"Try not to tense your jaw like that. It only makes it harder."

Trent sighed in exasperation. "Sorry, it’s hard not to flinch when someone is digging shards of glass out of your face." His characteristic patience was gone.

"You are a very lucky man, Mr. Malloy," the nurse said as she irrigated the wound beside his eye with saline.

"Yeah, real lucky."

"No, I mean it. Another 2 centimeters over and you would have lost your eye. Now, you’ll just have a slight scar."

"Can we just finish this up?" Again his irritation was showing through.

"I just need to give you stitches and we’ll be done." Deanna reached behind her chair for the suture kit. She knew she had seen his face before but she couldn’t place it. Finally she asked. "I think I’ve seen you before, Mr. Malloy, but I can’t remember where."

Trent stared straight ahead, his voice hard. "You looked after my wife in the ICU before she died." He took a breath. "Or maybe you saw my face in the paper when I was charged with first-degree murder." A look of horror and sadness came across Deanna’s face. Trent knew she was only trying to be kind and he also knew he had hurt her. Normally, he wouldn’t be that cruel but now it didn’t matter. He was angry. Angry that he had been shot at, angry that he was no further in his search for Carlos. And angry that the possibility that Carlos was dead was looming large.

A silence descended over the treatment room as Deanna continued with the stitches and Trent became lost in his thoughts. Ryan broke the silence.

"Malloy? You okay to talk?" Ryan looked at the nurse for approval.

"He just needs these last few stitches and then he can go," Deanna murmured.

"What happened?" Ryan asked.

"Someone tried to blow my head off, Ryan," Trent replied icily. "Fortunately, I dropped my keys and bent to get them. The bullet just creased the top of my head."

Silence once again descended before Ryan spoke again. "Guess that gives us a clue what happened to Carlos."

"Yeah."

"We’ve impounded your car and there is a shell casing. Can you think who might want to do this?"

"One name comes to mind…Roger Peterson."

"Your wife’s ex-husband? I can’t believe they never caught him," Ryan muttered.

"Never did. You might want to put a guard on Sarah. If it is Roger she would definitely be the next target after Carlos and I."

"Would he go after Carlos? I thought his beef was with you."

"Yeah. But Carlos beat the shit out of him up in Canada when he was threatening Sarah. Carlos and Sarah put Roger in jail."

"Okay, but I want you to think about other possibilities. What were you and Sandoval working on?"

"Divorces mostly. Nothing particularly serious."

"I’m going to have to talk to the Captain about this. He ordered me off the Sandoval case but I think this calls for some further investigating. I just wish we could find any kind of witness that might have been by the highway or even out on the river a couple of days ago."

Neither man noticed Deanna listening intently. She knew someone who was out on the river almost daily. She shook her head. Let the asshole figure it out himself, she thought.

"There. All done," she said as she finished the stitches.

As she turned away, a hand grabbed hers. Turning back she saw it was Trent. "Look," he said. "I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I just get a little angry when people shoot at me and maybe even kill my partner. Thanks for the stitches and sorry for being an asshole."

Looking at him she hesitated. Finally she told him. "I have a friend named Gwen Gilmour who likes to canoe on the river. She goes almost every day because it helps her relax. You might want to talk to her."

Trent’s eye widened. This might just be the break they needed…someone who might have seen something. "Do you know where we can find her?"

"She lives out on Austin Lane, off of the highway. She is on stress leave because her fiancé was killed in a drug bust gone wrong. He was an undercover cop. Please be careful with her."

"Careful?"

"Yeah. She’s had it pretty rough and took Rick’s death pretty hard."

Trent smiled reassuringly. "We will."

As they walked out, Trent turned to Ryan. "I’ll head over to see Sarah, to warn her."

"What about Jess? Has anyone talked to her?" Ryan asked.

"Shit!" Trent realized that Jess had left before him and had no idea what had happened. He had to get to her before someone else did. Ryan read his mind.

"C’mon I’ll drop you off at the university then get a uniform and head out to the sanctuary." Seeing Trent’s relief, Ryan smiled. "Don’t worry. We’ll catch this bastard."

Trent was more serious. "I just hope we’re not too late for Carlos," he muttered as they headed out of the hospital.

**

He had to move. Frustration and anger were threatening to overwhelm him. Gwen had told him she would help him get up when she got back but he couldn’t wait. Lying here just gave him time to think and that was just making him angrier. He had so many jumbled thoughts, he couldn’t make sense of any of them. It was all just beyond his memory’s reach. And then there were the nightmares. It seems his life had been peppered with violence. In his nightmares he had been shot, had seen others shot, and even saw someone have their throat slashed. Was he remembering or were they just dreams? What kind of life had he been leading with so much violence around him? And through it all, there seemed to be one figure. He knew the person was blond but couldn’t put a face to them. He was also unsure if they were friend or foe. God, why can’t I remember? he asked himself. I don’t even know what I look like! He had tried to picture himself in his mind but he couldn’t. Now, he was determined to get up and get to a mirror.

Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed, trying to ignore the bolts of pain radiating from his ribs. He propelled himself up, only to have his legs give way beneath him. As he fell to the floor, a stream of curse words erupted from his lips. It took him a moment to realize they weren’t English.

"Okay, Rick," he muttered through gritted teeth. "It seems you are fluent in Spanish. Let’s just see how strong you are." This time, a little slower, he pulled himself up on the bed, ignoring the pain until finally, he was standing. He steeled himself with a few breaths, ignoring the pain in his chest.

Reaching out, he grabbed the crutch beside his bed and propped it under his good arm. Taking his time, he took small steps, careful never to put his whole weight on his broken ankle. After about 10 minutes he had reached his goal…the bathroom. Looking up, he gazed into the mirror. Nothing was familiar. Not the brown curly hair, not the mocha-coloured eyes, not the Latin features. Frustration finally got the best of him. Screaming like a wounded animal, he swung the crutch, sending shards of glass flying in all directions across the small room.

**

"Yeah, yeah give me a minute." Sarah yelled as she headed towards the door of the office. She had just returned from the bathroom where she had unceremoniously lost her lunch. It had definitely tasted worse the second time. As she opened the door, she was surprised to see Ryan, flanked by a uniformed officer. "Ryan," she said as she opened the door.

"Hi Sarah." Ryan studied her. She looked gaunt and her eyes were lifeless. Despite his feelings for Sandoval, which were not always good, he had always like Sarah and her sister Sam. His cold exterior was melting. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she muttered, seating herself behind her desk, holding her head in her hands. "I think it’s the flu to go along with everything else. Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Did you find anything?" she asked, looking up sharply.

"Sarah," Ryan started. Immediately, she knew something was wrong by his tone.

"Is Trent okay?" she interjected.

"He’s fine," Ryan assured her. "But someone took a shot at him this morning. Luckily, all he got was a face full of glass."

"Luckily?" Sarah yelled.

Ryan held up his hand to calm her down. "The bullet was aimed at his head, Sarah. Glass was lucky."

Sarah nodded, her mind trying to process the meaning of the attack. "Is this what you think happened to Carlos?" she asked quietly. "Someone shot at him and sent him off the road?"

Ryan sat down in front of Sarah. "It is a possibility."

"Then he probably is dead." Her voice was flat.

"We don’t know for sure. The lab boys seem to think there should be more DNA then there was." He stopped to take a breath. "Sarah, Trent seems to think you might be in danger, too."

"Why?" She gazed at Ryan. Before he spoke, he saw the realization in her eyes. "He thinks it might be Roger, doesn’t he?" Sarah had finally gotten the fugitive out of her mind. It had seemed like so long ago he had escaped from a Canadian jail after trying to kill both her and Trent.

Ryan took her hand. "It’s a strong possibility. He was never caught and he definitely has reason to hold a grudge against all of you."

Sarah’s eyes moistened. "I can’t believe all this. I can’t deal with this!" She got up and went to the window, with Ryan following close behind. As her body racked with sobs, Ryan hesitantly turned her around and wrapped his arms around her. Putting her head on his shoulder, she let out all the despair that had built up over the last few days.

**

"Okay, after the break, we will talk about some of the lesser known emotions victims can go through." As people began to close their books, a voice came from the back of the lecture hall.

"Will you be giving us some personal input, Dr. McNamara?" It was the Texas drawl Jessie now knew belonged to a student named Rob.

"Excuse me?" Jessie responded.

"Well, it just seems you would know more first hand about what a victim of violent crime goes through." Jessie felt all eyes turn towards her.

Looking steadily at Rob, she spoke. "This class isn’t about me."

A quiet studious girl in the front row spoke hesitantly. "What happened to you, Dr. Mac?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie saw familiar movement in the hall outside her classroom door. "Go for break everyone. You have 20 minutes."

As they filed out, Jess busied herself with her notes, not wanting to look up at any of them. She fought to keep her breathing under control, even as she heard him approach.

"You okay, Jess?"

"Yeah, Trent. I’m okay. It’s just…" As she finally looked up she stopped cold. "What happened to your face?!" Gingerly, she placed her hand on his cheek, slowly tracing the stitches beside his eye.

"That’s why I’m here, Jess." He moved around the lectern to take her in his arms. "Someone took a shot at me today," he told her. "They shot out the side window of the ‘vette. If I hadn’t dropped my keys…" He let the words hang.

The fear was evident on Jess’ face. "Who?"

"The only person I can think of is Roger. He must be back to finish the job he started."

Jess’ thoughts were racing. "Is that what they think happened to Carlos? What about Sarah?"

His hands gently stroked her arms, trying to ease all the fears away. "Ryan took a uniform and went out to the sanctuary. The uniform is going to take Sarah home or at least stay with her." Looking into her eyes he told her, "I want you to lay low, too, Jess."

Instinctively, she pulled back. "I can’t, Trent. I have classes to teach, work to do. Besides, I’ve never even met Roger Peterson."

