Rating: It tilts a good deal towards R, but I think I could say a shaky PG-13.

Other: Since, in my opinion "Chess" was the best fic I ever wrote, I couldn't just put down the personalities of that Jessie and James without going a bit deeper. Don't read this one unless you read the first, because the entire plot won't make much sense. Though I don't find this to be better than the first, I don't think it's a disappointment, or crappy in any way. It's somewhat deep and involves a lot of inward battles as well as outer, so if you're not into that dramatic stuff you may want to keep your distance. At any rate, all compliments may be sent to Many_Thanks@Iloveyou.com. All criticism goes to Go_Away@screwyourself.com. Eh, just kidding. Anything, from beatings to praise, goes straight to Jayhawkfan35@yahoo.com. Yomite imasu-ni totte, arigatoo gozaimasu! (Hope I wrote that right...)

Three years. Three years since the rebirth of Team Rocket, since Meowth and Roger's death, since the terrible nightmares that would forever haunt the young heroes that lived through the short-lived Rocket era. Three years is enough time to heal, enough time to move on... enough time to start anew. But even time can never release you from everything you've become. Even decades can never disintegrate it. And no matter where you go, or what you do, you can never run away from it...

James
I rolled forward, hopping up to check my surroundings. There! To the left! I ducked just in time, coming back up behind a storage box and looking for any signs of my hidden enemies.

"Where are they?" Jessie whispered.

"I can't..." My sharp eyes caught the glint of a gun. "Jessie! Behind!"

She dived out of the way, coming up and facing where the attacker had come from. I turned the other way, always on the lookout for the telltale signs I had been trained to look for. Finally, I saw him dash from behind one carton to another.

"I'm going after him," I told Jessie. "Keep your eyes out for the other one."

Slowly I crept up on the unsuspecting enemy. I peered through the darkness, trying to find him in the gloom.

"Ah!" It was Jessie.

I turned the corner, back into the main area. One of the attackers had his hand clapped over her mouth, gun pointed at her head. "Drop your weapon and I may let her live."

Not happening. Without a moment's thought I fired directly at the only area of my enemy that wasn't hidden behind Jessie- his foot. Bullseye. He yelped, dropping his hand from Jessie's mouth. She took the opportunity to slam her elbow into his gut, forcing him to grab his stomach and let go of her. Jessie rolled away, but not before I saw the other attacker sneaking up behind her. I fired a swift, smooth shot directly at his chest...

"James!"

The lights came on, and an angry Frank arrived on the scene. He stormed over to where I was standing. I saluted smartly. "Sir?"

"How many times do I have to explain the purpose of this scenario?" Frank demanded. "It's to show us how to handle a face-off and to learn the correct way to secure a situation."

"Looks like we secured the situation pretty well," I shrugged, glancing at our fellow police officers who were serving as the enemies; the guns were filled with blanks, but they still stung when they hit.

"Police- and detectives, for that matter- only shoot when they absolutely have to! Everytime you cock your gun you need to take half a second to think, 'Is this absolutely necessary?'" he told me.

"That half a second could cost someone their life!" I argued.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He and Jessie exchanged looks. After a minute, he said. "All right. But we're lucky that the city spent this money on us- not all the towns get to have an actual scenario training center."

"Yeah, I get reminded that everytime I have to pay taxes," I muttered.

"Just try to use this for what it's intended to be used for," he said, obviously annoyed at my behavior.

Let him be. It didn't matter to me. The one time in my life that I actually hesitated to shoot had cost one of my closest friends their life. I wasn't about to do that again. Because the person who would fall viction this time would be the only person who really cared if I lived or died.

Jessie met up with me outside the training area. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Frank's kind of pissed, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but don't worry. He'll get over it. I mean, it's hard for him to stay mad at first-class detectives," she assured me. "But you really should cool down a little- this is the third time this week you fired an unnessecary shot."

"He would have shot you," I justified. "I know it's just a training area, but what if something like that happened in real life? The enemy isn't going to take a second to wonder about killing."

"And I suppose you know how a criminal mind works," she teased, but stopped suddenly. "Nevermind."

Sometimes Jessie forgot that for the two of the three years we'd been apart I'd been working with an underground drug gang, but I could never forget it. And I doubt if I ever will.

But I'm going to put all of that behind me. I've been trying to do that for years, and now I'm finally starting to. It's over, done with, and I'll never see any of those gang members again.

Now if I could only get past the Team Rocket incident of 2003...

"What's with you?" Jessie wondered. "You're not usually this quiet on the drive home."

I snapped out of my trance, smiling at my wife. "Oh, just thinking, I guess."

"About the anniversary?"

"Yeah. It's been three full years, today-"

"Since Meowth died," she finished. "Is that why you've been acting so odd?"

"I guess..."

"James," Jessie interrupted me, "stop. You know you had nothing to do with his death. Sometimes this stuff just happens."

"I know. I just... forget it. You're right, as always."

A couple more minutes and we were home. It was a nice, small house at the edge of town; perfect for a couple of people who weren't home that much anyway. Jessie grabbed the mail, shuffling through until she found something for me. "Here."

I studied the letter curiously. "There's no return address on it. I wonder who it's from?"

Jessie pulled out the keys, opening the front door. "Well, you won't know till you open it, huh? Geez, it's not like it's going to be a bomb or something."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. As we walked into the house, I ripped the envelope open, and unfolded the paper.

Jessie
James sucked in a breath of air. I turned around to see what was wrong. He was staring at the letter, mouth opened slightly.

"James?"

No response.

I moved closer, putting a hand on his arm. "James? What is it? Who's it from?"

"Ramirez," was all he managed to get out. But it was enough.

Ramirez was James' old boss back in the drug gang. He hadn't told me much about it, but he had mentioned the guy's name a couple times.

"Can I see it?" I asked gently.

James handed it over without looking up.

"We need a little favor. Monday, January 28... midnight. You know where to find us. Ramirez."

What he could possibly want from James? James had made it very clear on that day when he had paid back all his debts that he was through with the gang; so now why, after four years, would they want him back?

"Oh God. I do not need this right now," James murmured, head in hands. "I do not need this!"

"Calm down," I said, trying to keep myself from getting nervous. "Just ignore the letter. Pretend it never came through."

"That isn't going to work," he groaned. "Ramirez knows where we live- if I don't show up he'll come and kill us both, regardless of whether the letter came through or not. And it's tonight, too! Oh God."

"Look, it's not as bad as it seems," I assured him. "We can ask Frank to have a couple guys come over and watch the house while we hide out somewhere. They'll arrest him, and-"

"Not happening. Ramirez'll send some cronies. If they go to jail, he knows we set him up, and one way or another he'd find out where we are," James looked up at me, a feeling I couldn't read in his eyes. "Don't you get it? I have to go... there's no other way."

I veered away from the subject of avoiding this whole thing- for the moment, anyway. "Why would he want you back anyway? It's been such a long time, after all-"

"Not long enough, apparently," he said dryly. "I can't imagine why he needs my help. I'm sure he knows I'm a detective, so inviting me could be potentially dangerous to him..."

"Oh my God," I whispered. "What if that's it? What if he thinks you'll lead the police to him, so he wants to- to kill you?"

"No." He said after a moment. "Ramirez isn't one to build tension like this, then kill me down at the hideout. If he wanted me dead he could've come in at any time he wanted and shot me. The only explanation I can figure is that he actually does need a favor from me."

"A favor... something potentially dangerous, no doubt illegal," I mused.

He stood. "I'd better get ready. Where's that hidden gun you use on missions?"

I stared at him for a moment. "You aren't seriously thinking of going there, are you? It's suicide."

"Well, it's not like I really have a choice, do I?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. But if I don't go, he'll kill us both. If I go... I'm the only one in danger."

"Don't be so sure about that," I said lightly, heading back to where I kept the hidden weaponry. "If I can't stop you from going, then I'll just have to come with you. Keep you out of trouble, you know."

"Jess-"

"It's not as if you can stop me, so don't even try," I told him before he had a chance to finish. "We live together, we get in and out of stuff together..." I tossed him a gun, "and we die together, if we have to. That's what being partners- in work and life- is all about."

James opened his mouth, stopped, tried again, then stopped once more. Finally, he sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you; it's going to be hell down there."

"I'm not worried. I've been through it all... nothing's going to surprise me."

"Not this kind of hell," James' eyes had something of a haunted look in them, but it was gone in a second. "Should we tell Frank we're going undercover?"

"I'll give him a buzz," I said absent-mindedly, trying to figure out why James had had such an odd look on his face at the thought of that gang. I moved to the phone, still puzzling it when Frank answered. "Yeah, Frank? It's Jessie."

"Oh, hi Jess. What's up?"

I'd never told Frank about James' double life, but this seemed to be a good time. I quickly explained it, knowing I could trust him to keep it confidential. "...So now, after four years. Ramirez wants James back."

There was a pause, then, "Ramirez?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah, we've met a few times," he finished. "Be careful, all right? He's ruthless through and through. If you need any back-up, my crew is always within driving distance."

"Thanks Frank. I appreciate it. Bye."

I hung up, turning toward James.

"I take it it's cool with him?" James assumed.

I didn't need to respond. It was more of a rhetorical question then anything. "You want me to make dinner real quick? Then we can try to get a little sleep before going down there?"

"Uh, food might not be the best thing," he said carefully. "It's better to go down there on an empty stomach."

I didn't really understand what he was talking about, but James knew more about this one than I did, so I took his advice. "I'm gonna hit the sack. Chances are we'll be down there most of the night, so we might be able to get at least an hour of restless sleep."

James thought that was a good idea too, so we flopped down on the bed around 8:00, setting the alarm for 10:30. It would take at least an hour to get there, and probably fifteen minutes to get ready (what with armoring ourselves and all), so all-in-all we'd get there around 11:45.

I had just about fallen asleep, when James turned to me and whispered. "Are you absolutely sure you want to go down there?"

I opened my eyes slightly. "Whatever happens to you happens to me. And vice versa," I quoted what we had promised each other back when we were only kids. "Besides, it's my duty as a detective and wife to protect you."

"I'm only trying to save you a lot of pain," James said after a moment. "I don't think you really realize-"

"James," I said forcefully. "I'm going. It's final. Just get some sleep... tonight's gonna need all of our senses on the alert."

James
DEET! DEET!

I heard the alarm go off, even though I hadn't woken up from it. I hadn't slept all evening, in fact. There was just so much to think about.

Jessie sat up, looking over to see that I too was awake. "Ready?"

'No,' I wanted to say, but simply nodded and slowly got out of bed. Jessie threw the gun and holster to me- I strapped it on and covered it with my shirt, then coat. Jessie did the same. I also tucked a small switchblade into my coat pocket. Jessie gave me an odd look.

"In a back alley, a knife can save your life if you use it right," I told her.

She raised and eyebrow, but stayed silent. She didn't need to understand my actions- I didn't think she ever could.

Before long we were ready to leave. I took the car keys Jessie handed to me, seeing as how I knew the way, and we gave one parting glance to our home before heading to the car. I feared it would be one of the last times I ever saw it.

A silent drive. I guess there just wasn't much to talk about. The radio blared some rock song about death- not exactly comforting, seeing as how we were walking into the Grim Reaper's hands tonight.

