder, said, "If you don't leave, I'll get security to remove you. Your dad needs quiet."

And Stevie looked over to her father, lying there with a tube breathing for him. Pale, quiet. Nothing.

"Dad was willing to die for her." Stevie whispered quietly, hating the lump in her throat, because she didn't want to whisper. She wanted to scream. Wanted to shake her dad awake, begging him to make her mother listen to reason. Listen to the morality that Stevie thought had been instilled in her mother. But, maybe it was just her father's morality that rubbed off on her mother. "You really are a monster, aren't you?" Stevie said, her voice now fully breaking as she gathered up her emotions and looked into the eyes of a woman she no longer recognized. "Years ago, you told me that you weren't in the room, but that you knew what they were doing to torture that man." She remembered her mother telling her about how they'd questioned a man in Baghdad, and when they couldn't get through to him, her mother had agreed to let the man be tortured.

And her mother's eyes widened at the memory. Of their fight. Of the way it had torn their relationship for a while.

"You told me that you knew. And that you'd lived with guilt but that it was reality." Stevie started to find her voice. "And I believed you had a conscience. I believed you'd felt true guilt. I believed that it really was more complicated than I could understand."

Her mother started to speak, but Stevie wouldn't let her. "But, now it's not a terrorist. It's not a man threatening to blow up children or bombling schools. There's no information to get." Stevie would not break eye contact with the stranger across the room from her. "It's your daughter. It's my sister."

"What are you talking about?" Jason asked, pulling her mother's gaze away from her own. And Stevie watched her mother take a breath, looking up at the ceiling.

And Stevie saw it. She saw the glimpse. A glimpse of regret. Of shame.

And Stevie explained to her siblings, "When she was in Baghdad, Mom couldn't break a man through questioning, so she let someone else do her dirty work and torture him to get information out of him."

Her mother shifted on her feet, shaking her head and saying, "It's more complicated than…"

And Stevie jumped in. "But. This. Isn't."

And her eyes met her mother's. And held her gaze. Wishing she could beg her mother to listen to her. Wishing she could make her mother see. Afraid it was too late.