Marty woke himself up screaming. Jerking awake, he gasped for air, his heart pounding and the pain in his chest back as bad as it had ever been. Even as he tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks, he registered the sound of the door opening and someone hurrying inside. Drawing jagged breaths and trying to force his panic under control, Marty looked up to see Doctor Lindsay Knight hurrying inside.

"I was passing by," she began, "and- oh, Marty, what's wrong?" She was startled to see the young boy all alone- it had seemed that since he had been brought in, either a nurse or Doctor McKenzie had been at his side. "What happened?" she asked. "Was it- do you need more painkillers?"

Shakily, Marty shook his head. "N-no, Miss," he whispered uneasily, eying her with a wary gaze. He wondered if she was going to start asking him questions again, or whether she'd just leave him alone for the time being. *What difference does it make?* he thought suddenly, his blood running cold. *You've already told them everything they need to know, remember? Dad's already going to kill you. Nothing matters anymore.* The panic engulfed Marty again at this idea, and his breath grew shallow as he tried not to tremble.

"What happened?" Lindsay's voice was very low, and she tried as hard as she could to be completely threatless. She wanted to take Marty into her arms and give him a hug, swear to him that everything would work out, but that was impossible. Even if she could promise such a thing, there was probably no way that the boy would let her anywhere near him, not after what had happened last time.

There was a long pause before Marty managed to calm himself enough to try and answer. "A- dream, Miss," he murmured, swallowing hard and looking away. "I had a d-d-dream that- it w-woke me up...."

*Nightmares,* Knight thought, aching for him. *Of course he'd be having nightmares- who wouldn't?* "Do you remember what you dreamed about?" she asked softly, not altogether shocked when Marty flinched.

"No," he answered quietly, "I... I don't, Miss."

Lindsay nodded, unsurprised at his answer. It wasn't uncommon for children in Marty's situation to experience night terrors, and the hospital personnel had fully expected for the McManus boy to have such problems. Several staff members had commented that they had anticipated the issue of nightmares or worse arising sooner than it had, considering that Marty had managed to garner some sleep that, despite the discomfort caused by his injuries, appeared to have been free of demons. "That's okay," she answered. "A lot of people don't remember nightmares after they wake up. If it comes back to you and... and you want to talk, let Doctor McKenzie or me know, okay?"

Marty nodded slightly. "Yes, Miss." He still wouldn't quite make eye contact with her, and there was a long moment of silence. Marty nervously twisted his hands in his lap before suddenly whispering, "What... what's going to happen to m-me, Miss?"

"I'm not sure, Marty," Linsdsay answered honestly. "It's.... You haven't been here very long, only a couple of days now. Things like this take some time to figure out."

"They're going to send me back." Marty's gaze was bleak as he looked over at the doctor, adding, "They always send me back."

"No." Lindsay shook her head vehemently, appalled at the way the system had failed this boy, and not just once from the sound of things. "You're not going back to your father, Marty, I promise you. He's gone now, he can't do anything to you." Marty nodded, but it was obvious that he didn't believe a word of it. "Really," Knight pressed, wracking her brain for a way to convince him that she wasn't lying, "I wouldn't tell you that unless I were sure. Neither would Doctor McKenzie."

"What, then, Miss?" Marty asked softly, surprising Lindsay with how talkative he seemed to be. "Where.... What'll they... do with me?" He had almost said "to me," but stopped himself just in time.

"Well," Knight began slowly, "they'll see if they can find some relatives first, family who can take care of you."

"If... if they don't?" They wouldn't find anyone, Marty knew that. He didn't think he had any relatives, anyway- he'd never heard his father mention any, and even if they did, they had to know how wicked he was. No one that knew anything about him would take him in, Marty was sure of that. How many times had Da said he'd as soon leave him somewhere where he could never find his way home as deal with his shite anymore? Countless times, and that was Da; Marty knew the only reason it hadn't happened was because Da was his flesh and blood, and besides, Marty thought, *I had to pay for what I did.* A faint shudder rippled its way through him at this, jostling his injuries and making him grimace.

Lindsay hesitated at this question, uncertain of how wise it was to tell him the truth of what would happen if no blood relatives could be found to take him in. *He's going to find out sooner or later,* she decided after a moment. *You might as well give him some time to get used to the idea, and God knows that no one else is bothering to tell him anything.* "It's... complicated," she said deliberately. "A lot of... legal things, but.... What would probably happen is that you'd be under the care of Federation Child Services."