Before long we had reached the nearest parking lot to where Ramirez's hideout was. I helped Jessie out, and we plodded along through drifts of snow until reaching a dark, murky alley.

"In there?" she questioned, giving it a nervous glance.

I nodded. "Stay close. If it's anything like it used to be we're going to need to keep our eyes peeled."

Taking my advice, Jessie practically glued herself to my right side, hand always on her gun. The front part of the alley wasn't too bad- we were near one of the better neighborhoods in Violet City- but as we walked on the poverty and gang-war signs that I was familiar with started to show.

Jessie gulped hard when she saw a dead man, bullet hole in his chest, to the side of the road, but for the most part she stayed calm and quiet. I was pretty impressed with her after that- the first time I'd come here I'd nearly passed out.

Down another dark path, around a corner, and-

"Oh shit," she whispered.

In front of us was a gang of about ten, scattered around on make-shift couches of cardboard. They glanced up when they heard us, nasty looks in their eyes.

"Lookie here," one of them growled. "A couple of rich mofos musta gotten lost. What's wrong, never been to Violet City before?"

I recognized the voice right away. "Kip, what the hell are you doing harassing an old friend like that?"

He stopped, blinking a couple of times to jog his memory. "Jim? No way is it you. You ditched this dump, what, five years ago?"

"Four," I corrected, moving towards them. "But Ramirez wants me back for something. You wouldn't happen to know what it is, would you?"

"Hell, he doesn't tell me nothing," Kip shrugged easily. "We're just the alley protection squad." He looked past me to Jessie. "Who's the girl?"

"Jessie. My, uh, wife," I said, blushing slightly at the whistles several of the guys made. I turned to her. "It's okay, Jess. They don't bite."

She walked forward timidly, eyes glancing from one guy to another.

Kip stuck out a hand. "Great t'meet ya. Hey, James, you picked a nice one." It was Jessie's turn to blush now. "Don't worry about a thing, me an' my men are the good guys around here. You need anything don't hesitate to ask. Hey Dan, why don't ya introduce Jess to the guys, huh?"

Jessie looked to me for concession.

"They're fine. He's right- they are the good guys."

After Jessie had gone off with Dan, Kip leaned in next to me and asked in as low a voice as possible. "What do you think you're doing bringing her up here with ya? This place is dangerous, in case you don't remember."

"She wanted to come, and you can't stop Jessie," I explained. "Is it still like it was?"

"If not worse. Help's harder t'find. Ramirez gets whoever he can," he told me. "They'll slip a knife in your back without a second thought, and Ramirez ain't no exception. Be careful Jim, and keep an eye on your girl too."

Kip's advice and news had been what I expected, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. I pulled Jessie away from the guys and headed back to the main building and what qualified as an HQ. Neither one of us spoke- I guess Jessie was trying to let all of this sink in. As we reached the front of the beat-up shack, I hesitated in opening the door.

I had about two options right then. Turn around, leave, and ask Frank to do some dirty work, or I could go in, suck it up, and get it over with. Call it stupidity, or call it courage, but I pushed open the metal-plated door and walked into the headquarters.

Jessie coughed a couple times, trying to see through the dim smoke-filled light. Kip was right; pretty much nothing had changed. There were still guys sitting around the poker table, smoking pot and whatever else they could throw together; still several men passed out on couches or the floor, and still hookers lounging around in the corners, waiting for their shifts.

"Home sweet home," I muttered, a wave of unpleasant memories sweeping over me.

As soon as we walked in, half the eyes in the room came up to follow us. I recognized a few people- no friends, of course- but for the most part they seemed to be a new generation of terrorists.

They would have paid little to no attention to me if I'd been by myself, but the sight of Jessie caused most of them to add rude comments as we walked by. Jessie answered with an equally rude gesture- I pulled her hand down immediately.

"What's with you?" she hissed. "I'm defending myself from these a-"

"Don't," I practically ordered, an uncharacteristic action for me. "They aren't like most guys- you reply in the wrong way and they'll kill you. Ignore them."

"I'm not about to buckle down to the things they're spouting," she snapped. "God, you can't give punks like these an inch."

"Jessie, you know I love you with every ion of my body," I said quietly. "But shut up. I know what I'm talking about. Don't say a word."

I don't usually snap at Jessie like that; as a matter of fact, I can't say that I've ever done it. Jessie was obviously surprised by my words, and she did exactly what I had said. She shut up.

I led her to the back room, where I knew Ramirez would be waiting. I knocked once, then entered.

Both Jessie and I had to blink a couple of times, trying to accustom ourselves to the brighter, more well-kept room. The change from outer to inner was more than a better lighting system- in here were comfortable, velvet couches, a semi-large, color television, plenty of food and a refrigerator holding only the best.

This was where Ramirez's best men stayed. There were never more than ten- Ramirez liked to keep as few as possible in the inside circle- and they were the meanest, most ruthless, cold- blooded robbers you'd ever have the misfortune to meet.

I pushed Jessie through the room as fast as possible, making a beeline for yet another door- the one that led into Ramirez's office. Usually he was out here with the others guys, but today, since he was suspecting me, I suppose, he had retreated to his own private quarters.

I didn't bother knocking this time. Ramirez expected; I knew he'd be ready.

When Jessie saw the man behind the gang, she had to do a double take. Most people did. Greg Ramirez looked more like someone in a Gap commercial than a mafia-like crime leader. His blonde, wavy hair fell back across his head in something border-lining curls, and his bright, blue eyes sparkled with that "You can trust me" look. You could tell by the cocky sneer and the darting eyes that he was no angel, though. But, evil does come in all shapes and sizes, and Ramirez was no exception.

He stood up the minute we came in, pasting what was supposed to be a friendly smile on his face. It looked anything but.

"James, great t'see ya again. I knew ya'd come back- yer one of the smarter ones," he said it with just the hint of a threat in the last line. Ramirez turned to Jessie, looking her over. "Nice broad ya got here." Ramirez smiled at Jessie in a way neither of us felt comfortable with.

"This 'broad' has a name and a husband, thank you," Jessie said none-too-sweetly. "I'm Jessie, and you can keep your hands off me."

Ramirez jerked his head toward me, wordlessly asking me to explain Jessie.

"She's never been down in the back-alleys," I explained. "It's kinda new for her."

"Yaa, well, make sure she learns a little respect, will ya?" he spat. "You cops're all the same. Think 'cause ya got a badge ya can say whatever ya want to us 'lower-lives.' James here gets it, don't ya?"

I nodded- what else could I do? The man would more than likely have shot me if I'd said or done something wrong.

Ramirez turned to sit back in a leather chair. His back turned, Jessie shot me a look and mouthed, "Aren't you going to do something about him?"

I shook my head. There wasn't any time to explain, but Jessie had to know that you went along with Ramirez or else. And no one wanted to ever find out what that "what else" meant. Because if you did, it would be the last thing you'd know.

We took a couple seats in front of Ramirez, trying to hide our uneasiness and discomfort. Jessie was having a bit more trouble than I, since I'd been in this place before.

"Why'd you drag me down here?" I asked immediately.

"Hey, Jim, business can wait," Ramirez said idly, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. "Word 'round the street says that you an' yer girl there are quite the detectives. Interestin' character change. Y' know yer name was all over the newspapers fer awhile, 'bout helpin' ta kill that Roger somethin' or other." He took a puff on what I now realized to be dope disguised as a legal cigarette. "I heard he was one bad mother."

"You heard right," I agreed, sounding like a dog hoping to get a treat if he behaved.

"Good thing ya got rid of him," his teeth glinted. "I'm the only one who can have that title, eh?"

I nodded again. There really wasn't any other option for me.

The door of Ramirez's office was pushed open a moment later, stopping the one-sided conversation. A short teen with jet-black black hair came in, announcing to Roger, "Chad's back from the mission. You want me to send him in?"

"Go ahead, Jim's used to this kinda stuff," Ramirez consented, waving the teen out of the room. "That's my new personal assistant. Pretty good kid, real efficient-like."

'Great to see you mentally destroying another young guy,' I wanted to say, but kept quiet.

A few seconds later a taller, darker figure limped into Ramirez's office, clutching a bleeding theigh.

"Chad," Ramirez said, no hint of pity in his voice. "Do ya have the goods?"

"I couldn't get 'em, boss," he said, wincing against the pain. "The old hag's damn dog attacked me. I never even got inside the house."

I knew what was coming next. I wished Jessie didn't have to see this.

"What a shame. I hate it when my crew get hurt in the line of duty," Ramirez said, obviously loving every moment of this. "I know how ta take yer mind off the pain."

I wasn't the only one who understood this ritual. Chad was in full knowledge of what Ramirez was going to do. Ramirez took hold of Chad's hand, and in a single movement, snapped his index finger. Jessie sucked in air, cringing at the sight. I kept my face emotionless.

"Leg feel better?"

A nod was all he could get out.

"Great. Now get outta my sight. You screw up again and I'll break more than a finger," he threatened. It wasn't an idle threat, either. Twice was the most you ever got from Ramirez. I should know. Assistants are the only people besides Ramirez who knows what happens after a second mistake and are still alive.

As if nothing had happened, Greg Ramirez resumed his position in the chair. "Sorry 'bout the interruption. Ya gotta keep these guys on a tight lead or they'll pound ya into the ground."

"That seemed a little harsh, though," Jessie voiced her thoughts. "It was only his first mistake-"

In a flash Ramirez had whipped out a knife, tossing it from hand to hand. "Is your broad screwin' with me, Jim?"

"No, not at all."

"You know I hate it when people screw with me."

"She isn't. She just doesn't know anything about this place," I said quickly, desperately trying to talk him out of doing something violent.

To my relief, he sat back. "Yer lucky yer hot, or your life wouldn't have meant shit. Get yer woman under control Jim. You let 'em think they got brains an' they'll rip ya ta shreds."

Jessie flushed, but managed to keep her mouth shut. I sent a quick thank-you to God.

"Do you, er, think we can get down to business?" I asked again, a little more forcefully this time.

Ramirez shot daggers at Jessie. "Yaa. Yaa, that sounds like a good idea." After a moment's pause (dramatic tension, I suppose) he went on. "There's this big shipment of jewels an' shit headin' into the Cherrygrove harbor this Saturday. My men and I are plannin' ta take some of that off their hands. The only problem is: the place'll be swarmin' with cops, and it's gonna be tough gettin' through there. An' that's where you come in. You oughta know the whole group of 'em, an' the area as well. Am I right?"

"I do," Jessie told him, meeting Ramirez stare for stare.

"Good, good. Now, the way I figure, you can lead us in. Head us down some of them hidden places where people who ain't native to the Cherrygrove harbor might overlook. You get us in, you make sure we get out alive, and we can all go home livin' an' happy. I leave you alone for the rest of yer lives, and you never met me. Sound good?"

I didn't want to say yes. I wanted to tell him to shove the idea up his ass. I wanted to walk out of that room right then and there, Jessie next to me, and tell him to forget it. I wanted to more than anything.

But I wouldn't. And I couldn't. Because if I did that neither I nor Jess would get out alive.

"Fine," I agreed, sealing the partnership with a handshake. "And you swear you never ask me again for anything?"

"Swear on my pack of smokes," he said solemnly, though I knew a promise from Ramirez was worthless. "You an' yer girl will never hear another word from me."

