Endgame - Chapter 95

   Merry wasn't really aware she had managed to doze off. She became aware of someone ruffling papers quietly, and opened her eyes. The same nurse doctor was there, trying to quietly go through the charts.

   "Sorry to wake you up. I was trying to be quiet."

   "It's fine."

   "Is he…"

   "I think so."

   "I sent Vicodin up. I counted, and… there's only one missing."

   "Yeah. I got one in him after lunch."

   "One…"

   "He doesn't like pain pills. He says they make him feel sick. He's been hurt before, and he's afraid to get hooked on the damn things."

   "Well. That's kind of rare in a trauma hospital. Most of the patients? Want all they can have after getting hurt."

   "I've seen this before with him. He got hurt a couple, several months back. You have to fight him to take the first pain pill even when he needs it, and… he tries to hold off on his first one as long as he can."

   "Does… he have some kind of history with pain pills? I don't see that behavior very often, except in people that used to have a problem with pain pills."

   They both glanced over at him sleeping briefly.

   "No. What he has, is a history of getting hurt. I'm guessing he's seen people get hooked on pain pills from being hurt, and… like I said already… he says they make him feel like he's sick."

   "Well, that makes more sense then. I wish I could talk more patients into trying to stay off them as best they can. Pain pill abuse really exploded the last 20 years. You mind if I ask what he… does? That he gets hurt so much."

   "Right now? He's a consultant. For the FBI."

   "He's not an agent then."

   "No. Consultant. I'm no expert on this kinda thing, but, I guess the FBI gets outside help on stuff when they need it."

   "And you?"

   Merry laughed softly.

   "I'm just a witness to something. I can't go anywhere without an FBI agent up my ass."

   "Or… a consultant."

   "Yeah."

   "That's your… relationship to him? He's your… bodyguard."

   Merry smiled.

   "He's also my boyfriend. The agents trust him to… see to my safety. Plus? It's a lot less annoying than living 24 7 with some stranger that has a badge."

   "Well. I was just curious. Anyways, it's obviously all right to talk about his medical case with you. He talks about everything in front of you."

   "What about his medical care…"

   "Well, you'll be happy to hear the x-rays came back. He doesn't have a crack in the back of his skull. It's more like a… deep scratch in the bone, that's all. The confusion and the memory loss seems to have cleared up on their own, quick. He seems to have his coordination back. Also, there's no tell tale swelling under the skull, the x-ray would show that. Also, it seems from the two x-rays, that they got all the foreign matter out of his scalp. We'll keep him on a course of antibiotics just to make sure."

   "And the neurologist?"

   "It's the neurologist's informal opinion, that he doesn't seem to have any effects from this injury that would be a matter of any concern. Now… in other news. You two came in with a crime victim that night."

   "Yeah?"

   "The victim's doing fine. Hypothermia, same as you two. Plus a bit of shock. He's doing fine now. I heard you two talking to the agents, so I know it's all right to tell you that the victim was pumped full of a date rape drug. There's two agents, and another… consultant… won't barely leave the victim's private room. They were asking for you two, by the way. So… whenever you two feel up to it? You can wander down to that room on the second floor, and talk to them. Room 243."

   "All right. Maybe when he wakes up, if his headache feels a little better?"

   "Whenever, is fine. Normal visitation hours don't apply to people that come in while… working. Standard policy in a trauma hospital. We're used to dealing with cops and crime victims and all that. It's normal to the staff here."

   "Thanks. I'll tell him when he's up."

   "All right."

   She didn't immediately leave, prompting Merry to ask her if there was anything else.

   "Well, informally and all. Myself, and agent… JG? We went and talked to the security guys. JG threw them a little pizza party for lunch. No hard feelings there."

   "That's good."

   "Look. About… earlier…"

   "Oh. It's all right. Doc? I played some sports in college. It's fine. It's not the first time it ever came up. I'm not mad or anything."

   "Okay. There's no law against a physician… it just might not be the most professional thing in the world. Especially if I make a mistake like I did. No hard feelings."

   Merry smiled to let her know it was okay.

   "It's fine. Like I said, not the first time that ever came up."

   "Thanks. So. You two try to relax. Stay warm. You can go down and visit your friends in 243, whenever you feel up to it. Just knock. They keep it locked from the inside. Staff has to be escorted in and out, to care for the victim."

   "Okay. We will."

   "All right. I'm gonna go make rounds again. Weekends are always busy in trauma."

   She was almost at the door when they both heard Panic say something without opening his eyes or getting up.

   "Are you two gonna kiss? I feel like it would help my healing process and all if you did…"

   The nursing physician smiled and responded as witty as she could.

   "No. No free show for you. You'll have to wait until you get out of here, to go see something like that. If you think it'll help your healing process."

   "Hey. Can't blame a guy for trying."

   She smiled.

   "Well. Someone's up over there. How's your head doing. The Vicodin doing anything for you…"

   "Yeah. I'm getting itchy all over, and I feel like I'm going to puke."

   "I see. Is that your normal response to pain pills?"

   "Pretty much."

   "Nausea. Itchy or crawly skin. Maybe a little dizziness… this sounds familiar?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Some people don't tolerate opiates well when taken orally. It's not real common, but, that sounds like you. Believe it or not, I can probably give you just about the same thing, intravenously? It would, in all likelihood… bypass what you're experiencing. It would be the same dosage level, it just tends to skip the nausea. The itchiness? Is normal."

   "Yeah. I don't know."

   "I'll make sure I stop by just after dinner. If you want me to fix you up to get some sleep? I will. Other than the nausea, though… is your headache doing a little better?"

   "Starting to. A little. Yeah…"

   "You… are opiate naive. Right?"

   "If that means I don't look at pain pill scrips like it's party time? Then yeah, that's me."

   "Introduced intravenously, the same dosage has a higher bio-availability to your system. So, in addition to reducing your nausea you're experiencing right now? It will work a little better, too. Like I said. I'll stop by after dinner and see if you want me to fix you up for bedtime. Sleep is the best thing for you right now."

   The tired but pleasant woman left to go do her rounds. Panic drifted back off and either took a nap or did a great job of faking it. Merry let the white noise of the game show on low volume allow her to doze in and out of a nap. When she came to fully and looked around, the physician was taking the regularly scheduled vitals from Panic and recording them on his chart at the foot of his bed. He was at least sitting up and looked a hair better than the last time she saw him. She got her vitals recorded as well, and they were told dinner was in about two hours. They thanked her and she shuffled off.

   "You feel any better at all?"

   "Ugh. The I'm about to puke feeling? Is receding."

   "And your head?"

   "Remember I said it felt like I got hit with a sledgehammer?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Feels like I got hit with an ordinary baseball bat for right now."

   "That good then."

   "Yeah, that good. How are you doing."

   "I don't feel chilly anymore. You?"

   "I guess not. You wanna go visiting, so we can get that over with, then relax for the night?"

   "If you're up to it."

   "If we wait until I feel like it, that's going to be a while. But… if you mean can I get through it? Yeah, I think so."

   Merry pulled her jeans and jogging shoes on, and left the big soft robe over the hospital gown on. When she looked over at Panic, he was moving slowly, and didn't seem to enjoy bending over, so she helped him get dressed like she was.

   "Well? Where's my robe. You got one."

   "Yeah. We look so stylish in these."

   "Tell me about it."

   Panic did his best to tease her a little about the physician, then he thought better of it. He asked her if this was a sore spot for her.

   "Hun? When I was young, and I had trouble with boys and all… yeah. At my age? I could care less. And sorry the doctor lady you were so into, would rather take me out for a nice candle lit dinner… than you."

   "Well. At least the doctor has good taste in women. I'll give her that much. And now that I know she's on my team? It might be fun to go out… girl watching with her, you know? She seems to have a good eye."

   "Oh. She might make a good… wing man, huh?"

   "Maybe. You never know."

   "Now… how exactly do you have it figured, that she's on your team, honey. Last time I checked, you were straight as an arrow."

   "She's just one of the boys. I'm a boy, if you hadn't noticed. So, she's on my team."

   "Are you trying to get hit upside the head?"

   "Ah. I guess I'm getting away with murder, until you figure I'm fully recovered."

   "Well. Here we are."

   They both knocked several times lightly, and JG threw the inside lock and opened the door so they could come in. Before locking it behind them. Merry recognized the young man in the bed, and to Panic he looked familiar enough that he knew who he was. Mike, JG and Speedy were all looking at the two of them. Mike made the introductions.

   "Guys? This is Paul Borstein. You three already met, just under worse circumstances. Paul? That's Jane… and that's Panic."

   Merry waved politely, and Panic said hello.

   "Nice to finally meet you, now that I'm awake. These guys, have been telling me what you did. I owe you my life, Mister Panic."

   "Ah. Seemed like a nice night for a swim. I figured, what the hell, you know? And… Jane here, she jumped in after me and helped out, so… it wasn't all me. There was a water rescue team that pulled all three of us out, too. And for the record? There's no Mister. It's just Panic."

   "Well. Thanks. I feel bad, though."

   "Why?"

   "I remember meeting the girl and her friends. I remember going for a walk with the girls… next thing I know? I'm numb and can't move in the water, and… I thought you two tried to drown me. Like I said. Sorry about that."

   "It's fine. You were out of it. What else would you think. You warm now?"

   "Yeah. They kept soaking me in a hot tub kinda thing. I think I'm all right now. When I say I feel funny, kinda numb? I don't mean cold anymore… just…"

   "Shock?"

   "Yeah. Never thought I'd be happy to eat hospital food, if you know what I mean."

   "Well… when you start making fun of the food here? You'll be 100 percent recovered then. They can't feed us good food, or no one would ever wanna leave this day spa."

   "Thanks for being polite, but… I still feel like I owe you two."

   "Hey. If you really feel like you owe us for anything, there is something you could do for us, you know."

   "Hell. Name it."

   "Just work with these guys here. Do what they suggest. We wanna put those assholes in a cage. You on board with that plan, maybe…"

   "Oh yeah. I don't… feel real safe with them running around. Obviously."

   JG took advantage of the break in conversation.

   "He's a gold mine of information, Panic."

   "I can imagine. Dead men tell no tales. Live ones? Pretty much the complete opposite. How are your parents holding up, guy?"

   "Oh, that. My Dad's out of the country, on business. My Mom's with him. I called them, and told them I'm okay, that I didn't get seriously hurt. That I'll be fine. I'm sure I'll see them when they're back in the states. The, uh… agents didn't want me to tell them very much, for now."

   Panic nodded. Speedy smiled, and offered to Panic that he looked like hell.

   "Okay. Let's get this over with. Come on. You guys know I got a sense of humor. Let's hear it…"

   Speedy started.

   "When you go parachute jumping? It works a little bit better, if you remember to strap on your parachute, you know?"

   JG snickered.

   "I heard you started bungee jumping. I was gonna remind you to use a bungee cord next time."

   That left Uncle Mike.

   "When you two said you wanted to take flying lessons? To be honest, I figured you meant something entirely different."

   Speedy asked how his head was doing, and Panic showed him the back of his skull.

   "Oh, that's a nice look. Where can I get a hair cut like that."

   Panic smiled.

   "As it turns out? The barber's also the surgeon, just like the old days. I thought I was gonna get a couple leeches to help with the swelling, but, apparently the FBI has a shitty HMO. I mean, who knew. I'm telling you, when this is all over? I gotta get a job with better pay and benefits…"

   Mike smiled.

   "I'll be sure to write you a glowing letter of recommendation."

   JG started giggling, and Panic was starting to as well. JG couldn't help it.

   "Panic? Mike's recommendation? It will be glowing…"

   "JG? Please… it hurts to laugh."

   "Yeah. Couldn't let that one slip by without---"

   "I know, I know. So… how long are we here. And what the hell's going on with everyone else? For that matter, where the hell is Senior at."

   Mike wagged his head and rattled it off.

   "Senior's got the team on ice. The dots? Moved north and split up. One part headed to the northwest, and the other one's moving east. Senior has a lot of experience running a mobile dragnet kind of deal, so… that's where we're at."

   "Anything… happening?"

   "Not yet. They're treating it like when we came up north slowly. Stay behind, wait and see. We can't predict their movements, so… no point in trying to get ahead of them. All the equipment's in our original two locations anyways."

   "We should get moving."

   "Okay. And do what, exactly. We're back in the same boat as coming up north. Senior knows how to monitor the locals, and what to do if they find anything. I got people in the hospital. And now? Thanks to you two crazy assholes, and how I love you two for that, believe me… I now have a live witness."

   "So… new plan…"

   Mike shrugged, then pointed at the young man in the bed.

   "Hey. I got a new toy to play with. A live witness. Good looking young kid. Comes from a good family. Good grades. Bright kid. He tells me? He's playing ball with us. And I'm just as happy as a pig in shit right now. You see the three of us babysitting him? There ain't nothing happening to this kid, take it from me. Now. The doctor? Recommends a 7 day observation and monitoring of him. I know, I know, it's a bit much. But I don't care. Why? One, I'm not paying the bill. Two? I don't wanna worry about he got a scratch in the dirty, flooded river… and he gets some infection. The doctors wanna milk it, all hovering over him? Fine by me. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy all over."

   "All right."

   "It's more than all right. Paul? You feel safe right now?"

   Paul nodded, if a little sheepishly.

   "See? Paul likes feeling safe. I? Like Paul feeling safe. Paul here, is going to be our new star witness. Good looking, bright young go getter… telling his story on the stand? Is going to be solid… fucking… gold. Now, since we're waiting here anyways and all. Paul has graciously agreed to work with an artist. And I can't wait to see that portrait. Maybe… see how it matches up to some of the stars in JG's home movies. I can't really do artist workups on the road, so…"

   JG took over as Mike trailed off.

   "Panic? I told you the kid's a gold mine of information. I now know at least one of the websites that one of the girls were operating off of. I know the girl's screen name. That means… I have the girl's IP address. That means… I got my tech squad combing through all the chat logs, looking for prior hookups that girl made. Use your brain, Panic. When I can put her IP nearby prior victims… no jury will ever think this is all some giant coincidence, which is going to be their only defense."

   "Pigeon man is flapping his little ass off."

   "I am."

   "Question. Bitcoin chat sites. Bitcoin is all about anonymous transactions, and privacy. You don't think the word is going to go out when a bitcoin site is hit with a subpoena? It'll be like pissing in a pond, and all the fish will swim to the other end of the internet pond…"

   "Not necessarily. Bitcoin in general, has one flaw. Public opinion. A little gentle, digital arm twisting? The site… does not want to be associated with digital hookers committing cold blooded murder."