Marty paled at this piece of information and shook his head fearfully. "I- I don't want t-to go to them, M-miss," he blurted, quickly silencing himself. The idea was truly a horrific one, though- left to the mercy of people like that Mr. Richards? They'd be just as awful as Da was, maybe even worse.

"Shhh," Lindsay murmured, "it's okay. That might not happen, Marty, it's very possible that they'll find some of your relatives."

"No," Marty murmured dismally with a slight shake of the head. "No, they... they w-won't want me."

"Don't say that," the doctor answered quickly. "Of course they'll want to help."

Marty shrugged slightly, unwilling to disagree with an adult (he knew what happened to him when he did that, and it wasn't pleasant), but he didn't believe a word of it. He knew what would happen even if, by some miracle, a relative was found and agreed to take him in. They'd find out at once how awful he was, what a wicked boy he was... what he had done. As soon as that happened, they'd throw him out faster than anything, and it would be over. He'd be packed up and sent away again, probably to Federation Child Services, since no one else would ever have him. *It doesn't matter,* Marty tried to tell himself. *It's going to end the same either way.*

Knight opened her mouth to try and say something, anything that would reassure him, but before she could think of much that would fit that description, the door opened, cutting her off. Turning, she was surprised to see McKenzie standing there. "John- I thought you were going home?" she asked, puzzled.

McKenzie shook his head in response, simultaneously shooting Lindsay a look that said not to ask too many questions. "Linds, could you step outside for a second? Something's come up."

Lindsay looked even more confused at this, but she knew better than to ask in front of Marty, simply nodding. Pausing, she smiled down at the boy and said, "I'll be back a little later- you try and get some rest, okay?"

Marty nodded absently, far more focused now on what was passing between the two doctors than he was on the almost-conversation that he and Doctor Knight had been holding. There was clearly something afoot, and while Marty had no way to be sure, he strongly suspected that it had to do with him. He didn't dare ask about it, though, and simply remained silent, watching with alert blue eyes as the two doctors stepped out of the room.

"What is it?" Lindsay asked as soon as she heard the door to Marty's room close behind her. "What's wrong?" She knew without asking that whatever it was, it was something relating to the young boy, but the young doctor was almost afraid to ask just what had happened. It was all so unfair, she thought; he'd suffered enough for someone three times his age, and it just didn't seem right for things to keep going wrong this way.

"I... don't know that there's anything *wrong,* exactly," McKenzie answered, wearing an uncertain expression. "It's- they've found some relatives of Marty's."

"They have?" Lindsay was shocked. Despite what she had just been telling Marty, she hadn't been especially hopeful of finding relatives at all, let alone any willing to take him in on such short notice. "And are they... willing to...?"

"We're not entirely sure. It's not a... typical situation." John spoke as though he were only just trying to sort out the full story himself, and it gave Lindsay pause.

"How so?" she asked, uncertain of whether she really wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, it seems that the relatives they've found are on Marty's mother's side- the mother's sister and brother-in-law- they haven't had any contact at all with him practically since he was born." *Not surprising,* John thought bitterly, *considering his dad was beating the hell out of him on a regular basis. Letting the relatives visit wouldn't be one of my priorities, either, if I were him.* Trying to shrug the thoughts off, he continued, "Marty's mother was Polish, and that's where her family is."

"Poland? That will be a change for him," Lindsay mused thoughtfully. "Are they willing to come and see him, at least?"

"They *sounded* receptive, but.... Well, I just wonder if they fully understand how damaged Marty could be as a result of everything that's happened. It would be worse for him to live with these people for any real length of time only to be abandoned again than it would be to just put him with Child Services to begin with."

"So they're on their way?"

John shook his head. "No, not yet- this is the oddest part so far. Apparently, the mother's side of the family are Jewish, quite observant at that, and they can't travel now, because it's the Sabbath. The uncle- Ephraim, his name is- he said they'd be on the first transport out tomorrow evening to come and see him, so that's something."

"It is," Lindsay nodded, smiling in relief. While nothing was at all certain, at least this cleared one big hurdle, and the fact that the relatives hadn't flat out refused was a good sign.

"They sounded like good, caring people," John murmured, almost to himself. "I got the impression that they'd make a good home for him- I just hope they come to the same conclusion." He wasn't sure of what he would do if no one could be found to take Marty in; the idea of releasing him into the system seemed almost criminal, but if there was no other choice....

