Spoiler warnings:  this takes place after Chuck leaves for California, then returns, the upcoming X-Mas. It doesn't give a reason why  he returns yet:  I'm working on that as I speak.  I hope you guys don't mind getting this story first, and then the other story later, they really can be read apart from each other.  Basically, it doesn't really fit with the universe we know, because we know Fisher Stevens won't be returning perminantly. (sob)  This also takes place after Robin (the bartender) finds out about the paper.  I hope you guys don't mind that I gave her a last name!

 Gary Hobson, Marissa Clark, Chuck Fishman, the Cat, and the Paper belong to Bob Brush, CBS Television, Angelica Films, Columbia-Tristar, and Three Characters.

 Also, many many MANY thanks to inkling and Maryilee, who both saved this story, really.  And both saved me! ;-)  I couldn't have made it this far without their help, guidance, and superb Beta reading!  Thanks for everything, guys!

 On a final note, I thank you all for reading my story, and I thank everyone for their feedback. :-)  I also discovered, upon  revision, something that I supposed I had known before, but I think I should share this too! <g>  Writing is an effort of love, and love is what I send to you all with this story. <g>

 Now, onto the contents you REALLY came here to read!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Submission to Fate
by Dana K

Part 1

Monday, March 29, 1999-

 "Monday, Monday, lah lah . . ."  Robin hummed off key softly as she patted the orange cat on the back.  "Hey, there, kitty.  Food time.  Gary's out with the paper, so you should be happy."

 Across the bar, a heavy set man who was a newcomer to the restaurant said, "Hey.  Shouldn't that cat be outside or something?  That's a health risk."

 Chuck, sitting at the bar doing assessments on McGinty's monthly income, raised his head and glared at the guy. "That cat belongs in this bar.  He's practically our mascot!"

 The chubby gentleman rose with anything but gentleness and stood above Chuck, his bad breath enough to stain the  paperwork.  "That cat's a health hazard, and I think I should call the officials," he snarled.

 Three or four nearby diners began to complain loudly in the felines defense; most of the regular customers liked the regal orange cat that was always friendly and polite.

 Chuck felt a slight pang of fear at the threat, but instantly relaxed.  Gary's cat could be described as anything but a normal stray; it had its own uncanny way of knowing when to disappear and when it was safe to come out of hiding.  They wouldn't get in trouble for health problems if the officials couldn't find any.

 Chuck lifted his head to look at the man and fought the impulse to grimace with distaste.  "If you do, they won't find any sight of the cat. It's very good at hiding."  Noting the beer stains on the big man's shirt and the dirt under his fingernails, Chuck added, "and we're very clean here."

 Robin smiled slightly at Chuck's rebuff of the man, but felt that it wasn't enough.  "So's the cat.  In fact, that cat's cleaner than a lot of people in this world."  Her eyes watched as her insinuation hit its intended mark.

 With a frown, the disheveled man paid his bill and left.

 "Hello, everyone!"

 Chuck glanced up and smiled as his gaze took in the presence of his favorite waitress.  "Good tips today, Mona?"

 Mona barely gave Chuck a glance from under her long lashes; she wasn't quite sure of what to expect from him anymore.  It was one thing to have a daily customer throw badly hidden sexual innuendoes at her, for it was part of the job, and she knew how to deal with it.  But when the guy suddenly became her boss, because his best friend got the bar . . . it felt odd, not knowing how to act around him.

 Also, when Chuck was just a regular Joe, he had seemed like such a slimy guy.  But ever since Gary had acquired the bar, Chuck had stopped saying the things all together.  Mona supposed that it was fear of sexual harassment charges, but it set her off guard.  All of her defenses that she had so carefully set up against him were going to have to come down . . . or be changed.
 But not yet.  Deciding to dig just a little to make sure Chuck got the picture, Mona looked to Robin and grinned, "I met the cutest guy over there."

 Robin rolled her eyes as Chuck sighed and returned to his paper work.  She knew Mona's reasons.  "So," Robin said, changing the subject for Chuck's sake, "Where is Gary, anyway?"

  Chuck shook his head, waiting for Mona to go back to waiting tables before he responded. "Someone was going to get hurt on their bicycle, I think.  I'm not sure after that; he didn't call me or anything."

 Robin frowned, but knew the information was all he had.

 When Gary had forgotten his paper at the bar a few months ago, and she had discovered it's strange properties, she had really not been surprised it came to him.  Robin hadn't been too surprised with the paper, either, for she was an avid watcher of the X-Files and she believed some of the possibilities that were out there . . .  Well, at least she understood more about the mysterious things that could go on, and there had been some pretty strange things.

 She remembered the time Gary, Chuck and Marion Crumb almost died from an explosion on that abandoned tugboat.  It was strange enough that Marissa had somehow known about the danger her friends were in, and then managed to arrive with help just in time.  But, why were they on the boat in the first place, and who would want to kill them?

 However, Robin had been forced to give up on her subtle inquiries. Gary and Marissa wouldn't talk about it, and even Crumb had brushed her off.  With Chuck's return from California in August, she was sure she would have the chance to get the story.  But the guilty look that had flashed across his face silenced her, indicating that he had something to do with whatever had almost cost the three of them their lives.

 Saying Gary's life with the paper could be pretty dangerous was an understatement.  But Gary usually called to check in, didn't he?  Robin knew it had been hectic, so maybe she had missed a call--

 "Hey, Rob, can I have a martini?"

 Robin's head rose and she smiled.  "Sure."

 Chuck watched Robin get the drink, noting that she had seemed rather troubled.  She sure was a looker . . . not really gorgeous, but pretty in a next-door-neighbor type of way.  With a sigh, he realized that she would never be interested in him.  She didn't put up well with his flirtatious jokes like Mona had, so he had just stopped trying.  Strangely, instead of remaining wary of him after he had given up, Robin had actually started treating him kind of like she treated Gary.  With respect.  Like a
friend.  Hmm . . . she definitely thought Gary was nice, and Chuck knew that most women thought Gary was extremely attractive . . . but could it be more?

 Chuck sighed, realizing that he was the last person who should be psychoanalyzing anyone he hardly knew, and returned once more to the never ending book work for McGinty's.

 "Chuck," Robin said, having gotten the people their drinks.

 "Hm?"  His head rose again.

 "Chuck, shouldn't Gary have checked in by now?"

 He sighed once more.  "I'm sure he's fine," he told her, assuring himself as much as her with the words.  Knowing they were alone at the bar, he added, "He had a paper that was practically empty of anything serious."

 "Yeah.  I guess."  Robin was surprised at how her thoughts kept coming back to Gary.  He was her boss, jeeze.

 It was early Monday evening, and the smell of lilacs and tiger lilies floated over the cold air.  The refreshing scents went unnoticed by Gary, however, for they were mixed with smog, city refuse and his own sweat.   {Just a little more, almost there,} he thought, panting heavily. Neon lights of every color struck his eyes from all around him, taunting him that he would be too late.  Cars, backed up in a traffic jam, honked mockingly at his gasping progress.

 He had already called the police anonymously, claiming he had overheard two young men planning a robbery at a nearby bank, but he wasn't sure if they would believe him.  He had never been a good lier.  The hold up would occur at 7:00, unless Gary could stop it.  If he could get there in time, he knew he could keep twelve people from being shot and recieving various levels of injury.  He glanced at the paper again as he halted in front of the bank, leaning over with his hands on his knees.  He gasped and winced at the stabbing ache that settled into his stomach and legs, but forced his eyes open to check if the article had changed.  Seeing that it appeared the same, he walked painfully into the bank.

 A second later his own name appeared on the list of the injured, and went unnoticed.
 

 Gary strode into the bank at six fourty-one, stopping short before he had taken mroe than a few steps.  Sweat pooled against his neck around his collar, and droplets teased his brow.  Irritated, he wiped them away as he thought.

 He knew if he told the whole truth, he'd be implicated, and he couldn't afford that, not with his reputation with he police. The police captain and Commissioner didn't trust him as far as they could throw him. However, he hated lying, and he wasn't very good at it, so he was torn between what to do.

 So, Gary feverishly contemplated what to do as he studied the hard-backed wooden chairs in the rather unappetizing waiting area, surrounded by a disquieting light blue wallpaper.  He wasn't sure what tactic to take.  Should he risk the danger of telling the truth, even though they might not believe, or should he lie, and risk them seeing through the deception?

 Making his decision, he walked up to the youngest woman at the counter.  Her name tag said "Janice" and her black hair was pulled up into a bun above her dark eyes.  "Excuse me, ma'am, could you please help me? Um . . . well, my, my buddy, he . . ." Gary stopped, frowning as a spot of color came into his view sight.  "What?"  he said incredulously.

 "Meow!"  The orange cat blinked at him, then jumped from the back counter right onto the computer.

 The woman at the counter cried out, "Oh my God!  What is that cat doing in here!  Get off, off!"  She tried waving at it, but it hissed at her, and began jumping up and down on the keyboard.  The computer complained bitterly with a few disquieting noises.

Gary suddenly realized the usefullness of a crazed feline.  "Hey, call security!  Maybe . . . well, it's a stray, right?"  He tried to tell the truth as it was.

 The woman, Janice, gasped.  "Why, it might have rabies!"  She picked up a phone that sat behind the counter.  "Security, there's a rabid animal in the bank!  Get over to the front desk, quickly!"

 Gary watched as Janice slowly backed away from the cat, until her back was pressed against the counter.  "Nice cat," The young woman whimpered.

 Within seconds, the security officers ran in.  "What's the problem?" one man asked.

 "It's a rabid cat!" the woman screamed.

 Gary opened his mouth to say something to protect the cat, but then closed it abruptly.  A strangled feeling contorted his face into a frown as he realized that the orange cat was no longer there.

 "Janice," one of the security officers said, "there's no cat.  What were you talking about?"

 "It was here.  He saw it!" she pointed to Gary, who blinked.

 "Well," Gary muttered, stalling, "yeah, I saw it.  It took off."

 As they were talking, Gary looked out the window and saw some men wearing black masks around their necks.  As they began to pull the masks up, he turned and said, "Hey, there's a man with a gun outside.  He's heading this way!!"

 The security   « guards turned, and one pulled his gun, just as the doors opened and the men walked in, their guns also drawn.  Chaos ensued, as alarms began and the gunmen realized that their element of surprise was gone.  With more fear than thought, the bank robbers began shooting.  Gary saw everything rushing before him, but he knew that the shocked woman standing outside of the safety of the counter was the only importance.  With a cry, he jumped in front of her, pain filling him and ears ringing from an unearthly roar.  He fell to the ground, his head thumping sharply against the side of the counter.   But as the fire-fight ended, it was clear the gunmen had lost. The security guards had incapacitated the masked men.  Just as the police
entered to see their work done for them, the young teller Janice yelled, "We have wounded! Someone call for some ambulances!!  Now!!!"

  The security parted, and the police officers looked down at the man resting in the woman's lap.

 Gary, his vision blurred and fading, only heard the woman say, "He jumped in front of me when they fired.  He saved my life!!"  Then Gary saw the light fading from his mind, leaving him in blackness.

Part 2

The phone rang at ten thirty, and Chuck answered it.  "McGinty's Restaurant, Chuck speaking."

 "Hello, this is Doctor Janelle Markley from Cook County General Hospital.  We have a patient named Gary Hobson who was brought in a few hours ago.  We found this number in his wallet-"

 "Wait a second. What's wrong with him, is he okay?"  Chuck demanded, fear choking the vibrato of his voice.

 Marissa overheard him, and stepped closer.  "Chuck?"

 Chuck took her hand in his and listened to the Doctor speak.  "He was shot!!  Oh my God.  God!!  Yeah, yeah, we can, I mean, I can come down, yeah, I'm his best friend.  No, he doesn't have any other family that I know of, other than his parents.  Yeah, I'll try to contact them.  Right away, we'll be there.  Thank you!"

 Marissa halted Chuck's nervous leap for the door, pulling him back with a firm hand on his arm. "Chuck?"

 "Yeah, yeah," he ran a hand through his dust-brown hair, and gazed at her with eyes that he could not keep focused on her.

 "Calm .  .  .  calm down," she whispered softly.  "We'll get there. He'll be okay.  Now let's go."  She took her cane in one hand, and put her other arm through Chuck's own.

 Chuck nodded, grabbed his coat with his free left hand, and walked Marissa to the door, quickly but carefully.

 "Wait," called Robin.  "What's going on?"

 Chuck stopped and turned, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Gary . . . he's been hurt real bad. We're goin' to the hospital."

 Robin lost her usual good humor instantly, but quickly masked herself with a bland expression.  "He-is he all right?"

 Marissa seemed to know what was in her mind.  "Would you like to come with us?  You are the head bartender."

 Robin swallowed and said, "Thank you, yes."  She tightly ordered the other bartender to watch the place, then joined them as they hurried to Chuck's car.
 

 Doctor Janelle Markley watched with sharp brown eyes as two women and a man walked quickly towards her spot in the waiting room of the Serious Care Unit.  The black woman with the cane had an air about her of the eye of the storm; her quiet look into the distance told Janelle all she needed to know about her sight.  The woman seemed to lead the worried man instead of being led.

 Right behind them, the younger, brown haired woman followed with a blank expression.  Janelle had seen that look often, on the faces of many people.  She had learned from her work at the hospital of the tortured pain that was often hidden behind the facade.  The man's electric blue eyes flickered around, as if searching for someone he was missing.  His brown hair, tinged with blond, carelessly fell around his face, and Dr. Markley could see the signs of slight shock on his pale features.

 Markley stepped closer, saying, "Can I help you?  Are you all right?"

 The younger woman's brown eyes were stricken when they looked down upon the petite doctor's face.  "Yes, we're looking for our friend-"

 "Gary!" the man said sharply, as if coming out of a trance, "Where is he?  Please, we've gotta see him!"

 Markley recognized the man's voice from the phone call she had recently completed, and she gazed up at him kindly. "Gary Hobson.  You must be Chuck, we spoke on the phone.  I'm Doctor Markley, the doctor assigned to him after his surgery was completed.  I'll take you to his room right away."

 Chuck quickly followed her, the two woman at his side.

 The black woman said softly, "How is he?"

 "He's stable, but in a coma, a very serious condition.  He just got out of surgery the second time an hour ago, and was moved from Intensive Care to Serious."

 The younger woman blanched. "And he was shot?  How?"

 "During a bank robbery in progress, he was shot twice.  Once in the shoulder, which went clean through, thankfully, and once in the stomach."

She noted the man's sick expression, and said, "I'm sorry, Mr.  . . ."

 "Fishman, Chuck Fishman.  This is Marissa Clark," he said, his head inclined towards the black woman, "and Robin Tormay."

 "Well, Mr. Fishman," she said as she turned the corner, "Gary was injured very badly.  But they removed the bullet with success, and repaired the damage.  The only thing left is to help his body heal and hope he comes out of the coma."

 A battle was being fought for control upon Marissa's face.  With difficulty, she said, "Doesn't a coma indicate some measure of brain damage?"

 "Yes, but not necessarily anything permanent.  Our scans show that he's suffering from brain trauma, probably caused by hitting his head against something when he was shot.  Fortunately, there is only some slight swelling of his brain, and his fluids are moving well, but his brain waves are only fair.  We're going to monitor him closely. We also have him attached to a respirator."

 Chuck's azure eyes widened nervously.  "He's having trouble breathing on his own?"

 "Yes, we're not sure yet why.  But it may have to do with the coma and the swelling of his brain.  The swelling may grow at any moment, and if so, we most likely will have to operate on his brain.  That was why I was assigned to him . . . I'm a neurosurgeon, and I'm well versed in this kind of situation. Even if we have to operate, I know we can save him. However," she continued quickly as their expressions faltered, "if the swelling goes down, he should come out of the coma in a few days without any permanent damage. It may take a while, perhaps a week or more.  He does have insurance?"

 "Yeah," Chuck said, pulling out one of his business cards and a pen.  He wrote the name and number of the insurance company and gave it to her; by now he had it memorized. "There's the number to call."

 "Thank you.  Are you certain he doesn't have any other family we can contact?" Dr. Markley said, taking the piece of paper as she halted in front of a door.

 "His parents are in Colorado, aren't they, Chuck?" Marissa said, unsure.  "And what about Renee?"

 "Yeah, they're on vacation.  Renee's in Indiana.  I'll call them when we get back," Chuck assured Janelle.

"All right.  Here he is," Dr. Markley told them, and walked through the door quietly.

  The three followed her into the room in complete silence; afraid of what they might find, yet knowing they had to go in.  Chuck's small gasping noise was the only sound as they entered the room to see Gary, pale and motionless, lying in the bed.  The IV of blood that was hooked up to him, a heart monitor and the respirator were the only signs of life.

 Dr. Markley watched from the background, feeling, as always in her business, like she was eavesdropping into their personal lives. Uncomfortable, she looked away from the agonizing emotions on their faces.  Chuck pulled the chair over to the bed and gently took Gary's limp hand in his own.  Chuck wrapped Gary's cold fingers in his own, willing his own life to pour into Gary.  "Gair," Chuck said softly, "Why'd ja' gotta go and get yourself in trouble again?"  Chuck looked at Gary's pale face, feeling the pain and fear build in him.

 Robin slowly guided Marissa to the bed.  As silent as Chuck was vehement, Marissa quietly smoothed her fingers across  Gary's clammy skin and brushed at his soft hair.

 Behind Marissa, Robin pulled back, feeling as if she was trespassing.  She bit her thumb, shock and sadness in her eyes.  But Chuck wouldn't, couldn't remain silent like the others.  "Why can't you be selfish like me, Gair?  Stop risking your life for strangers, damn it!"  His voice broke, and he stopped talking abruptly.  His head dropped, hiding the pain that he could no longer control.

 Turning to Dr. Markley, Robin was no longer able to keep the tears from showing in her eyes.  "He won't . . . die . . . will he?"
 At this blatant mention of all their fears, Chuck covered his face with his hand.  Marissa's eyes were moist as she patted Chuck on the shoulder.

 Dr. Markley brushed her dark red hair away from her face and stepped closer to Robin.  "There is very little chance of that happening, but even so, I promise all of you that I will do everything I can to prevent it."  She paused, her brown eyes falling painfully upon Chuck's turned back.  "I'll leave you alone with him for a few minutes."

 "Thank you," Robin said for them all, and returned her attention to Gary's still form.