   "The site caved in, and---"

   "Oh. One site? My, how shortsighted you are, Panic. I've got a fucking IP address now. I know the type of website and chat I'm looking for. I've got a small army of bored techies in the field, all with Linux laptops just like mine. The rest of the boys back in the basement, moping they didn't get to go on the fun field trip with me? Have a fun new game to play at lunch… after work… on the weekends…"

   "Oh shit… the internet is here…"

   "Yep. I have access to weaponized, military grade autism? And I know how to wield it. Uncle Mikey's assistant director? Is signing letters and emails to website owners and chat-rooms and discord servers. The online community, is terrified of being associated with helping criminals and being exposed for it. We're not even getting token resistance at the gates. We're actually getting emails from other sites, asking if they can be of any help."

   "So… it's working, then."

   "We have a pool going, back in the IT basement. Person that flags chat room dumps with matching IP numbers, and gets the highest number of matches? Wins the pool."

   "How big is the pool?"

   "Which one? The one pool is for the tech that finds the highest number of matches. Now, there's another pool going. Where everyone else can bet on any one of the main pool entrants to win."

   "How much a tip on the winner board?"

   "A dollar a tip. Enter as many times as you like…"

   "When I was down there playing games with your boys, nights and weekends… we played mainly Star-Field. But… there was that other game. The text screen game. Three teams, you orbit the planets and try to take over all the planets…"

   "Star-Track."

   "Yeah. The one guy. He was always an Orion battle group leader…"

   "Oh. I know who you mean. The guy with the anime pillow collection."

   "Yeah. Him. I wanna bet on him."

   "How many tips?"

   "Gimme 200 tips on pillow boy. You know I'm good for it."

   "Fuck good for it, potato-nigger. This is the IT pit… you need to email it in. Payfriend. Got your phone on you?"

   "Remind me next time."

   "Hey. You snooze, you lose."

   "What's the tech pool up to?"

   "Two days now, already over 3 grand."

   "What's my side pool look like? Pillow boy and all."

   "Ah. The techs are betting tips on either themselves, or, on buddies they think might win. Now. The rest of the hoover building?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Everyone's pretty much betting on whichever tech comes up and handles their office's equipment. Which really spreads out the tips kinda evenly. All the boomers and normies, all through the Hoover buildings? Really have no idea who to bet on, they're all just going at random, and by random, I mean betting on their own pet techie."

   "Who you going with?"

   "Like I'm telling you. So you can piggyback my picks, then you get into my winnings. Fuck-That dot JPG."

   "Like you didn't bet on Pillow boy. He fucking sleeps there half the time."

   "Yeah. Just kidding. I got 75 on Weeby, and I decided to put another 75 on Yellow Fever."

   "Ooh! Good one. I forgot all about Yellow. Who the fuck is Weeby…"

   "You get hit in the head hard enough to turn into a normie overnight? Pillow boy. He's half a Weeb… Weeby?"

   "Right. Okay, you gonna be all butt-hurt if I piggyback onto Yellow Fever?"

   "Nah. Just teasing you."

   "Okay. I'll toss another 200 on Yellow Fever."

   "Wonderful. No Payfriend? No tips."

   "I'll be ba--- ahhhhhh… son of a…"

   Panic made a face and grabbed his head with both hands.

   Mike and Speedy were watching Panic and JG with bemused interest, going back and forth talking in their own language. What Mike called speaking in Martian. Merry wasn't having any more of this.

   "You. Upstairs. Now."

   "I… Give me a---"

   "Move!"

   She turned him around by his shoulders and got him out the door.

   "I'll bring him down tomorrow, so you can bet on the horse race, Junior."

   Everyone made a face and was silent as they could hear Merry bitching at him, and telling him to give her his arm to support him. The complaining drifted away with increasing distance.

   Mike looked at Speedy.

   "Good call, Speedy. JG? Not a fucking word… you understand me?"

   "I'm with you, Mike."

   Paul piped up from the bed quietly.

   "Is he going to be okay?"

   Mike grinned.

   "Yeah. He will. He wanted to check himself out of the hospital. And, as you just saw…"

   "Oh. You're… using me staying here, as a way to keep him in the hospital, to get checked out more…"

   "It's for his own good, Paul. He'd kill himself, if someone didn't make him take a break."

   The young guy made a face.

   "Christ. I hope someone's paying him well for this… I feel bad."

   Mike glanced at Speedy and JG.

   "Who wants to be the one to tell him?"

   "Tell me what."

   "He's not being paid. Speedy?"

   Speedy grimaced.

   "He came up with this… case. It was his idea. He came to a… state police investigator, who had some free time, and… that's how this all came to be. When him and the investigator found enough? The state cop knew someone at the FBI, and… here we all are."

   "He's jumping off of bridges? For free?"

   Mike shrugged.

   "Yeah."

   "But… why?"

   "Speedy? You want this one?"

   "Paul? I've heard a number of his little… speeches before. I know this one, off by heart. If you go through life, making all your decisions, off of which option makes you more money? You won't make all the right choices."

   "Is… he all religious or something?"

   "Speedy?"

   "No. Not really. He lives his life by a code. The code says, among other things. You do the right thing. The code doesn't mention money, so… money isn't a consideration."

   "You mean…"

   "That we wouldn't be here, and you'd be dead. If he was worried about making money instead of doing the right thing? Yeah. That's what I mean."

   Paul just made a face, and was obviously somewhat uncomfortable with the whole idea.

   Mike tried to break the mood.

   "Hey. What are we getting for dinner. Some ideas? Come on. We can do pizza. We can do Chinese. We can do other shit, too."

   Paul said quietly.

   "What would he order?"

   Mike laughed.

   "Fuck. Panic will eat anything. When everyone else is arguing about what food to get? He just wants to make sure there's plenty of it. JG? What kind of martian food do you two like…"

   "Oh. He's not real picky. He… wants quantity over quality, if it comes down to it. I know that."

   "Speedy? You lived with him forever by now. What would he order, you think."

   "Honestly? Chinese food. Thai… Cantonese… Vietnamese… it's all Chinese to him. Poor bastard would about live in a Chinese buffet, you let him."

   Paul quietly voted.

   "Then I vote for Chinese food."

   Mike stood up.

   "Right. We'll get on that in a bit. I'm gonna go see what's going on."

   JG and Speedy got up as well, Mike pointed at the new witness.

   "Only one of you. Duty calls."

   Speedy elected to stay, and JG and Mike trotted off to see about Merry and Panic.

   "Mike. Elevator? It's right here."

   "Yeah…"

   They charged up the stairs instead. They got there as the elevator doors opened, and Merry had her hands full. She had Panic's arm around her, hugging him to keep him up, and she was having trouble doing more than holding him up against the wall of the elevator, instead of conducting him out the door. Mike stuck his foot in the door, and JG ran over and got the other arm. They more or less bodily carried him to the private room Merry and Panic shared, but it was like lugging dead weight. Worse, actually. His feet were working against them. He was pushing to one side when he planted his foot instead of pushing forwards to help their locomotion. His head rolled around periodically, and his eyes were rolling back in his head. He would blink, then the eyes would roll almost white again.

   Merry pointed at their room, it wasn't far from the elevator. They got him in and on his bed. JG stayed with Merry, checking him over, but it wasn't as if they could actually do anything. Mike took one quick look at what was going on with Panic on the bed. He was twisting. He was twitching and shaking. When his eyes weren't rolled back in his head because these things came in waves, he looked around confused. Mike ran out and yelled for help. When someone in scrubs asked exactly what the problem was, Mike was livid.

   He stepped forward, and grabbed the little nurse by the upper arm, and bodily dragged her a couple steps over to the doorway to the room, and pointed with his free arm. She froze for an instant, so… Mike more or less roared that he needed help now. That got results. Little women in scrubs dropped what they were doing and came running, then one of them grabbed her radio and started talking into it.

   The attending nurse doctor came down the hallway in an all out sprint, and nearly crashed into Mike on the way in. She was dead tired on her feet, but adrenaline is a fabulous thing. She shoved JG out of the way and tried to ascertain what was going on. Everyone was talking and some were yelling. She ignored them, this was normal for her. She shoved her fists into her tired eyes for a second or two, then grabbed her little light out of one of her pockets.

   Panic was more or less rather still now. She pried first one eye open, and then the other, checking with the light. When she quit with the penlight and simply pried both his eyelids up, trying to get him to respond, it was obviously not good in any way.

   His eyes were twitching in unison. In time with what appeared to be his heartbeat. Twitch twitch… Twitch twitch…

   "Shit…"

   She was back off out of the room, and practically body blocked Merry back onto her own bed as she dashed out. They could hear her yelling at the nurses station, then the commotion died down. She came back at the head a small team of men in scrubs who started going over the patient, gabbing in medical terminology. One of them seemed to be in charge.

   "No. You're right. No way it's not latent cranial pressure. We've all seen it…"

   The gurney was already being wheeled in by the nurses that vacated when the interns and a doctor came in, and they grabbed the sheet by the corners and the middles and counted to three and lifted and transferred him to the wheeled cart and they started speeding off. One man in scrubs stayed momentarily behind, and asked who could sign for the patient. Mike and JG both looked at Merry.

   "You family?"

   "Girlfriend…"

   He had been flipping through the charts on the clipboard at the foot of the bed.

   "Yeah. MRI waiver. Great choice. I got a TBI, a bad head injury. Now I have rising cranial pressure. I'm relieving the pressure. With or without a signature. I'm not losing my medical license. Be nice if someone would sign a release… you can do that down at the nurse's station…"

   He trotted off down the hall, chasing after the receding sounds of the wheeled cart. Merry chased off after him, until he stopped and turned around and grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her.

   "You can't go where we're going. You wanna help? Go sign a waiver. Then wait. This happens all the time, it's what the goddamn MRI was supposed to be for."

   Then he was off and running again. Merry went back to JG with Mike joining her at the nurses station. Everyone was initially happy to have Merry sign the release for the procedure that Panic was unable to say okay to. This was only an issue because of Panic's initial reluctance and picking and choosing of procedures. The nurse explained the dilemma, which was that once Panic started turning down certain recommended procedures, he now needed to verbally assent to anything they did.

   When Merry quickly signed the release on Panic's behalf, the initial happiness quickly soured. This was of course because she signed the release as, predictably… Jane Doe. The nurse handling this paperwork looked around and just fumed and shook her head at them like they were all a bunch of idiots. Merry looked at Mike, Mike palmed his face, and JG turned around looking at everything and nothing in particular.

   Mike tried salvaging things by asking if he could sign the waiver, as he was the agent on record representing the FBI and the pocketbook for this adventure. The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose hard in frustration.

   "I give up. She's legally Jane Doe for the duration of her visit. Is anyone claiming she isn't his significant other?"

   No one claimed otherwise.

   "First time for everything. I can't wait to see someone try to explain this one. But, the fact of the matter is… he's going into surgery regardless, because the doctor can't watch someone die for lack of a common procedure."

   The nurse conferred with another nurse, and they came to a consensus of sorts. It seemed they decided that because Panic hadn't explicitly denied this very procedure? It was most likely okay. Whereupon the question of the Jane Doe release form signature should end up being a moot point. The slightly older nurse being consulted with on the matter, finally arrived at a decision.

   "When he comes out of surgery? As long as he doesn't complain about having had the procedure completed… we'll be good. At that point? We want him to sign the same release form, and replace the Jane Doe release with his own."

   Merry quietly stated that he would sign the release form.

   The older nurse was as happy as she was going to get.

   "Call up and tell them not to wait, they have as much authorization as they're going to get."

   JG and Mike both asked Merry if she wanted them to stay with her, but she insisted that she'd rather wait alone. The original paperwork nurse they were dealing with at the nurse's station came out from behind the desk and followed Merry to her room, explaining that she would come personally the instant she had confirmation that the procedure was going well enough that it was in the clear. She added that while maybe in a regular hospital it wasn't the most routine procedure in the medical world, but that in a trauma unit? Head injuries were fairly routine, and cranial pressure procedures were a lot more commonplace. She added further that the doctors performing it, simply because of where they worked, were quite well experienced at it.

   With Merry's emotional make up, she wasn't entirely used to what feelings she experienced. Her first thoughts were anger, seemingly born out of frustration. She felt an impulse to snap at the nurse. She didn't. She quickly realized the woman was simply trying to make her feel better. She retreated to her room. An errant thought that they might be wrong, and that there was another explanation for what happened passed nearly instantaneously. That had been silly.

   Alone, Merry cocked her head and wondered what the hell that was. Some distant urge to beg God for the survival of what was now her mate. To not let her mate come back some sort of vegetable. Next, she just felt the most horrible feeling imaginable. The fleeting image of what things would be like if he didn't come back, or worse if he came back drooling. Wonderful. There was the knife in the guts being twisted around slowly. As always, Merry marveled at feelings that were intense like this. What in the hell did a normal person feel in her shoes right now? These things were about doubled for them. She finally felt her cold, sterile logic poke back though this momentary distraction fog.

   Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen regardless. Merry settled into an every five minutes routine. For five minutes, she would glance at every set of footfalls she heard in the hall. Every wheeled cart was of inordinate interest, so she would wander to the door and peek out. And at the end of every five minutes she would go up and ask if there was any word yet. After three sets of this, the nurse was shaking her head "no" at her when she saw her coming. Merry was about to turn and leave, when the woman held her finger up. She finished her phone call and tried to smile at her.

   "Ma'am? A lot of people like to wait in the chapel."

   "Thanks, but… I'm not exactly the most religious person ever."

   "Tell you a secret? It's sound proof. It's painted in what's supposed to be… calming colors. And it's named the chapel of all faiths. There's a little staff joke we should let people know that atheists are welcome there too. Look. On a practical level? Your nerves are shot right now. You're on edge. A quiet, calm soundproof room? It helps. Some visitors like to take a nap there, to get away from the hospital noises."

   "You work here. This is routine for you. You're not in my shoes."

   "Right now? Yeah. I'm working. I did this once, though."

   "Really?"

   She nodded.

   "First marriage was a disaster. Right out of high school thing. Have a little boy though. Got divorced, then I remarried when he was about four or so. Husband had an older son. Older son is an all right kid, but… he's a skater. Skateboard tricks, every day, all day, anytime he gets a chance."

   "Skater son got hurt, huh?"

   "No. Our apartment is on the second floor. Stairs. Four year old found the older brother's skateboard one night, and decided he was going to do what the older kid does. Which is… ride the skateboard down the steps to get down to the door to the street."

   "Ouch."

   "Yeah, ouch. Broke a couple bones. Head injury. So… I spent a whole night in your shoes. When your nerves are shot? Every little noise makes you wanna scream. I spent most of the night down in that same chapel. Ended up falling asleep there. Woke up in the morning? My four year old was… outta the woods. If you wait there, it'll probably be over before you know it. It's down the end of the hall. Last door on the right. You can't miss it."

   "If I'm not in my room, will you still b---"

   "As soon as I hear anything. I promise."