"I don't see how they could decide anything else," Lindsay put in firmly, cutting in on McKenzie's thoughts. "After all, could *you* look at him, knowing what you could give him, and refuse to do anything?" When John shook his head, looking contemplative, she smiled. "Of course not, and neither will they, not if they've got a heart between them."

Restlessly, John tried not to think of it; he was liable to work himself into a state more anxious than Marty's if he wasn't careful, and that wouldn't do anyone any good at all. "Marty," he began, trying to shift his concerns about the relatives over to the boy, "is he...?"

"He's probably resting," Lindsay replied quietly. "He... was worrying earlier, that we wouldn't find anyone to take him in. He kept saying that no one would ever want him; he was so sure that we'd send him back to his father...."

"I'm not surprised," McKenzie answered bleakly, shaking his head. "You've seen the boy's file; he was in and out of this hospital a hundred times, no one did a single thing for him, and that's just us! His father was probably taking him to every hospital in town, and not one person helped him. I'd plan on getting sent back to Hell too, if I were Marty."

"It'll work out," Lindsay answered, still forcing herself to maintain some degree of hope. "Marty's earned a happy ending." Reaching out, she placed a supportive hand on John's shoulder before leaving him to go and work on some charts that were waiting.

McKenzie watched after Lindsay for a long moment, trying to stir up a more positive outlook, if only for Marty's sake. He was in enough of a state as it was; having every adult he came in contact with act as though it was true that no one would want him would hardly help. "It better work out," he muttered after several seconds. "If there's any fairness at all in the world, it had damn well better work out." Mentally crossing his fingers, John also left, hoping to at least begin the paperwork involved in case the best happened and Marty's relatives found a place for him in a functional home. Lindsay was right; Marty *had* earned it, and McKenzie hoped against hope that it would work out.

The next morning, McKenzie showed up for work looking exhausted. He hadn't slept well the night before, plagued by visions of Marty and what could be awaiting him if these long-lost Polish relatives didn't work out. Regardless of what could happen, though, it remained that Marty needed to be prepared for their impending arrival, have things explained to him, at least to some degree.

After checking with the nurses and making sure that Marty was awake and had eaten something, John quietly entered the boy's room, uncertain as always of what he would find there. The door opened to reveal Marty lying quietly in his bed, not asleep but not occupied with anything, either. One of the nurses had left some children's books for him to look at after he finished his breakfast, but it didn't appear that they had been moved from where they were placed on the nightstand near his bed. The young boy startled when McKenzie entered his room, a pained grimace chasing itself across his face as he jostled his injuries.

"Easy, Marty," John soothed, "it's just me. How're you feeling today?"

"F-fine, sir," Marty murmured, looking anxious as his mind already began leaping ahead, trying to figure out what was going on, why McKenzie was there. *What did I do?* he thought frantically. *There must be something- I'm in trouble again....*

"I've got some news for you," John said quietly, pulling a stool over to sit at the side of Marty's bed. "We found some relatives of yours- an aunt and uncle."

For the briefest moment, Marty looked almost happy, but his features clouded over a split second later. "They won't want me," he whispered, looking away.

"No, Marty, that isn't true," John protested, shaking his head. "They want to meet you- they haven't seen you since you were a baby."

Marty flicked an unconvinced gaze toward the doctor, shrugging slightly. He was certain that none of this would come to anything- all that his relatives wanting to meet him meant was that they'd find out what a horrible boy he was. They wouldn't have anything to do with him after that, Marty was absolutely sure of it. Despite that, he couldn't help but be a little curious about these people- he hadn't thought he had any relatives at all. "Who- are th-they, sir?" he asked softly, after taking several moments to muster up the courage he needed to say anything.

"Well," John began, "they're your mother's sister and her husband- Genia and Ephraim, their names are." He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach telling Marty the rest of what he knew of the relatives. Deciding that the best way was to simply say it, he continued, "They... they don't live in Ireland, Marty." Pausing for a second, the doctor asked, "Do... do you know anything about where your mother and her family were- are from?"

Mutely, Marty shook his head, looking upset. He was afraid of where this was going, afraid of what he might say if the talk continued in this direction. Marty's father hated for him to talk about his mother- the few times that Marty had stirred up the boldness to ask about her, what had happened after had been the stuff of nightmares.... The small boy shuddered to think of it, clearly recalling the trip to the hospital afterwards; he had told them he'd fallen down the stairs, that time. Not long after, Da had told Marty that he was never to speak of his mother, never breathe a word about her, unless it was to apologize for killing her, and Marty had never asked about her again. He was afraid to talk about her now, terrified that Da would find out, even after everyone had promised him that he was locked up far away from here.