"Can we go now?" Jessie asked more to me than him. I could tell by the paleness of her face that she had had enough of this hellhole.

I looked to Ramirez. He gave us consent. "Yaa, get lost. I want ya back here in two days, though. We're gonna start makin' plans." We started to go, but as I reached the door Ramirez sent me a warning I would take to heart. "And oh, Jim? You try to doublecross me and I kill everyone that's important to ya. It ain't a threat- it's a promise."

And that was one promise Ramirez would always keep.

Jessie
A quiet walk back to the main road, an equally quiet drive out of Violet City. Neither one of us wanted to talk about what had just happened, what we had agreed to do.

James drummed his fingers nervously on the dashboard, keeping his eyes on the road and not daring to look at me. He was ashamed at what he had done back there, I realized. He had buckled even when Ramirez had almost killed me, and had been exactly what he never wanted to be: A yes-man.

I put my own hand over his drumming one, quieting the nervous noise. I smiled weakly at him, trying to comfort him. It didn't work.

When we finally got home, I didn't think he was going to even give me eye contact. James went about his regular night stuff- of course, by now it was nearly four in the morning and almost sunrise, but I figured Frank would understand if we didn't show up for work that day.

As we sat down in bed, I finally spoke up. "Was it always that bad down there? The violence, the deaths, the drugs? You had to live through two years of that?"

"Multiply what you saw by about twenty, and than you might be close to what I went through," he said quietly. "Assistants see more than any sane person ever should."

His eyes finally met mine, and what I saw was something that scared me. It wasn't the same bright, happy, occasionally hot-headed James that I knew so well. There was pain, regret, shame.

I held him close, thinking in someway that I could erase the horror he must have seen. "I'm so sorry."

"So am I," he said, returning the gesture of affection. "Sorry you ever had to see any of that."

I buried my head into his hair, wishing I could take some of the burden he had off his shoulders. As I opened my eyes, I saw something that caught my attention. I single, silver strand of hair hung among the lavender ones. I hugged him tighter. James wasn't even twenty-five.

"How did you do it?" I asked once I'd gotten my voice back. "How did you live each day out?"

"Because I knew that it wouldn't always be hell," he told me. "I knew eventually I'd get out of there... have a future." He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it.

I gave him one more tight squeeze, than willed myself to pull away. It was late, and we were both tired.

"Jessie-" he started to say, but stopped. A moment's hesitation, then, "I'm sorry I let him do that to you. I- I didn't have a better option at the time and-"

I stopped him with a kiss. "You knew what you were doing. I was being the idiot. I should have listened when you said not to mess with him." Once again I let go. "Now get some rest. We've got a helluva a long week ahead."

Both of us lay down, turning the light off. I sat there for a couple of minutes before I realized that, tired as I was, I wouldn't be able to sleep for quite some time. The horrible images, the sound of that man's finger snapping back, and none of them even wincing... they kept playing through my head like a broken record.

I could tell by James' breathing that he wasn't asleep either. Obviously the same thing was haunting his mind.

"Tell me what it was like," I said suddenly. "Everything you remember. I've been in the dark too long."

A tense pause. "No. No, you don't want that."

"To understand your enemy you have to know your enemy," I quoted something Frank often told us. "You know it, but I don't. That almost killed me tonight, and I don't want it to happen again. It may help you to get some of this off your chest-"

"I'm not putting any of my problems onto you," he said sharply, sharper than I'd ever heard him. "You don't want them. You'll regret it."

"I never regret anything." That wasn't true, of course, but James needn't know that. "It's not as if we can sleep anyway. Please. It could save my life."

James hesitated again. He sighed in resignation. "Okay. I warned you, though."

Then he told me exactly what I'd asked for. Hold-ups, failures, drug smuggling, shoot-offs... but the worst part was the cold-blooded killing of the whole thing. James told me some things that I'd never thought any human could do. And what exactly happened after you screwed up twice was unthinkable. A few times his voice wavered, but for the most part he was eerily calm, like he wasn't even here.

Nearly an hour later he stopped, shuddering involuntarily. "You shouldn't have had to hear that."

"No. I, I... I'm glad you told me all of this." A blatant lie; I regretted ever mentioning it, but I didn't want James to feel any worse than he did. "Now I know what I'm up against." I hesitated, then added, "Did you ever... ever have to cause some of that carnage?"

"...Once," he said after a moment, "it was enough. I killed three people that night, fighting for my own life, and I haven't killed anyone since. But I've seen enough to count for a hundred more deaths. I hoped to get it behind me, but now..."

I slid an arm around his waist, hoping to comfort both him and myself. "We'll get through this. Then it will be over. Forever."

"That's what I said four years ago," James murmured, just loud enough for me to hear him. He rolled over, meeting my eyes in the dark. "Try to go to sleep, if it's possible. I don't want you losing any rest over my problems."

"OUR problems," I corrected. "Things're gonna be bad this time, James, but there will be one good thing- you won't have to face it alone."

~ I didn't think I could have gone to sleep, but I must have, because I awoke the next morning with a stomachache and a headache. I went into the bathroom- to my relief James was nowhere to be seen- and before I knew it I was throwing up the small bit of food I'd had last night before sleeping. I felt a lot better afterwards; shook up, but okay.

When I came out of the bathroom James was sitting on the bed. He looked up when I came in. "Are you okay? I thought I heard..."

"I'm fine, now," I assured him, not positive how true it was. "I guess I just needed to get some nervous energy out."

"You sure? You don't usually get sick, even over something this big." I shrugged, though I had a pretty good idea of what it might be. James rose. "Maybe I should call the doctor."

"Why? I'm fine..."

"There's a bug going around headquarters, you know, and this'd be the worst time for you to catch it." James ignored my assurances and dialed the doctor.

"I'm sure it's nothing-"

"Hello? Yeah, can I schedule an appointment with Dr. Kindle? For my wife, Jessie Rosewood... an opening today? That'd be great. 4 PM, gotcha. She'll be there." He hung up. "That's settled. I guess we should call Frank and tell him what happened." He paused. "Should I call, or..."

"I'll do it," I interrupted. I took the phone from him and dialed up the headquarters. A few seconds, then someone answered. "Yes, may I speak to Frank DeRoe?"

Elevator music, then, "Jessie? Thank God you called. We were afraid-"

"We're fine. Both of us." Physically, anyway, I added to myself. "We got home kinda late, and you know how it is."

"Of course. Don't bother coming in today. Take tomorrow off too, if you'd like. I know it can be a hell in some of those places. So what happened?"

I started to say, but suddenly the phone went dead. I looked up. James had the cord in one hand.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"We tell him nothing," James said tensely. "All Ramirez wanted was money because he needed some. We gave him the goods, and we'll never see him again. That's the story."

I blinked in astonishment. "But why? If we can trust anyone it's Frank-"

"Jessie, Frank may be our friend, but he's still a police chief," James reminded me. "It's his duty to bust people like the ones we're working for now. If we tell him, he'll stop the heist before it even begins. He might be able to catch a few of them, but you saw how big that gang is. Ramirez would escape- he has more lives than a cat- and he'd do what he promised. Track us down and kill everyone I care about. You, Frank, Dena, Tyler..."

"I understand," I said quietly. "I'll call him back and give him the story."

"Thank you."

I said just what James had told me to say, and made up a lie about the phone going dead out of nowhere. Slowly I hung it up. "I'll go make some lunch."

After we'd finished eating, the two of us drove down to the doctor's office. I knew what was coming, and I didn't know what I should feel. The check-up went on for a while, with me still in a daze, until Dr. Kindle faced me, grinning. "Congratulations, Mrs. Rosewood. You're pregnant."

He told James the good news. My husband, in spite of everything that was happening, gave me a hug and a warm, though somewhat forced, smile. I couldn't help but do the same.

"I'm very happy, for the both of you," Dr. Kindle said. "I'd like you to come back in a couple months so we can check on the baby, but if you get nausious a lot you might want to schedule something earlier. Now, take it easy, and I'll see you in a while."

We paid the bill, then departed. On the way home neither of us could seem to get anything out.

"I know I should be ecstatic," I finally said. "So why am I not?"

James averted his eyes from mine. He was doing that a lot lately. "Look, Jessie, I was against you being in this mission from day one, but now I know you can't come. Risking your own life is up to you, but... I couldn't live if I lost you both."

"Then you won't," I answered. "Because I'm not going to die. And neither are you. We're going to finish this out, and that'll be the end of it."

"I wish I could believe that."

I looked out the window at the city around us. "You don't have to believe it. But you don't have to rule it out. You act as if I'm already gone. I'm right next to you, James, and so is your beautiful child. And it's going to stay that way, don't you worry about it."

~ Why was a going back down there? It wasn't as if I had to- James didn't even want me to- but I followed him anyway, trying to block out the scenes to either side of me.

Kip gave us a moderately warm welcome, surprised to see us back again, I guess. He took James over and the two had some heated words, but I couldn't tell what they were saying. From their glances, it seemed to be about me.

"Ready?" James asked, turning away from Kip.

"No, but that's all right," I replied.

"You could wait out here. These guys'll take care of you until I get back."

I took his hand and started to walk towards the main shack. "Nice try. I'm coming."

"Jim, remember what I said!" Kip called as we rounded the alley corner. "You've lived through this place before- don't screw it up this time."

"I know, Kip," he shouted back. He repeated the phrase under his breath. "I know."

I wished I knew what Kip had meant, but there wasn't enough time to ask James about it. The scenes inside the headqarters passed by in a blur of smoke, curses, and cat-calls, as I hurried to keep up with James' unusually fast pace. I could tell he hated this as much as I did, if not more, but he did a good job of keeping it hidden.

I squeezed his hand, more to comfort myself than him, wiping my face clean of emotion and doing my best to act as if I wasn't completely disgusted. I had a hard time not showing any hatred when Ramirez greeted us, but had had enough practice with undercover cases to handle it well.

He shook James' hand heartily. "Good, good, I figured if ya showed up again you was in for the long haul. Nice ta see I was right about you bein' trustworthy, eh?" James nodded, which I now knew was just about the only thing you could do in front of Greg Ramirez. He cackled, going over to the fridge and grabbing a can of beer. "So here's what we're gonna do tonight. My assistant is gonna take ya around to th' back, where he'll map out th' entire plan and show you where we're goin'. Sound good?"

His assistant, the black-haired teenager, came in. His hands moved constantly, eyes darting to- and-fro, never meeting any faces. I'd learned a lot about seeing personalities through movement in my time as a detective: this kid was nervous, probably scared out of his wits, tortured by things he'd seen and guilty of being pulled into something like this. I wondered with some amount of horror if James had looked like that as well.

"You ready?" the kid asked, glancing around the room without really looking at the three of us.

Ramirez waved a hand dimsissively. "Yaa, take 'em out Mark."

"It's, um, Mike, sir," he said carefully, not wanting to anger the gang leader. Seeing his boss' eyes narrow, he said quickly, "But I always liked the name Mark a lot better, sir. I'll just, be, going over the... yeah." He looked at James- not really at him, but more towards his feet. "You ready?"

My husband and I moved as one towards the door, but Ramirez stopped us with his words. "Nah, nah, there's no reason for both of ya ta go back there- I got my Inner Circle out right now, so th' place is crowded. Jim, you go on ahead, keep yer broad in here. I'll take care of her." His teeth glinted in a deadly smile which was supposed to be friendly.