 Janelle Markley glanced back a final time, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
 

 When they returned to the restaurant, Marissa was chosen to call Renee, since they had grown to be friends.  The choking  breaths over the phone as Renee responded to the news were enough to send Marissa back to tears, but she held fast, comforting Renee as best she could over the phone.  Renee vowed to be on the first plane leaving for Chicago.  Chuck sat, incapable, at the bar, clutching the bag of Gary's belongings forlornly.  Gary's sued jacket lay across the bar as if it, too,
mourned its owner.  A bullet hole scorched the worn material inches above the front hem. It had missed the zipper by another inch.

 Marissa tried to reach Gary's parents over the phone.  But when she called the resort that they were staying at, the resort informed her that the older couple had already left for home. It was impossible to reach them, so Marissa called their house and left a message.

 As for Crumb, Robin took charge of the phone while Marissa sat next to Chuck at the bar.  Though rough and snappish, Crumb arrived minutes later and stayed close to Marissa and Chuck.  Marissa's hearing narrowed down so that she could not hear the voices around her, and no touch broke through her thoughts save the course remains of Gary's jacket.  She had never felt so alone and stifled . . . and so impaired by her inability to save Gary.
 

 Pain and sorrow had always been his constant companions.  After years of suffering on and off, through ridicule and rejection and death, the unwanted comrades grew into old, familiar aches, until, taught by the cruel master that is life, he learned to cut off the feelings.  Even if they resurfaced, he shoved them down again ever harder than before.  Life was a joke, a game.  Being serious just hurt too much.  People were to be distanced from him inside himself.

 On and on he told himself this, as a cold ache settled into his sternum.  {I don't care, it's not my problem, I DON'T care-}

 A voice interrupted his oaths, and someone touched his shoulder. "What?" he snapped, crushing the bag mercilessly.

 Uncertainly, the brown eyes pierced into him from above.  "Chuck . . . are you okay?"

 His voice caught in his throat when he tried to speak, his eyes caught by Gary's damaged coat as he dropped the bag to the floor. {No, it's not supposed to be this way.  Gary's not . . . supposed to do this to me . . .} Standing quickly, Chuck pushed away Robin's hand and stormed into the kitchen and past the office.  The dark solace of the stairs leading to Gary's loft beckoned him, and Chuck rushed to them before he collapsed to the floor.  Falling to the steps, he began to sob angrily, hitting the wooden stairs with rage.  It wasn't working, a part of him said as he cried.  All that planning and swearing and hiding inside hadn't worked.  He had planned it all wrong.

 The weeping subsided, and he sat in the sudden silence left in its wake.

 Gary was the closest to dying as he had ever been.  Once again the damnable paper had thrown him into the midst of danger . . . perhaps for the last time.  But Chuck had never really expected Gary to be killed by it.  It was as if, Chuck told himself bitterly, he had never accepted the true weight of the possibility.

 Slowly, Chuck stood, leaning against the wall as he rubbed his blood-shot eyes.  {If only Gary hadn't ever gotten that paper . . .} he told himself, {he would still be alive.}  Rage hung suspended in his cooling blue eyes, and when a familiar meow sounded in the kitchen, he suddenly began walking towards it, his anger and pain growing with every step.

 The orange tabby sat in the kitchen on the floor.  One look at Chuck, and it dashed through the swinging doors, Chuck on its tiny heels.  "Come back here, you damn cat!"  He chased it into the empty dining room, where Marissa and Robin still sat, dazed, with Crumb cleaning the counter behind them.

 "Chuck!"  Robin cried, but he ignored her and followed the cat around the room, trying to corner it amongst the tables covered with upside-down chairs.

 "What's going on?" Marissa asked nervously.  "Chuck, what did the cat do?"

 Chuck cornered the cat under a table, where it sat, back ridged and tail upright.  "He killed Gary!!  If it wasn't for this cat, Gary'd be okay!"  He tried to grab for the cat between the chair backs, but it ducked and hissed at him. "Damn you!"

 "Fishman, what the hell are you talkin' about?"  Crumb snapped.  "If anyone did anything, it was those damn bank robbers.  Leave the frickin' cat alone."

 Chuck turned from where he had been crouching beside the table to glare at the overweight man. "You don't understand, Crumb, so you should just stay out of it!  Even if you don't believe it, this cat's responsible for Gary dying-"

 Suddenly Marissa screamed, "Gary DID NOT DIE!"

 Silence took over, and Chuck stood slowly, looking at the stricken face of his blind friend.  "Marissa, I-"

  "Dammit, Chuck!"  Her eyes began to fill with tears, and her head tossed back and forth as she stood shakily.  "I don't want to hear it, okay?  He's going to live."

 "How do you know that?" Chuck demanded. "How can you be so sure . . ."  He stepped towards her and took her hands that were held out as if in prayer.  "Marissa . . . dammit, I. . ."

 Marissa nodded. "Um, Zeke, Robin . . . Chuck and I need to talk. Would you excuse us?  Come one, Chuck. Let's go into the office."

 Chuck nodded, but gave one final curious glance back to the cat. It stood gazing at him, calm and secure, as if their dangerous battle had never been.  With a sigh, Chuck went with Marissa into the kitchen.
 

 Marissa had waited for this moment for two of the most important three years of her life . . . the ones with Gary.  If she could ever love any two people as much as she loved Gary and Chuck, she would be very blessed, but even more so if those people were as wonderful as her friends were.  Yet, this moment had been building for some time, ever since the paper had arrived, and she had to face it . . . even though she found herself still unprepared for the confrontation.

 Chuck's hands were warm in her own, but they shook, and his breathing was ragged.  "You need to sit down, Chuck," Marissa told him, freeing one of her hands to find her desk.  His hand in her own helped her to the desk, then they parted physical company.  Marissa wiped her moist eyes and slowly sat down in her chair.  "Chuck," she began, but he interrupted her.

 "Marissa, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that-"

 "No. Stop it," she ordered.  She took a deep breath and began again. "You matter too," she told him softly, and quiet met her admission. "Chuck . . . you asked why and how I could believe that he will live.  I don't know how to answer that . . . but I know that he must.  It hurts, I know, but the cat has never meant Gary harm.  I know it.  Please, Chuck, leave the cat alone.  If Gary dies, then . . ."  Her voice caught in her throat.  "Then you can extract justice . . . but I doubt you'll be able to find the cat.  And would you really want to kill an innocent creature that might possibly have nothing to do with any of this?"

 The sound of his somewhat even breathing filled the room.  She could faintly smell his sweat, could almost imagine probing the lines of cold anger upon his face with her fingertips, a face she had never touched.

 She waited for an answer until she was about to speak again to break the silence.  But he spoke instead. "Marissa . . ." his voice was soft, and rather dulled. "I . . . I'm afraid."

 Marissa gasped as the emotion in his statement hit her, pulling her own feelings out of her as if a torrential storm buffeted her innards.  "Me too, Chuck," she said, then pressed her lips together tightly to suppress her weeping.  {Touch.  Touch me.  Please.  I'm so alone.}

 She was not disappointed as warm hands gently rested upon her shoulders. "Oh, Marissa," the voice roughly whispered below her, and she knew Chuck had to be kneeling before her, "I am so sorry."

 She shook her head and slowly reached out a hand to where the top of his head had to be.  She found his soft hair and patted him affectionately.  "You and Gary are my best friends.  Chuck . . . please try to understand.  Gary knows that you care about him . . . beating yourself up over this won't help anything."

 "I don't want him to die," he said defiantly, and Marissa could feel his hands tighten slightly on her shoulders, then relax with effort.

The physical reaction to his anger didn't surprise her intellectually; it was what she had expected upon Gary's first serious injury . . . but it remained strange to witness the reactions come from someone who professed to be such an uncaring and selfish person.

 "I know you don't want him to die," Marissa answered softly.  "But you're not going to stop it by acting like it already happened.  Try to have faith, Chuck.  I know it's hard, but you have got to try."

 A pause stilled the room. "Okay," he finally whispered.  "They said that tonight . . . tonight would be the worst if his brain swelled again. He could . . . tonight."

 "Yes," Marissa said guardedly, wondering what was coming next.

 She could feel as he stood, the air changing in the room and his voice rising in space.  "I'm gonna go back to the hospital, Marissa.  Just in case anything happens . . ."

 Marissa smiled slightly to hear the calmer tonality to his voice.

Chuck was trying to have faith, and that was all she could ask.  "Chuck," she spoke up as his hands left her shoulders, "would you mind if I went with you?"

 A deep sigh sounded as she stood.  "I'd like that," he answered, and Marissa could hear that he also was trying to smile.

 "Good." She held out her hand and felt him grasp it gently but firmly.  "Let's go."
 

Part 3

The night passed much more uneventfully.  Sleeping in the waiting room outside the Cook County SCU wasn't the night of choice for Chuck, but as he looked across at Marissa as she slumbered, he couldn't say he didn't spend it with a beautiful woman.

 The smile that hinted to appear on his face was extinguished as he thought back to the patient beyond the walls and hallways of the ward.  The old lady in California had told him not to hide his problems inside of himself.  If there was any problem he had now, it was that his best friend could die.

 How could he share something like that with someone?  And who would give a damn enough about him to listen?  Chuck didn't even know why Gary gave a damn about him . . . but for some reason, he did, and for that Chuck was thankful.  He wouldn't allow the death of one of the few people in the world who had ever really cared about him . . . even if it meant that he went insane.

 Looking at the bland walls of the waiting room, Chuck sighed at his melodrama.  As if there was anyone here who wanted to listen to his outlandish vows.

 Settling himself back down on the floor, his coat covering him, Chuck moved around until he felt comfortable on his back.  He didn't expect to fall asleep at all, but within a few minutes, the stress of the day plummeted him into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

Tuesday, March 30, 1999-

 Janelle Markley entered the Serious Care wing of the hospital early to check on her patients.  Gary Hobson was the second coma patient assigned to her in the last month.  The first was still in a coma, but her brain waves were steady and had been showing signs of life in the past week.  She hoped that the attractive young man that had been brought in the other night would fair better.

 The only other entrance to the hospital was the physician's entrance, but she did not have a security card.  Though at times she was on call, she was not a permanent emergency room physician.  So, as she walked through the front doors to the SCU waiting room, she received the surprise of finding her patient's two friends sleeping on the floor.

 A smile lit her face as she watched them slowly begin to wake as the noise around the hospital rose to a normal level of activity.  It was amazing to see this devotion to a friend, an act of love that she rarely saw beyond immediate family members.
 The man, Chuck Fishman, opened his eyes and stretched, his coat falling away from him as he sat up.

 "Good morning," Janelle said, beaming at him.

 "Hi."  He looked blearily at her, and patted his associate gently.  "Marissa, wake up.  The doctor's already here."  His blue eyes returned to Janelle. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

 "I work here," she answered, amused.

 "No, I mean, waiting for us to wake up."  He actually looked a little embarrassed now.

 The petite woman chuckled and pulled her oversized lab coat around herself. "I was going to check on Gary and my other patient.  I decided you might as well go with me since you've stayed here all night, waiting to see if Gary would be okay."

 "Oh."  Chuck rubbed his eyes and pulled a hand through his messy dark blond hair.  "Thanks."

 Marissa was yawning beside him.  "What's going on?"

 "We're gonna see Gary, Marissa," Chuck answered.  "Doctor Markley came to see him."

 "Give me your hand," Marissa demanded hoarsely.

 He did as she told him, and helped her to stand with him.  He released her and attempted to straighten his wrinkled clothing as Marissa flattened her disturbed hair and unfolded her cane.  When she seemed prepared, Chuck gently took her arm and announced, "We're as ready as ever."

 Janelle nodded and said, "Follow me."
 

 "No one called me over the night," the petite doctor told them as they walked down the hallway, "so I know both my patients were well.  If anything had happened, I would have been called immediately and I would have rushed here."  They trailed behind her as she opened Gary's door and stepped inside.

 Chuck squeezed Marissa's arm encouragingly. "He's looking better," he told her.  "His color's improved."  The beeping heart monitor mocked his optimism.

 Doctor Markley nodded her agreement as she checked the notes left by the last nurses who looked over him.  "His last EEG was taken a few hours ago, and shows that his brain not only stopped swelling, but is half way back to normal size.  By now," she turned to grin at them, "it is probably almost there."

 Chuck found himself grinning back. "That's great.  He should be out of the coma soon, then, right?"

 The large brown eyes that had been smiling at him now lowered uncertainly. "Mr. Fishman, I'm afraid it's not as simple as that.  It all depends.  Hopefully he'll come out of it in a week, but it could be months. And he is still having trouble breathing," she said, glancing at the chart again.  "We have him on life support, but that doesn't assure that he will awake any sooner."

 Marissa broke away from Chuck and stepped vaguely towards the bed. "Chuck, I want to touch his face."

 The shorter woman gave a fleeting smile. "Ma'am, you can sit down in this chair and stay with him, if you like."  She brushed her arm against Marissa's hand, offering support.  Marissa took it, an expression of bemused sorrow on her dark features.

 "Thank you," Marissa muttered as she was lead to the chair.  She carefully inched it forward until she could reach Gary.

 From behind her, Chuck watched as she gently brushed her fingers across Gary's face.  Every wire or tube she found sent a stricken look across her face, especially the wires going into his nose that breathed air into his lungs.  Chuck stepped closer; the strange awe Marissa displayed fascinated him.

 Marissa murmured softly.  "I've never known how beautiful Gary is."

 Blinking, Chuck looked down at her warily. "What?"

 She blushed a dark mahogany, but smiled. "I was always too shy to ask if I could touch his face.  After a while . . . I just forgot that I needed to.  His voice was enough."  Her mouth turned up sweetly as if she was remembering something wonderful. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but he has a very expressive voice.  Kind and warm.  But I never knew what  . . . what he FELT like."

 Chuck felt a strange sympathy for her deprivation.  "I . . . I'm sorry, Marissa."

 "It's okay," she said gently, caressing Gary's cheeks with her fingers. "It's not that important."

 He rested his hand upon her shoulder firmly. {No.  It is.}
 

 The plane ride was numbing, a trip where she sat quietly not thinking, as if time had stopped in the world and the plane hung suspended as an insect in amber.

 Somehow Renee found her car in the parking lot and made her way from O'Hare to Cook County General without getting into an accident.  Considering how her hands shook with desperation and her mind clouded with emotions, she was lucky.  The only thing important to her was getting to Gary as soon as she could.

  As she drove, the inertness slowly began melting inside of her. Something else began to simmer, a deep simmering that  grappled with the lethargy for control.

 She parked in the parking garage blindly, thoughts numb and burning at once as she excited her car and pressed the lock button on her keys automatically.  The walk to the emergency doors of the hospital was a blur of bland colors and people passing by, until she was at the front desk.

"I'm looking for Gary Hobson.  He was brought into the emergency room yesterday?"

 The receptionist, tired with bright brown eyes and hair cut short, looked at her sympathetically. "Sure, just a moment."  Typing something into her computer, she responded with, "Yes, he's in the Serious Care Unit in room one-oh-four.  A doctor is already there with him."

 "Can I see him?" Renee asked desperately.  "Please?  He's my boyfriend."

 The receptionist picked up her phone and dialed something quickly. "Just a moment, I'm calling the room."  She paused, then said into the phone, "Doctor Markley?  There's a young woman here to see Gary Hobson. Her name is . . ."

 "Renee Caleghan,"  Renee added quickly.

 "Renee Caleghan.  She's the patient's girlfriend."  The brown eyes flickered to her and away, and a smile grew upon the other woman's face.

"Thank you, doctor."  She hung up the phone and tossed her short brown bob.

"You've been given leave to visit with him, since no family members are available at the time."

 The seated woman looked at something behind Renee, and then called, "Hey, Ricky, would you mind taking this young woman to room one-oh-four, please?"

 A young man in a green shirt stepped up to the desk. "Yeah, sure, Anne."  he smiled at Renee.  "I'm an orderly here at the hospital.  Would you follow me, Ma'am?"

 Renee nodded, the burning emotion growing, then stuffed the keys she still held into her coat pocket. "Thank you so much," she said to the receptionist, and walked through the sliding doors into the SCU ward.
 

 The trip through the corridors gave the heat time to strengthen into a palatable anger that flickered along Renee's spine.  Her empty hands clenched into fists as she strode, walking so quickly that the orderly had to run to be in front of her.

 "Ma'am," he tried, "please slow down, it's not that far away."

 Her lips tightened and the cold fury heightened her thoughts.  {How could this happen?  How could Gary have been hurt this way?}  She remembered the silent messages that had passed between Gary and Chuck in the past, that look in their eyes of secret and mystery, and she suddenly knew.

 {Chuck knows what Gary was doing.  Chuck knew.}

 Her eyes narrowed, and she stalked on, when suddenly the orderly grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

 "Ma'am--"  he began, but she turned to the door he gestured to, and opened it herself.

 Glaring into the room, her eyes met with the surprised glances of both Chuck and a short female stranger.  "Chuck," she began dangerously, "what the hell happened!"
 

 When the door burst open, Chuck didn't know what he expected.  But the anger in Renee's icy blue stare told him enough about the situation to know what to do next.  "Um," he cleared his throat, "We should talk outside, Renee."

 Marissa looked up from where she sat.  "Oh dear," she muttered softly.

 Chuck nodded to the doctor, who was blinking at everyone with large, confused amber eyes. "I'll be right back," he promised, and quickly pulled Renee from the room, closing the door behind him.
 

 "You were here, why didn't you protect him?!  Keep him away from this stuff he gets into-"
 

 "You think he'd listen to me?  You don't think I've told him to stop his heroic crap?  I ain't exactly the voice of reason here!"

 Chuck stepped back as both of them paused for breath.  The fight had started as soon as the door had closed, and they were both struggling for the upper hand.  He had to analyze the situation here and figure out how to convince Renee that Gary was uncontrollable.  But when she didn't even know what trouble he was into, it was difficult to know what to say. {If only Marissa was up to this,} he wished vaguely.

 "Listen, Renee," he began at a normal tone, "Gary does what he wants.  I know it hurts, and I know you're angry, but there's no one to blame."  He cursed inside and closed his eyes, wishing he could lean against the wall and rest.  The line he was feeding her was the same stuff Marissa had been saying, and he was sure it was just as unappetizing.

Her blue eyes were still reproachful. "I leave for four days and he almost gets himself killed!  Is this the normal way his weird days go?" she asked sarcastically, chest heaving and arms up as if to strike, "or did he suddenly decide to go get shot for the hell of it!  How am I supposedta' let him out of my sight, how can we have a relationship when he's always runnin' of on some insane crusade that'll kill him, what is he, a fucking psychic?" Her cries slid into choked, hoarse barks, and tears began slipping down her face.  Chuck stepped forward as Renee lowered herself to the floor and began to sob, "Dammit, Chuck, you know what this shit is about.  He won't talk t'me, and he's gonna die, and I won't even know why!"