At Marty's silence, it was all that John could do to keep from shaking his head in despair. He couldn't begin to imagine what it was to grow up knowing next to nothing about your own mother, and he wasn't sure of what to say. Finally, he just continued with the matter at hand; he was well aware that this boy had a laundry list of problems, and there just wasn't time now to address every single one of them. "She was Polish, Marty," he said quietly, watching carefully for the boy's reaction.

Marty blinked at that, surprised. He had been expecting Doctor McKenzie to say any one of a number of things about his mother, but that hadn't been one of them. "Are- are the people from...?" he asked hesitatingly, trailing off and not finishing his question.

"That's right," John nodded, smiling slightly. "A small town, they said- out in the country. Your uncle has a farm there."

"A- farm, sir?" Marty repeated, looking vaguely confused. A few minutes before, he had been ignorant of these people's very existence, and now he was being told that they were Polish and had a farm? From where Marty sat, it was all too surreal to be believed. *Not that it matters,* he thought agitatedly, dropping his gaze. *They won't want you- *nobody* wants you, you know that.*

"Uh huh." McKenzie nodded again, trying to smile reassuringly. He could sense that Marty didn't really believe that he had a chance of these people taking him in, and though John was doubtful himself, he couldn't risk letting the boy notice. "There's something else you should know about them," he added quietly.

Marty didn't say anything, only flicked a dull, hopeless gaze up toward the doctor, deciding that this was probably what he had been waiting for; now McKenzie was going to break the news that while these people did want to see him, there was no way they could possibly take him in for any real length of time. But that wasn't what Doctor McKenzie said at all. Instead, he explained, "Marty, they're Jewish."

Marty stared. "Wh-what?" he stammered, completely taken aback. This had to be some sort of bizarre dream- there was no other explanation for it- no *logical one, anyway. "But- they can't-" he stuttered, not entirely sure of what to say. "I thought- Da's C-catholic and- and...." Trailing off uncertainly, Marty sagged back against his pillows, feeling completely drained and thoroughly disoriented.

"Well," John began, seeking to clear up some of Marty's obvious bewilderment, "your father probably is Catholic." He held back a scowl at this, thinking that anyone who did to their own child what Marty McManus' father had probably didn't need to be claimed by *any* religion, but said nothing on that, only, "Your aunt and uncle, though, say that your mum was Jewish."

"Sir, am... am I J-jewish?" The words left Marty as a faint whisper, and the young boy scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand, looking the picture of confusion. He wasn't sure at all of how to take this or how he felt; it was all so sudden, so unexpected, and he just didn't know....

"Marty?" McKenzie quietly cut in on Marty's thoughts, sounding concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yessir," Marty answered in a quiet tone, "I'm fine." He hesitated, then repeated his original question. "Am- am I Jewish, sir?"

"I think that would be something to ask your aunt and uncle, Marty," John replied seriously. "They'll be here in a few hours- you can ask them about it then."

Marty nodded, but he looked anxious. He wasn't sure he *could* ask his aunt and uncle when they got there- he knew what Da had told him over and over about asking questions, sticking his nose in things that weren't any of his business. He didn't want to make his relatives angry; even as his common sense told him that they would never, ever want anything to do with him, a part of Marty couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe they would *like* him. He didn't think that was possible, though, not really. They would hate him, the same way everyone else did.

John watched his patient for a long moment, then shook his head slightly. He wanted this to work, wanted desperately for Marty to have the happy ending he deserved, but it would have been a lie to say that he was very hopeful. The odds of two people who were essentially strangers meeting Marty and suddenly deciding that they were ready to take care of a young child were very, very slim, and McKenzie knew it. "It'll work out in the end, Marty," he said softly. "I'm sure of it."

Marty tried to smile, wanted to believe what McKenzie was telling him, but the forced half-smile was about as far as he could get. John sensed that nothing he said at this point was really going to help anything, and with a faint sigh he said, "I have to go run some charts- why don't you try to get some rest before your relatives get here?" As expected, Marty answered with a silent nod, obediently lying back and closing his eyes, but he still looked almost as tense and hunted as when he he had been brought in. *It's a sin,* McKenzie thought as he quietly left the room, *a real sin.*