Even though I despised the sexist gang leader, I preferred the idea a lot better to going out among the packs of terrorists, who seemed ready and willing to take advantage of any woman who happened to walk through their doors. James seemed wary of the proposal, but I assured him. "That's fine with me. It won't take too long, right?"

"No, it shouldn't," Mike answered, hands drumming against a clipboard he held. "Ten minutes, tops, I'd say."

"Just walk with me to the door," James said, giving me a look I knew not to disobey. I came with him, staying close as he whispered, lips barely moving. "Don't give him a chance to try anything, but if he does you've got a green light to defend yourself."

"Nice to know," I said dryly. "What would he try?"

By then we had reached the door. James didn't have a chance to answer my question. He hugged me tightly, as if we wouldn't see each other for a long time, saying quietly as he did, "Please be careful. I don't know what might happen, but-"

"Hey Jim, you goin' soft on me or somethin'?" Ramirez snapped from a couch. "What's with the attachment to the broad?"

I hated that term. I felt a rising urge to slap him, but controlled my temper. James let go of me, sending over one more uneasy glance before following the nervous assistant out the door. I turned around, taking a breath to compose myself.

Ramirez patted the couch, suddenly all politeness. "Have a seat. We got cable TV, drinks, whatever you want. You smoke?"

I took a seat next to him, keeping a good couple of feet between us. "I quit."

He laughed, lighting a joint. "I didn't mean cigarettes, sugar, but I guess you police-types don't care for the good stuff." He gestured to the remote. "Flip around, see what ya can find."

I took the offer, trying not to pay attention to the drug. Being a detective, it was natural instinct for me to want to snap a pair of handcuffs on this guy. Ramirez could be busted for just about anything and I would have loved to watch him sweat on the stand. I passed through fuzzy channels until I found a late night talkshow. Not paying much attention to the broadcast, I rehashed the past few days' events, wondering what the hell had happened to my normal, usually happy life.

I stiffened as Ramirez's arm found it's way around my shoulder. While I'd been lost in thought, he had moved closer, until he was practically on top of me. "Excuse me?" I said as politely as possible.

"Ya know, you could be a great broad, if ya worked at it. You got looks, which is real good, but yer too spunky. I like Jim all right, but he's soft. Let's a babe do some of her own thinkin'."

I stood up, extremely uncomfortable by whatever Ramirez was talking about. I went over to the fridge, rummaging around, pretending to look for a drink. I heard the sexist, horny gang leader walk up behind me. "If you thought more with yer hormones and not with yer brain, I bet you an' I'd get along great." I mentally added sexual harassment to his list of crimes, just in case we managed to arrest him in the near future. He moved up much too close to me. "Prob'ly great in bed, huh? We got some time before Jim comes back- wanna give it a go?" He slapped my ass, laughing in a nasty way.

That was it. I whirled around, remembering James' warning. Now I knew what he'd been talking about. I assumed Ramirez was bad enough when he was normal; being high, it would make him even more dangerous. "Keep your hands off of me," I said through gritted teeth, fighting to keep my anger under control.

"Oh, yer one of those hard-ta-get broads, ain't ya?" he took a puff of his dope, trying to wrap his arm around me.

I slapped him, still managing to stay moderately calm. "Try that again and I don't think our deal is going to go down very well."

Ramirez's eyes narrowed angrily. "Smartass bitch!" He hit me hard in the jaw, right along my bone. The jar of the impact sent me back against the refrigerator door.

My first instinct was to hit back. I was too shocked to react right away, though, which may have saved my life. It wasn't the name- I was used to being called a bitch by thugs- but the punch really got me. I hate to sound like a wimp, but it hurt. I'd never been hit like that before, not even by James when we were kids, though I certainly deserved it a lot at the time. My jawbone ached terribly, and I had a hard time working my mouth.

"You need ta learn some respect. That was just a love tap, too- if ya wasn't a good-lookin' broad and I didn't need yer help you'd be lyin' unconcious right now. I'm feelin' merciful t'day, though." I had a hunch that Ramirez didn't know what merciful even meant- he was probably too high to aim well enough for a knockout punch. The voices of James and Mike sounded through the door. Ramirez moved back to the couch, leaving me where I was. He hissed a final message. "Jus' remember that next time I won't be so fergivin'."

James walked through the doorway at that moment, a Godsend in itself. I couldn't begin to imagine what might have happened had he not entered- I preferred not to think about it.

"I went over everything, sir," Mike reported, still fumbling nervously with the clipboard. "Mr. Rosewood understands the plan." I thought I noticed Mike give James an admiring look, but wasn't paying too much attention.

James looked to me; his face was worried; I hoped he couldn't tell I'd been hit. "Do you think we can leave, now?"

Ramirez looked as innocent as a gang leader could. "Yaa. Be back this Saturday around six PM- that's when we leave fer th' heist." As I walked out, Ramirez sent me a dirty look- a silent threat of further acts of insolence. He didn't have to tell me twice- I wasn't going to mess with the nasty boss unless it was absolutely necessary.

Later that night- morning, actually- I snuck out of bed to ice my throbbing jaw. I didn't plan on telling James about the incident if I could help it; he had way too much to worry about to be troubled with my skirmish with Ramirez. Besides that, James was pretty protective when it came to me, and I had a feeling he might try something crazy if he knew what had happened.

I fumbled with the plastic bag in the dim light, swearing violently as I slammed my finger in the freezer door.

The light turned on behind me. "What happened?"

I stiffened at the sound of James' voice. "What do you mean?"

He walked up to me, tenderly touching the swollen lump on my chin. "Who did that?" He took the ice and placed it on the painful spot. "Ramirez?"

I sat down in a chair, sighing and nodding unhappily. "He tried to... he tried something. I slapped him, and he hit me back-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" James demanded, eyes angry but voice gentle. "Why'd you try to hide it?"

"You have so much weight on you right now, I didn't want to add this to it," I explained, trying to talk without my mouth hurting. "It's not serious or anything, I'll just have to watch what I say and do to him next time."

"Next time? Jessie, with Ramirez, 'next time' is death." I started to speak again, but he silenced me. "I need to talk to him about that, though. Little comments are one thing, but actual physical contact-"

"That's why I didn't tell you!" I practically shouted, clutching the ice to a jaw that was throbbing more than ever from all the speaking. "You're so protective of me! I appreciate it, I really do, but there's no reason to piss him off over something like this!"

"So I should just let him push you around, until he seriously hurts you, or-" he couldn't bring himself to say the word rape or kill. James closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his temples. "If anything happened to you, because of these stupid mistakes I made as a kid, I'd never forgive myself."

"I know," I told him. "The same goes double for me. Which is why you can't go down there. You know better than I that he wouldn't hesitate to kill you. Just leave it be. After Saturday we're finished with him."

"Don't be so sure. If you made him mad, he may attempt to kill us both, just for fun." I sucked in air. Even though I knew Ramirez's character well enough by now, for him to murder us after we helped him commit a crime surprised even me. James took a breath. "Look, I'll go down tomorrow night and try to make peace. That way, he doesn't go off angry at you, or me, and we don't feel like he still wants to kill us. Don't try to argue with me- give your jaw a rest and leave it at that. I promise I won't do anything stupid. It'll be fine."

I nodded, letting him take the ice from my chin and feel the aching swell. He set the bag back on, saying we should leave it on for another five minutes or so. I managed a tired smile. "Thanks."

He shushed me, planting a kiss on my lips and returning the smile, though his was more forced. "That's what I'm here for."

James
"You're going down there, aren't you?" Jessie wanted to know. She had the ice pack back on her swollen jaw, which had bruised to the bone. Her speaking was hampered slightly; she didn't open her mouth as much so it wouldn't hurt as badly. Seeing her in pain like that made me want to kill Ramirez.

I nodded. "There's no need to worry. I told you last night I'm not going to go down there brandishing a gun in his face. It'll just be a friendly talk, or as friendly as you get with Ramirez."

"I can't help but worry," she pulled the pack off to rub the cold, already black-and-blue area. "He's one of those guys where if you say one thing wrong he'll shoot. He's even worse than Roger. At least that bastard," she spat the word with hatred, "had some bit of self-control, and didn't try to seduce married women."

I loaded the small pistol that would come with me on the trip, slipping a switchblade into my pocket. "I know Ramirez, though, so we've got the advantage this time."

"He knows you, too. Be careful," she warned.

I started for the door. "No. He knows a terrified teenager who's just trying to make it out alive. Ramirez hasn't changed at all. I have."

Jessie set the ice down, walking up to me. She swung her arms around my neck, fixing me with an inquiring stare. "You're right. You have changed. And part of it's scaring me. James, when was the last time you smiled? I mean truly smiled happily?"

I looked down. "Jessie, I haven't slept in four days, unless you count a thirty-minute nightmare- filled doze. I don't have the energy to smile."

She pulled my chin up, face reading concern. "Thank God this ends in two days. I don't know how much longer you can take this."

I didn't know how to answer that. Part of me wanted to yell at her, tell her the chances of this "ending" in two days was slim to none. Tell her that she couldn't imagine how hard this was on me, knowing every minute she and my child were in danger of losing their lives. That part of me almost wanted to smack her and tell her if she thought this was tough, to try doing it for two years straight.

The other part wanted to hug her, tell her this was killing me, tell her to please, please get out of here to someplace safe. Tell her to call Frank, ask him to handle the rest of this. To collapse into a chair, maybe even start crying. To tell her the things I hadn't mentioned about the gang- the things I had pushed down so far even I had difficulty rehashing them...

"James?" Jessie's voice was near panicky. "James? Are you all right?" She snapped her fingers in front of my face. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, forgetting everything I wanted to do, knowing what I had to do. "I'm fine. I was just preparing my talk to Ramirez. Sorry if I zoned out."

"Yeah, well, don't do it again, okay?" I could tell she didn't believe a word of it, but Jessie wouldn't pry. "You scared me for a minute. You had this look in your eyes... I don't know. Maybe the stress is getting to me."

I gently pushed her away. "I'll be back soon. Three hours, tops. Try to get some sleep. I know you can't stop worrying- I'd do the same thing in your place- but at least console yourself with the fact that I know what I'm doing."

She nodded slowly. "Right... okay, then. I'll see you?"

"Yeah. Love you, Jess."

"You too James." There were so many mixed emotions in that that I had a hard time leaving her behind. I could tell Jessie wanted me to stay: she was scared for my safety, and my sanity. Though the fear was thick in her voice, the predominating feeling was love. Jessie loved me as much as I did her, and I knew if I was to die she'd be crushed. Words wouldn't be able to describe it.

Which was why I had to go down and talk to the gang leader who had almost ruined my life. If he was still mad at her, Jessie's life was already gone.

And then I really would lose it.

I waved a hand in greeting to Kip and his group. "I have to talk to Ramirez about something. You know where he is?"

Kip thought for a minute. "I don't think they did much of anything t'night... prob'ly where he always is, hangin' with that Inner Circle clique." He spat. "I been workin' th' same shift for th' past five years, and I ain't got nothin' t'show for it but a couple-a measly dollars. I'm th' only veteran he got left, but I get treated like slime." Kip shrugged. "Not that I'd wanna be with th' inside crew. Keep me as far away from all that as I can get, ya know?"

