Author's note: You might want to go back and read the last chapter since it's been a while for this update.

Part 6

The gathered natural gas in the kitchen made sure the small explosive bullet was more than effective. The back half of the house exploded up and out, shredding what was left of the dilapidated heroin den. Hopefully the four remaining guys inside didn't die instantly.

On the way back to the car, I stripped the Glock and tossed most of the pieces down a storm drain. Before I'd closed the driver’s side door, I heard the distinct sound of fire truck sirens in the distance. At least they were on their game.

While I waited around, I flipped open the file and ran my red finger down the list of names, people involved in the DEA's surveillance. Martin Pierce was subject number ten. Retrieving an address where he laid his bedroll down at night, I put the Jeep into gear and headed to the Brewery Tap, four blocks over.

It started off as a trendy micro-brewery bar, specializing in one hundred and two different kinds of beer on tap, most of which was made in Texas. It was a popular hangout for the rollerblading kids that liked to skate on the empty streets downtown after dark.

That was ten years in the past.

More recently, it was a drug den that was always passed over by HPD's narcotics division for the right amount of cash.

I ground my teeth. They'd have to pay as well. If the pukes that ran drug enforcement actually did their job, then maybe my little girl wouldn't have met up with guy that stuck her to begin with.

I really hated dirty cops.

~O~

The Brewery Tap was at the crown of a T-intersection and I was parked at the foot, watching it through my rearview mirror. It seemed busy enough, a nice normal front with less than nice cliental.

I wasn't going play around this time. This one was going to be messy.

With the Samaritan in one hand and the sound of stone grating against stone in the other I stepped out of the Jeep and made my way to the bar. People out front got a load of the red skin and horns when I passed a dim streetlight and decided discretion was the better part of keeping their heads attached to their necks. They bugged out rather quickly.

The front door was already open.

Cigarette smoke and the smell of sweat drifted out the door before I stepped inside. Frank Sinatra was crooning the highlights of living in the Big Apple, but that was about all I heard when everyone inside got a look at me.

I stood there and let everyone take me in for a moment. A glass shattered to the side and I heard a few muttered curses and a plea to God in a foreign language before I announced my intensions.

"I'm the Devil and I've come for my due. Anyone who helps me gets to walk out of here in one piece. Now, where's Martin?"

Several heads turned to the guy behind the bar, not to mention several fingers pointing him out. The neon lights didn't do too much for his complexion, which was getting paler by the second.

I raised the Hand and crooked a beckoning finger. "Come on, Martin. It's time to go to Hell."

He stared at me. I saw his hands shaking. Then he pulled a runner. Without even thinking about it, I leaped forward, up and over the bar, landing right on his heels, to grab his shoulder, slamming him down to the floor. He started screaming right away.

"Oh God, Oh God, please! I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

The sound of chairs scraping against concrete alerted me that the patrons were escaping while they had a chance. I gave them a cursory look over my shoulder to make sure none stayed around and tried to be a hero.

"Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

The smell of spent urine added to the smoke and sweat. Standing up, I took Martin with me and body slammed him onto the top of the bar. "Shut up, Martin. Redemption time is over. We're at the penance portion of the game now. This is the time where you get to confess all of your sins and accept your punishment for the part you played in killing my daughter."

His eyes widened and his bowels loosened. Then he screamed. I think I broke him. He wouldn't stop screaming and trying to scramble away, so I holstered the Samaritan and grabbed the closest bottle of booze and started pouring it into his open mouth.

On his next inhalation of breath he stared choking. It was nice seeing him struggle. It soothed a savageness that I felt somewhere deep inside.

"The word is that you started my little girl on heroin, gave her the first shot."

Once he was able to breathe, it was nothing but denials. "No... I swear!"

I blinked at him and smiled. "Are you saying that you didn't provide Gemma Saunders with armful after armful of that crap?"

He didn't deny it this time. He only whimpered.

"Red."

The Samaritan was out and pointed before I had even finished turning my head to the door.

"Get the fuck out of here, Abe."

Martin was past whimpering and into full on crying by this point and I was just getting started.

"I can't do that."

I grabbed Martin by the throat and lifted him off the bar. "This is the piece of shit that killed Gemma. Her boyfriend. You get that, Abe? She trusted him to do boyfriend shit: bring her flowers, take her out to movies, and try to feel her up after dates, not get her so stoned that she couldn't remember the right dosage to fill the needle with so she wouldn't kill herself."

Slamming him back on the bar, I held him down with the normal hand and the Samaritan planted on his chest, and pointed a stone finger at him.

"You fucked her, did you? Got her nice and stoned and then fucked her. Well that shit ends now, tonight."

I brought my Hand down between his legs and squeezed, making sure he never thought about violating anyone ever again. He didn't stop screaming after, until he passed out from the pain.

"Red." I closed my eyes in annoyance. The sound of Frank Sinatra died down and I could hear Abe's footfalls on the concrete floor. "Just kill him and let's go."

I shook my head. "He's got to suffer. Just like Gemma suffered."

"You've just crushed his entire pelvic region. Don't you think that's suffering enough?"