 Chuck knelt down beside her and pulled her to one side of the hallway, ignoring the befuddled orderly who was still standing there, gaping like a fish.  "Renee, it's okay.  He'll get better, I know it.  He's already better than he was," he rambled as she sobbed against his shoulder, "the swelling's down, the doctor's optimistic . . ."

 She coughed on her weeping. "You sound like a novel or a doctor show.  'The doctor's optimistic.'"

 "But she is," Chuck insisted, clumsily putting his arms around her.

"You care about him and so do I, and so does Marissa.  When this is all over and he's better, you go and demand that he tell you why he's always running off on crazy missions, and I think he'll tell you."

 She nodded, the tears still spilling from her blue eyes.  "Okay," she sniffled. "Can, can I see him now?  Oh, Chuck, I'm sorry--"  She began crying again, but Chuck hushed her and helped her to stand.

 "Stop it, you were just acting the way anyone would act," he told her.  "I did the same thing last night."

She gave a bleary smile and asked stuffily, "Who'd you yell at?"

 "The cat," Chuck grinned, and put his arm around her waist.

 Her expression of shock melted into a tiny smile, and she wiped her eyes as he led her to the door. "You've got to be kidding."
 

 Chuck abandoned his loose hold on Renee as she made her way to Gary's bedside.  He watched her touch Marissa gently, then bend over Gary's inert body to kiss his cheek.

 Something inside of him felt shattered to think of the way Renee had wept in the hall.  For a woman who had seemed so strong in the past, it was heartbreaking to realize that she was just as weak as everyone else.  His attention strayed to the slight woman standing next to him.

"Um," Chuck began, returning the curious gaze that the diminutive doctor gave him, "sorry about the racket outside."

  She nodded, brown eyes staring up into his own. "It's very hard, isn't it."

 He looked at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as the bleeping heart monitor filled the silence. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."

  Sighing softly, she ran a tiny hand down the doorframe as she looked across the room to where Gary lay dormant. "Loss."

His eyes narrowed and he looked away. "I guess.  I bet you've seen lots of people come in here without a fighting chance."

 "I've seen a lot of them survive," she told him sharply.

 Their eyes met, and Chuck tried to stare the elfin woman down, but her dark eyes held somber truth in them.  A sharp pain struck inside his chest, and Chuck turned his head from her compelling gaze, finding it easier to face the wall.
 

 Gary breathed shallowly in the dim, empty room.  The only illumination was from the window, moonbeams shining on the sterile gray blankets, and the blinking, dim red lights on the heart monitor.  An aura of distant coldness settled over the colorless room, echoed eerily in the comatose patient . . . as the beeping monitor slowed, then sped, then slowed again . . . finally surging to a panicked whine.  But a splash of color, warmth, and vitality asserted itself.  Breaking the deathly stillness, a warm body of ginger fire settled protectively, lovingly, against the silent man's cheek, purring life into his flesh.

 The shrill noise of the heart monitor calmed to a quiet, even beat . . . the gasping of respirator evened out into a calm, full breath . . .  Gary stirred, opening his eyes for a mere moment to see his savior. Relieved, he settled back into a deep sleep, his patient guardian reassuring him that all would be well.
 

Part 4

Friday, April 2, 1999-

 Friday night fell bitter and cold. Chuck sat at the bar, working on his third scotch.  Crumb had warned Robin and all the waitresses to cut Chuck off after three drinks. It was already a busy night at 5:30, and Chuck supposed he was more of a handful than just one person could watch.

 Chuck nursed his drink and stared at the bar-counter.  Before him sat his glass of scotch and the early newspaper.  It had been upstairs when he'd shown up that morning to feed the damn cat, though he should have let it starve.  The feline hadn't objected when he'd picked the paper up up. But ever since grabbing it, Chuck couldn't bring himself to look at it. Somehow, he felt that if he did so, he would suffer the same fate as his friend, which just made him grow more and more angry and sad.  It wasn't enough that Gary risked his life for the damn paper, Chuck told himself wearily.  Now Gary had to die for it.

 When the phone rang, Chuck ignored it.  Eventually, Robin went to answer it.  After talking for a few moments, during which her voice became lighter and happier by the second, she hung up and grabbed Chuck by the arm, hauling him off the stool. "Chuck, Gary's out of the coma!!"

 Stunned, Chuck let the words sink in, then he began to grin and laugh as Robin swung him around by both hands, his own feet tripping him. "He's awake!" Chuck finally admitted to himself.  "Marissa," Chuck beamed as he dizzily leaned against the counter.  "Isn't that great?"

 Marissa stood and reached out to find his arm, steadying her inebriated friend more than herself.  "Yes it's wonderful!  Let's go see him.  Chuck, you'd better find that paper you were complaining about earlier, or Gary will kick us out of the hospital himself.  Robin, I trust you'll drive."

 Robin smiled as Crumb came up to her.  "I think Crumb would like to drive."

 "Nah, you go.  We can't leave McGinty's untended."  Crumb smiled and returned to tending bar.

 "Hey," Chuck said, his arms opened broadly, "I can drive!"

 Marissa grinned.  "Not for a million dollars.  You're too close to drunk. Instead, you can bring the paper and use your cel'phone to call Renee on the way."

 Robin snatched her keys, Chuck took the offending paper, and they made their way to her car.
 

 Marissa held tightly onto Chuck's arm, probably in an attempt to control his giddiness. "Where are we supposed to go?" she asked as they stepped through the sliding doors into the SCU.

 "We're in Serious Care, again," Robin announced, her eyes sparkling as she glanced around.  "Doctor Markley told me that she would meet us here, so she could tell us about Gary's condition.  She also said that they'd moved him out of the Serious Care Unit and into the general medical ward."

 Marissa smiled. "That's good.  I hope he'll be able to leave soon."

Chuck patted her arm with his other hand and tried to calm himself.  Looking around, he spotted the petite doctor walking towards them from one short hallway that led to the restrooms and an elevator.  Her shoes clicked on the floor with a joyful echo to match her wide grin.  "Everyone came!" Dr. Markley noted as she stopped before them.

 "Everyone but Renee," Marissa chuckled, "and she's going to get here soon."  Her dark, unseeing eyes glistened with joy.

 "Gary's doing well,"  Dr. Markley informed them as she turned and motioned them towards her. "I'll take you to his new room."

 Chuck beamed, his eyes bright even with lack of sleep and scotch. "Did he just wake up?"  he asked curiously.

 "Well, the strange thing is," Markley told them seriously as she stopped before the elevator and pushed the up button, "and you have nothing to worry about now . . . but his heart stopped beating for about ten seconds.  The nurses rushed in," she assured them, "just to find him sleeping normally.  He actually woke up to groggily complain about how the beeping heart monitor was making it hard to sleep."

 Her infectious grin spread to Chuck easily. "That's amazing."

 "Well," Marissa said at his side, "Gary's always been pretty amazing."

  "So he's fine?" Robin wondered as the elevator doors whooshed open, emitting two doctors who brushed past them.

 "Yes.  He's breathing without need of the respirator, and we can't seem to find anything wrong with his brain," Markley said in wonderment.

They followed her into the elevator as she continued. "It's as if he never had the concussion.  I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, but I must say I wonder as to whether we doctors even made any difference."

 Chuck looked down as Marissa wrapped her arm around his own instead of clutching him in her vice-like grip.  A smile graced her face as she responded, "Of course you made a difference, doctor.  You cared."

 The shorter woman blushed awkwardly. "Well, I don't know if that has as much effect as one would wish for, but I thank you anyway."  The drone of the elevator filled the silent gap until she began again.  "He's been asking about all of you, especially . . . . Renee, I think her name was?  The nurses also said he was saying something in his sleep about a newspaper and a cat."

 Chuck began to chuckle at her puzzled expression, and Marissa and Robin grinned as well.  Dr. Markley gazed at him strangely, so he tried to explain. "His cat drives him nuts.  Steals newspapers."  He grinned and leaned against the elevator wall just as the doors pinged and opened.  As if this signaled the end of the humorous festivities, Chuck felt himself growing more somber.  They all stepped from the elevator into a busy hallway, doctors, nurses and patients at all levels of health and lack
thereof passing by them in a swarm of activity.  It reminded Chuck of just what he should be thankful for, and he pulled Marissa closer to him instinctively, eliciting from her a tiny smile just for him.

 Markley waved her arm and led them into the crowd.  They trailed her down the hall until she stopped before a door.  "Here you are."

 Chuck knocked on the door, and grinned when he heard Gary tell them to enter.  He pulled Marissa into the room, calling, "Gair!" and his eyes greedily took in the sight of Gary wide awake in bed, warily glancing around the room.

 Unnoticed behind them, Dr. Markley smiled. "I'll leave you all alone." She left quickly.

 Chuck beamed at his friend as he thoughtlessly dragged Marissa towards the bed.  Though she complained slightly, Chuck just stared at his friend, relishing the sight of him so alive.

 Gary smiled at them all from his reclining position. "Hey Chuck. Marissa." He added softly, "Robin.  'Bout time you all got here.  I've been waiting for you.  You wouldn't believe how boring hospitals are."

 Chuck shook his head. "You gave us quite a scare, my friend.  Don't you do that!  Don't ever do that again."

 "I'll try not to," Gary joked. "But where's Renee?"

 Marissa smiled and reached out a hand, shoving Chuck with the other, in the process.  Chuck glared at her while Gary chuckled softly.

 "Chuck called Renee," Marissa gently told Gary as he grasped the hand she held out to him.  "She's staying in your loft.  When you were injured we called her, and she took a plane up here.  She'll be here soon. I'm so glad you're all right."  Pausing,  Marissa shook her head, her hand tightening around his.  "Gary, what were you thinking?  You should have left before the shooting started."

 "I know.  But there were five or six people who would have died, maybe more.  I can't remember too well.  Speaking of which, has the paper come while I was here?"

 Chuck frowned and shook his head.  "Nope.  Actually, today was the first day I found a paper there when I went ta' feed the cat.  He's getting a little spoiled, don'tcha think?  And why'd you program the television to turn on?  I didn't even know you could do that with your old set."

 "What?  I didn't .  .  ."  Knowledge dawned in his eyes. "Oh, great.  The cat must have been screwing with the TV again."

 "What do you mean?"  Robin said.

 "Well, I think he knows how to turn the TV on."

 Chuck frowned.  "Okay, that's really weird.  Anyway, buddy, I thought you'd want the paper, so I snatched it before we left."

 "No," Marissa interrupted, "you were drunk.  You're STILL drunk. I'M the one who remembered to bring it."

 Gary grinned as his friends were once again at odds, and took the paper that Chuck held out to him.  He looked up suspiciously. "You didn't steal any sports scores or anything, did you Chuck?"

 Chuck blinked at him, appalled.  "Of course not!"

 Gary's glare let him know he wasn't buying it.  "Anyways, I'd better make sure there's nothing tragic happening today."  He opened the paper to the front page and scanned the headlines.  'BUS CRASHES--OVER TWENTY KILLED'  read the main story.

 "Oh, no," Gary frowned weakly at the paper.  "There's gonna be a terrible accident," he mumbled and he tried to get up.

 But Chuck held him down while Marissa sighed.  "Gair," Chuck said, "The doctor said you can't leave!  You still have to heal from the gunshot wounds."

 "Chuck!  More than twenty people are gonna die in two hours!  I have to stop that bus."  The heart monitor began speeding up, and Chuck admitted to himself that yes, the beeping was annoying.  Just as Chuck opened his mouth to tell Gary once again that he had to stay in bed, the door opened, and the petite doctor entered.

 "How are you doing, Gary?" Dr. Markley said soothingly.

 "I have to leave," he said, becoming upset.

 "Shh,"  Dr. Markley said, noting his heart rate. "I'm afraid, Gary, you need to sleep now."  She held up a needle, took his arm, and gently inserted the drug into the crook of his elbow.  Gary slowly calmed, and settled back into a warm, hazy mist.  Dr. Markley turned to the others and said, "I was alerted to his heightened heart rate by the alarm at the nurses station."

 Robin frowned.  "I thought most patients who were out of danger weren't given that treatment."

 "Well," Markley admitted, "he's been a rather unusual patient, so I've been unwilling to take any chances that his sudden improvement wouldn't turn around.  I gave him a sedative.  He's still conscious, though."

 Chuck bent over Gary's inert form with concern. "Are you okay, buddy?"

 "Chuck," Gary whispered, "Robin . . . stop that bus.  Please.  Take the paper and save them . . ."  Then he drifted off into a light sleep.

 Chuck's blue eyes met Marissa's.  "Marissa .  .  ."

 "I'd love to help you, Chuck, but I have a presentation at work. I'm sorry."  Chuck grudgingly admitted that she did look regretful, and more than a little tired.

 He turned to Robin.  She sighed and said,  "Anything for Gary."

 Chuck sighed also. "Thanks.  I'm not really good at this hero stuff all by myself."

 "No kidding."  Robin said.  "Okay, let's go." Once again, the three of them were off and moving, leaving a perplexed doctor alone with a dozing patient.
 

 Renee drove her little beetle into the parking lot of the hospital. Gary was awake!  Alive!  She grinned as she parked and rubbed her eyes. She shouldn't be crying, but she couldn't help it.  She and Gary had been getting very close over the past months.

 As Renee walked towards the receptionist, she smiled, a light in her blue, tear-filled eyes.  When she had heard Gary was in a coma, she had felt as if she had been paralyzed.  If Gary left her . . .  Many times while visiting him she had begged his unconscious form to stay, to not leave her like this.  So . . . so unsure.  And if he died . . .  Renee pulled her mind from those self-defeating thoughts and wiped her eyes.  He hadn't died.  He was alive!

 Walking to the room that the receptionist had specified, Renee held the flowers close to her chest.  She had bought them on the way, for Gary. She had willingly spent quite a lot of money on the peach rose and purple lily arrangement.  The bouquet was beautiful, and smelled even better.  She knew that Gary liked the smell of flowers, and the flowers themselves, though you couldn't get him to admit it to anyone but her--after all, he had his manly impression to keep.  She'd buy him a potted plant, but he couldn't get any plants to survive under his care, what with all the strange emergencies he had to deal with.

 Renee had thought she was used to that by now.  She had told herself that all that was important was that Gary was hers.  He'd tell her what he was doing someday.  Before the accident, she had been content to wonder how he got into the news and on t.v. so often for saving people.  Renee stepped into the empty room, and saw Gary lying there on the gurney.  He seemed to be sleeping, but when she stepped closer, his eyes opened.

 "Renee."  He smiled, wearily relieved.

 Renee sat beside him in a nearby chair and held the flowers up to him with a grin.

 Gary smiled at the soft fragrance and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply.  "They're gorgeous, and they smell wonderful.  But you're better."

 Renee placed the flowers onto the table with a grin and bent her head to kiss his cheek.  "Flatterer."  She then traced the line of his jaw with her finger softly.  "I'm so glad you're okay.  If you had . . ."

 She closed her eyes, and Gary watched, concerned, as tears welled behind her long lashes.  "Renee, it's okay, hon.  I'm fine now."

 Letting Gary pull her down into an embrace, Renee whimpered, "Oh, Gary, I missed you.  I'm more sure than ever that I could never survive without you.  I just don't know why ya' have to keep risking your life. Why can'tcha stop marching into danger?"

 Gary held her close and said, "I just can't help it.  But you know I couldn't live without you, either."

 Renee nodded.  "At least you're not as busy as you used to be, burning yourself out."

 Gary smiled.  "I know.  But now I have more help.  Chuck's back, and I have you . . . So everything is okay now."  He looked concerned for a moment, but then a decisive shine came into his serious dark eyes. "Renee, I want to tell you something."

 Renee dried her eyes, and sat up.  "What's wrong?"

 "No, nothing's wrong," Gary said anxiously.

 Renee's brows furrowed.  "It's not bad?"

 Gary laughed, "No, it's not bad.  It's good."  She looked relieved, and he continued.  "It's just, I think you should know why I am always saving people."

 "You're not psychic, are you?  I knew there was a reason for all these people you're always helping. "

 Gary smiled.  "No.  The truth is . . . do you remember how, on our first date, I told you about getting a newspaper a day early with a cat?"

 "Yes?"

 Gary swallowed, his smile falling into a worried frown. "Well . . . it's true.  It really is-"

 "What?!" Renee stood quickly and began pacing.  "You get the newspaper a day early, and a cat too?"

 "Yes."  Gary braced himself for the explosion.

 "But . . .  are you sure you haven't hallucinated about this?  Are you sure?"

 Sighing with relief that she hadn't gone nuts on him, Gary nodded from his spot on the bed. "Chuck and Marissa and my parents all know about it.  Robin knows too.  In fact, Chuck and Robin are out right now, with the paper.  They're saving people.  What I usually do."

 Renee sat back down, still stunned.  "You . . . save people . . . with the newspaper."

 "Yes."

 "And that's why you're always in the news for saving people.  It's more than 'right time, right place'."

 "Yeah."

 "Wow," Renee said. "That's . . . wow."  Her expression swiftly shifted to a slight disappointment.

 "What's wrong?" Gary asked, noting her sad face.

 "Well . . . I was hoping it would be something else you were going to tell me."  She avoided his look.

 Gary smiled and reached out to take her hand, and her head turned to look at him bleakly. Grinning, he slowly, painfully, sat up in the bed.

"Renee, hold me."

 Renee wrapped her arms around him, supporting him with more than her body.

 Gary closed his eyes, content knowing that she wanted him.  Only him.  And she had never asked for him to change the way he was . . . "I love you, Renee."

 Renee trembled in his arms slightly; it was the moment she had most wanted and most feared.  When she spoke, her voice was thick.  "I . . .love you too, Gary.  I love you so much."

 "You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear that."

Part 5

Chuck had to suppress the urge to find winning lottery numbers and other money procuring items as Robin drove them back to McGinty's in her car.  Pulling his eyes away from the paper, he concentrated on the scenery outside of them, feeling extremely torn between Gary and his own desires.  He wasn't the hero type, so how could Gary expect him to be any good at it?  Sure, he joked about wanting to be the hero for a change, but now that he had it, he didn't think he wanted it.  And what about the cat?

He, she, whatever it was would surely get upset when it found out Chuck held the power in his hands.

 When they reached the bar, Marissa retired to the office while Chuck quickly stomped up the stairs, hoping that being in Gary's apartment might give Chuck some clue of how to become his best buddy for a day.

 However, when he entered the room, the cat bounded up to him and jumped into his arms.  "Woah, cat, what's this?  Do I smell like catnip or something?"