I nodded, not having enough time to talk. A question did come to my mind, though. "Say, Kip, why'd you get involved with this anyway, if you hate it so much?"

"My old man owed Ramirez some money, so we both got sent ta work down here. Ramirez killed my dad a couple weeks after- said he wasn't pullin' his weight- and told me I had ta work this thing fer th' rest of my life t'pay him off." He said it with fierce hatred I'd never heard in is voice. "I'd give anythin' t'see him lyin' dead in a back alley." Kip grinned. "Hey Jim, maybe you an' I oughta team up. Between us an' my li'l force we could prob'ly take a few out, huh?"

"Maybe we can talk about assassination plans later," I answered, politely as possible but in something of a hurry. "I need to talk to Ramirez. It's important."

"Okay, I won't hold ya out here no more, then. Jus' make sure you don't say nothin' t'piss him off, a'right?"

"All right, Kip. I'll be back soon. This shouldn't take long."

I set off at a fast stride for the ramshackle building, hoping to be in and out in record time, if possible. As luck would have it, I nearly ran into Ramirez himself, coming out the front door, probably off to have a shot of heroine, something he kept for his own use, never letting the rest of the gang touch his "special stash."

"Hey, James!" he greeted, shoving a needle into his jacket. "What're you doin' out here? I didn't think we was gonna meet again 'til the big holdup."

"We weren't," I agreed, keeping my hand near my switchblade should he decide to get violent. "But I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you think we could...?"

He motioned for me to follow him down a deserted alleyway. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Walk with me, we'll talk."

We walked in silence for a while, Ramirez readying his syringe and plunging it into his arm, sighing in content. "Hell yeah, that's the stuff. You sure you don't want none?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Nah, you never do, do ya? Yer girl didn't want no grass neither." Greg Ramirez laughed. "Stupid cops, missin' all the fun cuz ya wanna play by th' rules."

I rubbed my arm nervously. "Actually, now that you mention my wife, that's what I came to talk about."

"Yeah, she's a gorgeous broad, Jim. Too smart fer her own good though. Why you bringin' her up?" He smirked. "Feelin' up fer passin' around the meat, eh?"

I resisted the urge to hit him, flushing red but keeping my cool. "Of course not. It was about what happened yesterday night, when you were alone."

"She told ya about that, huh?" he lit a joint. "Prob'ly full-a lies, her story, I mean. Broads tend ta stretch the truth when it'll make 'em look good, ya know?"

I was almost interested to hear his side. "What do you remember happening?"

"It ain't what I remember, it's th' truth," he snapped, taking puff of the drug. "We was sittin' watchin' TV and the babe made a move on me. I ain't one ta turn down an offer, so I went ahead and played her game. We was all up on each other- she's great, ya know- an' that kinky bitch got so crazy she fell off th' couch and smacked her chin on th' table. She went up t'get a beer, an' then we was gonna try again, when you 'n' Mark came in."

I couldn't believe he had spouted something like that! As if Ramirez expected me to actually believe that about Jessie. "That's a lie, Ramirez," I said boldly, spurred on by anger.

"Yeah, an' what if it is, Jim? You gonna do somethin' about it?" he took the doobie out of his mouth, holding it out in one hand. "So maybe I pulled a move an' yer broad resisted. The bitch hit me first, ya know."

"She didn't like what you were doing; she tried to defend herself."

He put on a face and said in a light, mocking voice. "She didn't like what you were doing." He cackled. "All th' broads resist at first, Jim. Yeah, but by th' end of this week yer girl an' I'll be havin' some fun, whether she wants to or not. "

Something inside me snapped. I had dealt with his shit for a long time, and I was sick of it. He had no right to say anything like that about Jessie- he was basically threatening rape. Before he could blink I had whipped the switchblade out. I pinned his arms behind his back, holding the small knife a millimeter from his throat. Ramirez didn't dare swallow, or he would have been skewered.

"If you," I began slowly, through gritted teeth, "so much as lay one finger on her again, I swear on everything I stand for that I will gut you like a fish. It isn't a threat: it's a promise."

There was a slight waver in Ramirez's voice- it was the only time I'd ever heard him afraid. "Hey, c'mon, Jim, why're you doin' this to a friend, huh?"

"We will never be friends. Ever," I said firmly, letting go and taking quick steps away.

I didn't have to turn to know Ramirez was fumbling to load a gun. Courage revived once the knife was away, he shouted out: "Don't fuck with me Jim! I will blow your ass sky high."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Greg," I turned around and shot the gun from his hand, with the lightning-quick accuracy they teach you to use in the police force. "Just keep your hands off my wife."

"You idiot! Of all the stupid, crazy, rash things to do, you pulled a knife on a gang leader!? And not just any gang leader, oh no, Gregory Ramirez, the man who we're working for, who now wants to kill us both!"

Jessie continued to berate me; I let her, knowing full well she was right but unable to do a thing about it. I had lost my head back there, plain and simple. What more was there to it? "Look, Jess, I know it was stupid of me, but what's done is done. The important thing right now is to get through Saturday night alive." I felt the need to make an excuse for myself. "And if you had heard the things he said-"

"Words are only words, James, they can't hurt you like a bullet can!" Jessie snapped, face inches from mine. "If he had hit you then I might understand, but-"

"He threatened to rape you!" I exclaimed, desperately wanting her to shut up so I could think this out.

Jessie quieted immediately, sitting down next to me. After a minute, she said, "Sorry I freaked out like that. I know you were only protecting me. This is hard, is all."

"It's hard on me too," my voice came out icy; I hadn't meant to sound so cold. "But we're going to have to handle this as best as we can, and somehow manage to get out alive." I leaned back in the kitchen chair, thinking aloud. "So, now what?"

"We could get the force involved. Sabotage the heist- arrest the whole group," Jessie suggested, once more using what she'd stuck by this entire time.

I was in quite possibly the worst mood of my life. I hadn't had true sleep in almost five days, Jessie's life was in mortal danger, and tomorrow we had to go back to a gang leader who wanted to kill the two of us. I wanted to be calm with Jessie, explain to her reasonably why it was impossible to pull others into this, but the minute I began talking I knew it would come out harsh. "We can't, all right? I've explained this to you before!"

Jessie recoiled, shocked at my voice tone. Indignant as usual, she continued to argue. "I know you say Ramirez would escape, but you don't know that for sure. If we stay nearby him, then the minute the police break up the heist, we could arrest him. Between the two of us-"

I snorted. "As if he would ever let us get that close, knowing full well we hate him and would love to see him dead, or arrested at least. Slim to none chance, Jess."

"I still think-"

"Look, there's no reason to even talk about this, because we're in way too deep to call in some buddies now." I grabbed my coat, needing to go somewhere alone. "I'm going for a drive. I'll be back soon."

There was open rebellion in Jessie's eyes; I knew she was probably as disgusted with my attitude as I was. "Fine. Have fun."

I closed the door behind me, glad to be by myself. Tomorrow was the day everything would wind down, and I'd either be dead by Saturday's end or miraculously alive. Needless to say I had a lot to think about.

And here we were. Ramirez didn't even say anything when Jessie and I showed up, just jerked a thumb to a large truck which would take us to the heist. We got in the back, trying to stay away from the twenty-odd men inside with us.

On the way down, I kept glancing from Jessie, to Mike, to Ramirez. Mike, who regarded me as something of an idol, sat on my left, with Jess on my right.

"Mr. Rosewood, I've never done anything like this before," Mike said quietly. "I've seen a lot of things, but... is this as bad as those drug runs?"

I knew what he was talking about, and didn't want to go into detail. Still, he deserved an answer. "Not as bad, if they go right. A lot less bloodshed."

He tried a nervous smile. "That's, that's good, I guess."

I felt sorry for Mike, understanding what he must be going through, but didn't know what to say. Looking over to Jessie, I felt I needed to say something to her, since it could be one of the last times we spoke. "Um, Jess?"

She didn't bother turning her head to face me. "What?"

I tried to figure out what the best thing to say in this situation was. I wanted to tell her it'd be fine, but no sense in giving any false hopes. With some bit of sick humor, I considered saying I'd see her in the afterlife, nixing that out almost immediately. Finally, I landed on the closest thing to comforting I could get without lying. "Good luck."

"Luck?" I thought I heard a dark chuckle. "When have we ever possessed luck? Best not to rely on that, James."

I didn't say anything else. Jessie had been quiet and humorless since I had gotten home the day before; I assumed she just felt the same type of dread I did.

"We're here," Ramirez said to the entire group, throwing open the doors. "All right crew, follow them two." He pointed to me and Jessie. "They'll lead ya down th' shortcuts t'the cargo, ya got that?" Nods. "Right. We done this before; let's make it quick and efficient. No slackers, or ya know what'll happen." Ramirez cracked his knuckles, making sure everyone knew what he meant. "Let's move."

I followed Jessie, who knew the place much better than I did, down several sidestreets and disused alleys. On my heels came the gang members, fast and quiet. Ramirez was in the middle, as usual, so if there was a police attack from either side he'd be well-protected.

"Coward," I muttered under my breath, wishing he was in front of me. I fingered my knife, wondering if I could manage to slip it between his shoulderblades before the night was over...

Jessie came to an abrupt halt. I'd been so lost in thought I hadn't noticed we'd already reached a nearly deserted area of the docks. I skidded to a stop, followed by the others, waiting to see what Jessie did next. To my surprise, she pulled out her magnum. "I hereby place all of you under arrest, by order of the Goldenrod Police Force."

In half a second the clearing was virtually swarming with armed police officers. I saw Marcus Elliot, one of Frank's second-in-command, step out in front of the others. "Drop your weapons, and come quietly, or we'll be forced to take harsher measures."

Marcus was good at what he did, but he didn't know this gang. This wasn't the type to surrender to anyone, even a good-sized, well-trained group like these officers. I stepped up by Jessie, turning around to face the gang, the only one who knew what was going to happen next.

Ramirez smirked, sending me a look that spoke of death. "Harsher measures, eh? Let's see if you cops can take what you dish out." It was the only signal the others needed. They turned from Jessie and me, heading back to the alley we had come from. On the way, they fired at anyone who raised a gun their way.

Jessie looked in Marcus' direction. "Did you send some to block off the alley?"

"A group of six," he replied, aiming for the foot of a gangster lagging behind, hitting his mark and bringing the man down.

"Six!?" I could already see the mass slaughter of our own that would follow. "Call them off!"

Marcus glared at me. "Do what?"

"Do you want them to live, or die?" I snapped. "Call them off if their lives mean anything to you!"

He was about to say something else, but Jessie cut him off. "Do what James says. He knows what he's talking about."

Marcus sighed, talking into a small microphone on his shirt. "Olivia, I want you guys to back off. Let the escapers get away... yeah, you heard what I said. Don't ask questions. It's a direct order... good. I'll see you when this is over."

His attention went back to the gangsters fighting their way through the crowds. I could see that our force was clearly winning the small battle; many gang members had been caught and disarmed, already standing sullenly by a back wall. I couldn't find Ramirez anywhere in the melee, which was alarming. Had he been taken down by a stray bullet?

I caught the glint of the gun out of the corner of my eye. Ramirez had ducked behind an alley not ten feet from where I was standing. I watched him fire, knowing I wouldn't be able to get out of the way of the perfect shot fast enough. I wished I had been able to see my child, or at least say good-bye to Jessie...