"If he was stalking me before he shot me, then he must know you." He sighed as she turned to the blackboard. "Even if it isn’t him, Jess, someone is out to get me. And I…" His voice faltered as memories flashed in his head; memories of another time, another place and of an explosion that changed his life. "I don’t want anything to happen to you, Jess. I’ve lost too many people that I care about and I don’t want to lose you."

She turned to face him, a sad smile on his face. She knew exactly what he had been thinking about. "I know, Trent but I won’t run away and hide. I’ve worked too hard to get back." Before he could argue, she repeated her previous question. "Do they think this has anything to do with Carlos?"

"It looks like it." He exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. "It isn’t looking good for finding him alive."

Jess wrapped her arms around him. "I’m so sorry, Trent."

He returned her embrace, but his voice became hard. "I’ll find the bastard responsible and he’ll pay."

They talked more, until the students started straggling back in. Leading Trent by the hand, Jessie led him out into the hall. Turning back to look into his eyes, she whispered, "I love you, Trent. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just find this guy before he can hurt anyone else." She leaned into him as he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. Neither noticed the passing students until one said, "Hi Dr. Mac." Blushing, Jess pushed him away gently. "Go," she implored, handing him her car keys. "And be careful."

As she watched him walk away, she moved back into the classroom, hearing her own words in her head. I’m won’t run away and hide. Turning to face her students she spoke, her voice strong. "If you want to know what happened to me, I will tell you."

**

She found him, sitting among the shattered pieces of the mirror, despair more than evident on his face.

"I looked in the mirror," he said quietly. "And had no idea who was looking back at me."

"Oh Rick." She knelt beside him. "It’ll come."

"WHEN?!" The anger in his voice surprised her. "Can you tell me when?"

"No," she said, evenly. "I can’t. But I’ll do what I can to help." She stood. "Let’s get you back to bed." Together they made it back to the bedroom, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Really, Rick, it’ll be okay. I know it." She smiled at him, brushing the curls from his forehead. As she laid him back on the bed, she leaned over, brushing his lips with hers. "It’ll be okay," she whispered in his ear.

Snaking his good arm around her, he pulled her close, breathing in the light scent of her perfume. He kissed her back, harder, his mouth finding hers hungrily. Wordlessly, she ran her hands down his bare chest, tracing the scars down his belly to the waistband of his pants.

"Gwen,’ he breathed, "I can’t…"

"Shh," she cut him off. "I’ll do all the work." She kissed him again, moving from his lips to his cheek to his neck. Her hands continued southward, pausing at the growing hardness beneath the fabric of his pants. As she kissed his chest, teasing his nipples with her teeth, her hands worked to pull down the track pants he wore. She felt his hand reach up under her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Moving his hips as best he could, she finally freed him.

"Oh my," she marveled as she saw what awaited her. Smiling, she brought her head down, taking him in her mouth. A low moan escaped him as he felt her tongue and lips leisurely make their way down the shaft of his now fully erect penis, her hands gently fondling his testicles.

She paused momentarily, looking up into his face. "Does that hurt?"

"Only when I laugh," he replied hoarsely. As she resumed her task, he closed his eyes, his aches and pains diminishing with each pass of her tongue. Just as he felt his body tighten, she stopped, raising herself up to straddle him. "Oh God," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. Standing above him, she slowly undressed, smiling as she watched his expression, fully acknowledging his appreciation of what he saw. She knelt down, allowing his hand to cup her breast, slowly stroking and squeezing her nipples until they became tight peaks. Gradually, she lowered herself further onto him, gasping as she accommodated his size.

She was tight and he fought the urge to drive into her. His hand trailed down her belly to her sweet spot, his fingers finding what they was searching for. Gently he took her clitoris between his fingers, squeezing and stroking it until she was moaning aloud. As she leaned forward to take him deeper, she leaned on his chest, eliciting a yelp of pain. "Sorry," she whispered, realizing she had leaned on his broken ribs. She moved her hands to either side of him on the bed, allowing her curls to fall and tickle his face. He reached around and grabbed her behind, pushing her deeper.

Kissing him hungrily, she began moving her hips rhythmically. He matched her as best he could, each thrust sending him deeper until she could feel him against her cervix. She felt her muscles tightening around him, holding him. God this feels so good, she thought. It had seemed like so long and now, this was amazing.

With each thrust of his hips he felt the pain in his ribs but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the precipice he was hurtling towards. His self-control broke and he moaned and shuddered with one final thrust.

She screamed as he filled her, her own body quivering as the waves of orgasm crashed over her. As they subsided, her arms felt weak and she moved to lie beside him, her arm resting gently on his chest, her head on his good shoulder.

"Wow," was all he could manage, his hands running through her hair.

She laughed. "Likewise." She traced the scars on his chest, idly wondering how they had gotten there. "You okay?" she finally asked, looking up into those wonderful eyes.

"Yes. No. Owww." He had tried to move slightly and his injuries had reminded him of their presence. "Damn."

"Shh," she told him again. "I think you could use some sleep. I’ll go"

He held her firmly. "That’s okay. You can stay." His eyes were heavy lidded, sleep fast approaching. Pulling her even tighter, he murmured sleepily, "Thanks, Sarah."