   Merry sighed and slowly walked down to the end of the hall. The wall faced her. It was the location chosen for all the employment posters. To the left was a changing room. Staff only. To the right? Sure enough, there was the chapel. She went in and looked around. There were a couple of wooden pews. Looked like they had been salvaged from some church, then lovingly sanded and refinished for this chapel. It reminded her of her own Catholic church she had gone to as a kid with her own family.

   Her finger traced the edge of the last pew. Her own pews at her own church sported carved crosses regularly down the pews. On the right angle, yes… someone had filled in the little crosses with wood putty and sanded them flat and stained over them. In an attempt to hide the all faith chapel's furniture and its true beginnings. Couldn't be hers? Wouldn't bet against it, either. It was that close. She sat down and grinned.

   She had a fictitious and facetious conversation with "god". It ended with her sarcastic request for some help. She looked around her, alone in the tiny chapel. The walls were lined with fairly expensive looking sofas, recliners, and love seats. Was it really that much quieter in here? Yes, it was. The end of the hall? No one is walking past to get to anything, it's a dead end. It's on the corner of the building as well. No neighbor's walls to pick up noise from. The walls were carpeted along with the floor. For privacy.

   From the audience's point of view from the couple rows of church pew sections… Merry sat at the left in the front row. The door peeped and creaked, and a much older woman came in. They nodded to each other, and she took the front right row and sat. She contemplated "whatever" silently for a short time. Eventually Merry spoke to her.

   "Hi. I'm Jane. My… boyfriend got hurt."

   "My husband. He's a firefighter, so. Every once in a while this happens."

   "Sorry. Was your firefighter husband fighting a fire when he got hurt?"

   The older woman nodded politely. No modern gush of trigger warnings or anything, this woman was the last of the old guard.

   "He was, but. Don't let me hand you the impression he's burned bad or anything like that. No. He just sprained his leg bad, he's not fighting for his life. So, I'll only have half a heart attack this time. How's yours doing, dear?"

   "Um. He was doing good, then he had a… complication. He collapsed. They rushed him off. I'm on pins and needles."

   "Mine was fighting a fire. What was yours doing, if it's not rude to pry…"

   "Oh, not at all. He's… a consultant."

   "For…"

   "The FBI."

   "And he got hurt at work."

   Merry nodded.

   "Did he get…"

   And the old woman made a polite gun mime with her hand, just in case that was the winning answer. Merry smiled and shook her head no.

   "Uh uh. Head injury. They're gonna… what… drain the brain pressure, or something."

   "Are the odds good?"

   Merry nodded.

   "Shouldn't be life threatening. I hope not."

   "You know, I used to be almost mad at my husband. Risking his life and spending all that time, helping strangers. Then I realized it's… noble. Everyone wants to help themselves, few people answer the call to work for everyone elses benefit. My mom had a name for men like that, you know."

   Merry waited for a brief, short pause.

   "Well? What was it."

   She smiled.

   "My mom said all boys turn into men, but… a couple of them are almost like comic book superheroes. My husband's one of those. He goes into a fire, with a metal blanket and a scuba mask. He's a daredevil, and he brings out everything from the occasional person that was trapped, to a pet. He once brought a goldfish out, he gets cats and dogs out too, if there's no humans or he has the humans out. He actually goes in, when all the humans are accounted for? Just because there might be pets. I could just kill him sometimes."

   "My little genius? Jumped off of a 100 foot bridge, in flood waters. Hypothermia too."

   "These two sound related. We better not let them bum around together, there's no telling what they'll get up to."

   Merry smiled and shared a brief laugh with this woman. The woman offered freely.

   "Me? I used to be mad at god, for making me… I don't know. Different."

   "Are you still mad at him?"

   "What's your name again, dear?"

   "Jane."

   "No… I'm not mad at god anymore. It all worked out good in the end. So you got a daredevil man too, huh? Get used to this. They just get hurt once in a while. There's nothing you can do about it. Still, it feels good, right?"

   "Excuse me?"

   "What do you mean, dear?"

   "You said they get hurt, and that it still feels good?"

   "No, you misunderstood me, dear. The part that feels good? He's some kind of hero. You know how that feels, when I'm around all my girlfriends, who are always going on about their man this, their man that? I have a superhero husband."

   The old woman smiled mischievously, and patted "Jane's" hand on the wooden edge in front of the pew.

   "You sound like you have one, too. I'm sure you have girlfriends, right?"

   "Not right at the minute, no. My girlfriends were all from my place I worked at for years. I moved, and… I have to make all new ones."

   "Isn't it going to be fun to take your stunt man boyfriend back and meet the girls when you go visiting?"

   Merry wagged her head back and forth, weighing it. Smiled.

   "Yeah…"

   "Well dear? Good luck with your boyfriend. I'm going to check in on someone now. You take care of yourself, dear."

   "You too, ma'am."

   The pleasant older woman paused and added in a conspiratorial whisper.

   "I'm Gertrude. Gertie they call me."

   "Jane. And I get Janie a lot."

   "Bye, dear."

   The woman was off as Merry waved politely. Merry laughed to herself. The old woman had made her feel better whether she knew it or not. Merry blew her hair up off her forehead, just as she did when she was a young tomboy as a nervous tic. That made her feel younger and better too. She looked up at the ceiling.

   "All right. You're on probation."

   Formerly in a cat on a hot tin roof situation, Merry took advantage of her sudden calm and surprisingly good outlook and stood up and stretched. She walked slowly to the door, and sighed. She opened it slowly and crept down the hallway. She didn't make it ten steps before she saw the floor cubicle records nurse wheeling Panic down the hall. Past their room and towards her. She had another nurse with her, and they both waved.

   "He asked where you were. We were supposed to take him down to his room, but he insisted on seeing you. We thought it would be fun to surprise you with him."

   "He's all right?"

   "Yes. Someone is still a little waxed on surgery anesthesia, but other than that he seems fine. They said the procedure went perfect, and as soon as they tapped the cranial pressure… he improved."

   Merry affectionately grabbed his foot that was tucked under the blanket and wiggled it.

   "Define… what waxed is."

   The floor cubicle nurse smiled at her cohort who smiled back in conspiracy then spoke.

   "Girl to girl? We're talking waxed like truth serum. Enjoy…"

   Merry followed them as they wheeled him back to their shared room and locked the cart wheels and transferred him by blanket lift back into his bed, onto fresh bed linens. He giggled and slurred something to the girls. The nurses retreated, after explaining the physician would be along shortly to see how he was doing post procedure, and to talk with them about it.

   Merry dragged a chair over to the bed, and arranged herself so she could lean over and hug him, while talking into his ear. She kept this up until the practicing nurse physician made it back.

   "Do you want a minute, Jane?"

   "No. It's fine."

   "You weren't abusing the truth serum period of his surgical recovery, were you?"

   The physician smiled and winked at her to let her know it was all right. Merry grinned back.

   "Oh, I would never…"

   "Uh huh. The procedure went textbook. As soon as they cracked the pressure, the weird eye twitches went away. Practically every symptom improved. It's the best indication possible. He should be fine now. I can't have much of a care talk with him right now, so… how about you instead."

   "Sure."

   "This wasn't common, and while it isn't rare, it is uncommon. We call it latent cranial pressure. It has a tendency to hardly happen, but if it does happen? It hits quick and hard. Now. Remember the MRI I wanted?"

   "Yes…"

   "The MRI might have picked up warning signs. As it is, we caught it quick and everything's fine. Now. If he would have gone home, particularly without anyone else watching over him? He could have become unresponsive and not been able to call for an ambulance. I'm not in the business of saying I told you so, but… in this case? The couple days observation is common practice to watch out for just such a thing as we encountered here."

   "Thanks."

   "Not necessary, but, you're welcome. And I'm sorry I ran you over."

   "It's fine. I know you were just rushing to help him."

   "All right. When he's coherent? You can let him get some sleep. He should be a lot more alert within the next hour."

   Merry abandoned her hunched over hug and talk, and sidled up to him in bed and continued it. When he was coherent, she smiled at him.

   "Hi."

   "Hi."

   "You had me worried."

   "Am I all right…"

   "You're fine. You went and had surgery."

   "Huh…"

   Merry nodded.

   "You looked like you were having a seizure and you collapsed. Pressure from your head injury. They caught it and said you made a full recovery."

   "This is what recovered feels like?"

   Merry giggled.

   "Do you feel any better?"

   "Actually? Yeah. The headache is… an improvement."

   "Your doctor said they might have caught that before hand, with an MRI and observation."

   "Hmm. Remind me to thank her. And after what I said to her."

   "Well, yeah. In other news…"

   "Yeah…?"

   Merry kissed him.

   "Mmm. What's that for…"

   "That? Is for being such a sweetie pie."

   "I don't get it."

   "Hmm. You were… out of it, coming out of surgery. You were blabbing and talking nonsense. I was… having fun with it. And… you were sweet."

   "Can I ask you something?"

   "You sound so serious. Sure."

   "What's… love bombing."

   "Hmm. I know the term. May I ask where and in what context, that you heard such a term?"

   "Where? The internet, naturally. The context was, it was supposed to be a bad warning sign."

   Merry smiled.

   "All right. Do you want my clinical answer?"

   "Okay…"

   "Do you… want the glasses…"

   He gave his little half grin, tired face but with an excited "yes" quality to it. Merry pulled her little reading glasses low on her nose and put her voice she used on for it.

   "Love bombing. It's a real term. It's used to describe behavior found in what they call cluster B type toxic female behavior patterns. If you think I crashed into your life like a bowling ball? The cluster B women are the hurricanes. We're talking narcissistic cruel planning and cunning. Love bombing? Is a made up term to describe how they groom their victims first. They call it love bombing. It's fake."

   He nodded.

   "Did you just wonder what love bombing was? Or… were you worried I was some kind of… psychotic time bomb."

   "Describe love bombing…"

   "Constant… fake… love. The way you do it to pretend with a child."

   "Doesn't sound that bad a thing, really."

   "It's not, really. But… it's the setup phase. Then they manipulate and lie and scheme. In clinical terms? Bat-shit crazy. The kind of women, that coined the phrase… to be actually ruined for all other women."

   "That's not you."

   "I hope not."

   "The term just…"

   "What. Maybe it sounds like what I sometimes do to you? Love bombing."

   "Okay."

   "When I hug and kiss you? That's not fake. I do though… let's say I try to turn up the volume on hanging on you, when I do it sometimes. I know other girls do it more than I did… so yeah, you could detect a tiny bit of forced in there somewhere. But… I'm not planning anything. I swear. But… if you don't want me to lie to you? I'm just trying to… make you like me more."

   "You don't have to try. "

   "See? You're still being extra sweet. I think you're still… intoxicated."

   "Are… you going to tell me what I said that was so sweet, while I was giggling and talking to the walls…"

   "Hmm. You were talking… well… half nonsense. I was playing at talking to you. Then I tried to kiss you…"

   "You tried? You mean you somehow had me all to yourself, drugged up mind you… and you failed to kiss me? What am I missing here."

   "You started pushing and shoving at me, telling me to stop. I asked you what the problem was. You? You told me, and I quote… Hey lady, you seem really nice. Now cut it out. I'm telling you, if my girlfriend sees you kissing my cheek, she's liable to actually knock you out. Stop it."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. Then you kept pushing and shoving at me for a minute or two. With your eyes closed. I wanted to lay there with you, I figured when you came around, I'd be right there. Then when you settled down? I did. But yeah… I… you… made me, very happy."

   His speech was still tired, and his face was still haggard. Though he clearly felt better from having the excess pressure relieved.

   "Glad you liked it."

   "And you can thank Mike when you feel better, too."

   "Did Uncle Mike operate the drill they used to bore a hole in my skull? I thought he just saw to it being paid for."

   "Me. The doctor nurse. Uncle Mikey. Speedy. We all agreed… that maximizing the observation period of the victim? Kept you here for observation, too. Are you mad?"

   "No. I'm not mad. Why would I be. I'm glad everyone did."

   "Do you think you can go to sleep now?"

   "Yeah. I do."

   "And… I'm still allowed to… love bomb you, when I feel like it, right?"

   He nodded.

   "Good…"

   He fell asleep during a particularly subdued love bombing session. He insisted on giggling and saying "incoming…" as he lost the battle to keep his eyes open and talking. He woke Merry up when he started stirring a little later on, so, she gave him a quiet little waking up love bomb. He smiled.

   "Aw. You did your magic trick…"

   "Yeah. You awake now?"

   He nodded.

   "I regret to inform you? That your dinner is ice cold. Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up. The nurse doctor? Took your vitals and everything and you didn't even wake up. Do you feel better?"

   He nodded again.

   "Good. The doctor wants to talk to you when you're up. That's what she said. Can I go get her?"

   He nodded his head yes yet again. Merry disappeared down the end of the hallway, and it dumped out on the nurse's station. Probably a perk born of being in a private double room. She casually mentioned that the doctor asked to be notified when the patient was awake. The nurse nodded and buzzed the attending physician.

   She showed up a couple minutes later. Merry teased Panic by putting a mom voice on, and asking him if he had something to say to the nice doctor. Panic remarked that it wasn't fair for her to do it with the glasses on, before proceeding to fall all over himself squirming trying to grovel for the doctor's forgiveness.

   "Honestly, and for what it's worth? You'd have been right, in probably something like 199 out of 200 cases. This was just that one weird case. This? Is what the extended observation is for, in the first place. And the MRI…"

   Panic launched into another fit of wheedling and groveling before she giggled and told him to stop.

   "Now then. After everything went the way it did. Any chance I could sneak one little MRI out of you?"

   "Yeah. Sure."

   "10 am… ish…"

   "All right. Thanks."

   Panic sheepishly admitted yet once again he was wrong, and she once again reminded him that in an EMT setting in the field? His decision was right most of the time.

   The physician stood there, and took her reading glasses down to hang from the rope holders forming an eye-wear necklace. She rubbed her exhausted eyes and tried a tired smile.

   "So. You have some experience with medical, Mr. Panic. Where from?"

   "I trained alongside the medics in the service. The guys that are right there, they stabilize you until you can get to a doctor. We had one experienced surgeon on site, and he worked with the medics. If that makes me like an EMT? That's where it came from."

   "I was just curious. You called x-ray exposure by Roentgens. They use a different measurement now. For a while, actually."

   "Is it measuring the same thing?"

   The physician smiled.

   "Yeah. It is."

   "What is it now. Pico… curies… per cubic millimeter or something?"

   The physician giggled.

   "Something like that. Good guess… if you asked about it? They'd know what you meant."

   "Well. I owe you one, Doc. I was even being a problem patient."

   Merry piped up, too.

   "We both owe you. I wish there was something we could do for you."

   "Well. Now that you mention it?"

   Merry looked at Panic, who asked.

   "What do you want?"