 The orange cat looked into Chucks eyes solemnly, and meowed once, then rubbed her forehead against Chuck's cheek.  Chuck's blue eyes blinked with shock as the cat bounced from his arms to the couch. "I guess I'm forgiven for last week."

 The cat crouched expectantly, and watched as Chuck sat next to her. Then the cat pounced on the paper, and scratched to the sports section, removed it, then went to the business section.  Amazed, Chuck watched as the cat kicked the sports and business sections from the couch onto the floor.  The cat primly jumped back onto the paper, nosed it to the front page, and, satisfied, sat upon the bus headline.

 "Okay, okay,I get the point!  No peeking at scores or anything else that'll get me money."

 The cat narrowed its eyes at him and said, "Merow?" suspiciously.

The cat then walked up to Chuck and pressed its paw against Chuck's heart. Those intelligent green eyes stared grimly into Chuck's.  With a jolt of odd sensation, Chuck knew that he had never realized the full brilliance of this animal.

 "Cat, I swear to ya', no cheating.  If you wanna go with me, you can.  I know how much this means to both you an' Gary."  Deep in Chuck's heart, he knew he was speaking the truth to the cat.

 The cat began to purr loudly.  Chuck pet the soft fur on the warm, rumbling cat and smiled. "Does this mean you forgive me for being greedy, too?"

 The cat glared at him for a moment, then licked its neck at him. Chuck grinned as the cat settled into his lap for a moment.  But he soon stood, and Chuck could imagine it saying,  'Enough rest:  time to go out there!'

 As Chuck stood and began walking out the door, he glanced back to see the cat watching him.  Chuck swore to himself that there was a proud expression on the cat's face . . . not just proud of itself, but proud of Chuck.
 

 It was 6:26 when Chuck and Robin got into her car and began driving to the bus station.  Hey, Robin, listen.  There's also a fire at the Saint Vincent's orphanage, just a few blocks from the bar."

 "So we're basically backtracking."

 "Yeah.  But a lot of kids are gonna get killed, only a few minutes before the bus accident."

 "How are we supposed to stop it?  We'll have to split up."

 Chuck ran a hand through his hair.  "Yeah.  listen.  Drop me off at the bus station, then see if you can stop the fire before it gets outta control."

 "You surprise me, Chuck.  I thought you were more interested in the profitable aspect of the paper."

 "Hey, that cat of Gary's sat me down and gave me a non-verbal scolding."

 "How'd she do that?"

 Chuck smiled a little.  "Well, he basically ripped up the business and sports pages, and wouldn't hear of giving them back."

 "Go cat!"  Robin laughed.

 "Yeah, he's a tough little bastard,"  Chuck said with a smile.

 "I always thought it was a girl cat.  Anyways, where should I pick you up at?"  she asked as she parked at the bus station.

"Well," Chuck said, "The accident is supposed to happen on the corner of West Oak and North Dearborn Street, a quarter after eight.  The bus will cut across State street on Roosevelt and hit the police station. Stop by there and see what happens."

 "Wait.  When is the fire, and where in the building?"

 "Eight o'clock, they estimated.  Second floor, West wing."

 Robin gave him a hard look as he stepped out of the car.  "Chuck. Be very careful!  You're not used to this, and neither am I, but you're going into the more dangerous situation."

 "Aw, I didn't know you cared," Chuck tried to joke it off.

 But Robin grabbed his arm and looked straight into his eyes. "Chuck, please be very careful.  I don't want to see you lying in the wreckage."

 Chuck became serious, his blue eyes captivated in her own.  "You won't."

 With that, Robin revved the engine, and drove away, leaving Chuck to find bus number seven.
 

 Chuck bought a ticket as he stepped onto the bus.  {The paper didn't say why the bus crashed,} he wondered.  So, what did cause it?  As he sat down, he thought of all the possible reasons . . . the brakes could malfunction, or the steering wheel . . .  But then Chuck looked closer at the article.  They didn't say why it happened, but they DID say what didn't happen.  Nothing was wrong with the breaks, steering, or anything else. There was no sabotage to any wiring as far as the police could tell.  "Sooo . . ." Chuck said to himself,  "It must have . . . been someone on the bus."  He sat down behind the driver, and settled in for the
long wait.  Whatever would happen, he'd sure as hell know before anyone else.  And maybe the cat forgot to remove one or two things that could get him some extra pocket change . . . he opened the paper and began to scan the headlines.
 

 Robin knew she looked awkward with the men's tie that was part of her uniform at work, so she took it off and stuffed it into her pocket. She ran up the stairs of the St. Vincent's orphanage, and pushed open the doors.  {Second floor, West wing,} she told herself.  Stopping a woman passing through the lobby, she asked, "What's on the second floor, West wing?"

 "Well, um, it's the children's bedrooms," the older woman said,  suspicion written in her narrowed eyes.  Quickly, the woman walked passed her and out the door.

 {Jeeze,} Robin thought, as she stepped up to the front desk. {They're never gonna just let me walk in there.}  It was 7:56, only four minutes 'til the fire would supposedly begin.

 The lobby was empty, but she could hear female voices chatting behind the deserted front desk.  {There must be a hallway back there,} she realized.  But she couldn't wait to find out; she had to leave before they saw her.  Before the voices could turn the corner, she quickly dashed across the lobby and through the inner doors.  Without waiting to see if the women behind the front desk were following her, she darted up some stairs to the left.  She grabbed the first fire alarm she found and wrenched it down, then ran with all her might.

 A piercing siren sliced through the night air as she fled down the back stairs and through a back door.  As Robin snuck round the building, she was relieved to see the lights coming on in the upper rooms.  She checked the time as she stepped into her car.
 "Eight oh-one," she said, and smiled. "I could learn to like this."
 

 Chuck looked at the time as he sat in the half filled bus: it was almost 8:00 as the lumbering vehicle stopped at the corner of the suburban street.  Unsure of exactly where in Chicago the bus was in the dark night, he glanced to the opening doors, hoping to glimpse a street sign.  Instead he saw a familiar woman.  Wearing close fitting jeans and a t-shirt, the petite, slender form of Dr. Markley stepped up the stairs. She bought a ticket, favored the bus driver with a polite smile, and turned her large brown eyes to scan the seats.

 Chuck stood up from the bus seat and grabbed a vertical railing.

"Doctor Markley?"

 "Mr. Fishman.  Funny meeting you here!" she said with a smile as she steadied herself to the now moving bus.

 Chuck took a new look at the woman he had usually seen in a white lab coat.  Instead of hair pulled up tightly in a bun, a wave of long red hair sliced and stormed around her features.  He noted how light refracted from the golden glints in her large brown eyes as they looked up into his. With a strange discordant feeling, Chuck realized that her beauty had been beyond him.

 Chuck cleared his throat and answered, "Yeah, it's a small world."

He instantly wished, not for the first time, that he looked more like Gary.   "Are you going anywhere in particular?"

 "Actually, no."  He tried to remain calm, even though all the odds were against it. "Are you?"

 As she sat down across from him, her delicate lips smiled slightly, like two thin slivers of waning harvest-colored moon.  "Yes.  I just got off work an hour ago, and I need some time to relax.  So I'm going to a few malls.  Hopefully no emergencies will happen tonight."

 Chuck couldn't help but be surprised.  "A doctor going to the mall for recreation.  Wow."

 Janelle gave him an amused glare.  "We're just regular people, Mr. Fishman.  Except for being on-call . . ."

 His face grew hot as he sat next to her.  "It's just that I never thought of shopping as being relaxing, especially for someone so . . .refined."

 She laughed.  "Well, I don't actually shop, but I'm not really refined, either.  I'm just a person.  It's nice to walk around and watch life around you.  Sometimes I go to a bar or two with friends, but mostly I like being on my own."

 He gazed down at her. "It's dangerous to be by yourself at night, though."

She sighed and seemed to look beyond their physical surroundings. "True.  But I love the night.  I used to live in the country, and I would go on walks alone at night, and look at the stars."  Her face lit up as she spoke with passion in her voice.  A moment later, her smile fell, and she shook her head, glancing at him.  "But you can't do that here, Mr. Fishman."  Her voice fell to a whisper of amused disappointment.

 Chuck smiled, unaware of how blue his eyes were that night.  "We're not in the hospital.  I'd like it if you called me Chuck."

 She smiled back, eyes falling from his deep gaze. "Well, then you can call me Janelle."

 Chuck checked the time, suddenly aware that he had forgotten his purpose.  It was only 8:02.  He still had thirteen minutes, but he had to be careful.  "Janelle is a beautiful name."

 "Thank you," she blushed as if unaccustomed to complements, studying her hands.

 Turning his body to face her,  Chuck rested his arm against the back of the seat, and leaned his head upon his fist. "So, Janelle, when did you move here?"

 "A few months ago."  Her hands clutched each other in her lap.

  "Don'tcha like the big city?"

 "Actually, I love it," she said with a grin, looking over at him. "But I also like the woods, the desert, open spaces and mountains.  You seldom get the best of both worlds, however."

 "Ain't it the truth."  He tried to sound worldly.

 Janelle nodded, and glanced around the bus.  "My stop should be coming up soon.  We're already downtown."

"So we are."  Chuck glanced at his watch again.  {Almost eight-o-seven, time to get ready.}  Just as a precaution, he checked the article on the fire, and was relieved to see that it wasn't where it had been before.  He flipped through the paper, and finally found a small article about it in the local news.  A smile spread across his face as he read that no one had been injured, and the fire had been put out without causing much damage.

 "Chuck," Janelle said, catching his attention, "why are you on the bus if you have no where to go?"

 Chuck's head rose abruptly.  "Um," he said, unsure what to say, "actually, I just realized I do have someplace I need ta' go.  But I was originally just .  .  . going to the bar that I co-own with Gary," he said.

{Jeeze, I wish I had come up with some good story before I told her I had no where to go.}

 "Where is that?" Janelle asked.

 "Well," he said, "It's on the corner of North Franklin--"

 Suddenly, a groaning noise came from the driver.  Chuck looked around and noticed that most of the passengers were languidly lounging in the back, not paying any attention.  Having waited for this moment, Chuck stood quickly and put his arm on the driver's shoulder.  The man gasped, and seemed to choke, his hands falling from the steering wheel.  Chuck grabbed the wheel as the bus began to jerk back and forth, passengers screaming everywhere.

 "Mr. Fishman!"  Janelle yelled over the crowd.

 Chuck turned the wheel as the bus ran the red light, dodging oncoming cars by sheer luck.  "Help me get his foot off the gas!!" he called to Janelle.

 Janelle was flung to the wall as he made another quick yet wide turn, but she pulled herself up.  Rushing to Chuck's side, she pulled as hard as she could on the driver's limp arms, trying to lift him from the seat.  Unsuccessful, she then said, "Chuck, you'll have to back up and let me get underneath the dashboard."

 Chuck did as she said, and she crawled below him, under the dash, her small frame fitting better than he could have.  With all her strength, she pulled the unconscious man's foot off and away from the gas.  She then yelled, "I'm gonna brake!"

 "Okay!"

 With both hands, she pounced onto the brake, and was thrown against the dash.  Her sharp cries as the bus screeched to a stop echoed the other passengers screams as they were thrown about.

 Chuck looked down in the stillness as police sirens began to call, and grasped the hand that reached out from under the dashboard.  Pulling Janelle up, he whooped loudly and said, "I can't believe we pulled it off!"

 But Chuck found himself catching Janelle in his arms as her legs bucked under her.  "Hey," Chuck said as he pulled her to a seat, "it's okay, it's all right."

 Three police officers stepped onto the bus, searching the passengers for any injured.  Chuck said to one, "Call an ambulance for this man.  I think he--"

 "I'm fine," said the bus driver, suddenly awake.  "What happened? What are you talking about . . . an ambulance?   Nonsense!!"

 Chuck looked wide eyed at him.  "You passed out!  You're not fine! We almost crashed twenty times 'cause you fainted!"

"I did not!" the elderly man said abruptly.  Then he paused to think. "Did I?"

 Chuck groaned. "Call an ambulance anyway!  Some of the passengers might have been hurt."

 Uncertain, the policeman said, "I think you should talk to our superiors when they get here."  Satisfied, he walked away.

 Chuck turned to see Janelle's eyes closed.  She was taking deep breaths, and when he put his hand on her shoulder, she opened her eyes quickly.  "Doctor Markley?  Are you okay?"

 Janelle nodded, face pale.  "I hit my head against the dash.  I'm not feeling so good . . ."

 Chuck nodded, then stopped as a dizziness flooded his head. "That felt weird," he said.  "Ahh, the world's spinning . . ."  He closed his eyes and put his hand to the raging pulse at his neck.

 He felt two fingers upon his wrist and heard Janelle say,  "Your heart is beating faster than mine.  I think both of us are in shock."

 Chuck covered his face with a hand.  "Boy, you must be right.  I haven't felt this lightheaded since the time I painted my mom's house without the window's open."

 "Sounds like that would do the trick."

 "Yeah," he groaned, leaning back.  "At least everyone is safe."

 He glanced at the paper as Janelle rested her eyes.  The headline that swam before his eyes read, "LOCAL HEROES SAVE BUS".

 "Mission accomplished," he muttered.
 

Part 6

By the time Chuck had told his version of the events for the third  time to the police (minus the newspaper), his wavering sickness had tapered to a slight woozy feeling.  Noticing Robin pulling up to the curb, Chuck waited for the Detective's consent, then quickly walked towards Robin's car.  He could see her smiling from the front seat as he slipped around the yellow police tape.  "Robin, we did it!" he cried.

 Robin stepped from the car as Chuck opened the door for her.  "Did you check the fire article?" she asked eagerly.  "Did I save them?"

 Chuck took the paper out from his jacket pocket nonchalantly, saying, "I donno', Robin.  Didja'?"

 "Chuck!!"  she groaned, "don't do this to me!  I've gotta know!"

 "Okay, okay," he said, laughing, "yeah, everyone's fine.  You saved the day."

  She sighed and leaned against the hood of her car, the lamplight shining off the blond highlights in her curly hair. "Thank God."

"Robin, ya' never know," Chuck said softly.  "Sometimes I wonder .  . . how the hell are these newspapers getting to Gary, anyway?"

 Robin shook her head.  "I really don't want to know.  I'm sure it's beyond my comprehension."

 "Yeah."  Chuck suddenly realized that he'd forgotten about Janelle.

"Robin, wait just a sec, will ya?  I'll be right back."

 Chuck turned and walked back towards the scene of the accident.  As he strolled around the corner of the bus, he saw Janelle, red and blue police lights flashing across her long, pale face.

 She was talking with a female detective that Chuck hadn't seen earlier as he stepped up to her.  She smiled shakily in his direction and finished speaking with the detective.

 Chuck ran a hand through his sun-streaked brown hair, and watched as Janelle slowly walked towards him.  "Janelle," he said as she stepped to his side, "it looks like you'll have to find another way to the mall."

 She smiled nervously, her face still haggard and pale. "Actually, I'm gonna head home.  Call a cab, or something."  She was struggling to keep her balance unsupported.

 "Hey, are you okay?" Chuck asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

 "Yeah, I'm .  .  . Uhh," she interrupted herself to put a hand on her forehead, then pitched forward into Chuck.

 "Woah!" Chuck caught her and looked down into her face; she was still conscious, but obviously wasn't feeling very well.  "Danger doesn't knock on your door that often, I'm guessing."

 "No, not really."  She pulled herself upright.  "I think I got a concussion from hitting my head against the dashboard.  I've got to get home."

 "Hey, listen, a friend of mine is here to meet me . . ."

 "I thought you were going to the bar?"

 "Yeah, well . . ."  He paused, then began walking her towards Robin's car. "I'll explain it later.  Anyway, I'm sure she can give you a ride home."

 Concerned, Janelle frowned. "Are you sure it won't be a bother?"

 "No, 'course not.  In fact, the two of you've met before.  You remember Robin, don'tcha?"  he said as they stopped at her car.

 Robin looked puzzled, but extended her hand.  "Doctor Markley.  You were on the bus?"

 Janelle gave a reedy laugh. "Yes, actually.  But please, call me Janelle, Robin."

 Chuck coughed softly, ready for resistance. "Uh, Robin . . . do you think you could give Janelle a ride home as well as me?"

 Robin sighed. "Chuck, the bar's been left alone with only Stan for almost two hours," she said. "Crumb probably went home after his shift was over."

 Glancing at his watch, Chuck was surprised to see that it was already 9:01.  "Yeah, you're right." He turned to Janelle.  "Um, could you excuse us for a little bit?"

 She waved her hand at him and giggled.

 Chuck pulled Robin off to the side.  "How 'bout," he said, unable to give up, "you just drop us off at my place and I'LL take her home.  I can't leave her here, she's in shock, and she might have a concussion."

 "All right, all right," Robin said.  "But don't you think she should go to the hospital?  Physician, heal thyself?"

 "She's not that bad.  They'd probably just send her home anyway. Just take us to my place, okay, Rob?"

 Robin shrugged broadly, and sighed.  "Okay."

 They turned and walked back to the car, where Janelle was waiting. "Chuck,  I'm feeling a little better.  I think I could take a cab, now .  .."

 Chuck looked into her pallid face, the color of week-old cream, and said, "No way.  Robin'll take ya' to my place, and I'll take ya' home."

 Janelle's eyes closed with a flash of lashes, and she nodded.  "All right."

 They got into the car, and Robin drove off to Chuck's apartment.
 

 When they reached the high rise, Chuck had to rouse Janelle from the back seat where she had fallen asleep.  "C'mon, kid, up and at'em,"  he said, pulling her upright.

 "Chuck, do you even know what to do with someone who has a concussion?"  Robin asked him.

 "No.  Why?"  he asked as he leaned a half-awake Janelle against his side.

 "Chuck, what do you think I do when I'm not working at McGinty's?"

 "I donno'."

 "I'm going to nursing school," she said patiently. "Listen carefully: lie her down in a dark room, and put a cool, wet cloth on her
forehead.  Keep her head raised slightly, and don't give her any caffeine or anything like that."

 "Okay."

 "Oh, and if she's cold, cover her with a blanket or something."

 "Okay, okay, thanks for the ride," Chuck said, worried that Janelle would collapse on him.  "I'll see ya' later."

 Robin drove away, leaving him outside of the parking garage with his first "patient".

 Chuck walked Janelle into the building, then headed through the doors to the parking garage.  When they reached his car, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors.  Sitting her in the passenger side, he then lowered the back of the seat for her so she could lie back.  The doctor quickly fell asleep, and Chuck carefully began to buckle her in.

 She woke as he was pulling the seat belt across her waist.

"What're you doing?" she asked sleepily.

 "I'm buckling your seat belt.  This IS Chicago, after all."