"No. They all have to pay," I whispered.

"Who's all of them, Red?" he asked. "Everyone that played a part in Gemma's life? The dealers I get. The boyfriend I get. Hell, even the drug suppliers I get. But what about her parents, and you, and everyone at the BPRD that didn't act soon enough to stop the damn fairies from doing this in the first place? Do we all deserve to pay?"

Mom... Julie.

It wasn't until I felt Abe's hand on mine that I had realized my eyes were closed and leaking tears.

"Let's go."

I'd reverted back to my Gemma form before we'd made it to the door. Liz was standing guard outside.

"Burn it," Abe said. "Nothing but ash."

She nodded once and reached out to set a hand on my shoulder, giving it a single squeeze before entering the bar. A second later, I heard the tell-tale sound of her powers activating.

~O~

Dad was waiting for us by his car when we got back to headquarters. I watched as he pocketed his cell phone. Worry was dragging on his face as I stepped out of the passenger side of the Jeep. Abe insisted on driving back, not that I blamed him.

"Are you okay?" asked Dad as he slowly approached.

I shook my head. "Not really."

We both stood there, with me avoiding his eyes and him looking at me, not knowing what to do.

"I'm going to stay here tonight."

"Gemma..."

I finally gathered enough courage to look at him. "The people that sold Gemma the drugs and the guy that got her hooked... I took care of them tonight. They won't be destroying anymore families."

He blinked at me and then swallowed before glancing at Abe, who was holding himself back by the driver’s side. My instinct told me that Abe was probably throwing non-verbal signals at Dad. When his eyes returned to mine, I licked my lips and fidgeted.

Dad gave me a single nod. "Thank you." He cleared his throat. "We'll see you tomorrow morning then?"

I nodded.

Then he did something that I wasn't expecting. He stepped into me and wrapped his arms around my back in a comforting hug. Turning my head, I set it on his chest and sighed away the tight feeling that was in my own.

He wasn't Father, and he wasn't even Gemma's real dad, but for the moment it was enough to not be rejected for either reason. The man seemed to care either way, and not a lot of guys out there can reach that level of compassion given what he had faced over the last few days.

He backed away and I straightened up.

"I'll be home after breakfast."

~O~

The elevator worked, sort of. We had to bypass the safety setting that got triggered when I tore off the door on S4, until it got replaced. I grimaced. That was probably coming out of my paycheck.

Abe escorted me to my room and waited while I took a shower. He was sitting at my desk, puffing away on a Cohiba and nursing a shot of tequila that he must have gotten from his room. I never touched the hard stuff, well usually.

All I had to wear was my old clothes which amounted to an old dress shirt and that was about it.

Abe coughed and then averted his eyes when he saw me. He waited until I found my way to a chair and covered my lower half with one of Father's afghans.

He kept his eyes away from me when he decided to address the situation. "This can't happen again, Red."

I sighed and looked at a blank corner where the wall met the ceiling. "I'm not done yet. The suppliers have to be dealt with and then there are the rest of the sewer fairies."

Silence sat between us for a good thirty seconds.

"Will that satisfy you?"

I rubbed at my temples, trying to ease the tension. "Nothing would satisfy me, but at least I'd know there won’t be any more teenage girls that are dead because of them.”

The chair he was sitting in squeaked as he sat forward. “That Hand, Red. You’ve really got to watch yourself.”

My eyes ticked to the bracelet. The stone almost pulsed with energy. It was like I could feel the contentment it felt. I knew it was sentient in some way. For now, it seemed like our goals were one and the same. I’d deal with it later.

“I’m tired Abe.”

~O~

The next morning I dressed in the clothes I had on the night previous and headed out. I was in no mood to be coddled by Abe and after the show I put on I didn’t want to see Liz’s face at that moment. The only thing that was on my agenda was to get home and change out of my work clothes and into something that made me feel a little less like a monster.

The traffic was sedate, being Sunday and all. When I came to the intersection of Stella Link and feeder road of the Loop, I looked to the right, frowned and briefly closed my eyes. The local church that keeps the BPRD loaded up with blessings and all, Corpus Christi Catholic, was right around the corner. It’s where I would go before most particularly dangerous missions. I used to have a pretty good relationship with God. Now I wasn’t so sure.

A car horn sounded behind me. Casting a glance in the rearview, I turned my blinker on and made a right. Me and God had to have a little talk. Granted he didn’t do much, conversation wise, on his side of the fence, but it had to be done all the same.

Leaving the Samaritan under the seat, I checked the forty-five in the cross draw holster. It was kind of frowned on to bring weapons like that in the house of God, but I already had enough sin on my shoulders.

When I entered the front doors, I paused at the water basin, dipping the tips of my fingers in and traced the cross over myself. I’d already had Father’s rosary wrapped around my left wrist and the crucifix firmly in my palm.

“May I help you?”

Father Sanchez had his office at the front of the church so he could pounce on anyone he didn’t recognize. I suppose that would be me in that instance. Without saying anything, I pulled out my ID and handed it over.