   "You ended up needing the cranial work anyways. Now, you're getting an MRI tomorrow morning to make me happy. Any chance we could just tear up the MRI waiver. I could just change the date on your MRI tomorrow. It could be… like we both did everything the normal way, and… we caught the pressure and you had the same procedure."

   "I don't care. Merry?"

   Merry shrugged. Panic thought about it out loud.

   "No. It's fine by me. Your paperwork more in order that way? Fine."

   "I only ask, because you guys came in with cops. And paperwork's just paperwork, right?"

   Panic mused out loud.

   "I think it'll be fine. That Agent Mike guy? That's the head honcho here, that's the guy that authorizes payments and all that. It's his call, but… me and Jane here? We both have his ear. If I had to guess? Yeah. It'll happen. But, that's all you want, is some paperwork?"

   "Why. What were you thinking."

   "Favorite expensive bottle of bubbly you like? A gourmet cheesecake?"

   "Actually. People try to buy things to say thank you to their attending physicians, it happens. Yes, we get offers to buy us TVs… and stereos… and… ski passes. You name it, really."

   "Do you take them?"

   "Oh. It's not illegal. But… a large percentage of the doctors and surgeons really frown on it. They act like… we're doctors, we're not waitresses begging for tips."

   Merry smiled and joined in.

   "Is it an ethical thing?"

   "I looked at both sides of the issue, for obvious reasons. My final decision? The larger percentage of the doctors and surgeons that say that… they're the really serious ones, if you know what I mean. I can either imitate the serious, very capable group here… or… I can imitate… others. I pick the ones that are better. I follow their lead."

   "Okay. No TV for you, doc. What will you accept?"

   "We already have a bottle or two of… expensive stuff here, already. It's a dirty little secret of the industry, that doctors are allowed to have one small drink, when they're starting a four hour or longer break. Officially? We don't drink at all. Unofficially? That's the unspoken rule. Now, that said. It's an almost all boys club, the doctor's lounge. I rarely have one small drink at the end of a shift, and if I do? They're interns and doctors and surgeons. They treat themselves to the very best in that regard. Now… I'm more of a snack doctor."

   "A snack doctor…"

   "Yeah. Instead of trying to hand out some 20 year old booze, I bring in snacks. Hand them out."

   Merry smiled at her and wheedled it out of her.

   "And what kind of snacks are you known for bringing in…"

   The woman smiled and practically blushed at Merry and answered her quietly.

   "Blue Rabbit. Blue rabbit ice cream? The best. I like the orange."

   "Honey? Can we manage to get Blue Rabbit ice cream here?"

   "I'm sure we can."

   "There."

   The woman smiled, obviously tired but trying to relax. Shook her head slightly no.

   "I already have Blue Rabbit ice cream."

   "So… what do you want then…"

   "Well. If you're asking…"

   Merry Bluetooth-ed Panic for advice or help, and got a little shake of his head that said he was lost too. Merry shrugged at her.

   "Can… I sit in your lap? That's all I want."

   "You wanna sit in my lap."

   She smiled and nodded her head at Jane.

   "Jane" looked over at Panic with what was perhaps her most expressive Bluetooth connection yet.

   "If you're asking me? I don't mind. I just get a little show. It's up to you, honey."

   "Look. I'm not gonna make out with you. I don't do that. That's final."

   "What's making out? No kissing. I just want to sit on your lap. Eat my ice cream."

   "You just wanna sit in my lap. No kissing, no rubbing… you just sit there, right?"

   "I'm sitting on your lap. I get to put my arm around you, and curl up on you. No kissing. No touching. I promise."

   "Panic? If this is doing something for you? Fine. But… this isn't going to be a big show or anything like that."

   He just grinned.

   "I didn't say a word."

   "All right. How long…"

   "Fifteen minutes?"

   "Okay. You wanna go get your ice cream?"

   She shook her head no. She simply walked over and looked around, then quietly closed the door. She came back over and stood in front of Merry, and pointed at the one armchair in the room. Merry nodded back, then went and sat in the easy chair. She stood in front of her, and sort of hunched down unsure, and stuck her hands out to "Jane" to see how she wanted her to sit. Panic giggled at the awkward little display, then Merry finally grabbed her hips and pulled her gently onto her lap.

   The awkwardness wasn't over, however. Her hand wormed up and around Merry's neck. Then she tentatively started to put her head down on Merry's shoulder. Stopping and looking up to make sure she wasn't ticking her off too much. She finally got her hands loosely together and sort of closed her eyes and more or less snuggled in on her lap.

   She said something inaudible to Merry's ear, then nestled her face into almost her neck. She said something into her neck, and Merry simply said "thank you." Merry didn't know what to do, and Panic was biting his lip trying not to laugh or act up and ruin things. Merry rolled her eyes for his benefit and made silly faces.

   After a couple minutes of the woman trying not to move too much and smiling when she did, she asked Merry something else privately. Merry grabbed her gently by the head, and shook a single finger at her.

   "One."

   The woman sidled up to Merry's ear. Sniffed it. Rubbed her nose then lips on it. Then she bit her earlobe as softly and slowly as she could. Then, she nervously looked back at her face, then quietly nestled back in to stay seemingly out of trouble.

   Merry smiled at Panic, and he silently mouthed back the words "thank you".

   After several more minutes, Merry made a face when she whispered another something. She gently put her hand over the woman's mouth and yanked her slowly around on her lap. She was saying something to her, because she drew her in to tell her something in her own ear. She started poking and tickling the woman for fun. She looked for all the world, as if she had her little sister and was having childhood fun with her. The little sister squealed quietly under her hand, and kicked her legs and arms like a little kid would.

   Merry let her go, and she said something else to her, and she shook her head yes, then went back to her curled up hug. She finally asked something just audible enough Panic could make it out.

   "I can't be the first girl that ever smiled at you, am I?"

   "You want me to tell you the truth?"

   She shook her head yes on her shoulder, waiting.

   "I played high school and college sports. If a girl rubs my shoulder in the shower? She slips in the shower and gets her nose broke."

   "Really?"

   Merry nodded her head.

   "You're not gonna hit me, are you?"

   Merry shook her head no, and she smiled and went back into her neck. Eventually Merry noted that she was twenty minutes in, and got her up on her lap, sitting up. She said she really was on a break, could she go get her ice cream now? Merry shook her head yes. She playfully grabbed her with her hand over her mouth suddenly, and pulled her in for a few seconds of playful poking and tickling, before she let her go. Some fake but stern sounding warning, while shaking her index finger in the smaller woman's face.

   It had to be all in fun, Panic decided. Merry was cracking fake smiles to let her know she was teasing her, and the woman obviously enjoyed it. She squealed like a little kid, her mouth under Merry's strong hand, kicking her smaller arms and legs. Laughing and giggling still, while shaking her head yes, for Merry's final instructions.

   She went off and came back, and had her ice cream. She pulled her chair right up against Merry's easy chair and smiled at her, which made Merry roll her eyes. Merry eventually noticed the ice cream, and she took a spoonful out and held it out for Merry. When she giggled and relocated it away from her, Merry waited until she put it in her mouth for her.

   Panic piped up.

   "I'm enjoying this, if you two wanna keep it up? It's fine by me…"

   She stopped, and went back to eating her own ice cream for a bit. She finally looked at Merry, and stuck her spoon into what was left and handed it to her.

   "I'm good. It's yours."

   In the course of more normal conversation that followed, Panic quipped how he "didn't even have to go to the south side club to get to see some girl girl action." This piqued the woman's interest. Merry's face was somewhat clueless.

   "Exactly which south side club do you mean…"

   Panic named it by name, and the woman stood up, and went through a series of faces.

   "Are you two messing with me? You guys go to that club?"

   Panic nodded his head, then added.

   "Not both of us. Just one of us has been there."

   "Oh. Which one…"

   She poked her finger back and forth to both of them. Merry shook her head no, and her finger went back to Panic.

   "You? You don't seem to be…"

   "I'm not. I came in with the FBI, remember? I've been to that club working. My presence was strictly professional there. One of the guys in the victim's room down on the next floor…"

   "One of your buddies."

   "Yes. He was there working, too."

   "Wait a minute. I know where the club is, trust me. I've lived here in Pittsburgh playing doctor for a couple years now. If you two were there for… work? The only big thing anyone ever talks about, is the Bobby case."

   "Yeah."

   "Is it getting… solved, at all?"

   "Yeah. And no, I can't lie."

   "What do you mean…"

   "In general terms? Me and another guy were in that club, publicly asking around about the Bobby thing. It's no secret. I'm not telling you anything you couldn't already know."

   "But you're saying, off the record… that the case is going somewhere?"

   "It is. Here's the deal. We can't pin Bobby's murder on the right people, but… by getting them? We're getting the people that did Bobby. Honestly, we were getting nowhere until we looked into Bobby. That led to… a possible solution. When it's all wrapped up? I always planned on going back to that club, to announce that we got the people that did Bobby. That it eventually got solved. I owe them that much. Being there, shit out the lead we needed to maybe finish this once and for all."

   "She's never been there?"

   "No. Miss Jane has never set foot inside the place before."

   "Well. If you have an official… reveal there… she'll go with you, right?"

   "I suppose she might."

   "Hmm. Just saying… I can't wait to see her dressed up."

   Merry feigned anger at her, and shook her finger at her playfully.

   "All right. I quit. I'm gonna go to the back of the doctor's lounge, and get a couple hours sleep. Get better, folks."

   As soon as she left, Merry looked over at Panic.

   "What? How can I not enjoy my little show. Come on."

   "Oh, that's all right. You wanna know the truth about girls?"

   "Never."

   "We make lesbian jokes to each other all the time. I know from psychology work, that straight men make gay jokes with each other. It's an in-group thing. I just pretended I was making a lesbian joke at a party with the girls."

   "What was all the… cute, sexy whispering about."

   "She asked me politely, if she could bite my ear, just one time. I told her once, then that was it."

   "Anything else?"

   "She told me I smelled nice, if you were wondering. I told her thank you. I mean, how else can I answer that. Really, now."

   "And all the poking and pushing…"

   "Well… she was… getting ready to kiss my neck. So, I grabbed her and I bit her neck, and teased her for a while. Did you enjoy the show?"

   He shook his head yes, he did. Merry suddenly looked slightly serious.

   "Hey. I don't like girls, okay? You know that."

   "I know."

   "Do you… think I'm feminine?"

   "Very much. I told you before, you're like a… pin up girl to me. I think you're very feminine."

   "Okay."

   "What did it feel like?"

   "What did what feel like, honey."

   "Just curious."

   "Well. What would you feel like, if a 5 foot 4 twinky guy, wanted to sit on your lap and hug you."

   "Ew."

   "Right. That's me, too. It was like having a giant maggot on my lap at first. Then, I tried to get used to it, to get through it."

   "For what it's worth?"

   "Oh. Someone wasn't so professional that night, after all, huh?"

   "Funny. But… my job was to wander out back and hang out with the smoking crowd. Let them know no one's in trouble, we're just here for information on Bobby."

   "Ooh. You kissed boys, for information?"

   "No. But… they teased me quite a bit before they started talking to me. Then, there was the matter of the lunch date."

   Merry laughed.

   "You got a lunch date out of it?"

   "Well. They slid a piece of information into my back pocket. To meet them for lunch."

   "And how did your date go…"

   "I got stood up. But, they left me an envelope. And before you ask? Speedy and a guy named Blue… teased the shit out of me for it."

   "Who could pass up such a golden opportunity."

   "Apparently."

   "How were people putting their hands in your pockets, all over your ass… and mister pickpocket magician was none the wiser, hmm?"

   He explained the game of moving people out of your way, by manipulating the back pocket like a handle. When someone did it one time too many? That was how they left a piece of paper in there.

   "Slick setup."

   "Yes. It was pretty slick. I never forgot that trick."

   "All right. You're off the hook."

   "What was I even on the hook for, dear."

   "Enjoying me squirming, with a gay girl all over me. But, now I hear how the gay guys put their hands all over your ass all night so often, that you didn't know who or even what was in the ass pocket of your pants? I feel better. Thanks."

   "Well, I'm certainly glad you found it so… inspirational."

   Merry dragged her chair closer to his bed, and they were talking for a little while. The doctor nurse came back and tapped at the door frame, before coming in.

   "Here. Off the record? Is a nightcap for you two."

   Merry sniffed it.

   "What is it?"

   "Well, even though it's in little plastic cups… that's actually 20 year old whiskey, in a whiskey sour. There's no way I'm drinking 80 proof anything. On the rare occasion I have anything here? It's always a whiskey sour."

   Merry giggled.

   "Well, if it's doctor's orders…"

   "It's off the record. You must have found it yourself, or someone brought it in for you. I don't need one, I'm gonna just try to enjoy a couple hours sleep if I can get it. You don't have to? But, you might wanna wait an hour before his pain pill with his dinner. And sorry about your cold dinner."

   "There's a microwave."

   "All right. Have a nice night. For the next couple, several hours? You might see some intern or doctor coming through. They're just covering my rounds while I'm on break."

   After she left, they sipped their nightcaps they had been given, and they picked at both of their cold dinners. When they decided they were finally alone for the night, Merry spoke.

   "I'm not used to seeing you like this, you know."

   "Seeing me like what. In my hospital gown?"

   "No. Hurt. Vulnerable."

   "Sorry to disappoint you. When you get hurt, you end up in a hospital. I hate hospitals, so, I try not to get hurt if I can. Hey Merry. This cold dinner. Why don't we go down to visit Speedy and Mikey an---"

   "No. Nothing doing tonight. If you insist on going down? You have to go in a wheelchair. That way I can handle you easy if you have another seizure. You do realize, that going down there the last time, was the time you had your seizure."

   "I wanna go down, but… I don't wanna go down in a wheelchair."

   "Okay. Then just wait till tomorrow. After the MRI. If you feel better? We can walk down again. Okay?"

   "Yes, mom."

   "Good. Now, is there room for me on this side of the bed?"

   "There was before."

   "Go on and see if you can get to sleep. I'll wake you up in an hour, when you can have your pain pill. Okay?"

   He nodded, and rolled over somewhat with his eyes closed. He had finished his own sour, and Merry tossed the last bit of hers back before settling in. While staying up for an hour to give him his night time stronger pain pill, a man in scrubs wandered by and stood in the door until she noticed him. She beckoned him in.

   He ended up explaining he was the surgeon that drilled and tapped Panic's head. He was happy with the charts, and the attending physician's notes. He took both their blood pressures and temperatures and wrote them down and was able to talk.

   "You're regular attending physician is on break? So… you're liable to have about any doctor or intern wander by the next couple hours."

   "Even a surgeon."

   "Yeah… even a surgeon. I'm the main staff surgeon for this weekend. On this floor, not the whole place for Christ's sake. Now… your attending physician. You're in good hands, I assure you. She assisted me in his cranial tap. Now… I see in the notes here…"

   "What?"