 She began to laugh as he buckled her in. "That's nice."

 Chuck sighed as he closed the door and locked it.  Then he got into the driver's seat and started the car.  "I'm takin' you home."

"Okay."

 "Where do ya' live?"

 Silence responded.

 "Janelle?"  Chuck turned to see her completely knocked out.  "Hey," he said, gently shaking her, "wake up!"  When this brought no response, he conceeded that it was unlikely she'd reply any time soon.

 "Great.  Now I know how Gary felt when Lowie spent the night.  Or," he said, with a bad English accent, "Should I call her princess Sibella?"

 Chuck stepped out of the car and wearily reversed the routine  Locking the car behind him, he carried Janelle into the elevator.
 "It's never normal with this paper, is it?"  he asked the ceiling. The ceiling, like Janelle, declined to reply as well.

 Once they reached his apartment, Chuck laid her down on the couch, legs bent, and got a damp towel for her forehead.  He knelt down beside her and gently placed the towel on her forehead.  "Now, I gotta check your temperature," he said softly, trying to remember everything Robin had told him.  He took her hands in his, and shook his head as they coldly leached
heat from his palms.

 Grabbing a spare blanket from the top of the couch, Chuck draped it over her.  "G'night, sleeping beauty."

 Chuck sighed, stood, and retired to his own bedroom, only to stop abruptly.  What if Janelle lost even more heat over the night, or went into a raging fever?  As tired as Chuck was, and as much as he claimed to be an unfeeling jerk, he had to admit he was worried.  Janelle seemed to be a real nice person . . . and she was a rather good looking woman, for that matter, though shy really wasn't his type.

 "Maybe Gary's rubbing off on me," Chuck said, pulling up a chair next to the couch.  He settled down to watch over her.
 An hour later, he fell into a troubled, dream filled sleep.
 

 Early in the morning, perhaps an hour before dawn, a sudden noise sounded in the dark apartment.  Chuck woke with a start, and empty silence surrounded him when he opened his eyes.  He stood and stretched, wincing as his back cracked.  {This is what I get from sleeping in that damn chair,} he thought.

 Rubbing his grainy eyes, Chuck rested one hand against the back of the couch, leaned over, and looked down at the woman sleeping below.  Her red hair was flung back, some spilling onto her face, and she breathed lightly.  She seemed healthy, but Chuck wanted to make sure.

 Chuck lightly pressed the back of his hand against Janelle's forehead, and sighed with relief as a temperature neither hot nor cold greeted him.  He fell back into his chair and closed his eyes, only to open them again at a gentle murmuring noise.  Chuck frowned, and looked across from him to see Janelle's eyes sleepily opening.

 She whispered a soft moan and looked up at him.  "Where . . . where am I?  Mr. Fishman?"

 Chuck knelt down next to her, and said softly, "It's okay, just go back to sleep.  You got hit on the head, but you'll be fine."

 "Hmm," she closed her eyes, and fell back to sleep.

 Assured that she would be all right, Chuck yawned and slumped towards his bedroom.
 

Part 7

Saturday, April 3, 1999-

 Chuck woke to his alarm going off at 6:15.  He launched himself at it and shoved it off the table.  Groaning, Chuck muttered curses under his breath at the now silent alarm.

 For about five seconds it was a normal morning, until he remembered Janelle.

 "God, what a night," he groaned, pulling the covers back from his chest.  He stood quickly, and sat back down just as fast when red spots filled his vision. "Smart, Chuck, real smart," he berated himself.  The dizziness must have been another result of the excitement yesterday, he reasoned, but he should have known.  It wasn't as if his body was used to so much adrenalin.

 After a few seconds of holding his head in his hands, Chuck got up more slowly, and pulled a pair of sweatpants on over his boxer shorts. Running a hand through his sleep tussled hair, Chuck studied his reflection with a frown, then opened his dresser drawer.  He took out an under-shirt and pulled it on over his head, then exited the room to check on Janelle.

 Chuck walked into the living room, just to find the couch empty, with only a crumpled blanket draped across the back.

 "Oh great!  Where the Hell can she be?!"  Chuck spun around to stalk into the kitchen, but there were no women lurking there.  Returning to the living room, he headed towards the front door and flung it open.

Glancing down the hallway to both sides, he shook his head.  "Nothing.  Not a damn thing."  He closed the door and slumped towards the couch, to sit down upon it with his head in his hands.  "Stupid me.  Now what do I do?  I lost a person, an entire human being.  I lost her.  I should call Gary, no, he's not even gonna be up yet for another hour, wait, he's in the hospital, and Marissa can't help, what the hell am I gonna do-"  he babbled on incoherently until a polite coughing noise made him stop.

 "Morning, Mr. Fishman."

 Chuck, dazed and speechless, raised his head and looked blankly at a sleepy-eyed Janelle as she stood in the living room.
 "I took the liberty of making some coffee," she said, yawning. "Would you like some?"

 As if something snapped him out of it, Chuck stood and began angrily, "Where were you?  I looked everywhere, I was worried!  And why are you .  .  ."  He trailed off as another jolt of reality hit him.  "You're not even wondering what you're doing here?  I was expecting you to attack me with questions."

 Janelle walked into the kitchen, running one hand through her long amber hair while the other rubbed her eyes.  Chuck followed reluctantly behind.

 She must have gone thorugh every cubbord, for she had two cups out and proceeded to pour coffee into both. "Well,  I woke up and found myself in a strange apartment.  I remembered having a dream about you where you told me I had been injured or something, and then I saw some photographs of you and Gary lying around.  I knew it must have been your apartment, or at
least someone who knew you."  She handed him a cup and he sipped the scalding liquid carefully as she continued.  "I assumed that I didn't have anything to worry about, since all my clothes were on and I was out here, with you in your bedroom."  She grinned.  "You're cute when you're asleep."

 Chuck turned away, a frown on his face as he colored uncontrollably.  She definitely wasn't shy today.  Maybe almost dying had that effect on someone.

 "Let me get this straight," he said, scratching his head in an attempt to hid his blush.  "You weren't worried or upset?  I thought you would bite my head off."

 She shook her head as she restored the pot to its burner and lifted her own cup to her lips.  "Not really.  Hm, decaffinated.  Yuck." She stared at the coffee, then shrugged. "I mean, now I remember last night, and the accident.  You should have taken me to a hospital, I guess, but they probably would have told you to do what I'm assuming you did anyway, and either sent me home or charged me tremendous amounts of money for the same thing."  For a moment, she studied him.  "What exactly did you do to care for me?"

 "Um," he tried to recall. "Robin said if you had a concussion, I should not give you any caffine . . ." he raised his brows to her, and she gave an abashed smile. "And that you should be in a dark room with your head . . . raised, I think," he mused, sitting down at the table.  "With a blanket.  And a cold towel on your head or something."

 "That was smart of her.  Had her training, I think.  I have to get to work soon, though.  Do you have any clothes I could borrow?  I'd like to take a shower here, if you don't mind."

 Chuck blinked and rubbed his eyes at her fearless audacity. "Sure."  Standing, he left the coffee at the table and headed for the
bedroom.

 "This is really strange," he muttered as he dug into his closet, looking for smaller clothes. "What am I saying, SHE is really strange." He finally settled on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt that his mother had bought him.  Across the front was proclaimed, 'Whatever it is, I didn't do it.'  "She ought to get a kick outta that," Chuck muttered to himself as he brought the clothes into the living room.

Janelle smiled as he handed her the clothes, and she promised, "I'll be out soon.  Thanks."

 "You're welcome,"  he replied as she slipped into the bathroom.

 As Chuck stood and thought about his interesting guest, he realized that he would probably arrive at the bar late.  Going to the phone, he called and waited for Marissa to pick up.

 After the third ring, she finally did.  "McGinty's, how can I help you?"

 "Mariss', hey.  I'm gonna be a little late this morning.  How's Gary?"

 Marissa sighed into the phone.  "I visited him last night, and he's doing fine.  But we have some guests - Gary's parents just got back from their vacation.  Remember?  I called them when Gary was out of the coma, to let them know, but they had already left for home."

 "But they know he's all right now, don't they?"

 "Of course, Chuck.  I just wish you'd get here soon . . ." in a softer voice, she added, "Bernie's got the paper and he's planning out their day of rescues."

 Chuck groaned.  "Oh, no.  Not again."

 "Yep.  But they haven't visited Gary yet, and I was hoping you could drive us to the hospital and distract them.  The hospital called to say that Gary can leave.  But I think maybe you should deal with the paper again today."

 "Um, I'll try."

 "That's good enough for me.  Hurry and get down here."  Marissa hung up.

 Chuck put the phone back on the hook, and shook his head.  Going to the fridge, he took out some orange juice and closed the door.  He sat the carton down and got a glass from the cabinet.  As he poured himself some juice, he heard the shower turn off.  Walking into the living room with his juice, he waited for the sound of the door to open.

 A few moments passed, and Janelle appeared, wearing the faded jeans and his mother's gift, both too large for her.  A towel was wrapped around her head, and she held her dirty clothes in her hand.  "Could I borrow a plastic bag?"

 "Why?" he asked, curious.

 A flash of mild embarrassment brought a glow to her cheeks. "Germs," she muttered.

 "Uh, sure."  Chuck walked to the kitchen and opened the pantry door.  He stepped into the small pantry and grabbed a plastic bag from the pile in the corner.  "Here," he offered, handing Janelle the bag as he exited the pantry.

 Janelle stuffed yesterday's clothes into the back and tied it securely. "Great.  Would you like to shower before you take me home?" she asked pleasantly, though a faint trace ruddiness lingered on her face.

 Chuck ran his hands through his wild hair.  "Uh, yeah, that would be nice, if you don't mind."

 "No, I'm fine," she said, sitting at the couch.

 Still feeling his head spinning, Chuck left to take a shower.
 

 Janelle sat in the couch and looked around the living room.  It was pretty clean, but had that slight disorderly look of papers on the table and a few dirty dishes in the sink that any real home earned.

 Unrolling the towel off her head, she balled it up and sat it in her lap, contemplating the apartment she was in.  The carpet was a dark green and the furniture was black leather, something that made her smile with amusement.  When the man had a Lexis, it was expected that his apartment was to be just as flashy.  The short, black coffee table matched, along with the black deco lamps.  All put together, it seemed like the place was designed to impress.

 And yet, it still looked less than tidy, with a few shoes on the floor and movies sprawled atop the television in disarray.  Janelle decided that Chuck was probably messy at heart.

 Janelle grinned as she recalled Chuck's startled expression.  She was a big girl . . . she knew how to take care of herself, though a bit of shyness still lingered after so many years, and.   She HAD felt a slight pang of fear when awakening in a strange place, but her memory had soon returned.

 Moments passed, and the lulling sound of water crashing down in the other room ended abruptly.  Janelle waited with patience for Chuck to exit the bathroom.  After fifteen minutes passed, the door opened.

 "Okay, I'm ready," Chuck said, rubbing at his hair with a green towel that matched the carpeting.

 Janelle looked up, and rose to stand next to him, although her height barely reached his shoulders.  She studied his clean shaved face, the bright blue eyes, and the damp brown hair that was darkened by the moisture dripping from it.

 Clearing her throat, Janelle glanced away from his slate blue button-up shirt that matched his eyes so well.  "Um, maybe we should get going.  I mean . . ." She stopped herself there, realizing that anything more she could say would sound even worse than what she had already said, and turned away to get her things.  Face burning, she grabbed her purse and the bag with her clothes.

 Chuck blinked slightly with surprise at her use of the word "we", but otherwise he tried to control his expression.  Chuck didn't want to reveal the attraction he felt for her, feeling that the woman standing before him was far too intelligent to accept anything he had to offer.  He KNEW that if he even tried to lay on the charm, she would probably never speak to him again.
 Chuck dropped his hands to dust off his loose gray slacks needlessly; they were spotless. "Um, yeah.  Okay.  I'll just get my keys and wallet."  He turned to the rather cluttered table and snapped up his things.

 With a nod from Janelle, Chuck led the way from his apartment, to his car.
 

 After a stop at the McDonald's drive through for breakfast (Chuck had a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, and paid for Janelle's cheese Danish) he deposited Janelle at her large and rather lonly looking Victorian house.

 Then Chuck and his red car headed towards McGinty's, windows open to dry his hair.  Even though he was only picking up Gary's parents, Chuck wanted to look presentable.

 It was around seven when Chuck parked in the parking lot to one side of the restaurant, and quickly ran a comb through his still-damp hair, annoyed at how late he was running.  Exiting the car, he headed into the restaurant.

 "Hey, Marissa!"  Chuck said as he stepped through the old door, his blue eyes studying Gary's parents from across the restaurant as he greeted the beautiful dark woman.  Leaning towards her, he whispered into her ear, "So, is there anything really bad in the paper?"

 Marissa's brow's rose, once again making Chuck wonder if facial expression was not visually learned, but instead a racial memory.

"Unfortunately, yes."

 Before she could continue, however, Bernie and Lois had noticed Chuck's arrival and were making their way from the end of the bar to where he and Marissa stood at the front door.

 "Chuck-o!  How ya' doin'?"  Bernie said with a slap against Chuck's back.

 Lois smiled.  "We were going to get Gary, but then Bernie thought that the paper should be dealt with first."  She leaned closer to Chuck and said softly, "I say, I want to see my son!"

 Chuck smiled, thankful that one of Gray's parents had a level head. "Sure, Mrs. Hobson.  C'mon, Bernie, don't you wanna see your son?"

 Having a guilt trip laid on him didn't make him happy, but Bernie had to respond.  "Of course I do!  But who's gonna handle the paper?"

 Chuck eyed Robin at the bar, and she raised her head to meet his look.  With a flash of inspiration, Robin said, "Oh, no!  Not me.  I have to work . . .  Crumb's feeling sick and called in, and Stan's visiting his parents.  If I do it, who'll tend the bar?" she said plaintively.  "And don't say you will."  Her look told him that she knew better.

 A sigh escaped Chuck's lips, and he ran a hand through his damp brown hair.  "I guess . . . I'll have to deal with the paper again."

 Bernie gave him an exasperated look.  "Last time-"

 "Last time," Chuck interrupted, slightly miffed, "was actually yesterday, and it was horrid.  Compared to yesterday, saving people with you is a walk on the beach.  And it's not like-"

 A meow stopped him, as the cat leapt to the counter and studied him with knowing eyes.

 "See," Chuck said, waving a hand at the cat, "as I was saying, it's not like the cat'll let me get away with anything."

 Bernie gave Chuck a measuring look, then released the Business and Sports pages to the feline.  "Well, I still think that we should help you. I mean, it sounds pretty bad."

 "What sounds pretty bad?" Chuck asked, already feeling the weight of the paper upon him.

 "Well," Lois took up the conversation with a blink of her sparkling blue eyes, "Most of it's harmless.  But there's an accident in an elevator at the hospital that Gary's at.  Some woman dies in the elevator, along with her unborn baby!"  Although Lois wasn't too keen on messing with the paper, her expression clearly stated that this article wasn't something to be trifled with.

 Chuck shook his head. "Okay, okay.  We'll figure this out when we get there.  But let's just go.  And don't forget to bring the paper."

 With a slight grumble, Bernie walked out the door, Lois close behind.

 Marissa sighed as Bernie left, saying, "Chuck.  You go on.  I have some work to do here."

 Chuck frowned with concern. "Anything big?"

 Marissa shook her head and admitted, "I'm worn out from trying to keep Bernie from dashing out to save the world.  I can't take that for another minute." She smiled.  "Just give my love to Gary, and tell him I've been thinking about him.  You'd better go, though.  If you don't hurry, Bernie'll 'commandeer' your car."

 "Yeah," Chuck spoke grimly.  "Gary's got Annie Oakley and Buffalo Bill for parents."
 

Part 8

The Cook County Hospital was a busy place that Saturday morning.

As Chuck led Gary's parents towards the front desk on the first floor, he marveled at the large number of people there.  It amazed him that so many could injure themselves on a Saturday morning.

 "Um," Chuck said to the receptionist, "Visiting hours are probably not right now, right?"

 The man at the desk gave a small smile. "Sorry sir, but you're correct."

 Chuck interrupted before the man could start listing the whole spiel of hours out for him. They didn't want the list, Gary was being released. "Well, we've really come because my friend- their son," he motioned towards Lois and Bernie, "has been released.  His name is Gary Hobson.  He was here for a gunshot wound and head injury . . ."

 The man nodded, his eyes on the computer in front of him.  "Ah, here it is.  Yes, Mr. Hobson has been granted release.  Would you like me to get a candy striper to take you to his room?"

 Chuck was about to reply, when a voice said out of no where, "That's all right, George.  I can take them to Gary's room."

 Chuck turned to see Janelle, prim in her white doctor's jacket and her red hair pulled tight into a bun.  "Ja- Doctor Markley."  He noted with discomfort how Bernie and Lois were looked at him expectantly.

 Janelle smiled.  "Hello again, Chuck." She obviously had not problems with first names.  "It slipped my mind that Gary had been released.  I should have told you, but I forgot completely, what with everything that happened yesterday.  I'm sorry."

 Chuck suppressed a grin as her contrite brown eyes met his. "That's okay."  Turning to see the amusement in the eyes of Gary's parents, he dropped the smile, blushing slightly.  "Um, so is he still in room one oh-eight?"

 The tiny red-haired doctor nodded and turned to the hallway. "Follow me."

 Lois' blue eyes met Chuck's own with affection.  "Come on, Chuck. We can't keep the doctor waiting."  She gestured him forward in a "shooing" motion with her hand, and a tiny, secretive smile on her face.  Then she winked.

 Chuck suppressed a sigh and led the group to follow Janelle's footsteps.

 "Gary already has a visitor that I allowed in; that young woman who you arrived with before, Renee.  I think . . . her name was Renee Callahan, right?" Janelle said.  "I'm not sure if she was going to take him home, or you were, but you can figure that out later."

 Chuck shrugged.  "Yeah, I think Renee'll probably take him home, then."

 Janelle gave him a gentle glance with her brown eyes as they stopped at his room.  She knocked lightly, then opened the door after a moment.  "Gary?"

 His voice answered happily.  "Come in, Doctor Markley."

 With another smile, Janelle nodded to Chuck and held the door wide. Chuck looked through to see Gary propped up on the bed, fully clothed in jeans and a "University of Chicago" t-shirt.  Renee was sitting next to him, holding his hand.

  Chuck stepped through the door, quickly moving to one side to allow Gary's parents to enter.

 "Mom, Dad!" Gary cried, his hazel eyes sparkling with happiness as he sat up straighter.