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I heard a soft gasp, then saw Jessie crumple to the ground. Jerking my head up fast, I saw Ramirez smiling in satisfaction. He disappeared before I could blink, escaping the police once again. Not paying any attention to the chaos around me, I dropped to my knees next to Jessie, holding her unconcious form in my arms. For what seemed like hours I could only sit there numbly, wondering what had happened. I heard Ramirez's words, as if from a dream, echo through my head:

"You try to doublecross me and I kill everyone that's important to ya. It ain't a threat- it's a promise."

I was struck by the painful, horrible realization- that bullet had been meant for Jessie the entire time!

I spent another sleepless night pacing through a hospital corridor, awaiting words from the nearby surgery room on Jessie's condition.

The bullet had found its mark, lodging itself firmly in her head, but in some amazing way it hadn't killed her immediately. Whether she'd continue to live was another question entirely.

It was nearly two in the morning when a somewhat exhausted doctor made his way to me, looking relieved.

"Well?" I demanded. "How's Jessie? Will she be all right?"

He smiled at my worried expression. "Mrs. Rosewood is going to be perfectly fine, though it's a near miracle." He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off his wet forehead. "Had a hell of a time getting that bullet out- lucky it didn't go any further in, or she wouldn't be with us right now."

"Can I go in to see her?"

"If you wait for a few minutes, we're going to take her to a regular room. I'll come back to get you. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes, Mr. Rosewood." Before I could ask him anything else he had once more disappeared, leaving me with my thoughts.

"Hey, James." I whirled around. Frank was standing at the far end of the hallway, looking worried. "Jessie gonna be okay?"

I nodded. "According to the doctor I just spoke with, yes." I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes, breathing in deeply and doing my best to not look as anxious as I felt.

I felt a hand clap against my shoulder. "So, Jessie's doing good. What about you?"

"Oh, never better," I said sarcastically. "My wife had a bullet in her head, several police officers are probably wounded because of that face-off, Ramirez wants my blood... what makes you think I wouldn't be fine?"

"Only a couple of ours got hurt badly- mostly just some cuts, a couple minor gun wounds, nothing too serious, you know," he said, doing his best to make me feel better. "And about that Ramirez punk, we'll take care of him. I'll make sure he doesn't get a second chance at you or Jessie."

If I had been thinking clearly, I would have warned him about Ramirez's threat, and told him he and everyone else I considered a friend was in danger. At the time it didn't even cross my mind; all my thoughts were centered towards Jessie.

The same doctor from before greeted Frank and I, leading us to Jessie's room. "Go ahead and go in, if you want," he invited. "She's resting comfortably. I'd expect her awake sometime Monday."

He left shortly after, leaving us alone in the room with a peacefully sleeping Jessie.

"She looks healthy enough to me," Frank remarked. "You don't have anything to worry about, James. Jessie's tough, I'd expect her to be back to her old self in a week, maybe less." He looked me over. "Matter of fact, you're worse than she is. When was the last time you got some decent rest?"

"Week ago," I answered, giving a half-hearted smile. "Day before I got the damned letter."

"That explains it, then." His cell phone rang loudly, causing both of us to involuntarily jump. He answered it, face looking more and more concerned as the conversation went on. "Yeah, this is Frank... he what? When? How did that-?... Oh. I see... is he all right?... Yes, I'm sure he'll pull through all right... thanks. Bye." He hung up slowly, eyes fixing on mine. "That was Olivia. She said Tyler got attacked not half an hour ago while he was asleep. Some punks beat him up pretty bad, thought they killed him. He pretended to be dead until they left, then called Olivia. She got an ambulance out to him. Apparently it was a bunch of shady gangsters. You know anything about this?"

I remembered what I had neglected to tell Frank, the thing I should have told him the minute we met in the hallway. "Yes, I do. Ramirez promised to kill everyone that was important to me if I doublecrossed him. All my friends at the station are in mortal danger, including you."

Frank looked unusually angry. "Why didn't you mention this sooner, before Tyler got himself beaten to a bloody pulp!?" I didn't say anything, knowing I deserved to be yelled at. Frank stopped; I guess he noticed the look of stress and pain I seemed to be wearing a lot lately. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'd better send the warning out for everyone to lay low and stay alert. I'll go take care of that now, before anyone else gets hurt." He got to the door before gt;turning around to say his farewells. "I'll stop by to check on you and Jessie tomorrow morning. See you then. And James, get some sleep. You look like hell."

Once Frank had gone, I slammed my fist against one of the hospital's cushioned chairs, perfectly aware that it was my fault this was happening. I collapsed into the chair; I wouldn't get any rest tonight, either. I looked down at the tiled floor, knowing there had to be some sort of solution out of all this. Some way to put everyone out of danger for good...

I nodded to myself, knowing what I would have to do and not enjoying the idea at all. There was only one way to put an end to this: Ramirez would have to die, and I would be the one to kill him.

Jessie
The first things I was aware of upon waking was that my head hurt terribly, and I had a needle stuck in my arm. Everything that had happened over the past week rushed back to me, up to the point when I had barely seen the bullet before it connected, and the world went black. I wondered how long I'd been out; it didn't seem like too long, but time passes differently while you're asleep.

Glancing around the room, not moving my head for fear it would start throbbing, I took in the whitewashed hospital walls, along with the smells of linoleum and Windex. Turning my eyes towards the single window, I saw James standing by it, looking out at what I assumed to be sunrise, not sunset. I smiled sadly, knowing he probably hadn't slept a wink since Saturday night.

Waves of guilt swept over me. James had been right about not calling the police in. Ramirez had escaped, I had almost been killed, and now everyone was in danger. Not only that, but James' health, which I already considered dangerously unstable, was no doubt twice as bad as before. All because of me.

I put a hand to my bandaged head, groaning as I touched it. James' head turned sharply, looking tired but relieved to see me awake. "Jess, oh thank God."

"What day is it?" I asked groggily, trying to sit up.

James pushed me back down. "Don't try getting up, not yet. It's Monday morning. You've been out for a little over twenty-four hours." He squeezed my hand. "Are you okay? After you got shot I thought I'd lost you."

"My head feels like it got hit by a sack of bricks," I joked half-heartedly. "Other than that I'm all right. What about you?"

"Everyone keeps asking that. First Frank, now you..." he forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just, well, you know, under a lot of pressure." He hesitated to tell me something, but continued. "Tyler got attacked Saturday night, not even three hours after the heist."

"Oh, God," were the only two words that came out. "Is he alive? They didn't kill them, did they?"

James shook his head. "Alive, somehow. I haven't been in to see him, but I hear he's recovering well."

A doctor entered the room, obviously glad to see me talking. "Ah, Mrs. Rosewood. It's good to see you awake. Everything's in order, I assume, nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Headache," I told him. Ignoring James' earlier warnings, I pushed myself into a sitting position, shaking my head to ward off a wave of dizziness. "Little shaky, too."

He nodded, scribbling something on a chart. "That's to be expected. I'd say you won't be at one- hundred percent for a week, at the very least. Do you have any questions, something you'd like to know?"

"Can I leave, today?"

He jerked his head up, looking at me with something between amusement and confusion. "Today? Mrs. Rosewood, I don't even see you making it out of this building without collapsing. In case you forgot, we only pulled a bullet out of your skull a couple days ago," he spoke to me as if he was reprimanding an unruly child; I despised that. "No, I'd see you staying here for three more days, possibly four."

"Why?" I demanded. "It's not as if I'm taking medication, or this stupid I.V. will help now that I'm awake."

"You're much to weak to be going home just yet-"

"Let me rephrase my question, then. I am leaving today. Quite frankly, doctor, I can get the same kind of rest, probably better, in my own bed then one of these hospital cots. You think I'm too weak? You'd be surprised what I can do."

The doctor seemed about to object, but decided against it. "Since you're not in any real imminent danger, I can't stop you from leaving. Stay until late afternoon, though, so we can make sure everything went right. But if you make it halfway down the hall and start feeling dizzy, then come right back. Got it?"

I nodded, agreeing to his terms. He left James and me to ourselves, saying he'd be back around noon.

"Jess, maybe it would be better for you to stay here," James reasoned. "A lot safer, seeing as how Ramirez is on the hunt." From the way he said it, I could tell James blamed this entire thing on himself. He had a tendency to do that; I almost wished he was the type to point fingers at everyone else.

"Ramirez probably thinks I'm dead," I reminded him. "By the time he finds out I'm alive, Frank will have tracked the bastard down."

"Someone will have," James muttered darkly. I couldn't figure out what that meant, and wasn't sure I wanted to. The way he said it sounded cryptic, and sent a chill up my spine. I pleaded that James didn't have a plan of his own; if he did, I had a horrible idea what it would be.

Much to every doctor's dismay, I strode out of the hospital on my own two feet, though I had to fight off a couple minor dizzy spells to do so. I made it into the house, too, before collapsing in a chair from exhaustion. James was terribly nice to me the entire day, but I had a feeling he was masking something else, something he didn't want me to know.

Later that night, after James had helped me to our room, I tried to figure out what he was hiding. Not being one to beat about the bush, I asked in my straightforward manner, "James, are you planning something?"

I knew my question had caught him off-guard. After a moment, he composed himself. "A plan? What makes you ask?"

I shrugged. "All day, you've just been a little... secretive is all."

"Sort of like you were the day of the heist?" he queried. He said it innocently enough, but the remark cut deep.

I was quiet for a long minute. "I'm sorry," I said quietly after a moment. "You were right the entire time. I should never have involved myself in this in the first place."

"No, you shouldn't have," came the equally quiet reply. He sat down next to me. "Just like I should never have gotten involved with the gang in the first place." "Oh, James, don't blame yourself for all this," I protested. "I'm just as much to blame for the situation as you are."

"I'm not pointing fingers at anyone," he told me. "What I'm trying to say is that we all screw up, but there's no use in dwelling on it. It's in the past, no reason not to leave it there."

There was a double meaning to his words, I could sense it. I probably should have asked about my hunch, but let it drop. "You have a good point." I didn't bother bringing up my original question, either; James had expertly changed the subject, and it would be useless to try and ask again.

The lights were off, and once more I was in my own bed. I was exhausted, just from the short walk from hospital to car to house. Still, as James switched off his lamp, a sense of panic seized me. "James?" my voice sounded desperate, but I couldn't hide my anxiety.

"Yes?"

"Don't do anything crazy, please," I nearly begged, knowing I sounded like an idiot but helpless to stop myself. "I know you're only trying to help me, but right now the one thing I need is for you to be here, with me. Promise me you won't try something suicidal against Ramirez."

There was a tension filled pause, then, "I would never do anything to hurt you, Jess, you know that."

He hadn't answered my question, but I found no need to force him to make a promise. I closed my eyes, relaxing a good deal and telling myself everything was fine.

But in my heart I knew when I woke up, James would be gone.

I opened my eyes in total darkness, glancing at the alarm clock next to me. It read a little after one in the morning; an odd time to wake up. I noticed that the bed seemed a good deal emptier. Feeling around in the darkness, I didn't touch the form of my husband next to me.

"James?" I called, thinking he was in the bathroom, or possibly the kitchen. No answer.

My hunch had been right. Numbly I picked up the phone and dialed Frank's cell phone number. A groggy voice answer. "H'lo?"