   "Oh. Patient tolerates intravenous opiates better than orally. Has he had his night time pill I see on here?"

   "Not yet."

   "He still has the IV in his arm. I can administer the same thing intravenously. If he tolerates it better. Put that pill aside for tomorrow, if he needs it."

   The surgeon gave him his pain med intravenously, through the static IV on his arm. He slept and never even knew as he fell into an ever deeper sleep.

   "Well, if there's nothing else… I'm making rounds."

   Merry waved and laid down on her side of his hospital bed one last time. Merry woke up twice more, when someone came into or out of their room. She started making the "shh" gesture so they didn't wake him up. Eventually it was breakfast. Then it was MRI time. Then lunch. Finally? they went down to visit everyone again and get news and gossip about what was going on.

   Panic's improvement was quick and steady. Over the next couple of days, their routine was established. Time in their room. Their practicing nurse made rounds and spent breaks with them. The occasional specialist came by to check up on ostensibly both of them, but it was obvious they were more interested in Panic's recovery from his head injury. Panic hated his first trip down to meet everyone, riding in a wheelchair Merry pushed him in.

   Everyone went into silent hovering mode, when Mike brought in the sketch artist to work with the victim they had dragged out of the icy river. When the victim made "the face" that the artist recognized meant "done", it was shown to Mike, then Speedy, then made the rounds of the room.

   There were two more women that tagged along with "their friend" that night for the romantic moonlit walk along the river. Which naturally meant two more artist sketches. The sketch artist made eye contact with Mike, and he came over to look at the work. It was quite similar to the first main sketch. The victim explained.

   "Like I told you before. Sisters… cousins… I'm guessing, but…"

   Mike and Speedy and JG discussed this development, and Speedy was asked for his input.

   "Honestly? It fits with everything we know up to now. They travel and work in family clans. Bigger crews have a few friends of the family, extended family along too. It's just one more thing to bury them with in a courtroom. We got a victim ID, and when we get our hands on them, and they look like the sketch? Nail in the coffin."

   JG quietly added…

   "We also know what they look like. It'll help if we end up having some of them get away. Sketches at roadblocks? Bang."

   "Everyone comfortable, that if we end up having to throw a net out like that, I'm gonna put Senior in charge of that? He has experience with manhunts."

   Mike stared at JG, until JG silently figured out for himself that Mike was off the record asking if he thought Senior was the right man for that job if and when it came up.

   "No complaints from me. I've seen him run a dragnet before, over three states. He sleeps with the radio for that."

   "And when he's awake?"

   "Which is like 20 or more hours a day when he's doing it? Christ… coffee in one hand, radio in the other, and he's marching around all keyed up and snapping at everyone. But hey, I understand why. We're there to get an operation completed successfully… not make a little kids TV show."

   Panic barely noticed something, but he was sure he did notice it. Mike winked on the sly at Merry, and he paused his right hand over his left wrist while he got her surreptitious attention and did it. Later on he would ask Merry about it, and she explained.

   "Mike doesn't care if you saw it? But… no one else knows about me. Based on what the conversation was, and my dealings with Mike? He wants my quickie psych review of Senior in that situation."

   "Which I don't need to know what it is."

   Merry's eyes went cold briefly, before he got the half a wry grin he was used to.

   "Which I'll tell you anyways. It's my clinical assessment, and it's the same one any first year Psych student will quote you if you asked them… run of the mill, late middle aged, type A. He's experienced at it. He usually succeeds at it. He's nervous as hell, because if the guy gets away, it's his ass and reputation and guilt on the line. Or it's another win for him, so… yeah. Type A, all keyed up, nervous verbal aggression."

   "That's good?"

   "Mmm. I don't know about good, but… it is normal. It's the human equivalent of a male silver-back gorilla stomping around, because he's handling a crisis for the group, and he's nervous dealing with it. You saw Mike more or less ask JG if he thought Senior was a good choice to stick in the game at that position. He'll be asking me what I think. Consulting. I told you before, Uncle Mike… consults me like that, all the time. Hmm."

   Panic grinned a little more.

   "What's the hmm for…"

   "You act up when something goes down. You just do it differently."

   "What do you mean?"

   "You're usually either do it being quiet, or… being sort of silly. Then when something happens? You just jump up and start issuing orders. In fact, about the only people I don't see you do it to immediately? Little Robbie and Skykid. I'm guessing it's because you guys worked together."

   "Well. I came up under Little Robbie, who just happened to be Sigma Leader."

   "Robbie's unofficially in charge. I know, it's just his natural personality."

   "Yeah. But learning from Rob? Was more than just Rob's in charge, end of story."

   "Oh. How unexpected of Little Robbie. The master race himself, demands more than just paying attention to him, he expects more than that?"

   "Bite your forked tongue, woman. It's not like you might think."

   Merry stuck the tip of her tongue out, and made a very Panic-like show of biting on it hard, and making faces to convey what a project it was. Then, she upended her palms and raised her eyebrows at him. What was it then.

   "Uh, you know how there's a stereotype of certain fighting men, to kind of… it's not just a warriors code, it has an almost religious overtone to it. The warrior monk ethic. Like that?"

   "I'm getting a funny image in my head…"

   "Of…"

   Merry giggled.

   "Little Robbie, head shaved, wearing pajamas and has beads and stuff, doing kung fu in some temple in the mountains halfway around the world. Cleaning dishes and chanting and everything."

   "Okay. Good image, that's what you're looking for to understand this. Now… of course Rob didn't travel to Tibet, and get accepted to study in some Buddhist temple for a year or two. As cool as that would be, mind you… but uh-uh. Rob will read, every single book he can get. To know all there is to know about those guys. Buddhist kung fu monks. Japanese Samurai. Ninja. Sun Tzu and the Art of War."

   "You read some of Robbie's books."

   "Some?"

   Merry was taken off guard, and wrinkled her face up.

   "None?"

   "All. Any one I wanted to read more than once? I just bought one for myself."

   "What weird stuff did you pick up…"

   "Whatever I liked. Karma, for instance. I believe in Karma. It's real."

   "Really?"

   "It's just common sense. Let's say you go around, and you punch everyone you meet? Right in the face. What's going to happen to you… eventually. Sooner or later, but it's happening."

   "Well… someone's going to come along, and punch you in the face, that's obvious."

   "It sure is. And there? Karma is real. Therefore, it behooves one, to learn what else they say about Karma, since it's a real thing and all. We want to be… logical about it."

   "Okay…"

   "In basic terms. We all take actions that we take, and we put this energy out there. That energy, can be good energy, like helping someone… or it can be bad energy. But, whatever you throw out there? It's coming back on you. So, this philosophy teaches that its wise to try to only throw positive energy out there, so that as much positive energy can now come back to you, as possible."

   "That's… sweet."

   "Yes. It is sweet. It also comes with a dark side though. If you're a good, positive, energy producer and receiver, and you encounter a person who is throwing out all negative and bad energy out? I'm now not only allowed to match him back with my own negative energy… I have a… a duty. An… obligation. To give him back more negative energy than he puts out."

   "But unless pushed… the Buddhist monks are harmless."

   "A person has to be capable of great violence, to claim that they're a peaceful person. If you ain't capable of violence, then you're not peaceful. You're harmless."

   "So… what weird thing is it that Rob wants more than you just pay attention to what he says, when he's in charge of something."

   "He's required, by reading that the Samurai did it, to show great humility. If he does not show humility? He will incur the Japanese Samurai version of pride go-eth before a fall. He constantly wants… graded… by everyone working under him? To make sure he's not missing something."

   "But… he's in charge. He issues orders, when he's in charge…"

   "How do I explain this. He who governs least? Governs best. Yes, a master and servant relationship exists. Yet… it should be impossible, for a random person off the street… to identify exactly who is the servant, and who is the master. They should ideally appear to be… a couple of guys, talking quietly and politely, deciding. Then? They go off and do what they decide. That? Is the ideal master servant relationship. They look, talk, dress, think, and act… as one. No outsider, no Gaijin? Should be able to tell at a glance… who is in charge, and who follows orders. All should be as fierce, and as courageous, as each other."

   "Sounds like in practice? He's doing what Uncle Mike does, more or less. Just for an entirely different reason."

   "Two different paths, to the same destination. Now… Rob does have a funny joke about it."

   "What is it?"

   "This means, that the greatest thing about me? Is how humble I am."

   They both grinned and giggled, it was funny. Panic tried to do it with as much imitation of Rob as he could, which wasn't as much as he liked. He could imitate Skykid's voice and mannerisms easier than Rob's. People knew who he meant when he used a Rob voice, more because of the southern accent he tried to imitate, than by exactly how much he sounded like him.

   The computer sketch artist session followed, and everyone liked the resemblances. It came out that the women all dressed "similarly", though it was by no means a uniform or anything. The victim said that alone, there was nothing about how they were dressed. It was when they all were together, that you saw the similarities in dress that you noticed, but couldn't put your finger on.

   Mike got Merry aside, alone… to ask about this odd tidbit.

   "Because it's about clothes, and I'm a woman?"

   "Maybe. I never heard this before."

   Merry mused aloud…

   "Similarity in dress. The more time people spend in a group, around one another? The more they tend to look sort of alike in some way. I'm guessing… these women might not dress this way normally? But… they do when they're.. working."

   Mike then hooked up similarly with Speedy, and he looked back at him calculating verbally.

   "Hunting clothes. Work clothes. Whatever you call it? Yeah. Sounds reasonable to me. These women would buy it all at once, from the same website, from the same store. I'm guessing… someone else is footing the bill? Elvis. He points at a rack or a shelf, and the girls grab a few things off of it. Sound logical?"

   Mike nodded.

   "Yeah. Good guess. Speedy… do you and me talk alone a lot?"

   Speedy thought about it, for perhaps the first time.

   "Not often? But yeah… we do."

   "We do. I wouldn't have thought of that just now. You're better than me at this."

   "How am I better, Mike? You bring a lot to this."

   "What do I really bring? A budget and some manpower. If you, and Panic… didn't want to do this for free? It probably wouldn't be getting done right now. For the FBI? I'm… off the record, of course…"

   "Of course…"

   "I'm off the record… sort of embarrassed. Talent off the street, is walking in and bringing us stuff, and we had no idea."

   "Off the record, from my own state force? It happens. Some days, a lot of them, really… you don't get anywhere… on anything. Then every once in a while? The greatest shit just walks through the door, figuring out the politest way to tell you the most incredible shit, you ever heard of."

   "And you just go with it?"

   "On the record? Hell no. Off the record? I'll spend five minutes listening to anyone, getting them coffee… see what they got. I mean, our barracks, you walk in… and there you are. Big glass aquarium. Makes the poor person feel like a fish. If the girl in the uniform manning the radios behind the glass doesn't think it's important sounding, or part of our regular jurisdiction? No one ever sees them."

   "So, she's trained. She has this list of things that people get in and not in for, right?"

   "Actually? No, not at all. The radio girl just happens to be the person that sits there. See. That's just it. One day, I was walking in to the office part of my job. I pass someone going out, talking to their friend, they got turned away. Now, mind you, Mike… this is right after they decided they needed a big… what did my state call it? A security confrontation system, I think is how they put it. The aquarium glass. You have to buzz the person behind the glass. Now… you know how we did it before, in the old days? The person walked in. They talked to the person on the desk and the radio, but… there were a bunch of other desks. We came over and talked to people. I was an investigator. When a person comes in sort of him hawing? Not sure of who they need to talk to. Man, you put a cup of coffee in their hand, see what they have to tell you."

   "You think you started turning those ones away, with all the extra security…"

   "I do. Like I said, it just popped in my head that day. I turned around, and I ran out to get that person I passed going out, when I came in. I ended up chasing them down to their car. I wanted to hear their story."

   "Did they stop and give it to you? What was it."

   "A string of robberies she was bringing in."

   "You were robbery then."

   "No. I was homicide then. Fed her two cups of coffee? Sweet talked to her. Walked around the corner. Yelled… hey, robbery? Got a live one here. We were turning away people bringing in strings of robberies. Imagine what else got turned away. Now, the local police all know that when anything goes from this town to that town, and it's important… you bring it to the state police. But, the average citizen? They don't necessarily know that. So, when they walk into their friendly, local state police barracks? They're there for a reason. You gotta sometimes make an effort, to see what that reason is."

   "Robbery. Desk five."

   "Yeah. We lost that. For security. We're the state police barracks, for Christ's sake. It's a cement building, filled with men in uniforms and guns."

   Mike was silent for several seconds, which finally prompted Speedy to ask him what it was about.

   "I never thought of that. You're describing the FBI Hoover building. You can't get past the security guards, without one of the agents coming down to escort you into the building."

   "What was the old days system?"

   "More… office building. Couple of receptionists, security guards make you sign in and out, show ID. I guess you could sign in, and spend more time with the receptionists, figuring out what room and desk you needed to be at. If you weren't raising hell or setting the metal detectors off, we even had a gift shop and a public cafeteria near the receptionists."

   Speedy asked how long ago that was the system. Because he didn't remember that.

   "It was even before my time there, Speedy. But… you telling your story. Well, old timers when I first got there would talk about it."

   "Sounds insecure. By today's standards, I mean."

   "It really wasn't. Well, they said it was secure. All the hallways, stairs, and elevators were covered by security guards. Agents still had to come down and claim you, to bring you up and in. But… there was a big public lobby, a gift shop cafeteria. Other stuff. You talking about how you lost your walk in clientele, let's call it? It makes me remember this. If you're wondering? I'm sure it's a secret, but, off the record? The FBI has a small part of what civilian support it once had. You said you think yours dropped off because of the security glass aquarium. I think mine dropped off when we got rid of the public common area."

   Speedy calculated it out.

   "Okay. I wanna come in and tell on person X. I don't know who to go see, this is my first time, I'm nervous. See Mike, you gotta sweet talk most of them kind, it's all it takes. I got my sweet technique all down pat and everything."

   "So, when you heard this outta your internet friend Panic? You were primed to at least take a look at it. Plus, you knew what kind of legwork it would take to even try to look into it, to come up with something substantial. Because I'm embarrassed to tell you, Speedy. Without you finding him, then Senior knowing you? I don't think anyone would have ended up picking this."

   "Yeah. But as crazy as it sounds, do we not now have video and dots on a map, that sort of make drownings, like watching a bizarre video game?"

   Mike smiled.

   "We do. We picked the people out to watch to prove it's them. Speaking of which… Junior came up with a good one."

   "Okay… with the dots on the map?"

   "Yeah. He says, any defense is going to know to claim that we just followed random people that travel, and there just happens to be an accidental drowning there."

   "And…"

   "He's got the techies playing with that. What they decided to do, was pretend they were looking for a series of drownings, then go see if they could tie any travel movements to those locations. They got nothing yet, they just wanna see how hard it would be to try to provide that kind of a defense."