 Lois walked in joyously, saying hello to Renee while swiftly seizing Gary into large hugs and giant kisses. Bernie followed his wife in enthusiastic greetings. No one noticed as the older Hobson dropped the paper to the nearby table, for once ignored and unthought of.

 Gary supposed that he should have been embarrassed, but he had pined for his parents attention more than he had expected. "I missed you guys!" he told them when they were satisfied with the amount of affection they had thrown upon him. "Did you enjoy your vacation?"

 Lois smiled painfully.  "Yes, son, we did.  But you seemed to jump right into trouble once we left!  I'm just so glad you're okay!  Good thing Renee is here,"  she grinned at the younger blonde, "or there'd be no one to keep you in line!"

 Bernie grinned as his son and hopefully future daughter-in-law blushed.  But Burnie's eyes had sorrowful glints in them that hinted at the unvanquished pain that remained, even though Gary had survived.  "Yeah, son.  You're our only kid and the best one we could have ever asked for. We need you."

 Lois' blue eyes were loving, yet sad.  "We love you, Gary."

 Gary grinned, pulling his mother down into another embrace. "I love you guys too.  C'mere, Dad."  Gary then hugged his father tightly.

 Chuck stood in the background, a quiet grin spread across his face. His buddy was finally better, everyone was happy, and--
 A ring filled the air, causing everyone to turn.  "Sorry," Chuck said, abashed at interupting the moment, and grabbed his cell' phone from his pocket to silence it.  "Hello?"

 The business-like voice of his stockbroker responded.  Though a stockbroaker for someone who had worked at a brokerage firm seemed a little superfulous, Chuck found it useful.

 "Yeah, hi, Ron." Chuck's greeting was subdued. "Really?  That's great.  No, let's wait for it to increase a little more."  Chuck spotted a newspaper sitting on the table by the door, and he grabbed it, planing on turning to the business section to discuss his stock options with the man.  But something on the front page caught his eye . . .

 Chicago Sun Times-- Sunday, April 4, 1999

 "Sunday?" Chuck said to himself.  "But it's not-"  The sound of Ron's confused voice and the people around him faded into the background as Chuck read the front page story.

--------
  'Li Macbeth, a local Chicagoan, was found dead in one of the Cook County Hospital  elevators yesterday.  The death was attributed to a skull fracture.  Authorities said that the woman's injury was due to a freak accident, when the car jerked to a halt at the estimated time of 12:30 AM last night -- causing her head to impact with the side of the elevator car.  Macbeth was six month's pregnant.  Unfortunately, paramedics could not save the unborn child-'
--------

 Chuck swallowed convulsively, saying, "Ron, sorry, I'll call ya' back."  He hung up in the middle of Ron's shocked complaint, then dropped the phone to the table and stared at the paper.  He gave no thought to how the paper had gotten there, nore of who to shirk the responsibility onto; his heart was pumping, the adrenalin forcing his mind onto one single purpose.

 Turning to the door, Chuck almost ran into Janelle who had been standing in the doorway.  "Chuck?" she said, concerned.  "What's wrong? You don't look well."

 Chuck shook his head, eyes still on the paper as he passed her to step into the hallway.  Realizing that the paper failed to say which elevator the woman died in, he decided to look for her before she got into the elevator.  It was only 11:00;  he'd surely find her before 12:30.

 Looking up, Chuck caught a glimpse of a very pregnant woman walking down the corridor.  "Um, excuse me, I have to go," he said to Janelle without looking back.  He walked off quickly, leaving Janelle in his wake.

 "Chuck!"  Rolling her eyes, "Men," Janelle glanced into the room where Gary's friends and family were still enjoying each other's company.

Suddenly her eyes fell upon the cell' phone sitting on the table, and realized that it was the one he had just set down.  Grabbing it, she hurried after him, cell 'phone in hand.  "Chuck, you forgot your phone!"
 

 Chuck walked quickly up to the pregnant woman and said, "Excuse me, are you Li Macbeth?"

 The woman turned to look at him, green eyes confused.  "No, I'm sorry."

 Chuck stopped walking abruptly.  "Dammit, I'm never gonna find her."

 "Who?" Janelle asked, behind him.

 "What?" he turned to see her brown eyes looking at him expectantly. "Oh, I gotta find this woman."

 "Why?"

 "I don't know, it doesn't-" Chuck sighed, realizing that he had almost given everything away. "It's a long story.  Listen, I've gotta go, I'll see you later, sorry!"  He rushed off again for the next elevator, leaving Janelle to trail behind him, still holding his phone.

 Janelle knew that she could have left the phone with Gary's parents, but having it in her possession gave her a great excuse to feed her curiosity.  She decided to follow him and find out what was going on.

 Fortunately, it was Janelle's lunch break, for she had to chase Chuck around as he went after two more pregnant woman who didn't turn out to be Li Macbeth.

 They finally ended up on the third floor, two floors above Gary's room.

 Janelle shook her head, grabbing Chuck's arm to slow him down. "Chuck, hang on a minute.  Whoever you're looking for, you won't find her like this.  I've got to get back to work, and Gary will be waiting for you."

 Chuck's face fell, his blue eyes troubled.  "Yeah, I guess you're right.  I just wish I could find her . . ."

 Janelle lead the way to a nearby elevator, and shook her head as the door opened to reveal a young asian woman and an elderly man standing inside.  "I'm sorry, Chuck.  But I have to go to work.  Look, here's your cell' phone.  For God's sake . . ."  She handed it to him, and he stuffed it into his pocket sheepishly while she added, "You know, you could just page her."

 Chuck ran his hand through his light brown hair and stepped inside the elevator.  "Yeah," he pretended bitterly. "I guess you're right."

 The doors closed as Janelle leaned back against the elevator wall. Chuck glanced over at her, anxiety and adrenaline hightening his emotions. His eyes traveled across her dark red hair, pulled back in a bun, down her pale completion, and up to her brown eyes.  She was so beautiful, with a kind of Elizabethan quality that made her almost painful to look at.  Janelle's eyes met Chuck's and he looked away with embarrassment.

"Chuck?  Are you all right?"

 Chuck's blue eyes flickered to her, and away with nervousness. "Fine.  I'm fine."  He turned to look at the elevators other passengers, and realized that the old man had gotten off at a stop, probably when Chuck had been looking at Janelle.  Turning to the remaining passenger, his closer examination made a shocking discovery: The young woman, under her long, flowing dress, was pregnant.

 Chuck look to the article in the newspaper, scanning it quickly.

--------
 'The citizens trapped in the hospital elevator were Charles Fishman, co-manager of a local bar, Dr. Janelle Markley, and Li Macbeth . .  .'
 

Part 9

Gary stood up slowly from the hospital bed, leaning against Renee. "Wait a sec .  .  ." he said, frowning.  "Where'd Chuck go?"

 His parents looked around, while Renee said, "Well.  I thought it was a little more quiet here than when Chuck's around."

 Gary shot her an amused glance, but his mind soon returned to Chuck.  Well, he realized it wouldn't be the first time Chuck ran out on him.  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he sat back down on the bed. Where could he have gone?

 Lois shook her head as she returned from the hallway.  "That doctor's gone, too."

 With a sigh, Gary shook his head, his face falling.  "I guess once he knew I was okay, he bolted."

 Renee sat down next to him on the bed, then turned to face him, her blue eyes shining. "I have to doubt that, Gary.  While you were in the hospital, Chuck was worried sick." Renee shrugged.  "Chuck really WAS upset, Gary.  If you had died . . ."  She left off dubiously.

Gary took her hand.  "It didn't happen.  And with the paper, I know that you all would find out before anything really bad could happen, so my chances of dying EVER are like . . . a million to one."  He looked up, seeing confused faces on everyone but Renee.  "What?"

 Bernie coughed. "Um .  .  . the paper . . ."

 Renee laughed.  "I know, now.  About the paper, and the . . . cat . . ."  Her blue eyes grinned at Bernie's uncomfortable expression.

 With a nod, Bernie shrugged.  "Sorry, just checking."

 Satisfied now that Chuck's leaving was more than a little strange, considering how upset everyone had said he was, Gary stood again, leaning on Renee once more.  "Okay.  So where did Chuck and the good doctor go?"

 Bernie cackled evilly.  "Well, the janitor's closet is nearby-"

 "Bernie!!" Lois cried out.  "Even Chuck doesn't halLUCINate about having THAT much charm."

 Gary shook his head. "I just hope that he hasn't gotten himself into any trouble.  Too bad the paper isn't coming here."

 "Hey!" Bernie said, "Good idea!  The paper was still coming to your apartment, and I brought it here-"  he turned to the table, and stopped in his tracks.  "Uh . . ."

 All eyes turned to the table.

 Gary's mouth was dry. "The paper . . ."

 Bernie gasped melodramatically, "It's gone!"
 

 "Oh, great!"  Chuck turned to the elevator doors and pressed the nearest floor.  "We gotta get outta here!"  he cried.

 Janelle stared at him, shocked.  "Chuck, what are you doing?"

 Suddenly, the elevator shuddered, then dropped from beneath their feet.

 They all screamed, the asian woman longer than the others.

 Janelle launched herself at Li and caught her in her arms, swiftly catching her head before it hit the wall.  With another shudder, they were stopped abruptly.

 Li's long black hair tossed across her face as she slumped to the floor and cried out, "What happened?  Why aren't we falling?!"

 Janelle gasped a breath and sat to the floor next to Li.

"Emergency clamps.  I don't know what happened, but we aren't falling now. Dammit, this should have been prevented!  Maintenance should have known that the elevator wasn't safe and closed this down until repairs could be made!"

 Chuck, still taking deep breaths, crouched down across from them on shaky knees. "We can't get upset about that now.  We have GOT to figure out what to do."

 Janelle nodded, her face even more pale than it was before and her amber bun coming undone.  "Um . . . we can use the elevator phone.  It should work . . ."  She stood and walked to the phone, opening the little door.  She retrieved the phone, and waited for it to ring.

 While she waited, Janelle took her hair out of the bun and shook it out, feeling that as long as it was falling out of the bun, it might as well go all the way.  Finally, someone answered, and she spoke.  "Hello? Yes, I'm stuck in one of the elevators.  I don't know which one,  but we need help.  What?  Really, it can't take that long.  Call the rescue squad, or the police!"  She paused, rolling her eyes.  "Listen, we need help, and we have a pregnant woman in here.  I'm a registered doctor, working at this hospital, and if she goes into early labor before you get us out, you're going to be in trouble.  Good, thank you."

 "Hey, Janelle.  Gimmie the phone, I'll give him my cell' phone number."

 "Okay, hang on," she said to the man, handing the phone to Chuck.

 "Hey, man.  Here's the number of my cell' phone if you wanna call us."  Chuck proceeded to give the man his cell' phone number, then hung up.

 Chuck sighed and turned to Janelle, who said, "Well, we're gonna be in here for at least two hours."

 Li gasped. "What!  No, we can't be here that long . . ."

 Janelle put her arms around Li.  "It'll be okay, miss.  What's your name?"

 The Asian woman moaned, but answered. "Li Macbeth."

 Janelle smiled.  "I'm a doctor.  My name's Janelle Markley, and this is Chuck Fishman.  You're about eight months along, aren't you?"  The woman nodded, and Janelle gave her a hug, saying, "We'll get you out of here."

  Chuck muttered, "I don't see how . . ."

 Frowning at him, Janelle whispered beratingly, "Chuck!"

 Chuck groaned, his face pained.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he croaked, pulling his knees up to his chest.  "This is just really freaking me out.  I'm, I'm not usually claustrophobic-"

 "Okay," Janelle said soothingly, "just calm down."  She took off her long white doctor's coat.  Folding it up, she turned to the woman sitting against the wall. "Li, put this behind your lower back.  It'll help cushion you, I'm sure your back must hurt from the pregnancy."  Janelle then turned her brown eyes to Chuck, where he sat on the other side of the elevator.  "Chuck, why don't you come sit by us.  We're all worried, but if we stay together, we'll be fine."

 Chuck's worried eyes met hers, and he stood to do as she suggested.

Sitting down between Li and Janelle, he admitted, "I'm just not good at these things.  I'm not brave."

 Janelle glanced at him from the corner of her eye.  "Chuck, don't give me that.  You seemed pretty brave last night when you stopped that bus."

 Li looked at them with surprise.  "Wait.  Are you talking about that bus that went out of control yesterday?  You stopped it?"

 Chuck was surprised when an embarrassed red flush climbed up his face, instead of a gloating smile.  "Yeah, I guess I did."

 Janelle's small hand reached over and took his gently.  "You did."

 Chuck swallowed, unsure of himself once again.  Fear was something he dealt with daily, and he wasn't accustomed to actually using it. However, he realized, he had done so last night unwittingly.  Instead of letting the fear control him, he had used the adrenalin to DO something about the problem.

 But he didn't feel brave.  In fact, he felt embarrassed, because he knew, deep inside, that he wasn't a hero.  Feeling Janelle and Li Macbeth's eyes on him, he felt that he had to tell them this.  "I don't feel like a hero.  I'm not a hero."  He pulled away from Janelle's hand.

Janelle's smile grew broader.  "Chuck, believing that you're not is a sign that you really are.  No real hero brags about it."

 But this just made Chuck more uncomfortable.  His sapphire eyes flickered nervously, avoiding Janelle's gaze.  "I don't think I'm ready for heroism."

 Li smiled at him, her almond doe eyes gazing into his.  "You're a hero to me, Mr. Fishman.  If you two hadn't stepped into this elevator, I would be stuck in here, alone.  Being a hero doesn't mean shooting up people on a movie screen."

 Chuck sighed, looking at Li and her beautiful face, the glow of motherhood on her skin.  He was reminded suddenly of his memorable relationship with Mei Smith.  The Korean woman had said the same thing to him after he had helped to rescue her from the fire at her father's fish supplier factory. 'You're my hero.'  Mei had been one of his better relationships.  She had brought out feelings in him that he thought would turn into love . . . but in time, Mei realized that she didn't feel the same.  Though their relationship had ended at least six months ago, the memories still brought him pain.

 Chuck returned to the present, and looked into Li's eyes again. "It's Chuck, Li.  Call me Chuck."

 Li smiled and nodded.  "Chuck."

 He sighed, and ran a hand through his brown hair.  "Okay.  If we just wait and be calm, we should get outta this all right."

 Janelle nodded as well. "Good.  I'm sure they'll get us out of here."

 "Yeah." Chuck looked to the ground, and tried to keep his hopes up.  But Janelle noticed his glum face.  "I don't know what your religions are, Chuck, Li . . .  but maybe we should pray.  Would that be all right?"

 Li nodded.  "My religion is complicated, but we pray, too."

 Chuck laughed shortly.  "Why pray?"

 Janelle glanced to him with concern.  "Because it can make you feel a lot better."

 Chuck shook his head, and though he hadn't wanted to continue, something belligerent inside him prompted him to do so.  "It never made me feel better."

 Janelle, still sitting next to Chuck's left side, leaned closer and looked at him curiously.  "What religion are you, Chuck?"

 Chuck frowned.  "That's kind of hard to explain."

 She smiled at him.  "Well, we have time."

 Looking down at her, Chuck found he couldn't escape her warm brown eyes.  "I . . . I was born Jewish.  My mother was Jewish, so that's why. But my father was Christian, and never converted.  The family wasn't too happy with that, but my mom didn't care what they thought.  My dad was fine with letting me be raised Jewish, but he insisted that I enjoy the aspects of a Christian background."

 Li moved closer to him from his right and added, "Well, that makes you more rounded. Doesn't it?"

 Chuck nodded.  "Yeah, it would seem that way, huh?  But I think it just made it worse.  I mean, I grew up believing in Santa Claus and learning about Jewish religion.  I tried to read the Talmud, even though I don't know Hebrew.  But I just couldn't feel comfortable with it all, and then I met this female rabbi . . ."  He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

 Janelle bit her lower lip. "What happened to the rabbi?"

 Chuck leaned back against the wall of the elevator.  "Oh, we went out on some dates, she freaked me out and I realized how much of a schmuck I am."

 The two women with him tried not to smile too hard.  "I doubt that," Li said.  "You can't be that bad."

 "But I am!" he answered. "Ever since I dumped the rabbi, I knew that God had to really hate me.  I mean, c'mon, I dated a rabbi and dumped her!"

 Shaking her head, Janelle said,  "She was just a rabbi, Chuck.  She wasn't God herself."

 "But she TALKS to God!"  Chuck said vehemently.

 Janelle gave a short laugh.  "And you think she told God to mark you down as a bad person, just because you dumped her?"

 Chuck pulled his legs up in front of him and dropped his head between his knees, much like a frightened child.  "It's more than that."

 "What?"

 Chuck put his hands against his head. "It's just . . . I'm not a good person."  Raising his head, he looked into Janelle's eyes. "I've
tried, really I have, but it always turned to shit.  I'm just too selfish and materialistic to ever do anyone any good."  He began wishing he'd never said anything.  How many speaches was he going to have to take?  Li Macbeth frowned with concern and patted his arm. "You did US good."

 Janelle gave him a hug.  "And, look at it this way.  Doesn't the Jewish religion believe that God loves everyone?"

 "Yeah," he muttered.

 "Well then,"  Janelle smiled, "why would you think that he doesn't love you?  I mean, you're obviously God fearing, but are you God loving? Are you so afraid of God that you think he's out to get you?"

 Chuck sat and thought about that for a few minutes.  He felt Janelle's warm arm across his shoulders, and Li's soft hand on his arm, and he realized that there were two people who he barely knew that cared about him.

 Chuck towards Janelle to looked down at her, his voice soft.  "I've just let so many people down in my life.  And now we may all die before I can fix it."

 Li Machbeth's soft voice came from his right. "Chuck, I worship ancient Chinese gods, but I believe one thing; a God wouldn't hate his or her children."

 Janelle nodded.  "Chuck, people love you, and so does whatever power created this universe, even if we don't know what it is."

 He shook his head, but smiled gratefully and sighed. "Yeah.  I guess."

 Chuck had never realized how much this was eating away at him.  And though he hadn't wanted to talk about it, for some reason he had been compelled to do so.  He didn't feel completly better, but the anguish eating away at him seemed slightly sated.   "Y'know," he said to Janelle, "life is . . . just weird."

 Janelle grinned.  "It's weird, huh?"

 "Yeah.  Believe me, you don't know the half of it."  Thinking back along those lines, Chuck glanced down at the newspaper.  Seeing the headline, he untangled his arm from Janelle and jumped up.

 "What's wrong?"  Janelle asked, but Chuck shook his head and read what was upon the front page.