Watching his eyebrows raise and then his doubtful gaze settle upon me gave me hope that even those of the Cloth needed something other than blind faith to believe.

“It’s me, Padre. We need to talk.”

I waited until he got one of the sisters to watch the front before he led me to his office and shut the door. He didn’t even bother starting in on me; he just picked up the phone and called Abe.

I took my regular seat in the corner, furthest away from where I knew he perched. After a brief chat, he sat the phone in its cradle.

“Abe is happy that you decided to stop by.”

A scowl dropped over my face.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?”

With a reluctant sigh, I brought him up to speed on everything. Not a lot fazes Father Sanchez. Me killing myself and waking up in my daughter’s body didn’t even result in a tick of his cheek. He’d seen a lot. It was one of the reasons that he was the goto guy for the BPRD.

When I got to the part about finding out that I was my own daughter, he stopped me. I guess he’d seen something in my face.

“Do you need Confession, Red?”

I closed my eyes and ran my fingers of them. “Not yet. For confession to actually work, I have to regret my sins.” Looking up at him, I clenched my fingers around Father’s crucifix. “Thing is, I don’t.”

Shaking my head, I stood up. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here today.”

“Sit,” he ordered.

It’s kind of odd to hear a priest give sharp orders like that, but the Padre and I go back a couple of years. He knew my attitude and he also knew that I respected him. Reluctantly I sat, but wound up squirming in my chair.

“You’re treading dangerous waters, my son…” He paused and shook his head. “How do I refer to you now?”

“Gemma, please. I’m not entirely Red anymore.”

With a confirming nod, he continued. “Very well. As I implied before, you are at a crossroads. I am unsure as to the implications of your suicide. Your mortal life was ended by your own hand, however God chose for you to remain on the mortal realm. It’s not hard to assume that you serve a greater purpose with your return.”

Pressing my lips together, I looked up at him and then away again.

“That it is in your daughter’s body that you returned… it’s confusing. Perhaps it is a penance you serve for your role in her life, or perhaps it is a reward for what you were willing to sacrifice by not letting that relic fall into the hands of those that would bring about the end of days. We aren’t meant to understand the will of God.”

The idea that my semi-resurrection was a reward hadn’t really occurred to me. All the indicators pointed toward punishment. In my eyes they still do.

“What I can’t condone is the killing of those responsible.”

I looked up at him again, biting the inside of my lip in order to keep my mouth shut. It wasn’t surprising that the Padre wasn’t an old school, eye for an eye type. That’s where our interpretation of the Bible differed.

“They have to pay, Padre, and some of the people involved are police. I won’t see justice done otherwise.”

“Justice or vengeance?”

An amused grunt escaped from my throat. “It’s got to be one or the other? I was always of the opinion that they ran hand in hand.”

“That’s where you would be wrong. It is not for you to decide who is guilty or not. There’s a higher power at work here. Leave the judgment to Him.”

It was a bitter pill that he was trying to make me swallow and I didn’t know if I was capable of that anymore.

The Padre stood and walked around the desk to stand before me. “Resume your duties, Gemma. Leave the apprehension of the guilty to me. I have certain connections in the HPD internal affairs division that will see to it those responsible pay for their role in this crime.”

He said his priestly mumbo jumbo and made the sign of the cross over me. I didn’t feel any better, but I still hadn’t had my chat with the big guy yet.

~O~

Before entering the chapel I dipped a couple of fingers in the fount up front and crossed myself. It being the middle of the day, it was deserted enough that I knew I wouldn’t be bothered and the Padre would see to it the nuns kept their distance.

I sat on the second row of pews and looked up at the crucifix. My eyes followed the sad bloodied face of Christ.

“Hey, it’s me again. I know you have a lot things you’d rather be doing than listening to me right now, but if you could spare a few minutes I’d appreciate it.”

I shifted a little and bowed my head.

“I’m really messed up right now. The Padre thinks this is all part of some plan of yours and if it is then I guess I’ll deal with it like I always do. If you could give me a little bit of a break here with all the drama I’d appreciate that too. I know it’s not like there won’t be more, but dying and coming back as my own daughter… man, that was a little cruel, don’t you think?

“Anyway…”

Gripping Father’s rosary, I brought it up to the back of the pew in front of me and just stared at it.

“Okay, I take it all back. Just… just… I don’t care what happens to me. Just make sure Gemma gets a decent place up there with the rest of you guys. She didn’t deserve any of this. I should have been there for her. But I guess that’s all part of your plan, huh?

“As much stuff that I’ve gone through… everything that I’ve lost… you owe me. Make sure Gemma is in a good place and I’ll call it square.”

I unwrapped the rosary from my wrist and stood to make my way out. The Padre was standing at the back. When I made it to his side he held out his hand for a shake. Instead I gripped it and left the rosary in his grasp.

“Give it to someone that needs it. I’m kind of done here. Have a nice life Padre.”

Before I left he called out one last thing to me.

“Red, you can abandon God, but he won’t abandon you. I’ll be here if you ever want someone to just talk to.”

I paused at the door and then opened it, leaving without looking back.

End, for now.