   "You find Junior useful."

   "Oh. I do. I'm starting to think he's Senior's best kept secret."

   Speedy giggled. Mike asked what was the humor was.

   "Everyone seems to call him either JG or Junior. I'm looking ten years down the road, he's a senior agent. Nickname Junior."

   Mike and Speedy shared chuckles over the pun.

   "We got worse nicknames, Speedy. We got one guy, I don't even know him much. But, I know the one end of this one floor, has an agent named Papercut."

   "He got a paper cut…"

   "It's a big office building. Paper cuts happen. It's just that this one? I guess he screamed or yelled, and they were teasing him about it. Secretaries started telling jokes about it. Next thing anyone knew? His name's Papercut. Before he made full agent? There's more than one assistant director, that knows there's an agent named Papercut. There's new junior agents using the phrase… don't be a papercut… that don't even know why they're saying it."

   "Now Mike. When Junior makes senior agent one day, how would you properly address him. Would he be Senior Junior, or Junior Senior?"

   "See? It's way better than Papercut, as far as nicknames go. What's the strangest nickname your barracks has."

   "We got a guy nicknamed Swallow."

   "What. Is he a little…"

   "Oh no. Big muscular college football player recruit. Does hard entry and backup like no one's business. I mean, he's fine for a regular cruiser making rounds, but… anything goes on near him that they're having a problem? He comes squealing in and jumps out and wants to get into it. That's our little Swallow."

   "Almost, afraid to ask, how h---"

   "He goes to work right outta the academy, like 3 or 4 months before Christmas. Now, at the Christmas party? There were little after parties, if you weren't working the next 2 days, which was a bunch. Our day sergeant for during the week? Had a popular after party. These assholes get doing tequila shots and talking about swallowing fish, like college kids. That sergeant, has a hobby where he breeds little feeder fish, to feed his real fish. Apparently, no one would actually swallow the tiny feeder guppies, just put them in their mouth, then spit them back in the glass."

   Mike smirked.

   "College football player with good grades and a good attitude? College frat boy… he swallowed a couple guppies, and everyone cheered."

   Speedy nodded and added for emphasis.

   "Swal-low, swal-low, swal-low… yeah!"

   "All right. Swallow, is funnier than Papercut. Touche. But yeah, there's room for a senior agent, named Junior. Now Speedy… you said a little bit ago, how you had your sweet talk technique all down pat and everything?"

   "Yeah… why…"

   Mike looked off and Speedy figured out the direction and what it meant directly.

   "I wanna try to convince my new witness up there, to play dead for a little while, at least while he's in protective custody. Can we discuss the logistics of that one?"

   "Tough sell. You got the parents to think about. And the family, mainly. Then? You gotta balance the agony to the family and friends, against telling the parents and either it gets out, or worse, their reactions to reporters seem weird. Because they know he's not dead. That's a fucking balancing act."

   "How do you decide which way to go? I don't do this everyday."

   "See what the victim thinks. Ask him how much of it he'll go for. Do any of his relatives have a bad heart. I can get a fair number of them, to agree to pretend they're dead. Protective custody, would only be until the perps were taken down, right?"

   "Speedy? Ever since two dirty FBI agents tried to carry out a routine hit on a certain steakhouse waitress in the city? No. The usual… oh, they're okay for now… that mentality. Went out the window for me. There could still be one loose we don't know about after it goes down. Your lynch pin victim, Bobby? Shows me, anyways. That the organization has both the willpower and the means, to carry out a hit. They can and will, under the right circumstances? Carry out clean up operations. Now… under that line of thinking… how hard would it be, for them to go and Bobby a victim they missed. I list him as a drowning victim, though…"

   "I'll see what I can get him talked into, playing dead. Guy that taught me how to do this?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Says, first you tell them a good ghost story or two. Get them all flustered and nervous. Then? You pop the solution, which is of course playing dead. Your concerns and the way you worded them to me? Good ghost story. Solution is playing possum until we can make a decision if we have to get any more."

   Mike thought out loud.

   "When I'm getting even close to the field arrests? I'll have teams before hand around that house down south. The other two vehicles that joined up with them on the road? Those addresses too. Scoop up everybody on the property, no exceptions. I'll hold all of them as long as I can, any way I can. Then, any of them I have to cut loose? I'll try to keep tabs on them. Anyone goes rabbit, and suddenly changes their routine? I'm not fucking around, I'll just put out APBs on them. Person of interest."

   Speedy nodded, he liked it.

   "Sounds good. How long can you keep that game up, just curious."

   Mike smiled.

   "That's my own… federal… sweet talk. Got my technique all down pat and everything."

   "Oh. How's that one go."

   "See, works on the rest of the people you pick up. The ones you know you probably don't want, or can't get enough on anyways. You know you're going to get forced to cut them loose anyways one day soon. So it goes like this. They barely get interviewed. We tell them… hey, we're not looking at you for this anyways. You were just in the house back home. We're cutting you loose anyways. Would you like another sandwich, by the way? Another coffee?"

   "No bright lights. No rubber hoses. No good cop bad cop games."

   "No. We bring them Popsicle's and candy and shit. See, this soft treatment? Their guard ain't up. When we come and offer them to just sign themselves out, and would they just agree to check in and sign a paper to that effect, that you won't leave town, sign here… most of them just do it."

   "What's the fine print?"

   "They simply sign a piece of paper that acknowledges they're not a suspect, and only a possible source of information at best. That they volunteer to stop into their local police station, and see officer X. He says hello, he writes it down on a piece of paper. That's it."

   "How often?"

   "Depends on how far they are, from the person I'm trying to protect. Every day. Every week. Every month. Depends on how worried we are."

   "What if they balk on you."

   "If they argue about weekly live check ins? We offer daily texting as an alternative. No fees, nothing."

   "Ah. If you can get daily texting, you can track their movements."

   "Yes. Then the ones that agree to weekly check ins? The local police tell them they got the word they're not in any trouble, would they rather just check in by texting? And then we can track them from there. If they suddenly head towards my victim… I know about it. It's cheap, it's easy, it's effective."

   "Sounds great that you know they were there, after they ran up and did something, when you go check."

   "Ah. Simply add 2 junior agents onto the detail, staying with the witness, sleeping in shifts? You got that covered. The agents have access to those dots on a screen. If any dots come too close? You know about it way ahead of time."

   "I like it. You mind if I recommend that… strategy to my own barracks? It might catch on. Sharing techniques and all. My investigators could use it. Sounds like the modern, updated version of you can go, but don't leave town."

   "It is. It just creates dots on a map, and we don't think most of them realize that. You do it soft enough? Most of them don't even ask for lawyers."

   "How do the interviews go though."

   "It's a non interview. You take turns, sitting there, joking with them. Bringing them snacks and bullshitting about the weather, sports, whatever. Watch funny videos with them. Play cards with them. Hey, you're not a suspect. We're just killing time."

   Speedy admired it again.

   "This was your idea, wasn't it? Because you came from military intelligence."

   "One of them. Yeah. Really cheap. Really effective. I'm considered a goddamn wizard with a budget. That way when I have to throw resources at something? I can."

   "Well Mike. Let's go and see how much possum we can talk this poor victim into."

   "Yeah…"

   After a couple days, Panic was getting around a lot more like himself. The following him around with a folded up wheelchair finally ceased. Merry and Panic were down in the victim's oversize private room. The hospital had provided a double private room even bigger than Panic and Merry's own, and made it into a single with lots of room for constant visitors. Everyone was idly talking about the victim's initial verbal agreement to play possum.

   Merry and Panic's nurse doctor happened to stop in at one point, when Mike and Speedy were out. JG liked the idea of maybe going out for a decent dinner, after all the takeout lately. Talk went around what would be a good idea. Seafood was put up against steak. Everyone noted that late on a Sunday, was not a good time to plan a night out, at all. Panic's attending physician raised her hand.

   "I have had so many hours, in so few days? This is my last break. I'm off when this break is over."

   "Why don't you leave before the break then?"

   "Truthfully? Too many interns and new doctors have been in little fender benders from being too tired driving home from a long set of days and shifts. The break at the end? Is your chance to get a few hours of sleep, enough to get you home safely, where you can get more."

   JG tried to help her plan.

   "So you can't go out late Sunday, now, anyways then. You have to take a nap."

   "I do if I'm driving. If someone else is driving, and promises to give me a ride home? I'm good."

   JG suggested that between everyone here and her importance to them taking care of team members, that her getting a ride when and where she needed one, wasn't any kind of a concern.

   JG wondered aloud if she was still on call for an emergency while on her final break.

   "Hm. I usually am, but. The farther you get into a long weekend shift like this? The less risk you take on yourself making snap decisions. I started out the week, my first day is always assisting in surgery, on cases the surgeons request I attend the diagnostic sessions. So I can do more. But by this end of the weekend? No. I'm barely capable of doing my rounds by that point. I'm dead on my feet. Fresher people are always arriving every day. We kind of cycle down in responsibility as we wash out on the weekends."

   "The surgeons do surgery every day, though."

   "Do they? No one surgeon cuts into anyone in a trauma hospital. They get a pack, every time. Now. They're all surgeons, and they're all… in surgery constantly. But they have an internal system. The guys coming on shift, do most of the cutting. The attending surgeons, help close up and follow their lead. I help close up, I keep my mouth shut, and I follow instructions… exactly."

   "You're not allowed to actually cut…"

   "Oh. Regulations state, that while its acknowledged I can be assisting during surgery, I'm not allowed to initiate an incision or a resection. The cutting surgeon places initial stitches at either end of a rip. I close up between those surgical starts. I'm not allowed to initiate a scalpel cut, but I am allowed to extend one, if it's on a surgeon's instructions. These are my surgical restrictions. Outside of surgery? I do scalpel cuts, and trim wounds before I stitch up. I resection little bumps and send them in for analysis. See my responsibilities going down, the more days I'm on long shifts? We all do that."

   "You start out assisting in surgery, then you go set bones and sew people up and prescribe routine medications, then you make rounds and take vitals and keep an eye on a floor."

   "It's common for one of us to take an 8 hour nap instead of a 4 hour nap, at the end of a long weekend shift. It makes for a safer drive home. We carpool, someone more rested up taxi's one or two of us home. It's not exactly a system, but…"

   JG came back alive.

   "Then if that's settled. Where are we even going to go? We still got the Sunday night thing to think about."

   "I know a place. Panic?"

   Panic looked at her.

   "Yes?"

   She adjusted her glasses as she mentioned it.

   "What about the club. On the South Side."

   "What about it?"

   "I know the place. Sunday's got a food crowd, and they serve dinners all night long. We could even call ahead. Get a table, a menu, whatever… ready for us."

   "Hell. Am I even allowed to go out for dinner?"

   "I'm pretty sure they're going to agree to recommend discharging you, sometime tomorrow. That's my best guess, I can't say for sure. With the bit of advanced care you received? It's below my pay grade to discharge you. It'll be done by my consensus doctors over me. That's the word on tomorrow. Tonight? You would actually be accompanied by your attending physician, me, in person. So, you have more or less doctor's blessing that you're authorized to go out and have a sit down dinner."

   "Great. I'm allowed to go on the field trip, as long as the teacher's chaperoning me. Who's staying here with our new friend."

   Speedy spoke up.

   "Mike? It's your ball game. You pick who has to stay home."

   "I already know my witness wants to go. That means I want Panic to go with her. It was JG's idea to go out and get a bite. Speedy? I'll volunteer to stay here, if it's not a business trip. You're not looking for anything while you're there, right?"

   "No."

   "Then you go with them. I'll stay here with our buddy."

   JG piped up.

   "Mike? Hold on. You're the head honcho. You should go. I'll stay here."

   "No, Junior. I'm fine. I go out for enough dinners as it is. Maybe if I could get a doggy bag…"

   The nurse doctor wanted to know who was calling ahead.

   "Me… anyone?"

   Panic shrugged at Speedy.

   "Me or you? Hell, you got the number on your phone, right?"

   "Uh… I should?"

   Speedy thumbed through the long list of numbers and the descriptions he built into the name. PGH Bobby Club, he finally tapped on. He asked for the manager, to see about getting a table and food for the night. In the course of conversation, he put the phone down and explained if everyone wanted to? They could get a room, a table, service and a meal. Price per plate was subject to what they wanted.

   The possibility of steak and seafood ended up being suggested, and everyone was excited about that option. In the end, it was negotiated by suggestion from the club side of the connection, that for 70 or 80 odd dollars a plate… they were promised a steak and seafood buffet. Speedy counted plates off with his finger, then pointed at Mike and added one.

   Menu? Speedy went with the suggestion to let the cook do what he wanted, within the bounds of steak and seafood buffet for that number, plus one doggy bag. After the somewhat lengthy conversation, Speedy explained to all the inquisitive faces.

   "I'm guessing the doctor here already knows this, maybe she should tell you all?"

   She shook her head no, so he should go on and tell them the menu situation.

   "Apparently? There's no real menu, like you think of a menu. That's the manager's words, not mine. He emphasizes that they have a lot there, they can get more, and that anything's possible with the understanding it just costs more… but they will go get it for you. He said steak is a common dinner item. Seafood is popular too. Now, he suggests letting the cook do, and I quote the man again, anything he wants is the best way. We'll get steak, we'll get seafood. We'll also get larger portions, more casseroles and side dishes, too. On account of what they have extra of, the cook will use in dishes. Apparently, this will come from the trimmings off of the meat and the seafood the cook picks, along with whatever vegetables he has a lot of and is using at the moment."

   JG giggled.

   "See. I've learned in life. This is exactly the right time, for me to pretend it's completely normal, that I'm worried about pleasing my cook, not him pleasing me. Anyone else find this abnormal, or, is it just me."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Not bragging, but… I have sometimes been to over a hundred dollars a plate places to eat. New one for me. It's not like I eat that way regularly? I end up going out with the assistant directors for lunches and dinners. Speedy?"

   "I've been here before? I can tell you about the layout. I can tell you about the decor. I can tell you about the bar menu. We didn't really eat there. It'll be a new one for me, too. I don't care though. Panic?"

   "Uh… I claim what you just claimed. All of it. What Speedy said? That's my response, too."

   The victim watching all this go down around him finally announced in a loud, clear voice during a slight lull in the din of conversation.

   "Hey! I got 75 bucks… I wanna go too…"

   Everyone looked at each other, then to Mike. Who shook his head no, like a Dad making what he knew was going to be a necessary but unpopular decision for the family.

   "No. You're supposed to be dead."

   "Shit."

   Speedy called back and added a plate.

   "Now you're on the doggy bag program. With the boss there."

   Mike smiled for his approval.

   "Sounds like a nice dinner, and they're bringing us some. Sorry."

   "I know, I'm dead. Great."