----------
 'THREE DIE IN HORRIFIC ELEVATOR ACCIDENT

 In a horrible accident at the Cook County Hospital, one of the elevators at the hospital fell ten stories, killing three people and an unborn child.  The victims names were Charles Fishman, manager of McGinty's Restaurant; Dr. Janelle Markley, an attending physician at Cook County hospital. The third body, that of a pregnant woman, is as yet, unidentified.'
----------

 Chuck kept reading urgently.

----------
 'The elevator stopped suddenly at about 12:15 PM yesterday.  A phone call on the elevator phone was received from one of the occupants, Doctor Janelle Markley.  The occupant was assured a quick rescue, but at the estimated time of 3:00, there was an explosion and a power outage, and the elevator dropped, killing all three passengers.'
----------

 Chuck, shocked, took a moment to collect himself, and realized that it was almost 2:06.  If they were to get out of there, they had to move right away.
 
"Oh, God," he gasped, "Janelle, we have got to get outta here, now!"

 Janelle had thought that Chuck had gotten his fear under control. But now she wondered if he was losing it. "Chuck, it's all right," she said, her eyes widening as she watched him stalk around, studying the layout of the elevator.

 "No, we have to leave," he said, realizing something himself. "Someone wants this elevator to fall . . . an explosion would never happen normally . . ."  He walked over to Janelle and offered his hand.  Pulling her up, he marveled again at how the top of her head only reached his chin. "C'mon," he said, feeling the adrenalin rush through his body like a raging fire.  "We've got to leave."

 "What!  You said an explosion." Janelle said with disbelief. "Why do we have to leave?"

  Chuck strode over to where she stood.  "Because this elevator is gonna fall sooner or later, and I'd rather it be when we're not here.  We gotta see if there's a floor that we've stopped near to, and somehow open the door.  C'mon, Janelle, get in gear!"

 "But--" Janelle stood and shook her head. "There's no reason to. It's too dangerous!  This isn't Mission Impossible, Chuck, lives are at stake!"

 "I know! That's why we have to get out of here, or we're gonna die."  He stared at her, but she glared back.

 Li looked at both of them, then piped up, "How do you know that?"

 Uncomfortably, Chuck wiped sweaty hands on his slacks. "I can't say.  I just know.  You have to believe me."

 Janelle groaned and said, "All right, fine!  But I think this is more dangerous than waiting.  Up we go, Li."  She took Li's hands and pulled Li from her spot on the floor, then returned her gaze to Chuck. "Where do we start?"

 Chuck looked carefully at the small square outline on the ceiling. He realized as he looked closer that the lines were in fact grooves, a seam that ran in a square shape.  "It's some kind of trap door, or something. It says to not tamper with it on this sticker, but I don't think we'll get arrested.  Here, Janelle,  I'll have to lift you on my shoulders.  See if you can get the door thingy up and out."

 Janelle smiled as she looked up at him.  "If we must.  Let's go."

 Chuck knelt down and bent his head, saying, "On my shoulders, sweetheya't," he said with a Bogart accent.

 Janelle frowned but put her legs around his neck.  She bent forward to balance across his shoulders as he grabbed her calves.  "Fishman, you're lucky I'm wearing pants," she said.

 "Why's that?"

 "Because, otherwise you'd be more inclined to get ideas."

 With a grunt that could have been a response, or maybe physical strain,  Chuck rose from the squat slowly, and she pried open the ceiling door with a nail file (Chuck wondered where she had gotten it, and then gave up) and pulled it down.  Dropping it far from where Li and Chuck stood, she looked back up through the dark hole and said, "Now what?"

 "Now, I push you through."  Straining, he stood on his toes, and Janelle pulled herself into the darkness beyond.

 Having gotten herself onto the roof of the elevator, Janelle turned in the shadowy elevator shaft and looked down into the hole.  "Li, you're next.  Chuck, help her up."

 With Chuck helping from the inside of the elevator,  Janelle grabbed Li by the arms and lifted her up.  As soon as Li's elbows cleared the roof, Janelle grabbed her around her full waist and, with help from Chuck, pulled her up the rest of the way.
 Everyone rested a moment, gasping in deep breaths.  "I'm sorry I'm so heavy,"  Li said with embarrassment.

 "It's not your fault,"  Chuck rasped.  "It's the baby.  I mean, It's not the baby's fault--"  he cringed at his own ineptness.

 "That's okay," Li said.  "If we survive, buy me a steak dinner and you'll more than make up for it."

 Chuck stood and looked up at her.  "You're on.  Now let's get me outta here."

 Janelle shook her head when Li reached to help him.  "No way, Li. I'll do this by myself."

 Chuck looked up at her face in the window of the opening.  "Are you sure you're up to it?"

 Janelle smiled as she looked down.  "Oh yeah.  But I'm not going to do all the work.  I expect you to pitch in."

 "I will."  Chuck stepped back and took a deep breath.  "Stand back, I'm gonna jump and try to grab onto the sides.  If I grab on, you're gonna have to pull me up by my arms."

 "Okay.  I'm ready."  He put the paper in the back pocket of his slacks, feeling like Gary once again.  God, was he turning into the guy?

Chuck hadn't even thought about it . . . but he realized there wasn't time. His life was in his own hands now, more than ever.

 Chuck closed his eyes for a split second, but it was enough.  In that instant, he saw Gary sitting in the hospital;  Marissa standing in the bar alone, with only her dog as a companion; his parents sitting in their living room reading . . . and every other person that he cared about, and who cared about him.  In only a moment, he knew that he had something worth much more than money.

 Pulling all of his energy deep into his hands, he imagined the power at his fingertips.  He bent his knees and leapt.

Part 10

Gary and his group had tried everything to find Chuck.  They tried Chuck's cell' phone number without success, guessing that its battery was low.  Then they paged Chuck over the intercom, and asked the nurse if she had seen doctor Markley.  They even paged the doctor over the intercom.

 Just when Gary was ready to give up and head back to McGinty's, a meow sounded from the floor.  Gary looked down to see the cat, its green eyes staring at him.

 "What?  Cat, what are you doing here?"

 His parents had gone looking down the hall for a pay phone to try Chuck's number again, while Gary and Renee waited by the room, just in case.  So only Renee was there to look questioningly at the cat.  "Gary . . . that's the orange cat that's always at McGin- Wait.  That's not the cat with the paper, is it?"

 Gary shoved a hand through his dark hair glumly.  "Yes. It is.  And it can't talk, so I haven't the FAINTEST idea of what it wants."

 The cat meowed, and suddenly leapt upwards, clawing a hold onto Gary's t-shirt.  "Hey!" Gary caught the cat, and it settled into his arms.

But the cat's eyes were glued to Gary's own.  "Cat, what are you trying to tell me?"

 If it was possible to give expression to a single cat, this cat would be the only one.  Gary could almost FEEL the importance in its gaze, the serious nature.  It was if the cat was willing him to understand . . .

 "Wait." Gary's hazel eyes flickered as quick thoughts passed behind them. "The paper is missing.  Chuck is missing.  The cat is HERE . . ."

Gary raised the cat and plopped her onto his shoulder, holding her there with one hand.  "The cat knows were Chuck is, and I think he's in trouble!!"  Gary stared at the cat, hard, their noses almost touching.

"Renee," he spoke casually, not looking away from the feline, "where are my parents?"

 Renee glanced down the hallway, then back at Gary, sensing a kind of dread to his unusually calm voice.  "Um, they're headed this way."  She turned to the hall again, and waved to his parents as they made their way towards them.  "They're coming."
 

 "Argh!"  Chuck yowled as his hands clawed at the sides of the opening.  A second later, Janelle had her knees planted into the floor and grabbed his wrists.

 With a grunt, Janelle pulled with all of her strength, her arm muscles straining.  Chuck rose a few inches, and she pulled even more, until he could bend his elbows and rest a'top the cold metal.  "Okay," he growled breathlessly.  "I gotta . . . get up.  Help . . ."

 Janelle took a breath and set her feet.  Bending her knees, she reached below his under arms and strained to lift him up, finally getting his upper body onto the roof.  But his legs were still dangling, so Janelle swallowed pride and grabbed the back of his pants and tugged.  Finally, with a loud groan from them both, they collapsed in a heap.

 "Janelle," Chuck said, "I should have been the one to warn YOU about ideas."

 "Quiet, you," she said with a tight smile.

 But they didn't have time to relax.  Chuck stood with effort and pulled Janelle up with him, then looked around.  "C'mon.  Look at this.  It has a timer and says fifteen minutes." He pointed to a small black box glued to the emergency clamps.

 Li blinked, her eyes wide. "What has a timer and is counting down?"

 "A bomb?" Chuck answered weakly.

 White as a sheet, Janelle stared at the box. "We have a winner. You were right."

 "Okay," Chuck said, turning to an equally frightened Li.  "It's okay, we'll get outta this.  There's a floor up there," he pointed up, and they all looked to the closed doors that sat against the wall, about seven feet up.  "Janelle, you'll have to get up there and do something to the catch-thingy."

 "You mean the door opening-mechanism."

 Chuck scratched his head.  "That's what I said.  I'll lift you up."

 Janelle nodded and strode purposefully to the other side of the elevator roof.  Chuck knelt down and motioned for Janelle to sit across his shoulders.

 "All right, Chuck."  Janelle steadied herself across his neck and put her hands on his chest.  "Don't drop me."

 Chuck lifted her up slowly.  As Janelle felt her altitude rise, she looked up at the large handle-like switch that was set into a square crevase in the wall.  Once Chuck stood completely, not without some groaning on his part, Janelle attempted to regain her equilibrium. Finally, she felt balanced enough to reach up to the switch.  Taking it in both hands, she pulled out with a loud expulsion of breath.

 Moaning below her, Chuck tried to steady himself.  It wasn't her weight that posed a problem; Janelle couldn't weight more than 110 pounds. But standing on the top of an elevator car while balancing a woman on your shoulders wasn't the easiest thing to do.  Thankfully, Li stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him for further support, her full belly warm against his back.

 Janelle looked to the handle switch, which was now horizontal, and took all of her energy into one pull down.  With a loud screech and groan, the doors slowly opened above, releasing blinding light onto the gloom.  The door was lower than the switch, and Janelle found that, upon Chuck's shoulders, she could crawl through the door.  "Hey!" Janelle shouted, her hands on the edge of the doorway, "Help us!  Help!"

 Chuck and Li joined her in calling out.  "Help!  Help get us outta here!  We're in the elevator!!!"

  They heard confused murmurings, and then a few people, some doctors and some civilians, arrived.  Shocked, the first four people listened as Janelle said to Chuck, "Lower me."

 But before Janelle could say it, Chuck did. "Li first."

 Li Macbeth smiled at him, and Chuck prayed it wouldn't be her last smile.

 "All right, Li," Janelle said, "We're going to push you up.  You guys up there, pull her out!"

 Lifting Li into the air from both sides, Janelle and Chuck strained until the rescuers could grab her and pull her out.  Once she was safe, she turned to cry, "Please get my friends out of there!"

 Chuck turned to Janelle.  "Ladies first.  The bomb's timer only said fifteen minutes."

 Janelle stepped up to Chuck and put her hands on his shoulders. "You're still my hero," she said, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

 Flustered, Chuck ducked down, grabbed her waist before she could protest, and lifted her to the rescuers.

 "Chuck!" she called to him as the timer beeped, and he leapt up and grabbed onto the floor.  Their saviors, Janelle one of them, grabbed his wrists and lifted him up just as the bomb exploded.  The noise deafened everything as the air filled with the resounding whine of the elevator rushing downward.  Janelle held on to Chuck with all her might, her brown eyes grasping at the fear in his own . . . but she felt her grip slowly slipping.
 

 Suddenly there was a resounding crash that echoed through the hospital, causing Gary to almost pitch over onto Renee, the cat catching his shoulder with sharp claws to keep from falling.

 "Hey, Babe, easy," she said, helping him to balance the orange cat back onto his shoulder.  "Don't want you to crack your head again.  And the purr-box here doesn't need that either."

 Around them, people scurried towards the noise.  Using one hand to pull Renee with him, while the other balanced the cat on his shoulder, Gary followed the crowd to find the large mass of people standing in front of an elevator door.  However, there was a strange dent from the INSIDE of the doors that made Gary's stomach lurch.

 Renee's attention was returned to the elevator, when a strange shrieking sound came, the sound of metal harsh on metal.

 She turned to see the doors slowly opening with sudden jerky motion, a man timidly snatching his hand away from the 'open' button.

"Sorry," he said, but no one was listening.

 Everyone was staring at the inside of the elevator shaft.  All that had survived was a crumpled ball of metal, still smoking from the hot, crazed ride to the bottom.

 Gary's eyes were melded to that image, and the thought of someone inside . . . "Chuck--" he gasped.
 

 Suddenly, other arms wrapped around Janelle's.  Many floors below the one where Chuck dangled, the elevator crashed with a thunderous shudder.  Janelle, with many others to help, wrenched Chuck from the mouth of the yawning hole of darkness.

 With a cry, Chuck fell forward into the bright hall lights, and landed on top of Janelle. His face inches from her own, Chuck said with disbelief, "I'm . . . alive . . ."

 "And just so you know," she said, breathing stiffly, "You're very heavy."

 Chuck laughed harder than he had laughed in a long time, and began to rise.

 "Hey," Janelle said, pulling him back down. "I wasn't complaining."

 Chuck sighed happily and decided to let the woman do anything she damn well pleased.  He relaxed into her arms, and closed his eyes, both of their terrified hearts speeding from adrenaline.

 Unfortunately, he didn't get much time to enjoy his enviable position, because the building security officers rushed in, along with the repair crew.

 "Well," one of the repair crew said, "looks like we have nothing to repair now."

 One of the security officers, a woman, stepped down to the three survivors.  "Are you all right?  We got a call from the elevator--"

 Chuck pulled himself up and stood, helping Janelle along with him.

"Yeah, well, there was a slight problem."  His voice grew deeper with bitter anger.  "Did you recall hearing a loud exploding noise?"

 "Uh, no."

 Chuck smiled without humor, his eyes narrowed.  "There was a bomb. A big BOMB that blew up the elevator and-"

 "Um, Chuck," Janelle said, but Chuck continued.

 "So, now," Chuck kept saying, his voice raised,  "you wonder how the hell we got here?  Someone was trying to blow up the elevator, now you tell me, buddy, why the hell would someone wanna do that?!"

 "Sir, please calm down!" said the black security man.  "We apologize that we didn't get you out of there sooner, but we didn't know there was a bomb.  We would have called the cops!"

 Chuck sighed, the adrenalin rushing out of him like a dam had been released.  Leaning against the wall, he looked down as Janelle stepped up to him.

 "Chuck?" Janelle said, worried brown eyes studying his face.

 "Janelle, I just wanna go home and not use an elevator for the rest of my life."  He took the hand that she offered and said to the security officers, "I'm sorry."  He then turned to Li as she sat against the wall. "Li, how're you doing?"

 She sighed with contentment.  "Oh, I'm great, now that I'm out of there.  But you're right, it would be nice to go home."

 Chuck nodded, rubbing under his eyes.  "All right, let's go home, everybody.  I'll drive."
 

 The crowd was becoming worried about the fact that someone could have been inside the elevator.  People were calling, "Was anyone in the"--"hope it was empty"--"SHOULD get someone DOWN here to find"---  Suddenly, Bernie and Lois were pushing their way through the crowd. Bernie's eyes widened upon seeing the ghastly remains of the elevator.

"What the hell . . ."

 Gary's eyes were slightly glazed as he lowered the suddenly wriggling cat to the floor.  "We have to find Chuck.  So, check .  .  . check every floor."

 Bernie frowned, still not getting the picture.  "But, why, Gair-"

 "Just!!-"  Gary shook his head angrily.  "Just do it, guys. Please?  I . . ."  he tried to explain it, frustrated at his lack of words.
"I'm sorry, I just have this bad feeling."  His eyes fell grimly to the orange cat at his feet.

 Renee took his arm, as they headed for the nearest stairs, the cat bounding ahead of them.  "Are you sure you're not psychic, Gary?" she asked softly.

 Gary gave her a weak smile.  "No.  I just have this feeling . . . and the cat seems to be backing me up.  That's good enough for me."
 

 Chuck didn't know who would support who;  Finally, they were as close to the stair doors as they would ever be.  Tired and drained from the adrenal rush, he, Janelle, and Li were unable to go any further.  Just as they were about to sink to the floor again, a few of the security officers saw them and headed over quickly.

 "Sir," the female security officer said, "Are you sure you're all right?  All of you?  Maybe we should take you to one of the doctors and have them take a look."

 Chuck looked at Janelle.  "We got one right here.  What do you think, doc?"

 Janelle sighed.  "Chuck, as much as I want to go home, I think that you're in no position to drive, and neither are we.  Maybe we should see if Gary and his friends are still here . . ."

 Chuck groaned, staring up at the ceiling as he slapped his forehead.  "Gary!!  I forgot completely.  God, he'll be so mad at me, he'll think I-" Chuck broke off, moving the paper in his back jean pocket.  He realized that there were those around him with no knowledge of the usual goings on with Gary and his cat. "He'll be pissed," Chuck amended, rubbing his aching head.

 Li, tired of remaining on her feet, sunk to the floor.  Janelle followed her example with a sigh. "I'm sure Gary won't be.  But I don't think we'll be able to make it down the stairs without help."

 Chuck took out his cell phone as he leaned against the wall, planning on calling McGinty's to see if they had returned there, although that would mean all four of them had crowded into Renee's tiny car.

 However, his cell phone merely beeped loudly, blinked at him, and shut down.  "Damn," Chuck said softly.  "The battery's dead."

 Janelle stood quickly.  "Wait.  What if the battery was dead and they tried to call you?  What would happen?"

 Chuck scratched his cheek.  "I guess it would probably say that my phone was out of order."

 Running a hand through her long red hair, the petite doctor frowned.  "So they could still be looking for us.  They might have even paged us."

 Chuck felt like his brain was turning to liquid.  "Page?"  He sighed, the headache that had begun when the elevator crashed now becoming migraine material.

 Janelle nodded.  "I think we should have THEM paged.  Y'know . . ."

 A soft noise slowly began to grow louder . . . the sound of rhythmatic thumping that was emanating from the stairs . . . Janelle, a frown on her face, helped Li to her feet and pulled them both away from the door.

 Suddenly, the door opened, and out spilled Gary and the cat.  "Chuck!!"

 Chuck grinned and met Gary half way, almost collapsing into Gary's arms.  "Gary, thank God you're here.  Don't ever leave me with the paper again!"

 Gary's strange fear for Chuck had indeed been terrible, but now that he was assured that Chuck was all right, he released his best friend to look into his eyes. "Chuck, I had the strangest feeling that you were going to die!"