"Frank?" I said, voice toneless. "This is Jessie. James is gone."

He came fully awake. "He's what? Where d'you think-?"

"He went down to Ramirez's hideout," I said, positive of myself. "I think he's going to try and kill Ramirez on his own."

"Damn idiot," Frank muttered. "Okay, Jess, I'll rouse a group, we'll get over there and see what we can do. Uh... you think you can give me some directions to the place?"

"Pick me up in ten minutes. I'm coming with you."

"You think you should? You just got back from the hospital-"

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "Besides, it's not somewhere you can really give directions to, and I'm the only one who knows the way."

Frank uttered a string of cursing under his breath. "Fine, I'll be by soon. We really gotta hurry though, if we want to get there in time."

"I know. Good-bye."

I hung up the phone, still as if in another world. Everything seemed unreal as I slowly got dressed and waited by the door for Frank. I wanted to scream, or at least cry, but something prevented me from doing so. I felt a growing dread that we would be too late, but not even that knocked me out of my dreamy haze. Only one thought kept running through my head, like a broken record: I never even got to say good-bye.

James
I strode down the alley, feeling almost light-hearted. For as long as I had lived I'd been plagued by the small possibilities, the what-ifs, the miniscule chances. For the first time in my life everything was blissfully clear. I had to kill Ramirez, and that was all there was to it.

I didn't expect to get out of this alive. After I managed to kill him, I'd probably be shot down by his inner circle. Even so, I continued on, twirling the pistol in my hand. I only had six bullets in it, but I figured that would be all I'd need.

My only regrets were that I knew this would hurt Jessie, and I would never get to see my child. Still, better to be dead and watching your family grow up happy then be alive and living in fear from a terrorist gangster.

Kip looked as surprised to see me as I knew Ramirez would be. "Jim? What th' hell- are you insane!? Ramirez's after you and everyone you know! What th' hell you doin' down here, tryin' ta get yerself killed?!"

"In a way, yes," I answered. "I'm here to kill Greg, actually."

My announcement was greeted by loud cheering from the street defense. Kip clapped me on the back. "That's what I like ta hear! 'Bout time someone fills that asshole fulla lead." He pulled out his own gun, as did the rest of his crew. "We'll come with ya, make sure t'get th' job done right."

I shook my head, knowing this was something I would have to do solo. Besides, I didn't want to get anyone else hurt over this. "I want you and yours to get out of here. I have a feeling that the police may show up, if Jessie finds out I'm gone, and I don't want you to get arrested. Try starting over, if you can."

Kip knew there was no use arguing with me. "Sure woulda liked t'help murder him, though. Good luck, an' try not t'get yerself killed in the process, okay?"

I couldn't explain to him that getting out alive wasn't part of the plan. Kip would never understand, and probably wouldn't allow it. "I'll see what I can do."

I left the street gang, heading for the headquarters. Instead of going in, I skirted the building, going around back to where I knew there would be plenty of crates to lie in wait for Ramirez to come out. After two years of following his schedule, I knew the gang leader typically went out back alone for his heroine shots; all I had to do was wait.

As I had suspected, Ramirez strolled around the corner, whistling to himself and looking smug. I tightened my hold on the gun, knowing what I had to do.

"Nice day to die, isn't it?" I asked, walking out from my hiding place.

Ramirez didn't turn around. "James. I wasn't expectin' you this soon. Thought it'd take ya longer t'work up th' balls t'face me." He looked over his shoulder at me. "Go ahead an' shoot, if ya can."

"I don't shoot people in the back. Unlike you, I have class," my voice was low and even; it almost scared me. "Turn around and die like a man."

He smirked. "Never let it be said that Greg Ramirez doesn't give his attackers a chance." He snapped his fingers, and in seconds the ten from his inner circle had surrounded me. "I went ahead an' planned this out, should ya decide t'be a vigilante an' get me on yer own. Ya could have killed me like a coward; instead you'll die like an idiot. I'm sure yer broad'll enjoy seein' yer body lookin' like swiss cheese 'fore she joins you, huh?"

I fired at Ramirez, not paying any attention to the others. He had expected this, I could tell. Diving out of the way, the shot ended up missing him by several feet. Ten guns raised at me. I gave myself up for dead, not for the first time in the past few days. I was going to die a failure, just like that bastard Roger had predicted...

"Anyone fire and yer all dead!"

I whirled around, to see Kip walking to me, smiling >>good-naturedly. His crew, numbering eleven, the same as Ramirez and his group, had snuck up on the inner circle, holding them at gunpoint.

"Kip!? What the hell are you doing? I thought I told you to get out of here."

"I couldn't jus' let Ramirez kill ya, now could I? Us rebels against th' boss gotta stick t'gether, right?" he seemed to be enjoying himself. "What say we kill 'im at th' same time, make it a bondin' thi-"

Both of us had momentarily forgotten about Ramirez, who always carried a gun with him. His first shot, aimed at me, was miscalculated. I felt the bullet hit my hip, sending a jar of pain through my body. Kip wasn't so lucky. Ramirez's second shot was perfect; I watched the only friend I had down here fall to the ground, dead instantly.

Seeing him die triggered something deep inside me. Everything about the gang, from the memories of just sitting in the office writing notes, to the horrible deeds I had pushed down so far I had managed to almost forget about them, came welling back up. I was completely overwhelmed by the scenes that kept playing out through my head. The predominating vision, though, was all the people Ramirez had killed or hurt, from Jessie to Kip...

I whirled on him. Everyone else may as well have been nonexistent; I didn't see anyone but the bastard who had ruined my life.

A harsh voice, racked with grief, ordered, "Nobody move!" I was surprised to realize it was me doing the talking. "If any of Ramirez's men try anything, kill them!"

I don't usually take command, but when I do it's so unexpected people can't help but obey. The same went with this group; tough as they were Ramirez's men were all cowards at heart, and none wanted to die. Since I wasn't taken down, I assumed they had followed my orders.

Ramirez looked nervous. I wanted him to. I advanced on the gang leader, oblivious to the second and third shots I took to my right leg and left shoulder. I shot the gun out of his hand before he could fire again, then shot him in a key spot on both legs, causing him fall to the ground on his knees. Dimly I heard police sirens; no matter, they wouldn't make it in time.

He was actually trembling in terror now, something I relished watching. I put the gun to his head, knowing I would enjoy killing him. Watching Ramirez die would be a pleasure, and at that moment it was the only thing I wanted. "Greg, remember all those times you murdered innocent men, raped decent women, beat their children, all for fun? Remember how they screamed, begged for mercy, shook in fear?" He didn't say anything, but I knew he knew what I was talking about. "How's it feel to be on the other side of the gun, hm? I should make you suffer, he way you did your victims. I should let you know what true fear is, like having you wife, who's carrying your child, be shot. Like knowing every minute the one person you love could be brutally murdered, or worse. I should, but instead I'll make this quick. I treasure this moment, and so does the rest of the world: I'm ridding it from scum like you."

Vaguely, as if miles away, I heard the pounding of footsteps, and the voice of my chief, Frank DeRoe. "James, what the hell do you think you're doing? Drop the gun! If you kill him I have to charge you with murder! You wanna go to jail!?"

I didn't pay any attention. My finger tightened on the trigger...

"James!" Jessie's voice cut through my haze like a knife. "Please, James, drop the gun. What's the point in killing him? Do you want to do this? Are you enjoying it? Do you like watching him tremble, eyes begging for mercy?" Her voice went icy. "James, listen to me. You're no better than he is if you kill him this way. If you kill this man, no matter how much you hate him, you're exactly alike, the two of you. I think I know you better than that. If you love me at all, drop the gun."

Her words struck me like lightning. Jessie was right. To kill him like this, not in defense but in cold blood, didn't make me a hero. It made me a monster. As if from viewing it outside my own body, I saw the scene from someone else's point of view. Ramirez at gun point, quaking in terror, knowing his fate; and me, tightening the trigger, eyes alight in happiness... it was no different from the scenes I remembered of Ramirez doing this to some unlucky innocent.

What was I doing? Had I actually been enjoying this? The thought of killing him made me sick, now that I thought about it.

I threw my gun down, turning away from the terrified gang leader. I didn't say anything to him, or anyone else. Suddenly feeling my wounds with painful sharpness, I managed to stumble over to Frank, the rest of the police, and Jessie.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me again and again. "Oh thank God, thank God."

Both of us losing our strength to stand, we slid to the concrete ground, still holding one another. I wanted to tell Jessie I loved her, thank her for stopping me from doing the unthinkable, promise to never do something like this again. But I couldn't get the words out. After watching Kip die, all the memories had bubbled to the surface, all the details perfect in my mind. I knew if I opened my mouth, everything that had happened would spill out, and Jessie would have to hear the full version of gang life, not just the stories I had told her. I couldn't do that to her, make her listen to the things that had haunted my dreams for four years. So I said nothing at all; just held her and listened to her whispering things to me.

My physical condition, which I had neglected for a full week, finally made itself known. I was cold, exhausted, and bleeding in three different places. Feeling myself slip into unconciousness, I dimly wondered if, upon waking, I'd be able to talk to Jessie without telling her everything.

Jessie
Frank had to carry me up to where the ambulance was stationed. It made me feel like some helpless little girl, but I was so drained from practically sprinting down the alley that it was all I could do to keep from fainting as James had done.

They forced me to ride in the ambulance, along with my husband, a hand-cuffed Ramirez, the body of Kip, and Marcus. The three of us awake didn't speak, mostly from exhaustion, but also lost in our own thoughts. My eyes went from Ramirez, to James, as the night's events swirled through my brain. I was relieved to know James would be fine, and Ramirez would go to prison, probably for life, but even so I was troubled. If we- I- hadn't gotten there when I did, would the outcome have been different? Could they both, the gangster and the police officer, have died?

At the same time, I worried about James' stability. He had very nearly done the unthinkable; had I not gotten through to him, there was no doubt in my mind he would have killed Ramirez, and possibly enjoyed it. I was also bothered by the fact that he hadn't said anything to me the entire time we were down there. I didn't know if it had any relevance, but I was worried nonetheless.

I shook my head, stopping the disturbing train of thought. What could have happened didn't matter; what had happened was James was safe (physically, an inner voice added), Ramirez would be behind bars, and everything would turn out fine, somehow.

Once we got to the hospital they carried me up on a stretcher, despite my protests. The same doctor who had worked on me before gave me a look that seemed to read: "I told you so." Looking over our group, he groaned. "Can't you police go a single day without bringing someone in?" Despite his complaints, I knew this was his element. He stopped several nurses, giving out orders. "Take Mr. Rosewood into surgery, we'll have to pull those bullets out and patch him up. Take the other gentleman," he said the word gentleman with unsureness, looking Ramirez up and down curiously, "into another surgery, so we can take care of him as well. Mrs. Rosewood, you'll be pleased to know that your old bed has not been filled yet; if you'll bring her with me, I'll see she's situated before joining you in surgery. Thank you."

"I'm not an invalid, Doctor Willis," I argued. "Get me off this stretcher and down to a chair outside James' room, that's where I want to be."

He ignored my protests, walking down the hallway and followed by the medics carrying me. "Wanting and needing are two different things, miss, and right now you need some rest. I warned you not to strain yourself, but you didn't listen, and now you must pay the price. Though, I will be interested to hear the story behind your husband and that other man; it's always more exciting when it involves the police, I've found."