   They all started making preparations to go. JG drove a cruiser, and Panic sat up front in the passenger seat. Merry and Speedy squeezed the nurse doctor between them in the back.

   "You… and you… make me feel like a little kid again. I'm in the back. In the middle. On the hump."

   Merry regarded her for a few seconds, while the woman furrowed her brow, wondering what the cogs were turning about. Nervous little hopeful smile on her. Merry pointed her index finger at her and grinned.

   "If you promise you'll be good? You can sit with me at dinner. If you want to, that is."

   Merry stuck her arm out and around her shoulders and sat back down. She leaned over and talked softly to her. Speedy could hear, but likely no one else.

   "If you promise, that you won't act up? I'll let you sit with me. I won't necessarily tell anyone, that I'm not here with you. How would that be."

   "Like having an escort, that won't put out. But, you're free. So… having a free escort, that won't put out? Is better than no escort. Why the sudden change, Jane?"

   "That's two things."

   "What?"

   "If you wanted an escort, you'd want one like me?"

   She smiled and practically blushed and nodded.

   "I'll take that as a compliment. And you asked why the sudden change?"

   She pointed at Panic, from the back seat. No one saw but Speedy and her admirer.

   "I got scared when he started… seizure-ing…"

   Then Merry snapped her pointing fingers dramatically.

   "You rushed him off, immediately. You helped drill and tap his thick skull. You took care of him, better than he knew to take care of himself. He could have died if you guys hadn't all came up with a scam to keep him here, and it ended up being necessary. I realized how happy you made me, if you promise to not take it the wrong way. That would be the sudden change. And can I check on something?"

   The girl just smiled dopey at her and nodded her head.

   "Panic?"

   "Yes dear…"

   "Does your head feel all right?"

   "Eh… better… why?"

   "Do you buy escorts?"

   Everyone laughed.

   "No. I don't do that kind of shit."

   "Well… if you did, would you want one that looked like me?"

   "Ooh. Yeah. Most tall girls? Too skinny. You're proportional to your height, honey. I'd have to pay extra, to make sure I got one like you. College athletes? Don't exactly grow on trees, you know."

   "You… were a college athlete?"

   Merry nodded.

   "Yeah. I could see that. Did you really knock girls out in the shower for rubbing your shoulders?"

   Merry nodded.

   "I bet you were magnificent."

   "Uh huh. You promised you'd be good."

   "I am…"

   Merry glanced over at Speedy as if one adult catching the eye of the other. Merry rolled her eyes dramatically, and Speedy smiled and went back to pretending to ignore the two of them. A period of idle chit chat stopped when they finally parked the packed cruiser. JG surprised everyone, by requesting Panic outside, alone, for "work reasons".

   "What's up?"

   "Op secs are fucked right now."

   "Excuse me?"

   "What part of op sec fucked is unclear. Operational security, possibly, compromised."

   "How?"

   "Your lady nurse doctor. I heard that we're… getting somewhere."

   "JG? Me and Speedy went there in public. He flashed a badge, and everyone assumed I might be a cop too. We were announced publicly, that if anyone wanted to add anything to the Bobby case? They were to talk to us on the sly. It wasn't exactly conducted in secret. For me to say we're still working it? Getting somewhere is a pretty generic description."

   JG paused.

   "I understand your logic there, I respect it. Would you care to hear mine, though?"

   "Shoot…"

   "A rumor that the… cops that were working the Bobby case had a breakthrough… could potentially spread on the internet, like wildfire. You know how it is. Try to predict what goes viral, and what dies on the vine. Wanna take that chance?"

   "Shit."

   "It's okay. It's salvageable at this point. Simply have a talk with her. Give her the confidential speech."

   "I can go you one better. I'll have Merry tell her what's expected of her."

   "If you think that'll work better…"

   Then Panic pointed, and JG followed his finger. Speedy waved at them. It looked like Merry had grabbed up the littler woman, and was teasing her like a kid sister right now. JG stared, then numbly waved back at Speedy. Before confronting Panic socially about these new developments.

   "I was actually gonna ask about that."

   "Did you have a crush on our nurse doctor?"

   "Maybe a little one."

   "Right. The nurse doctor? Has a crush on Jane Doe."

   "You realize something? This just proves we're in clown world."

   "Honk. Honk."

   JG apologized for holding them up. Panic put a word in Merry's ear, and she nodded. Merry once again grinned, and put her arm around the shoulder of her new friend. When they got to the place they stepped inside, into the almost silent inner door trap. There was no hiding the music and noise beyond, but it was such a hum it wasn't even noteworthy.

   When the predictably big doorman appeared, he looked at Panic and Speedy.

   "I know you two, don't I? It's been a while. I never forget a face."

   "We're looking for Dorothy. She's been a bad girl…"

   Speedy flipped his state police badge. He pointed at him and Panic, and the doorman almost automatically nodded, and waved them in. JG was about to get the wand waved over him when he flashed his FBI badge. Then he got waved in too. The doorman waved the wand over Merry and the nurse doctor and ushered them in as well.

   When they said they had reservations, the manager they remembered appeared quickly. He ushered them to the elevator, and explained it might seem silly, but it was prestigious to be allowed to use the elevator. Before they could make it over, a couple visible in the window kissed, and the crowd noticed it and cheered. It was the local sport here, that hadn't been going on the last time they were there. Everyone was playing a new game and having fun.

   They were taken up to the second floor, and a room with a large table and a number of love seats around it. In the spats of giggling, Merry sat with the nurse doctor, and JG asked Panic if he'd be "his date" and sit with him. Jane Doe's lady doctor ordered her "nightcap" she was allowed to have. Whiskey Sour. Double whiskey, double sour, double ice. Top shelf. Merry said she wanted to "try one", which made her, Panic and her friend giggle all together, confusing everyone.

   Before Speedy could get a drink order in, everyone wanted to know who got to sit at the "head" of the table. Love seats up and down the sides, but with overstuffed easy chairs at the head and foot of the table. By seniority, Speedy got it. He asked for whatever everyone else was having. Another Whiskey Sour double everything, top shelf. JG announced that since he was driving? He was having one too, and everyone laughed.

   Leaving with the easy drinks order, the manager said they would "shortly" begin getting side dishes in. A big basket of rolls was the first item to arrive, with more than just butter. It had several more choices for spreads. A number of small to medium sized shrimp dishes came in on a cart and were dispersed around. Followed by vegetable side dishes, with things to dip in.

   Everything had some element of gourmet to it, or they were at least trying hard. Sauces and glazes and what were obviously rubs and drizzles and seasoning made you gawk at everything. Was it spicy? Was it sweet? Was it tangy? Everyone talked and passed the dishes around, smelling and starting to try one shrimp or piece of vegetable at a time.

   A couple of casseroles arrived next. While they were trying to identify that, their main course arrived.

   "Now. Seafood. You see plenty of shrimp, I'm sure. This is your main seafood. It's Tilapia. Now this… you requested steak… is not steak, it's prime rib. I can make the prime rib go away, and you get your steaks. But… if you like it? Try it. I've never seen anyone like steak, and not like prime rib."

   The manager stayed expectantly, waiting to see if everyone was having fun eating before he was satisfied. The two giant metal trays that were the mound of Tilapia fillets, and the mound of prime rib. The man explained that a number of parties had gone in on prime rib? And that two or three had backed out. This was the result of that. The tilapia? Was the extra from a big catered party the day before, but thawed and cooked today. The cook, had "gone nuts" getting rid of extra vegetables and shrimp any way they could. Hence, the dishes and casseroles. Once everyone had started trying things, and the manager heard all happy noises? He was off promising to send people up to check on drinks and such.

   Everyone admitted they liked it. They had lucked out on 75 dollars a plate, it was decided that this should cost more. Everyone seemed content to nurse their one drink while eating. They had their room seemingly as long as they wanted it. No one was rushing them to pay a bill and go. A server would predictably every 15 minutes or so, pop in and make sure they didn't want anything. Constantly telling them no in no way dissuaded the service.

   At one such visit, the manager himself accompanied the server, and smiled at Jane Doe's friend arm in arm with her on the love seat, picking at their meal still.

   "I see you have a new friend, Doc."

   She blushed and smiled something fierce.

   "I do."

   "Is this your new…"

   "Nope. She was just coming through, while working. Limited engagement only. Waste not? Want not."

   "I only ask, because other than your manager is a complete nebshit… one of your other old friends is downstairs."

   "Let me just guess which one."

   "Yep!"

   She palmed her face.

   "I honestly figured I'd snuck in without being noticed."

   "Oh, don't worry, dear. I'm gay, I'm not retarded. The bouncers have instructions not to let her up here…"

   Merry piped up.

   "Doc… is this some crazy ex, hassling you?"

   She looked around, guilty, and nodded back.

   "Actually? Send her up. I wouldn't mind having a little girl talk with her."

   "Are you sure that---"

   "I'm sure it'll be groovy. Just send her up. You know there's cops here already. We'll be just fine…"

   The manager said "certainly" and wandered off. Jane addressed Speedy.

   "Hey Speedy."

   "Yes… Jane."

   "Give me you're badge."

   "Well. The official, un-offical way to use mine? Is to shove it in their face suddenly, it short circuits their little pea brains to see the words state police on the badge part. You see how I'm holding my hand accidentally over the ID part? Have fun, don't lose it."

   The woman did indeed end up coming up the elevator, and wandered in. After seemingly pleasantries all around, she started snipping at Jane's friend next to her on the love seat. Merry stood up, and looked down at the shorter woman. She bodily shoved her back out the room, and grabbed her by the upper arm. Speedy could clearly hear them.

   "You choose. I'm either throwing you into that elevator there? Or… down the steps, over there. Your choice."

   She picked elevator.

   "Wise choice…"

   Merry bodily threw her into the little elevator and walked in rather casually. She pulled the hold button and shoved the badge into her face, and gave her the don't come around here anymore speech. The fact that she got manhandled like a rag doll was just icing on the cake. Merry casually walked back in and sat down. As her "date" watched her face carefully to see she wasn't in any kind of foul, she carefully got back into place right next to her.

   "Thanks…"

   "No problem. Now, that brings something up, that we have to talk about. Okay?"

   Merry scooped her up, and led her gently by the nose so to speak, through the conversation. How important it was for her to not say anything. Why and what could happen. After she had her in agreement, she reminded her that after what she had just seen? It was doubly important she not say anything and open her mouth. Until they were done, which should be shortly.

   With her arm around "Jane" once again, and one leg over hers to boot.

   "Well. If you were to promise to be my date, no… escort? Yeah. My… escort to the… Bobby party? I promise I won't say a word, to anyone."

   "Oh, all right. Deal."

   Everyone at the private feast was strung out and overtired. It took almost two hours for everyone to decide that they didn't plan on staying out late. When JG finally had everyone back in his cruiser cum taxi, the nurse doctor went home first. She was half asleep already. Merry got teased for taking her up to her apartment and seeing her in, even though she was back in what seemed like record time. More teasing followed though.

   "So. Did Panic get teased like this? When he was in the club last time?"

   Speedy about guffawed.

   "It was merciless, trust me. I think it went on like two whole days and then some. Now, mind you we were all living in the same house at the time, so… we're talking non stop."

   "And, what was the best one you guys got in…"

   Speedy had to recount in his head while Panic giggled.

   "Pretty sure the big one? Blue comes home with some junk store shiny cheap metal tray. He says, we should make him breakfast in bed… but, you know… a fag-o-lito breakfast."

   Panic piped up good natured.

   "Just pointing out? I have no idea, and these two were claiming intimate knowledge of what gay men eat for breakfast. I question how they know this? I question how one comes by such knowledge. That's all I'm saying."

   Speedy would have none of it.

   "Oh come on now. He had a lunch date with a gay man. No way that was going to fly without we had fun with him."

   "I got stood up."

   "And I scared the ever loving shit out of that poor counter worker, trying to get video of whoever left you the envelope. You did leave him a tip, right?"

   "Oh yeah. Poor guy."

   "JG? Before I forget. Good call on the Doc, making sure she stays quiet. Honestly? I probably would have thought that was fine to say too. People know we were there. You're right, though."

   "I don't care who's right? I just want every chance I can get."

   Panic couldn't help himself.

   "I couldn't really see her bouncing the bitchy girl, from where I was sitting. Did she do all right?"

   Speedy giggled.

   "Oh. She dragged her out, and threw her in the elevator. She went to push her back? She kinda shoved her, and kicked her feet out from under her…"

   "Oh. Cool. I taught her that one."

   JG chimed in.

   "I still can't believe, we were worried about what the two take home plates were going to look like?"

   "Yeah. That was funny. The guy had trouble explaining you took all of it home with you."

   They had a sizable stack of what looked like extra tough and thick pizza boxes, lined with wax paper. The leftover tilapia fillets, the prime rib, and a cacophony of shrimp dishes and casserole. Mike and the victim couldn't really believe how much food they brought home with them. Unlike regular rooms in the hospital, the more expensive private rooms had less importantly bigger and better televisions, and more importantly little refrigerators and counter-tops installed in a corner cubbyhole. Both rooms began portioning out the seemingly near gourmet food, lest it go to waste.

   Finally back in their room and getting nestled in, Merry asked for the umpteenth time how his head was doing.

   "Still hurts."

   "Not what I mean."

   "It hurts a little less every day and night."

   "So, now you get daily improvement."

   "Yeah."

   "Good."

   He sidled up to her in the bed they were in, and dropped his left hand to drape over her hip.

   "Thank you again for my little show, hun."

   "You're welcome. Do you understand that you're never going to get a… real show?"

   "Of course. I just wish I wasn't hurt, and I could've enjoyed it more."

   "Yes. Well. As luck would have it, you might get your wish. I promised her if she kept it a secret, and we ended up having a Bobby party to announce it? I have to escort her to it."

   "I heard. Do I get basically a rerun of this one?"

   "Sure. Maybe minus the simple assault."

   "Pity. That's the part where I get all hot and bothered."

   "You didn't like when I bit her neck for you?"

   "That or all the tickling. Question…"

   "Yes dear…"

   "Can I get a… cellphone recording of the next one? For… research purposes, and all. I mean, you should document science, you know?"

   "Hmm. I suppose. You want the science girl glasses next time, too?"

   He scraped his head up and down against the back of her shoulder, then spoke into it.

   "She really likes you."

   "You noticed."

   "I did. She kinda reminded me of you. Hugging me."

   "Please tell me I don't get that silly look on my face…"

   Panic thought about it briefly.

   "Maybe a little."

   Merry giggled suddenly.

   "What?"

   "Nothing."

   "What?"

   Merry chuckled.

   "When I tickled her and bit her neck? Reminded me of you. Pulling and squealing, but not really trying to get away."

   "Touche. I can see I better watch my step with you, now that I know goddamn doctors are gonna throw themselves on the ground in front of you, and start kicking their legs in the air."