 Chuck's white face and dilated pupils were enough to validate

Gary's fears. "Gary . . ."  Chuck blinked, ignorant of the three familiar people who had followed his friend from the stairs.

 Concern held Gary still. "What . . .?"

 Chuck closed his eyes. "I feel really dizzy . . ."

 Gary tried to keep his friend upright, but he was also very weak. Suddenly, a warm hand touched his.

 "Gary," Janelle said, "I'll help him.  You're too weak from your injuries."

 "But what about you?" Gary said.

 Janelle smiled.  "As long as I don't get hit in the head, I handle this kind of thing pretty well.  I'll be fine.  Anyway, Chuck saved our lives.  It's the least I can do for him."

 Chuck smiled weakly at Janelle as she took his arm and wrapped it over her shoulders, supporting his weight.  "This is a turnaround, huh?" he asked.

 Janelle grinned under his weight. "You're lucky I'm in good shape."

 Bernie stepped forward. "Um, we could help--"

 Janelle smiled, but shook her head.  "Anyway, I think Chuck here's going to be sick in a few seconds."  She began walking Chuck to the men's bathroom, confidently pushing open the door and helping him inside.

 Gary leaned against Renee, a bemused expression on his face. "How do ya like that.  Chuck really CAN'T handle too much excitement. Physically."

 Renee gave him a kiss on the cheek, while his parents looked on happily.  "Good thing that you get most of it, then."
 

Part 11

A men's bathroom isn't the cleanest.  But then, for someone used to doing surgery, it was more of an anger than a revulsion at the crud.  And, hell, maybe at the hospital janitorial staff as well.

 Janelle held onto Chuck tightly as the door swung shut behind them, and she hurried him to an empty stall.

 Chuck collapsed to the floor, and clutched the sides of the toilet.

 Not wanting to make him feel even more embarrassed, Janelle stepped back and turned to face the bathroom mirror as Chuck's body rejected his quick McDonald's breakfast.  When the unpleasant sounds stopped, she returned to Chuck's side.  As Janelle carefully helped Chuck to stand, she noted with sympathy his pale features and lackluster blue eyes.  "Chuck?  I'm going to get you some water."  She supported him long enough to walk to the sole chair in the men's room, then watched as he
tiredly sat down.  "Wait right here," she said, trying not to sound like a teacher talking to a child.  "I'll be right back."

 Chuck closed his eyes and leaned back, not even responding.

 Unsure of how to take that reaction, Janelle sighed and exited the men's room.  Once she was clear of the door, she could see the curious faces of Chuck's friends.

 Janelle stepped up to Gary and said, "Chuck will be fine.  He just needs some water."  She motioned to the bottled water jug that sat in the nearby waiting room, then began to walk towards it.

 However, Gary's voice stopped her.  "Doctor Markley--"

 She turned to him and smiled at the formality. "Janelle."

 "Janelle," he shrugged, "Um, I can get that for him.  I . . ."  His expression faltered.

 With a grin, Janelle said, "Time for male bonding, huh?"

 Gary answered her smile with his own, and walked into the waiting room to get the cup of water.

 Watching Gary, Janelle nodded, pleased with his improvement.  Already, he had begun walking with far surer movements, with more strength. In another day, he would be moving with only slight discomfort and pain. In a week or two, the stiches would be removed.  Her patient would be well, whole if not for the scars of the bullets.
 

 Chuck felt the pounding behind his eyes and ears thump so loudly, that it sounded as if he was sitting next to a drum, and someone was angrily hammering away at it.  He was so tired . . . The dizziness began to come back, and he was finding it hard to stand the terrible taste in his mouth.  When would Janelle get back with the--

 "Hey, there, Chuck."

 Chuck opened his eyes at his buddy's voice. "Gair . . . where's Janelle?"

 Gary leaned against the wall and handed him the paper cup of water. Chuck grasped it gratefully, but set it on the counter.  Slowly standing, his body drained of energy, Chuck leaned against the counter and rinsed his mouth out with the water.  Spitting it out into the sink, he refilled the cup from the tap and rinsed again.

 Finally, the taste was mostly gone.  Chuck filled the cup with water and drank it.  Accepting that the water had done as much as it would ever do, he backed up, planning on sitting back down in the chair.

 Gary was unsure of whether to help his friend or not, but when Chuck lost his footing and began to fall back, Gary stepped forward and kept him upright.  "Chuck, are you okay?"

 Chuck, embarrassed, nodded as he looked away.  "Yeah," he croaked, "I just want to sit down."  He allowed Gary to help him to the seat, then lowered himself with a sigh.

 Gary's dark eyes studied Chuck. "How're you feeling?"

 Chuck closed his eyes again, finding the glaring brightness hurt his corneas. "I'm . . .  I'm okay.  This really freaked me, though, Gary. I . . . I don't think I could do it again."

 Gary sighed as he rested his palms against the cold counter top. "I didn't know that . . . I'm sorry, Chuck, I didn't know that this would happen."

 Chuck shook his head.  "No, no.  You couldn't have known.  I just wasn't very good at it, and-"

 "Weren't good at it?" Gary laughed softly. "That's not what I heard about the bus from my parents.  It's in the papers, you know.  You stopped it, and no one was hurt.  That went right.  I just didn't know that you wouldn't be able to . . . y'know, handle it.  Physically."

 Chuck snorted, his eyes still closed.  "I'm just not used to excitement like you are, Gary.  I probably pulled every muscle in my body, tryin' to do in one day something that you do every day.  I'm no good at it.  Really."

 Gary nodded, hazel eyes blearily taking in his friend's haggard face.  "I know," Gary said softly.  "I know.  But for not being good at it . . ."  and with this, he leaned closer, "You did a pretty good job of it, Chuck.  It must be fate that you came back . . ."  He looked away, embarissed, "And you helped."

 Chuck squinted at Gary, seeing the bathroom light haloing around his body as his vision began to tunnel.  "I used to not believe in fate. But after the paper came along . . . thanks, Gair.  That . . . what you said really means a lot."

 With that, Chuck fainted from exhaustion and slumped to the floor, Gary barely catching him in time.
 

Sunday, April 4, 1999-

 The day dawned bright, and Gary woke with a calm that had rarely entered his mind so early in the morning.  When the paper fell outside his door, he actually felt happy to get it.  And then the ginger fur ball rubbed against his legs, purring loudly, and Gary opened the newspaper eagerly.

 After a shower, Gary took the rather sparse paper and opened the door, ready to leave.  But the cat joyfully rushed to him from the couch and leapt into his arms, more exuberant than Gary had ever seen it.  Though it made Gary feel rather deluged with responsibilities, he cradled the orange cat lovingly, a grin on his face as he exited his upstairs apartment to walk down the stairs.

 Marissa was in the office, typing on the computer.  "Hello, Gary," she said, her dark face beaming.

 Gary smiled as he juggled the paper and cat, stuffing the paper into his back pocket.  Brown eyes sparkling with the joy of being back, he cried, "Morning Marissa!"

 "Busy paper today?"  she asked.

 "Not really," he said, patting the cat absently.  "I guess I'm getting an easy start from the paper."

 Marissa smiled and said, "That's nice.  Maybe you can spend some time with Renee, then."

 Gary plopped the cat upon his shoulder (after the incident at the hospital, he had realized how sensible the seating arrangement was)  while the other hand ran through his dark hair. "Yeah.  I think that would really be a good idea."
 

 Home.  It was wonderful.

 Chuck took a deep breath of his clean pillow, and rolled over in the bed.  Sunlight shone onto his eyes, and he blocked the brightness.  The sun . . . how late was it, anyway?

 His gaze fell on the clock, and he frowned at the time glowing there in red.  "Eight?  What happened to the alarm?"

 With a blink of his eyes, yesterday returned to him.  "Oh, God . . ."  He grimaced, but felt relief as he also remembered that everyone was safe.  "I hate that paper,"  he said to himself.  "I can't believe it, but I never want to see it again."  With a groan, he sat up in bed, rubbing his leaden eyes.  He wondered how he had gotten to bed . . . and, if Gary had brought him home, he wondered if his best friend was still at his house. Probably not, but Chuck never knew what Gary would do when conserned for a friend.

 As if reading his mind, their came a knock on the door.  Chuck shook his head.  "Gair."  Raising his voice, he called, "Come in."

But it wasn't him.   A wide smile greeted him from the door, along  with a flash of copper.  "Good morning, Chuck."

 Chuck pulled the blankets up to his bare chest. "Janelle?  What-what are you doing here?"

 Janelle walked up to the bed.  "Well, Gary and Marissa were busy,but they didn't want you left alone, not after you fainted-"

 "I fainted?"  Embarrassment colored his fair features.

 Janelle smiled.  "It's not something to be ashamed of.  You went through a lot."

 He was still confused. "But don't you have to work?"

 A laugh rang out from her, like bells chiming.  "Oh, Chuck.  They gave me the day off of my regular rounds, for being stuck in the elevator so long."  Her brown eyes twinkled at him with amusement.  "So I decided to repay you for the care you gave me when I had a concussion."

 Chuck had never before felt so shy, his face down as his eyes studied the bedspread.  All of his defenses had been destroyed;  the woman had seen him faint and vomit, for God's sakes!  She had gotten to know him without his usual charming, and that hadn't ever happened before.  Except maybe with Marissa, but she wasn't his type.  Chuck liked gorgeous women .. . the "beautiful people".  But Janelle wasn't gorgeous either . . . she had many flaws he could name.  So then why did he feel so embarrassed?  He didn't know what to do . . . he had never been in this situation, never felt so very confused.

 "Um," Janelle said, sensing his diffidence, "I'd better go and let you get dressed.  As long as you're okay . . . I should be going."

 Chuck looked up to see her glance uncomfortably away.  Suddenly, he felt a loneliness inside him.  "Janelle;  don't go.  It's okay.  I mean, unless you want to . . ."

 The smile she favored him with was more reserved, but it was better than the glum expression she had held only moments before.  "I'd like to stay.  You're still going to be a little drained;  how about I make you some breakfast?"

 Chuck beamed, feeling a strange tingle down his spine.  No one but his parents had ever made him breakfast before . . . that is, unless it was a woman he had slept with.

 "What do you like?" Janelle asked from the doorway.

 "Um . . . I don't know.  I like just about anything."

 The elfin woman smiled.  "Do you like omelettes?"

 With a blink of surprise, Chuck said from the bed, "Sure.  I love them."

 Janelle gave him wink and a smile, and closed the door behind her.

 Chuck got out of bed slowly, a strange look of bemused pleasure on his face.  "Omelette.  A homemade omelette?"  No one had ever made that for him.  His parents liked eggs and bacon, or sausage.  That was what his past lovers had usually cooked.
 A smile on his face, he walked over to the closet and began picking out his clothes for the day.
 

 Janelle was in the kitchen, out of sight of the bathroom, when she heard Chuck patter out and close the bathroom door behind him.  With a little grin, she went to the fridge and began looking for vegetables.  Crouching in front of the fridge, she frowned with disgust at the appliance.  It seemed to have been cleaned a few months ago, but needed it again.  In the vegetable drawer, she found some slightly yellowed broccoli, and a little cauliflower.  There also were some carrots, and she pulled those out with the other vegetables.

 The upper drawer of the fridge revealed a block of orange cheeseand some ham sandwich slices.  She grabbed those as well, then closed the door.

 After the usual preparation, the omlette was almost finished.  As she flipped it again, she sensed Chuck step closer to her.
"Hello," she said, looking up.

 Chuck's hair was damp but slicked back, darker when wet.  His eyes, bright and blue, smiled at her as she met them with her own.  "You need some help?" he asked.

 Janelle's eyes consumed the image before her.  Feeling the heat on her hand, though, caused her to abruptly glance down at the stove. Quickly, Janelle turned down the stove, afraid that she had burned the omelette.  "Um, toast? And maybe you could set the table."

 Chuck grinned, having caught her reaction,  and turned to get the bread out of the pantry.  "Coffee?" he asked her next, going to the freezer.

 Janelle smiled.  "Sure."

 "Decaf' okay?  I'm trying to cut back on my caffeine intake . . ."

 "Decaf' is fine," she answered with a little nostalgic chuckle.

 As Janelle flipped the omelette again, she studied Chuck from the corner of her eye.  He was wearing a dark green t-shirt, with a black, unbuttoned shirt over it.  The long black sleeves seemed tailored to his arms, as did the loose, though well-fitting black jeans.

 Chuck set the table with clean dishes from the cabinet, and laid out the silverware beside the plates.  He then got out the coffee cups and toast, and sat down to butter the slices.

 Janelle grinned as she walked to the kitchen table, took the spatula and began serving out the omelette onto the two plates.  "I bet you don't often get service like this, huh?"

 Chuck glanced up at her with a sly smile. "Oh, all the time.  I have a maid, but she's been sick."

 "Hah hah."  Janelle set the empty pan back onto the cooling stove and sat down to eat with him.  "This pales McDonald's in comparison.  I hope you like it."

 Chuck began to put salt and pepper on it, but Janelle said, "Try it without, first.  I think you'll like it."

 With a shrug, Chuck began to eat it plain, and found himself pleasantly surprised.  Upon cutting the omelette open and finding
vegetables, he had been even more unsure.  It took a lot of salad dressing to get him to eat those things.  But they actually tasted good in the omelette.  "This is terrific!" he said after swallowing his first bite.

 Janelle stood to get the coffee.  "I told you that you'd like it," she said, pouring them both a cup of the black brew.  "It's the natural flavors of everything.  It's also very healthy."

 Chuck rolled his eyes, but had to agree that it was delicious.  If everything healthy could taste that good, then he might be able to eat like those California vegetarians.

 That meal was one of the few breakfasts that Chuck had gotten to enjoy leisurely.  Since Janelle had assured him that Marissa and Gary had everything taken care of, he had no where to hurry off to.  It was great to relax for once in the morning, and Chuck savored every second of it.
 

 It was only eleven o'clock that morning when Gary returned from his last rescue: an elderly woman would have been attacked by two men, but when Gary had stopped to talk to her, they had passed her by.

 Gary had been looking forward to seeing Renee all day.  He missed her so much, that silly laugh of hers, the way her blue eyes crinkled up when she grinned . . .

 Gary stepped through the McGinty's front door into the crowded restaurant, a smile on his face.  He went to the bar, said hello to a busy Stan, and headed back to the office to useÐthe phone.

  As he entered the empty office, Gary wondered momentarily about where Marissa was, then saw the note she had scrawled in her odd handwriting: "gone to class, talk to you later Gary, Marissa".

 {Renee should be home right now, either grading papers, or relaxing,}  Gary told himself, being that it was a Saturday.  She often complained lightheartedly about the junior high kids that she taught basic algebra to, but readily admitted that she liked them.  What made the students perhaps easier to deal with was that many of the boys had been getting crushes on her, something that amused Gary immensely.

 He dialed her number, and the phone rang twice.  Then he heard her soft voice say, "Hello."

 "It's me," he said, "and I miss you."

 Her laughter greeted him. "I miss you too.  I thought you would have . . . you know, the paper and all."

 Gary grinned.  "Not today, honey, I'm mostly free.  I think the fur ball is giving me a day off."

 Renee giggled.  "I can't imagine the little kit ordering you around.  One day she's gonna actually start talking, and then you'll really be frustrated."

 He shook his head slightly. "If he ever starts talking, I'm going to drop him off at the pound."

 "Gary!" she laughed reproachfully.

 "Okay, maybe not.  He'd escape, anyway.  So, would you like to do something today, hon?"

 "I'd love to.  What will we do?"

 Gary smiled and leaned against the wall, his face close to the phone. "The spring flowers are blooming at the Botanical Gardens."

 Renee hummed happily. "Oh, Gary.  It's been so long since you first took me there . . ."

 "We can reminisce.  Hey, do you mind if we make it a double date?"

 She paused. "With who?  Not Chuck . . ."

 Gary shrugged, then realized she couldn't see him. "Chuck needs some R 'n' R, I think.  And it's not like he'd be alone, he could bring someone."

 "Who?  All the women I can remember seeing him with started to hate him after the second date."

 "There's one that doesn't."

 Renee laughed.  "All right, you.  Don't say I never did anything for you.  But if she can't come, then what?"

 Gary sighed. "Believe me, Chuck doesn't like flowers that much, and remember, he hates it when we get mushy.   How about we pick you up in an hour?"

 "In the van?  What if someone wants to use it?"

 Gary scoffed, cradling the phone, "I know, but I feel so unchivalrous having you pick me up."

 Her laughter was kind. "It's all right with me.  Anyway, I'm doing you a favor, right?"

 Gary sighed lightheartedly and conceded. "Okay, hon.  Call me before ya' leave?"

 "Of course."

 Gary smiled. "I do love you, Renee."

 "Me too, Gary.  I love you too."
 

 The cat sat still on the floor, studying the two female humans at the bar as they watched the group leave.  One of the females stood behind the bar, an apron on as she polished the glasses.  The other female, the Scholar, sat on a stool, with a tiny Mona Lisa smile on her face as her brown eyes appeared to look at something beyond the walls of the room.

 "So," the female behind the bar said to the seated one, "What do you think of the good doctor?"

 The dark skinned Scholar smiled.  "I think she's very nice.  I hope she comes around the restaurant more often."

 The slightly younger human smiled back, and straightened her tie as someone ordered a drink.  "Right away, John."  As she began preparing the mint julep, she added, "Wasn't he surprised she said yes?  He's only known her for maybe two weeks."

 "Life is strange like that," the Scholar said.  "Anyway, she just moved here.  Maybe she was interested in seeing the Botanical Gardens.  She seems kind of lonely."

 The cat blinked with dry humor, and rubbed against the long legs of the seated Scholar.

 "Hello, cat.  What do you think?"

 The cat just gave a wry purr, and stalked to the window. She looked through the clear plates and regarded her Ward walking happily to a large blue object.  At his side was the yellow-furred female, the Ward's Companion (finally), and just as joyful.  And behind them strode the red-furred newcomer female with The Comrade, who was sometimes The Nuisance.  But he was also in the cat's keeping . . . no less so than The Ward, only different.  All who cared about the Ward would be in her keeping
. . . and others who didn't care about him, would learn to.

 The cat watched contently,  as the blue object was relieved of its emptiness; and once filled, left her present sight.  The ginger cat flicked her white whiskers back, and left the window a final thought to ponder:  with hope and love, such joy would relieve all emptiness, and all emptiness would be filled.  It was inevitable.

 It was fate.

 The window pondered . . . and submitted.

 The End
 
 

Email the author: Dana K
 
 

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