I didn't bother answering. There was no use arguing with him, and I didn't have the energy to as it was. They dumped me onto the hospital bed, and in minutes I had sunk into a deep sleep.

~ James slept for four days straight. Some friends of mine were worried that he might slip into a coma, but I knew that he was only catching up on a lot of much-needed rest.

He recovered quickly and quietly, not speaking much to me or anyone else. I understood that he was still grieving over the loss of Kip, a closer friend than I had known, and probably battling some inward demons that I knew nothing about as well. I didn't press him into talking; he'd tell me about it all when he was ready, and not before.

They released him from the hospital a few weeks later, once both of us were feeling up to par. We paid a quick visit to the police headquarters, giving a somewhat surprising announcement. James had decided to quit the force, and I, not wanting to stay on without him, quit as well. Frank had said it wouldn't be the same without us, but didn't try to change our minds. I later found out that, after the stunt James pulled, Frank probably would have had to fire him anyway.

When asked why he quit, James continued to tell people that he "hadn't really liked the job that much anyway." Later, as I pushed the question on him, the most he would say was that he never wanted to touch a gun again. I accepted that, understanding it went a good deal deeper, but unwilling to force him into a detailed answer.

The thing that worried me the most was that, ever since he'd gotten the damned letter from Ramirez, I hadn't seen a single, real smile on James' face. I couldn't figure out what the problem was, other than Kip's death and the fact that he'd nearly mercilessly slaughtered Ramirez. My single goal was to get him smiling again before the baby was born. Time went by slowly, weeks turning into months, until I got a call from Frank about Ramirez's trial.

"James?" I began, walking into the living room where he was channel surfing. "That was Frank. He said Greg Ramirez's trial starts in a couple weeks. He... he says he wants to cut a deal with you."

James flicked the television off, looking up, surprise and something resembling disgust on his face. "What sort of deal? And why?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "See, since you were involved in the gang, it technically makes you as guilty as the others. But, because you got pulled in against your will, with Ramirez using fear to force you into it, Frank says you won't have to do any time if you testify against him."

An eyebrow raised. "If I refuse, will I get thrown into prison?"

"Probably not, seeing as how you helped catch him, but Frank says it would still be helpful in the trial. He's getting charged for just about everything, from felony murder to breaking-and- entering, and a couple willing eye witnesses would be helpful to lock him up for life, with no chance of parole. Maybe even the death penalty."

James didn't answer for a couple minutes; he seemed to be thinking about it long and hard. "I'll do it. I want to help lock the the bastard up. When do they want me to testify?"

"Second day of the trial," I answered. "July 28... exactly four months after we got the letter." It was a disturbing thought, but true.

"Did he ask you to testify?"

I hesitated. "Yes. I'm going to do it, too, so sexual harassment charges can get added against him. Frank mentioned Mike helping out, too; apparently he'll only have to do some social service if he testifies."

James didn't say anything more, indicating the end of the conversation. As I started to leave, he stopped me. "Jess... could you sit down, for a couple minutes?"

I did as he said, unsure of what he wanted. "What's "

"I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with the past months," he said slowly, picking his words. "I just, I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you're support. A lot of people would have given up on me by now-"

I cut him off. "You're welcome, James. I know this is a tough time for you. But once the trial is over, we can finally get back to our lives, right?" Both of us were planning to finish college when September started; I had aspirations on being a lawyer, but James didn't quite know what he'd do.

"Right," he forced a smile, something he did a lot. It never looked genuine, which killed me. "I just wasn't sure if you knew how grateful I was, for everything."

I gave him a kiss, quoting what he had told me the night Ramirez had hit me. It seemed like years ago. "That's what I'm here for."

The next couple weeks passed quicker than I had expected. Before long it was July 28, and we were walking into the courthouse. Ramirez was sitting behind a desk, his lawyer looking as if he'd already lost the case. Greg didn't seem nervous, just sure of his fate. As we walked in, his head jerked up. Ramirez tried to curl his lip into a sneer, but had a hard time looking nasty while he was handcuffed to the desk. He mouthed something that I didn't understand, but I knew James could read lips. "What did he say?"

"Something any decent citizen doesn't need to hear," was all James would say. The way he worded it almost made me want to laugh. I held my tongue, though, grinning in Ramirez's direction.

"Look who's still alive," I mouthed, enjoying watching him sweat. His next two words were readable even for me. I turned to James, saying out loud, "I think going all this time without a drug has worsened his temper."

He nodded in agreement, helping me sit in one of the front rows. Both of us were testifying that day; I'd be going first. Court came into session, and the prosecutor immediately called me to the stand. They swore me in, and the seemingly endless stream of questioning began.

"How long did you know Gregory Ramirez?" she began. The prosecutor was smiling, knowing this was an open-and-shut case, a shoe-in victory.

"About a week, though I'd had some problems with his gang before."

"You are a police officer, correct?"

"Yes."

"Why did you go down to Mr. Ramirez's hideout in the first place?"

"My husband got a letter saying Ramirez needed him for something. James- that's my husband- had been forced into working for the man four years ago, and he was being called back." I went on to explain Ramirez's heist plans. "James knew if he didn't go Ramirez would kill him, and I went along because..." I paused, not sure how I could explain this. "I wanted to make sure James didn't get into trouble." Fine job you did, too, an inner voice chided.

The prosecutor nodded, ready for her climactic finish with me. "Please explain to the court how Ramirez acted towards you."

"He treated me like an object," I said venemously. "I made it perfectly clear from day one that I was married, but as soon as we were alone he jumped on me like flies on meat. He continued calling me a 'broad,' despite my protests against the name. The one time I was alone with him he tried to put a move on me. In self-defense, I slapped him, and he hit me back."

"Could you explain to the jury exactly what sort of move he put on you?"

"He practically jumped atop me. He slapped my ass, and came right out and asked if I wanted to have sex with him," I stared directly at Ramirez. "Which I don't, and never will."

"Is there anything else?"

I decided to go the whole nine yards, so to speak. "I didn't hear this first-hand, but James says he threatened to rape me." There was an audible murmuring from the female members of the jury; I knew I had won several guilty votes with my testimony.

The defendant objected to my final statement, claiming it wasn't true evidence since I didn't hear it with my own ears. He was over-ruled by the disgusted female judge. There were no further questions; the defendant had nothing to fight with. I walked down smugly, doing my best to look graceful at six months pregnant. As I walked by the jury box, an older woman whispered to me, "We're going to lock that sick pervert up for a long time, dear. You and your family will live without fear, I promise."

I smiled at her, surprised by the words of kindness from a total stranger. It just goes to show how decent people will always unite against the ultimate evil.

The judge, glaring at Ramirez in clear hatred, called a small recess. James would be up next, and I knew his testimony would be the most important. He had a lot of dirt on Ramirez, and I was hoping he would use as much as possible.

Outside the courthouse, sitting on a side bench, James confronted me with a request. "Jessie, I don't want you to be in the room while I make my testimony."

I was somewhat shocked by what he was asking. "Why? I won't make you nervous, will I?"

"No, it's nothing like that," he brushed a strand of hair from my eyes, forcing a smile on. "I spoke to the prosecutor, and after the regular questioning she's going to ask me to describe a few events from my time in the gang. I'm going to bring up the absolute worst things I can think

I really want the jury to understand what a horrible man Greg Ramirez is."

"I thought you told me everything that night after our first encounter."

He shook his head. "Some of the things were so bad even I couldn't bring myself to face them. When I saw Kip die, it brought it all back up. That's the reason I've been so... well, how I've been the past four months." I knew exactly what he meant, so I didn't try to say anything. "I think the only way I'm going to get over it is to bring it all out in the open. I plan on doing that today."

"I don't understand why I can't be there-"

He cut me off. "You don't really get how terrible it was down there, and I don't ever want you to. Hearing what I tell today... I won't put you through the nightmares I've been struggling with. Just stay outside when they call me to the stand, and come back in when I'm done."

I didn't want to say yes, but I knew this was one thing James would stand firm on. "Okay, James. If that's what you want."

"Thanks."

I ended up standing outside for nearly three hours. I couldn't figure out what could possibly take so long, until I realized how much questioning he'd get from both sides. Being one of the best eye-witnesses they had in this, neither side would get him off until they had pulled out every last thread of information. And then, when that was finished, there'd still be whatever stories James planned to tell.

Through the door I heard the judge say, voice loud and shaky, for James to take a seat. I made my entrance, sliding down in the back next to Frank. Taking in the scene quickly, I knew James must truly have told the worst things he could remember. Several jurors were actually in tears, while others seemed about to attack Ramirez. The small audience looked just as bad, if not worse. Even Frank, having seen and heard just about everything in his life, kept his fists clenched tight and eyes on Ramirez.

"That bastard," I heard him mutter. "He deserves to rot in prison. I hope some inmate makes him his bitch."

Despite knowing the situation was hardly a laughable one, I had to smother a snicker at his remark. Seeming to notice for the first time that I had snuck in next to him, Frank looked over. "You just came in, didn't you?"

"James didn't want me to hear what he was saying," I explained. I glanced around at the assembled crowd. "Now I see why." I didn't ask Frank what had been said, or James when he sat down. In all honesty, I didn't want to know.

The judge, barely keeping the tremor of anger out of her voice, dismissed us for the day, pointing out that everyone needed a good night's break.

"How was it?" I asked James as we left the courthouse. He was slightly bedraggled, and worn out from the questioning, but other than that seemed to be holding up a lot better than anyone else was.

"You saw the aftermath," he said lightly. I noticed that he actually seemed a lot more cheerful than he had in months.

"I meant," I began, straightening his shirt collar, "how it went with you?" I looked him up and down. "Well, you certainly look a lot better, that's for sure. I take it getting all that off your chest helped."

"A lot more than even I thought it would," came the reply. He smiled; it was genuine, much to my joy. For the first time in what seemed years he actually looked like he was enjoying himself. "I want to take you out to dinner, to celebrate Ramirez's damnation and our future happiness."

"Our future happiness?" I asked, returning him smile for smile. "You sound so sure of yourself. mp;gt;With a baby boy on the way, I hardly think we can expect total bliss."

He grabbed my hand, taking the stairs two at a time and forcing me to run to keep up. "Jessie, even if our house burnt down tomorrow and we lost everything, one way or another the two of us would figure out a way to survive it without a scratch and be joking about it the next day. And anyway, I have a good feeling that the worst is far behind us." James laughed, truly alive for the first time since the fateful letter. Even though in many ways James was a lot older than me, at that moment he was acting no more than fifteen. "Last one to the car has to buy dinner."

"James Rosewood, that isn't even fair!" I called after him, feigning anger. I didn't even bother trying to run, knowing James wouldn't leave min the dust. He jogged backwards, never more than a couple feet in front of me, teasing me about being so slow. Both of us were laughing, enjoying the cool summer day and knowing the nightmare days were really and truly over.

My husband let me get to the car first, acting exhausted and joking about what a sprinter I was. I snatched his hand and held it to my stomach, feeling the boy, our boy, kick. James' eyes lit with joy and pride, and he grabbed me in a tight hug. I sighed in content, laughing through it all. "You know, James, somehow or other I think you're prediction will be right."