   "Are you jealous? A little bit of jealousy, is kinda cute. And don't worry, I was only teasing. Talking about you having a handsome twinky guy sit on your lap. I was only kidding."

   "Well? That's a relief. I was wondering what I had to do, to get out of that one…"

   "For the record? All straight girls that hang out together, make lesbian jokes. I've seen you guys do it too. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

   "Sure. Rob? Does a mean little flapping wrist dance. It's hysterical."

   "Right. To a psychologist or a sociologist? It's a little in group behavior. You all share something to mark yourselves as a safe group. Girls do the same thing. But… somehow it's different for girls. Two girls, can make eyes at each other, and pretend to hug, like they're just about to kiss. To tease the guys at the party, and the girls teasing each other."

   "I've seen girls kiss, at parties…"

   "Are you sure? Or… did you really see two girls hugging and giving each other eye contact, then they turned around and you saw their heads wiggling. No one else can see that their lips are like a half inch apart."

   "Oh. Maybe that was what I saw. I didn't know I had to check on the measurements."

   "So… that's why I was able to get through that, and pull it off for your benefit. And no, I don't expect you to reciprocate."

   "Good. Honestly? I don't know if I could talk Little Robbie into letting me sit on his lap and snuggle with him for a joke. And as far as Little Robbie sitting on my lap? Come on, there's physics and geometry involved, that says that ain't gonna work…"

   Merry giggled again, in their easy soft talk while falling asleep slowly.

   "The girls that play basketball? They have a party move that's called the 2 on 1. At least that's what we called it."

   "Sounds… fun."

   "Hmm. Not like you think. One girl is having trouble closing the deal on some guy. At a party? Two girls come up to him, and start hanging on him. Next thing the guy knows? The other girl is long gone and they don't realize it until the girl's making out with him like she wanted."

   "Sneaky. So. Maybe get outta this hotel tomorrow?"

   "Sounds like…"

   They were falling asleep, and both well into the twilight crossing over… when Panic's cell beeped. Then, it beeped again. He made a mild groaning noise, and stuck an arm out and retrieved the offending digital device. Speedy. Then Mike. It beeped in his hand, as JG did one as well. The short texts were all the same and all slightly different at the same time.

    Different texts added their own twist on the same basic theme. All indicated that the "dots" had swarmed an area, and left a drowning victim behind. A couple more texts back and forth established there wasn't anything they could do, other than get the scene worked. Apparently Senior was coordinating with Mike and handling it. But dots on the screen had the field techs looking shortly after they dispersed. A 3 day floater yields little, while a 3 hour floater has the potential to give up a lot more, evidence wise.

   Merry asked what was going on.

   "Oh, just Elvis Incorporated. They held another late night financial meeting."

   "Another poor college student…"

   "Actually, it's usually a rich college student. But I know what you mean."

   "Where did it happen?"

   "New York. You get out of New York City, Albany and a few other places? They got a lot of sticks. Small town, out on the side roads. Small, private college nearby."

   Merry was quiet for a little bit.

   "What goes on now?"

   "We're waiting. They worked their way up the east coat, headed north. They came through. They kinda dispersed out in the north. We figure, they work the north, until the weather gets too winter. Then? Makes sense they come together and work their way back down the coast."

   "What are you waiting for now? You got dots on the map. Go pop the dots."

   "Strategy. Imagine you and your… college girl sports team, all had cell phones and were out on some… mission of some kind."

   "Okay…"

   "Now, imagine all of a sudden… one of you quits answering the phone. Then? Another one. After a couple? It's kinda obvious you're being hunted. Figure they'd split up and run in separate directions. Go underground. Maybe wise up and ditch cell phones… ditch vehicles… that's bad."

   "So, what's good then."

   "Sadly? Waiting. Get more dots together in one place at one time. Remember… we have two areas wired for video. They came through my University, but… they went to Pittsburgh and the South Side to make a score. That University, averages one every other year or so. They're due this year. I'm betting? They head back through on their way back down south. Easier to get them where we know the terrain and we have video."

   "What stops Elvis up north in the winter? The colder it is out, the less likely you run into anyone."

   "Yeah. But there's downsides. Rain covers your tracks, literally, all the way around. You get into snow? That leaves evidence preserved and footprints to follow, sometimes for days. Also? The classic signature for this crime, is drowning someone. Hard to drown someone when there's ice everywhere. Snow and ice, chase Elvis and company back down south. Until they go back home, and roost up again."

   "You're thinking the University, is the hot spot."

   "I asked JG to look it up. Speedy confirmed it. The two recent we look at from the University? One was early for winter, and the other was late for winter. Thinking…"

   Merry finished for him.

   "One was performed going up, the other was performed on the way back down."

   "Yeah. It's an educated guess. Then when you go and look at the areas in between? You see some are early winter, and some are late winter. JG fooled around, and showed that if you make lines between suspected drownings, with dates and times? It's similar to their recorded travel movements."

   "What if you miss them?"

   "The fail safe, is we know where they're headed in the end. Back to their house. We can set up there and take them coming in. We have other addresses, off of those cars. The cell phones link to those locations, too. One way or the other, this ends this winter. Maybe sooner? Maybe later. But… it ends."

   "My trials will eventually both end. I can't wait for things to calm down."

   "Me neither, honey. When it's all over? What are you gonna do first."

   "I honestly haven't thought about it. I just wanna get there? I'll worry about it then."

   "Didn't anything I suggested, tickle your fancy?"

   "Well. Yeah."

   "Which one…"

   "The… marble racquetball court idea. In that picture from the bank."

   "You want to find girls to play full contact racquetball with again."

   "And the tanning bed? Don't forget the tanning bed. You said, you could wire up any tanning bed from scratch for next to nothing."

   "I can. It's honestly? Just a giant light fixture, that's all. I just wire a bunch of lights up, to 110. It's busy work. It's really just a light fixture on steroids. You buy special light bulbs. Big whoop."

   "Well. I'm imagining having my own marble racquetball court. The tanning bed. The racquetball girls? Are gonna go crazy. You'll get sick of us, I just know it."

   Panic laughed softly, slurring muffled guffaws into her shoulder.

   "I'm allowed to watch, right?"

   "Yes. If I'm there? You can watch all you want. No penalty incurred."

   "If you girls can pay the electric bill? I'll give you the sauna heat you work out in."

   "Oh. Yeah. That's the main thing to a private racquetball club. 10 or 20 bucks a month, per head. Nothing really. That pays the electric bill. The place I took you to? I'm pretty sure we paid the electric bill for the whole wing of that building, that no one was using anyways."

   "How do you know?"

   "We saw light coming in under a door there. We got it open? There's a couple hallways, of abandoned rooms. Some of them, the ones close to us? Have the electric on."

   "And what are these rooms used for?"

   "Nothing. Anything you wanted, I guess. It's abandoned. That's where small, private racquetball clubs come from."

   "Can I record the games, and archive them on a website? For people to watch."

   "I'd have to check with what the other girls thought about it, but, I'm guessing it would be okay. Why?"

   "The truth?"

   "Why not the truth…"

   "Okay. I know I get half a chubby watching the girls sweating, playing sports? I'm wondering how many other guys just like watching too. And if you make it free… I just wonder how many… clicks… I could get."

   "Clicks. Views."

   "Yeah. If you can generate millions of clicks? You can get thousands of dollars for it."

   "I'm not sure me and the racquetball girls are millions of clicks material, hun."

   "Well? If you get a couple thousand, the 20 bucks goes to the electric bill, I guess. Anything over the electric bill and the internet overhead? I don't lay any claim to. That would be your profit, I figure. I got my own gun shop coming, I'm happy. If you can get something out of the tanning beds, or the racquetball club? Go for it."

   "You said we get animals…"

   "Yes, honey. We get animals. In fact we already have one cat. We actually have two cats? But he's safe at home. Once we're settled in? Chickens, obviously."

   "For eggs."

   "For free eggs. You free range them during the day. They run around everywhere. At night, they come home to roost up. You lock them in their cage they come home to. To protect them from being eaten at night."

   "Free range…"

   "They find their own food. It's free. Yeah, it's all organic and shit. You also get, naturally… free chicken soup from fallen comrades. Or you can buy meat chicken babies, and raise so many yourself. Then butcher them. When you can free range them? It's free food. Water and done, and you put a little feed out in their roost, nothing major."

   "Sounds easy."

   "It is, once it's all done and rolling."

   "Are chickens… I don't know… nice?"

   "Like people. You got a couple of pure assholes. A couple of sweetie pies, and a whole bunch everywhere in between. Now. Out of every so many chickens? You get this one, smart, friendly chicken. It likes humans, it plays with children and pets. These are the chickens that you see little videos of them hugging humans, and chickens riding on golf carts. I've seen this with my own eyes."

   "So. You get a few… special chickens."

   "Yeah. I pull them out? They get their own small home to themselves. More attention. More table scraps. I want them to breed. I get a smart, friendly, rooster? We're in business."

   "You said you want a goat."

   "Yeah. They're like big dogs, really. I swear, if you meet a friendly pygmy goat? You'll want one. They're easy to take care of, and they sell for a couple hundred bucks each, all grown up."

   "Special.. goats?"

   "Definitely. Asshole goats? Well. They're kinda on the menu. Special smart, friendly goats? Whole other story."

   "Do goats really eat the grass, as advertised?"

   Panic chuckled.

   "Buddy tried this. They were getting a pygmy goat anyways, and they figured he would help keep the grass mowed."

   "Did he?"

   "Not so much. He wanted the weeds on the edge of the yards, the ivy and jungle growth, the thorn bushes. Ate pretty much everything except the grass, from what I recall."

   "Was he a nice goat?"

   "Oh yeah. Followed you around like a dog would. Rubbed on you, wanted hugs, gave you little goat kisses."

   "Did he get treats?"

   "Christ's throne, yes, he got treats. His mom's giving this thing leftover salad, leftover dinner, I watched the thing get a piece of leftover apple pie once. Trust me, this thing wasn't starving."

   "What was his name…"

   "Baxter. His name, was Baxter."

   "What happened to him? Everything you said about him, was past tense."

   "Oh. Baxter passing? Was a complete fiasco."

   "Why?"

   "Don't know what he died from. He had a special insulated winter goat house, he was just sick. Middle of a cold snap in winter, though. One morning? Poor Baxter is just frozen stiff in his curled up sleeping position. Wouldn't thaw, and we couldn't dig… for weeks. There's this.. freeze dried, for lack of a better word… goat. Looks alive. Can't bury him in the cold snap. We felt bad."

   "You finally buried him, though."

   "Uh… not like we planned, we didn't. Poor Baxter? He kinda got, like… a burial at sea, kind of."

   "Huh?"

   "Before the thaw came, we could bury him. There was a winter flood. The ground's frozen, can't soak up any water. Bad water and ice flood. Baxter's family? Lived on a creek that floods the yard sometimes. Bad ice and water flood comes through in the middle of the cold snap? Carries his freeze dried body away."

   "Where do you suppose he ended up?"

   "Well. Where would me and you have ended up? Going through, or trying to go through… the locks or the spillway or over the wall. Apparently, Baxter floated. I didn't know a freeze dried goat floats? But… you live and learn, by experience. Freeze dried goats float. You see, the creek floods? They redistribute stuff. Not only does your shit wash away out the back yard every time? When the water goes down out the yard, you find random other people's shit in your yard, from upstream of you. I mean… Baxter could theoretically have floated up into some family's yard, and they found him sitting there the next morning, for all we know."

   "It's a little funny, but, poor Baxter. But… he sounds more like a backyard dog pet, than a farm animal."

   "Pygmy goats, are pets now. No one meat goats them, unless they're little assholes. You breed a race of cute, friendly goats, and they can feed themselves except for winter? Yeah. You get the herd as big as you can, and you cash out. Everyone's buying them as mainly pets or to breed them. You can feel good doing it. Now… the meat goats, on the other hand…"

   "They're… on the menu."

   "They are. Now don't get me wrong. Any super smart, friendly meat goats? Yeah, we separate and you can keep the nice friendly ones, to try breeding them."

   "And they make money."

   "Do you care if they make money?"

   "Not really, now that you bring it up."

   "Right. It's basically free meat, year round. Once you've tried goat chops? You'll see what I mean."

   "Why not do cows then…"

   "Cows make a lot more money. For meat especially. But, you need way more stuff, and it costs more. Everything you have to do or buy? It's bigger and more expensive and harder to work with. Not to mention. I can wrestle a male meat goat to the ground with a bad attitude. I can't say the same about a cow or a bull, that can kill you. Figure an acre per cow, minimum, and that's under the best conditions. You can put a lot of goats on that one acre."

   "No free milk though."

   "I admit, cow milk is wonderful. But, what are we gonna do with 5 gallons of milk every day."

   "Is that how much they make?"

   "Yeah. Goats? If we want some, we can get some."

   "You drank goats milk?"

   "A dairy goat. Yeah. Had it in my coffee. Someone said if you like cottage cheese? The goat cottage cheese was good. But yeah. I was around someone that had extra goats milk, and I was putting it in my coffee. I never tried it on my cereal yet. Another guy said you can make the goat version of mozzarella at home? And it's pretty good.

   "I don't have any idea what I'm doing with goats, honey. Or chickens, for that matter."

   "You'll make a great goat mommy, I'm sure of it."

   "Hmm. What does a goat mom do."

   "Well. The young goats? We get this big bag of dry powder. You mix it with water, and you give them a bottle. How hard is that? Then the goats just love you. They'll come running any time they hear your voice."

   "Can we try it the first time, with just one goat? See if I even like the damn things."

   "Yeah, sure. Well… two of them. That way they have company."

   "Two baby goats?"

   "You'll be the proud goat mommy, of two cute little goats."

   "Are you going to help bottle feed the babies with me? Or is that… woman's work."

   "Hey. My mom and dad raised me. Now, my mom? Made sure I knew how to wash a load of dirty jeans and T shirts. Made sure I knew how to make a cheeseburger myself. We all washed and dried dishes in our house, even after we got a dishwasher. Have I ever once asked you to wash the dishes, wash the clothes, cook the food? Not did you, but… did I ever ask you to?"

   "Hmm. No. I don't think so."

   "Because I normally do all those things for myself and my cat."

   "So you're going to help with bottle feeding two goat babies, then."

   "Have you seen me with dogs and cats? When they're little, I hold the baby goat like a human baby, and give it the bottle. Then rub the tummy and burp it. Give snuggles."

   "I can see I'll have my work cut out for me. Trying to get the goats to like their Mommy. Because Daddy is spoiling them rotten."

   Panic chuckled.

   "Aren't you supposed to be tired?"

   "I am. I just like hearing this stuff."

   "Honestly? Goats… the bedtime story…"

   "Yes. You can do the chickens, tomorrow night."

   "Okay. Go to sleep."